Close to my heart

A scary thing happened to me on Interstate 81 north of Syracuse, New York, on the way to Massena via Waddington. About five hours into the day's drive, I realized something was missing from my ring finger. 

And my heart sank. 

I understand tradition holds that I wear my wedding band inside my engagement ring, so it is closer to my heart. 

I also know that the one I'm wedding banded to prefers the ring with the diamond go inside. This became apparent from a couple of close calls over the years as the diamond engagement ring slipped off my finger, always to be found, but once not until a vacuum cleaner had sucked the stone from the setting. 

Sometime after that, still many, many years ago, I found a way to honor tradition and my husband by finding an inexpensive but meaningful ring to wear outside the marital pair. For many years, I wore that little cat ring that I got on a trip we took to Las Vegas. 

I don't remember when or why I quit wearing it. I think maybe I had decided it looked tacky. I also thought I could trust myself to be aware if cold weather or other circumstances would temporarily increase the risk of my rings slipping off, so I could take precautions. 

But here I was at 2 p.m. in upstate New York, 1,500 miles from home, looking at a left hand lacking a diamond engagement ring. 

Had I forgotten to put it on in the morning at the Riviera in Erie, Pa.? That was possible -- but it seemed unlikely I would have gone that long without noticing it was missing. 

I thought back through the day and became nervous. We had only stopped once. That was at a service plaza along the I-70 toll road between Buffalo and Syracuse. But which one? I looked at an online map but couldn't figure out where we had stopped. I knew I had used the rest room and also bought a couple of fresh peaches. But the recollection that bothered me most was that I had taken off a pair of gloves as I was walking to the building. That seemed the most likely opportunity for the ring to have slipped off, with too much noise and distraction for me to notice. The thought made me feel sick. 

There was one other possibility, and that was that the ring had slipped off as I stretched out my fingers to reach for something in my purse or one of the snack bags in the back seat of the Tundra. 

I'm always hesitant to pray for material things but that didn't stop me as I tried to look through things as Gene drove.

I'm praying. Yes, Lord, I am. Above all, please help Gene not be too upset with me.

For His sake as much as mine, I hope and, yes, pray that we will find it in the truck, either in the front or in my bag. 

If not in the hotel or the truck, it would have to be at that travel plaza, because that's the only place we stopped. 

If we don't find it, please help Gene, and also me, be OK without me having it. Help me respond in a way that glorifies You, Lord, whether we find it or not. 

I didn't find it as we continued on from I-81 to a couple of smaller highways and onto New York 37. But through the power of prayer, I was able to avoid panicking by hanging on to faith that the ring might turn up in a more thorough search when we stopped. 

Finally we did stop, about 3:45 p.m. at a convenience store in Waddington. While Gene went inside the store, I quickly opened the door to the back seat of the truck and started looking. And it wasn't long until I found a thin gold band with a sparkling diamond. 

Thank You, God!!!

I can't express how relieved I was. When Gene came out of the store, I ran to hug him, and he easily guessed what I'd found. Even his comment that he guessed that meant he wouldn't be buying me a new ring didn't deter my joy. 

Now, each morning when I put my rings on, the diamond is closest to my heart. As with so many things in our nearly 35-year marriage, Gene and I know the reasons, and that's more important to us than traditions or etiquette. (But I'm also looking for a new ring to wear outside my bridal pair, and if I find one, I can go back to the perfect blend of tradition and, for me, practicality!)

Easily entertained

I'm pretty easily entertained. It doesn't take much to catch my attention. And it doesn't take much to distract me.

This is on my mind because of advice I received when I told a friend that I was having a hard time not obsessing over a food I had bought but did not want to eat all at once.

This little story starts on July 4th, although the stage was set during visits to Braum's stores in recent weeks. After a leisurely Independence Day that included the neighborhood parade in the morning and watching patriotic programs on television in the evening, my husband said he was ready for ice cream.

A lot of years we have gone to Braum's for ice cream before going to watch the city fireworks display in Norman. Although we had decided not to go to the park this year to watch, I couldn't deny that ice cream sounded good.

Unfortunately, I knew that Braum's in my recent visits had not had my preferred no-sugar-added treat (Diet Peanut Cluster Fudge Frozen Yogurt) available for hand-packed cups or cones. Still, I agreed to go, hoping maybe they had stocked up. When we got there, they had not. I asked if they could open a package from the freezer case and give me a scoop, but of course they said they could not. The no- sugar-added vanilla bean flavor, even with nuts added, just doesn't satisfy me.

So, I decided to do something I had not done in a long time. I asked for a serving cup, and then I bought a full-size container of my fudgy, nutty favorite. Quite aware of my past tendency to not leave such a product alone in the home freezer until it was all gone, I knew this was risky. But through 12-step work and other disciplines, some things that used to be problems no longer are. I hoped that might be the case with this.

I drove as my husband ate his strawberry shortcake sundae while I looked for a place to park with a view of the city fireworks. We found a place to park, but it was soon apparent the display had already ended. While we were parked, I scooped some of my frozen yogurt into my  cup, and I quickly knew it was going to be hard for me to stop with just a small serving. But I put the lid on the container, switched places with Gene so he could drive while I ate, and we went to watch the plethora of fireworks visible on the horizon on the northwest edge of town.

When we got home, it was time for me to put away the ice cream. But first, I ate a little more. Then I went to bed.

The next morning, among my first thoughts was the ice cream. Uh-oh. This may have been a mistake. I knew I could measure some out, but I also knew a little might make me want more. Fortunately, I was able to get through breakfast and to my noon 12-step meeting without indulging. There, I mentioned my little experiment to a trusted friend. She reminded me that thinking about eating wasn't the same thing as eating. And she offered this suggestion: Don't entertain those thoughts. When the thought comes, it's OK to note it, then just wave it on by. The way I pictured it was like this: The thought can come to the door, but I'm not going to invite it in and throw it a party.

I wish I could say that was the end of the obsession. Instead, I confess I ate some ice cream as an afternoon snack, and then I ate some with supper. Even though I decided at that point to put it in the bottom  and back of the freezer, I was pretty sure the next step would be to discard what was left.

However, an interesting thing happened. I didn't eat any when I got home from choir practice, and while I thought about it the next  morning, I shifted the context to another little experiment. And I haven't eaten any since.

Besides choosing not to "entertain" thoughts of eating what I didn't need, another factor that has helped me to abstain is realizing that eating more than an occasional treat makes me feel physically uncomfortable. Realizing that and having that realization guide my behavior is nothing short of a miracle, and I am grateful.

Later in the week, I used the "entertaining" principle to keep my focus in a situation where I feared my curiosity would outweigh my desire to be compassionate. And it worked again.

There's still a possibility I'll discard what's left of the ice cream. I'm such an all-or-nothing person, I know that if I reopen the container, I might not want to stop again. But I'm not even going to entertain  that thought right now!

Patriotism and praise punctuates 4th of July Weekend event

A resounding prelude of brass, woodwinds and strings, soon joined by some 150 voices in a choir and then a few thousand throughout the sanctuary singing "America the Beautiful," launched a 4th of July Weekend celebration of praise and patriotism at Crossings Community Church in Oklahoma City.

While soul-stirring music bookended the two-hour presentation Sunday, the emotional highlight was when the orchestra played songs of the various branches of the armed forces, and an estimated 450 men and women who are serving or have served flooded the aisles in a stream of red, white and blue to come forward and each receive special a Medal of Gratitude. A prolonged, thunderous ovation accompanied them.

Medal of Honor recipient Sammy L. Davis's brief but powerful remarks regarding his service in Vietnam, helped punctuate the bravery and sacrifices of those who have served in the U.S. military to safeguard the nation's freedom and values. He ended with a harmonica solo of "Shenandoah" that conveyed a heartfelt message beyond words.

The hosts were musicians and worship leaders from Crossings Community Church in Oklahoma City, led by Larry Harrison, who came on board as pastor of worship ministries last August. The connectedness of Crossings' leaders to the community, music and ministry far and wide was on display all evening.

Award-winning Christian recording artist Sandi Patty is now the artist-in-residence at Crossings, where her husband, Don Peslis, is pastor of chapel worship and they have been members more than eight years. Patty sang several selections from her enduring career that fit the occasion, including the soaring rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" that catapulted her from gospel recording star to national sensation after she performed it July 4, 1986, in New York City at the 100th anniversary of the Statue of Liberty.

Also featured was the Alabama-based male vocal quintet Veritas, with stunningly beautiful performances of "Amazing Grace," "Bring Him Home" and "The Lord's Prayer."

A video message from U.S. Senator James Lankford, R-Oklahoma City, highlighted the theme "God Bless America -- America Bless God." The theme also was articulated in a song co-written and performed by Harrison.

For the finale, Patty and the orchestra began with the less-familiar first verse of "God Bless America," with the choir, all the guest singers and everyone in the sanctuary joining in for the tradition lyrics, in an aural explosion of patriotism and praise. 

Below are the lyrics to "America Bless God," which I found online in the linked post from 2004. It said it could be shared freely.

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1165518/posts 

America Bless God

by Larry Harrison & Joel Mott 


From the mountains of majesty

to the amber waves of grain

I see the blessing of your hand

and recall a familiar refrain

We sing God bless America

won't you come and bless us once again

But your heart longs to hear

a nation fall on its knees and say

America Bless God

all across the fruited plains

America Bless God

lift your voice and praise his holy name

For he's been good, he's been faithful

by his hand our nation stands

So won't you sing all across this land

America bless God

America bless God

Girls' gadabout, Part 1

This will be another of those blog posts that I consider a work in progress. It's not my favorite thing, but sometimes it's a necessary step to finding my better way. I started writing this June 10. I came back to it at least twice but was never pleased with how it was going. But I want to share the story and pictures. So here I am again. My new realization is that I can do this in parts. So, here goes to Part 1:


This past year my oldest sister and I both found ourselves unexpectedly among the ranks of the unemployed, Becky after a career in public school education and me after 35 years as a journalist. One of the things we talked about doing was taking a road trip, with her coming to Oklahoma for us to cruise in my convertible.

A few weeks ago she called and asked if the first week of June would work. It looked fine on my calendar, but so often that changes at the last minute. Still, we penciled it in. We had no set plans, but one idea we had considered was driving to Pawhuska to visit The Mercantile -- the restaurant, bakery and store opened less than a year ago by The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond, in her hometown.

Becky rode the train up from Gainesville, Texas, to Norman on June 4, a Sunday evening. The train arrives after 9 p.m., so I knew all I would do is meet her at the station and bring her to my house that night.

We didn't have firm plans for the next day, but I was grateful that Becky is laid-back enough that I could let her stay at the house with Gene while I went to my Monday morning prayer time at church. I thought we would leave pretty soon after lunch to go to Oklahoma City's Bricktown entertainment district, but humidity made the outside air seem pretty unbearable by 1 p.m. So we were content to stay in the house and visit most of the afternoon.

Trying to think of something cool to do, we came up with going to see a movie, and "Wonder Woman" was a perfect choice for two sisters on a girls' gadabout (as another sister aptly labeled our adventures). With me being a former longtime journalist and her a former history teacher, we agreed not to overthink the movie and instead just be entertained. And we were. (We wanted to take a picture in front of the "Wonder Woman" poster but couldn't find one, so we just got the theater in the background.)

Afterward it had cooled enough that we could enjoy a stroll along the Bricktown Canal to find something to eat and decide what was next. Before we had gotten too far, it was time to head to the Mustang convertible. I wanted to show Becky some of the development of downtown, including where I used to work, the Myriad Gardens and where the Stage Center, where she remembered watching me perform in the Oklahoma City Gridiron Show, once stood. As we rode in the now-pleasant evening air, she reminded me that she had never been to the Oklahoma City Memorial. Although it was getting late, we stopped to spend some time at the beautiful yet heartrending tribute to the April 19, 1995, bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building that claimed 168 lives, including 19 children. She and I agree she must come back, hopefully with her husband and-or some of her kids and grandkids, when she can spend more time there. (If you want to know more about the Oklahoma City Memorial and Museum, go to https://oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org/)

In the three photos above, the Gates of Time (9:01 and 9:03), flank the Field of Empty Chairs that represent the 168 people who died as a result of the bombing.

Above, The Survivor Tree, an American Elm, bore witness to the violence of April 19, 1995, and withstood the full force of the attack. Years later, it continues to stand as a living symbol of resilience.

By now, it was past 9 p.m., and we knew we wanted to get an early start Tuesday for the 2½-hour drive to Pawhuska, not knowing how much time we would need to explore the Pioneer Woman's Merc as well as the Lodge where she films her cooking show for The Food Network. So we headed back to the Mustang for a top-down cruise back to Norman, but this time I insisted on trying to get a picture before we headed onto the highway. Unfortunately, the light wasn't good, and my phone won't let me use flash on a selfie. (We "staged" the other two photos the next morning, when cooler heads prevailed and we opted not to drive all the way to Pawhuska -- or even just out of Norman  -- with the ragtop down.)

 

40 years -- Celebrations of love and letting go

As I seek to regain my voice as a writer, I thought I'd try something different. How about some pictures? These should be worth thousands of words.

Both pictures are of things that were new 40 years ago.

The first picture shows Samsonite luggage my parents gave me when I graduated 40 years ago in May, Muenster High School class of 1977. This summer, I've been trying to cut through some clutter in my house. When my United Methodist Women's group was seeking donations of "luggage that closes" to help out women at a local shelter, I thought of these pieces in the attic. I probably haven't used these in 20 years, and yet some nostalgia kicked in as I thought of letting them go. I was reminded that pictures can preserve the memories, so I snapped this after doing a pretty thorough cleaning to remove layers of dust. I hope they were able to help someone get a fresh start.

The second picture shows my sister Becky and her husband, Tom, whose marriage was new as of June 18, 1977. They celebrated their 40th anniversary on Sunday, and they are still going strong. No need for a fresh start here!  

I guess this is the place where I'm supposed to draw some profound conclusion or make a keen observation. The thing that comes to mind is that the luggage looks old and outdated and I can only hope it had some use left in it and celebrate that I was able to let it go. Becky and Tom, meanwhile, look young and vibrant and full of joy. There's no question they have a lot left to offer this world, starting with those smiles! What a privilege to honor and celebrate their love!

Backwards and forward ...

Not unlike during my days as a newspaper reporter, I find my list of ideas is growing much faster than my production of finished prose.

I know the problem, but I don't know the solution. I enjoy gathering information but I have a hard time putting that information into readable form. I've always envied people who could experience something and immediately know how they would write about it. I've always gone at it backwards: I start writing and eventually organize it into something readable. It has at times produced impressive results, but it's seldom a fast approach. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone.

I've been exposed to and tried to learn better techniques, but I've not -- in 35 years as a professional plus four years of college training -- been able to implement them effectively.

Interestingly enough, deadline pressure is what helped me get it done all those years as a journalist. But after a time, deadline pressure became the reason I could no longer function in the quickening pace of news journalism, with my slow technique.

I thought now that I don't have deadline pressure, the words might start to flow more easily. So far that hasn't happened. I'm stuck in the dreaded and familiar traffic jam on the expressway of my thoughts.

Yesterday, I started writing about a fun trip, but after about 500 words, I gave up, frustrated at how long it was taking me to get to my point.

Lying in bed later, I realized I need to keep writing on that project until I reach a conclusion.

I have neither deadline pressure nor length restrictions. So what's stopping me?

Here's what's stopping me: I am my own worst critic and judge. With singing, I fear I will be off-key and agonizing for people to hear; as a writer, I fear I will be boring, inaccurate or irrelevant. How many times have I let that self-criticism stop me in my tracks?

As I've shared before, I'm at a point in my life where I have an amazing amount of freedom, opportunity and resources to decide what I want to do and take the steps to accomplish it.

I need to wrap my mind and soul around the fact that just because I want to do something doesn't mean it will be easy. It may be difficult to get past the writer's block, but I can remain grateful that I have the luxury of re-engaging the muse in about as low-pressure circumstances as one could ever encounter.

I believe God is guiding me to where He wants me to be and how He wants me to use the skills, talents and passions He's given me. I know I just need to stay faithful and take the next action He places before me, whether that involves writing, singing, cleaning the clutter out of my house, hanging out with family and/or friends or reaching out to others in service with the love of Christ.

Right now, moving forward means reopening the travel file and getting back to writing, inspired by my faith in God and the pleasure of the trip.

The perfect time

The perfect time never comes. 

Just do it. 

I may not feel ready for my sister to visit. But if I wait until I feel ready, it will never happen. So just say yes. 

Just say yes. 

Say yes to working with someone in my 12 step program as her sponsor. 

Say yes to committing to donate stuff. 

Say yes to sing. 

Say yes to serve communion. 

Say yes to God. 

Say yes!