Finding the Keys

Photo Credit: mzacha from morgueFile.com

Our family gathered together in Port O’Connor last week to celebrate with my cousin’s daughter for her 7th birthday.  When we arrived at the party, I noticed that my dad was a bit (okay…a lot) preoccupied with something.  I asked my mom if there was anything wrong and she said that Dad had lost his keys.  Now, for some, this is absolutely not a big deal.  Losing keys can be a weekly, daily, or hourly thing for many folks.  Countless people out there might even lose their head if it wasn’t attached to their body.  However, my dad just doesn’t lose things…especially not his keys.

So, it became a family hunt.  We all wanted to help my dad find his keys and assure him that he wasn’t losing his mind.  He was extremely bothered by the missing keys, to put it mildly.  Oh, how we searched and searched and searched some more.

After the party, we went back to my parents’ house to continue the quest for the missing keys.  Furniture was turned over.  Dust bunnies were evacuated.  Bugs were relocated.  Not a nook, cranny, or crevice was left unscathed.  Countless prayers for St. Anthony’s intercession were lifted up.

We even climbed a ladder to examine the pear tree branches in the event that he just might have hung them there when picking pears earlier that day.  Nope.  Did we look in the fridge?  Yes.  Freezer?  Yep.  Toilet?  Unfortunately…yes.  We explored every square inch of the yard like a starving bird looking for a tiny morsel of food.

No keys.  We felt defeated, exhausted, and royally bummed.  With our heads hung low, we all returned home, thinking about the new places we could investigate the next day.

Later that evening, we received a text.  My cousin’s daughter was opening her gifts and exclaimed, “Woo-hoo!  Somebody got me a car for my birthday!  Look at these keys!”

Mystery solved. 

Somehow, my dad’s keys had fallen into the gift bag for the birthday girl.  We could have looked for the next fifty years and would have never found the keys.  In order to find the keys, the gift had to be opened.

Yes, that’s right.  I found a deeper meaning in all of this key-searching-fun.  In order to find the keys to a life of peace, joy, contentment, happiness, and love…we have to open the gifts God has given us.

One of the many gifts He has given us is His Word.  I know I don’t open the Bible near enough, but have you ever read Psalm 139?   On days when you feel unloved, unnoticed, or uncared for, I recommend this Psalm.  Here are a few of the verses that I think you will enjoy as much as I did:

“O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.  You know when I sit or stand.  When far away, you know my every thought.  You chart the path ahead of me, and tell me where to stop and rest.  Every moment, you know where I am.  You know what I am going to say before I even say it.  You both precede and follow me, and place your hand of blessing on my head.”

“This is too glorious, too wonderful to believe!  I can never be lost to your Spirit!  I can never get away from my God!  If I try to hide in the darkness, the night becomes light around me.  For even darkness cannot hide from God.”

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body, and knit them together in my mother’s womb.  Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!  It is amazing to think about.  Your workmanship is marvelous.  You were there while I was being formed in utter seclusion!  You saw me before I was born and scheduled each day of my life before I began to breathe.  Every day was recorded in your Book!”

“How precious it is, Lord, to realize that you are thinking about me constantly!  I can’t even count how many times a day your thoughts turn towards me.  And when I waken in the morning, you are still thinking of me!”

Wow.  That’s good stuff.  Right?

You know I am a huge fan of laughter too, so why don’t we open up that gift with a few funnies today.  This one is from my Uncle Erol:

Two nuns were shopping at a convenient store.  As they passed by the beer cooler, one nun said to the other, “Wouldn’t a nice, cold beer or two taste wonderful on a hot summer evening?”

The second nun answered, “Indeed it would, sister, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable buying beer since I’m certain it would cause a scene at the check-out stand.”

“I can handle that without a problem,” the other nun replied, and she picked up a six-pack and headed for the check-out.  The cashier had a surprised look on his face when the two nuns arrived with the beer.

“We use beer for washing our hair,” the nun said.  “At our convent, we call it Catholic shampoo.”  Without blinking an eye, the cashier reached under the counter, pulled out a package of jumbo pretzel sticks, and placed them in the bag with the beer.  He then looked the nun straight in the eye, smiled, and with a wink said, “The curlers are on the house.”

Love it!  And, in honor of the birthday girl who found my dad’s keys, let’s remember that birthday cake is the only food you can blow on and spit on and everybody rushes to get a piece! Ha ha!  (from Mikey’s Funnies)

So, let us remember to open the countless gifts that God has given us…His Word, and the gifts of love, generosity, laughter, smiling, sharing, and listening.  If we do this, we’ll be sure to find the keys to a life of peace, joy, contentment, happiness, and abounding love.

Have a wonderful week, Sunshines!

All Aboard!

Photo Credit:  Jusben from morgueFile.com

Well, I finally boarded the train…the texting train that is.  WHAT?!  Yeppers!  Many…no, wait…ALL of my friends and family will be shocked, stunned, dazed, and confused by this news.  I no longer have my beloved, bejeweled flip-phone, folks.  She will be missed by all.

My new unlimited talk and text plan (that is miraculously cheaper than the non-texting plan I previously had) is not the remarkable part though.  I want to share the story about myself and the fella at the AT&T store.

Yesterday, I gathered up my flip-phone and my husband’s too (I talked him into it after his flip-phone came unhinged for the bazillionth time.).  I took the cardboard boxes that housed our new, smarter phones and cases that I’d ordered online.  There is no need to rehash the countless weeks of research and discussion that preceded the phone or case purchase.  Seriously.  hee hee!

Anyway, I walked into the store with my arms full of boxes and my heart full of hope.  I prayed that whichever “lucky” employee got to help me would be oozing with patience that day.  I had LOTS of questions.  I added my name to the waiting list and crossed my fingers.  After thirty or forty minutes had passed; I heard my name loud and clear.

A young man walked up and said that he’d be assisting me.  I basically handed him everything and with my hands waving in circles, I said, “Is there any possible way you can help me with all of this?”  “Absolutely.  Yes ma’am.  I sure can,” he responded so politely and patiently.  My prayers were answered.

All of you out there know that it’s never easy, right?  To change anything, I mean.  Jobs, insurance, phone service, medical coverage, mortgages, loans, a diaper on a wiggling baby….the list goes on and on.  It’s almost impossible to get a real human on any phone line at all these days.  When I have to call an automated system, I normally just press “0” repeatedly until someone…ANYONE…picks up.  So, I did have that in my favor.  A real, live human being.  Score once!  A seemingly patient one at that.  Score twice!

The first hurdle we faced was that my name was not on the current phone bill.  It was my husband’s name.  And…THAT actually matters…so much so that the poor guy couldn’t help me do anything until my husband called AT&T (not the store) and added me as an authorized user.  Yea.  So!  Guess who has my husband’s phone?  I do.  Guess who is in a pasture working cows somewhere in Timbuktu without a phone?  My husband.

So, the search began, as well as the test of patience for me and my brand-new AT&T friend.  I called my father-in-law’s cell phone first.  He answered.  Easy!  Not quite.  He was on a tractor and could only see my husband across the field.  However, it would take him about twenty minutes to drive over to where my husband was working.  Hmmmm….okay.  That would allow me and my AT&T buddy some additional time to chat more…about phones…and life.

Then, I decided to call my in-laws’ home phone just in case my mother-in-law was there and could get to my husband quicker.  The only person inside their house at the time was my 8-year-old daughter.  Our conversation began:

Me:  “Hey, can you go outside real quick and holler at Daddy and tell him to call me?”

Daughter:  “What?”

Me (with a kind, but louder tone):  “Can you GO OUTSIDE and holler at Daddy and PLEASE tell him to call me?”

Daughter:  “I don’t know where he is.”

Me:  “Just open the door and holler toward the pond and see if he can hear you.”

Daughter (starting to cry):  “I don’t know what you want me to do…(sniff, sniff)”

Me:  “Oh goodness.  Please don’t cry.  Try to gain composure.  I’m at the phone store and I need Daddy to call me as soon as he can.”

Daughter (crying):  “I don’t understaaaaand.”

Me:  “It’s okay.  Never mind.  I will wait for PoPo to find Daddy.”

Daughter:  “Okay!  Bye!”

My husband finally calls me two days later (I’m kidding).  My sweet father-in-law was so very kind to stop what he was doing to drive over to where my husband was.  PoPo gave my husband the message and I eventually made a connection with him.  From their house phone, I asked my husband to call the 1-800 number so I could be added as an authorized user, for goodness sake!  Mercy me!

After twenty minutes, he calls me back and says, “Soooo, because I’m not calling from our home or cell, they are going to text me some kind of code to make sure I’m really me.”  I say, “Seriously?!  You’re kidding me.”  Of course, I have his phone.  So, they text me.  Anyhow, I get the code and call my husband back with it.  Then, he has to call AT&T again with the code (and explain it all to yet another employee since he had to hang-up to call me.)  Uh-huh.  That’s right.  Are ya with me?

Thirty minutes later, my husband calls and says that I should now be added as an authorized user.  All is well…until…I try to get out of the “combined billing” set-up that we’ve had for years.  Brain surgery, I tell ya.  My AT&T bud (who now knows enough about my family to be a part of it), should get Employee of the Year.  He has to do some kind of internal AT&T chat with someone to get me OUT of my old combined billing plan.  I’m not trying to get out of prison, peeps….it’s just combined billing.  Anyway, this takes about forty minutes due to an “increased call volume.”  For realz.

Honestly, I’m starving at this point, so I discreetly pull out some crushed peanut butter crackers one by one from the bottom of my purse and feast like a little mouse.  So I don’t choke on my crackers, my AT&T pal gets me a bottled water and we wait…and chat…about phones.  After another twenty minutes, we get the billing situation figured out.  He helps me transfer all of my numbers to the new phone and familiarizes me with the most important features of the phone…like how to turn it on.  Ha ha!  I’m just joking, people.  No worries.

The wolves are howling and it’s getting dark outside.  IT IS TIME FOR ME TO LEAVE.  I exchange Christmas cards with my AT&T compadre…kidding….and I am G-O-N-E!  I hop…no, wait….I fall…into my car.  I slump over the steering wheel.  I am mentally drained.  I can’t be sure that this texting train will be all it’s cracked up to be, but I’m all aboard now.

You know what, though?  All this talk about the texting train reminds me of a thought-provoking e-mail my Uncle Erol sent me about a train:

At birth, we board the train and meet our parents.  We believe they will always travel right by our side.  As time goes by, other people will board the train and they will be significant to us, i.e. our siblings, friends, children, and even the love of our life.  However, at some station, our parents will step down from the train, leaving us to journey without them.

Some of the passengers will come and some will go.  We may or may not even notice their vacant seats when they leave.  Some vacant seats, however, will never be forgotten.  The train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, and goodbyes.

Success consists of having a good relationship with the passengers, requiring that we give the best of ourselves.  The mystery to everyone is that we do not know at which station we ourselves will step down.  So, we must love, forgive, and offer the best of who we are.  It is important to do this because when the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty; we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who will continue to travel on the train of life.  Remember to give lots of love and always thank God for the train ride.

When I think about life being like a train ride; I want to be sure that we all take the time to look out the window as well.  When we live a reflective life, we are attentive, receptive, and responsive to what God is doing in us, through us, and around us.  As we reflect, we can find our everyday life infused with inspiration.

Has God ever given you exactly what you needed or prayed for?  Has He given you more?  Has God ever given you something or someone you didn’t even know you needed?  Yes, yes, or yes?

This week, I want to thank God for the great lesson in patience at the AT&T store.  I also want to share some INCREDIBLY AMAZING news with you today.  In looking around my train, there are some pretty unbelievable prayer warriors on board AND each of them has been fervently and unceasingly praying for a miracle since October.  I have the pleasure of announcing that my precious goddaughter, Sydney, received a crystal-clear scan yesterday and is now CANCER-FREE!  Thank you, Lord, and thank you, prayer warriors!  Sydney Strong!

I’m blessed and honored that each of you are passengers on my train!  Choo-choo!  I thank God for you!

Have a wonderful week, Sunshines!  And, thank you for your patience with my summer writing schedule…

Listen for the Music

Photo Credit:  earl53 from morgueFile.com

At the end of May, my family was treated to a piano recital.  It was indeed a treat because my 8-year-old daughter and seventeen other kiddos sat down one by one behind the ebony and ivory keys and made an ordinary piano come to life.  It’s even more amazing for me personally because I couldn’t play a song on the piano if my life depended on it. 

My daughter has tried to teach me bits and pieces along the way at home, but it just hasn't clicked.  Bless her heart; she attempts to be patient with her momma.  She even put the little letter stickers on the keys for my benefit.  Nope.  Still didn't work.  The letters on a computer keyboard?  Not a problem.  Letters on piano keys?  Just.  Cannot.  Do.  It.

A couple of the selections during that memorable evening were from my all-time-favorite-movie, "The Sound of Music."  Oh, how I just love that classic!  I adore the power of the music, the von Trapp family, the love story between Maria and the Captain, the way the nuns helped the family flee, etc.  The songs are so contagious that I can't help but sing along when I hear the first few words to any of them...anywhere…anytime…"My Favorite Things", "Edelweiss", "Do-Re-Mi", “Maria”, "So Long, Farewell."

During the recital, I marveled at how each child tickled the ivories in their own unique way and made a beautiful sound.  Each of them confidently walked over to the piano bench with their sheet music tucked neatly in a black binder.  They sat down, took a deep breath (their parents and grandparents did too), opened their binder, and placed their fingers gently over the keys.  Then…the music began.  Many of the songs had my feet tapping and my head bobbing a bit.

The last young man to grace us with his talent was named Justin.  I noticed right away that Justin didn’t have his black binder.  I gulped and thought, “Oh no!  He forgot his binder.  He must be so nervous.  What is he going to do?”  However, Justin didn’t seem to mind at all that he didn’t have his binder.  He calmly strolled up to the piano, sat down, and wowed us with a musical piece that he played from memory.  Did I say wow?  Yea, that’s just putting it mildly.  I was captivated, fascinated, and mesmerized.  He basically rocked it and I was so blessed to be a member of the audience that night.

I’ve never played an instrument (well, an autoharp and recorder in grade school, if those count) and I can’t read music.  However, I do know that my life would be empty without it.  Music stirs something deep within my soul.

For instance, I was holding it together relatively well at my son's 5th grade graduation ceremony...until the music began.  Junior High here we come.  They had a slideshow with pictures taken throughout the year, PLUS the baby photos (oh, don't get me started...).  I did fairly well until I heard the music.  I can’t even remember the words to the sentimental songs because I was trying to wipe away the tears and the tiny pieces of ultra-thin toilet paper off my face (I didn't have one decent tissue in my purse, so my last resort was toilet paper from the school bathroom....ugh.)  Yes.  All because of music...

In addition to my tear ducts, music also has a magical effect on my feet.  It can happen when I least expect it.  When I'm in the grocery store, for example, and I hear a lively beat overhead; I cannot help myself.  I bebop, tap my toes, sway back and forth with my shopping cart, and essentially get my groove on...right there in aisle 4 next to the mac and cheese.  Good times.

If we listen for the music, we'll realize that music marks many of the different seasons of our lives.  The music of that first dance with our sweetheart.  “Here Comes the Bride” at a wedding.  The music of a newborn baby's cry.  The Happy Birthday song as we are blessed with another year of life.  Pomp and Circumstance at Graduation.  Auld Lang Syne every New Year's Eve.  The sound of the very last breath that a loved one takes…

Listen for the music.

Have you ever listened to the way the salty waves kiss the sand?  Have you ever listened to frogs singing at night after a rain?  Have you ever taken the time to listen to your children breathing as they sleep?

How about the music of a loved ones’ voice or laugh?  How about the sweet sounds of “I love you,” “I forgive you,” “I’m sorry,” and “Thank you?”  And, for my precious goddaughter…how about the music of that bell ringing on June 8^th to mark the end of her rigorous months of chemo?  A glorious sound, indeed!  We love you, Sydney!

Truly, our summer has begun.  In addition to the music of louder bickering coming from our backseat; I assure you that I’m listening extra carefully for the music that God provides.  It’s there.  Through the music of my children quarrelling, I try to remember that they are arguing because they are alive and healthy.  I need to dig down deeper to have an attitude of gratitude.

I believe that God speaks to us through music.  Some people prefer classical or jazz and they let their thoughts just float and flow.  Many like the inspirational words of a song to reflect upon.  Others enjoy the music of nature.  A few enjoy the music found in the silence.  We have to listen closely for that one.  The sounds of our very breath and heartbeat are musical gifts we take for granted. 

The music is there.  God is there.

Music is a beautiful part of life.  When life gives us music…I hope we listen.  When life gives us music...I hope we sing.  When life gives us music…I hope we dance.  Promise me that you’ll never miss a chance to dance.  I know I won’t.

Listen for the music and have a wonderful week, Sunshines!