Author: lbuth0511de28fc

  •     Today is the anniversary of 9/11, that unbelievable day in our Nation's history. On this day  television newscasts and talk shows replay the images and sounds of our national anguish. We're drawn to them, as we were on September 11, 2001, and through the sorrowful days that followed.

        What good does it do to remember? After all, no one has the power to rewrite one second of that day. But I for one, can't help feeling as if had dodged a bullet. 

        That's a bit over-dramatic, of course. But only a few weeks earlier a friend and I sat on the top floor of one of those Twin Towers, in the glass-walled Observation Tower. It was my first time in Manhattan. Our choral group (Bravo! Vancouver) had traveled from Washington state across the country to give a couple of concerts. New York City was our second stop.

        The first was Washington, D.C., where we sang for a large conference. Toward sunset we sat on the Capitol steps, in the balmy breezes of early evening, poised to watch the Fourth of July fireworks. No barriers. No fenced-off areas. If there were armed guards they were so unobtrusive we never noticed. There we were, thousands of us, prowling the grounds of the U.S. Capitol Building. Adults of all ages and economic levels, infants and children, and teens. Our complexions came in every hue, with accents to match. We mingled peaceably, smiling. By the time the serious fireworks were underway the predicted rains had begun. In minutes we were drenched, but we stayed, laughing, loving every minute of what we had viewed so often on TV.

        Next day we were off to New York, where we were to give another performance. My friend had been to New York many times because her son worked in New York. Nevertheless, during our free time she insisted we go to the Twin Towers, because "everyone needs to go up on top and just look out at least once."

       There we sat, knees pressed against the glass walls of the Observation floor at the very top of one of the Towers. A couple of smiling security guards quietly observed us. I walked around the roomy space, looking out in awe at the beauty of land and sea and sky. That impressed me far more than all the gleaming skyscrapers that crowded New York City's skyline. I flew home brimming over with thanks that I had the opportunity to be part of that trip.

        Who could have guessed we were nearing the end of life as we knew it? For days, weeks, months after 9/11, we Americans were watchful, fearful, as if waiting for "next time" to drop. Yet today is the seventh anniversary and nothing has. Think about that.

        How have we come safely through these past seven years? We may credit the Administration, or the learn-as-you-go Department of Homeland Security and all that came with it. We may reel off a long list of agencies and personnel and give credit where it's due. Yet every expert in every field tells us the best efforts by the best people remain insufficient. No agency, no amount of armed guards, can guarantee the safety of this Nation … nor of us as individuals.

        Experts remain confounded. For me, there's only one explanation. It is "'Not by might, not by power, but by my Spirit,"says the LORD of hosts."    (Zechariah 4:6)

        We could not be in better hands. Let's breathe a sigh of thanks.

        Here's to remembering what it means that we're Americans!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed!

     

    Living in the aftermath of 9/11

  •     When our girls were growing up, Saturday was chores day, catch-up day. Oh, the groans! Oh, the complaining! Funny thing is, now these same daughters look back on those Saturday mornings as something good, even kinda fun. Wish I could have known that back then. Maybe I wouldn't have felt so much like the wicked witch of the North.

       Let's just say my husband and I liked the idea of the family team better than our children did. Ever been there? I kept thinking it should be easier and reading "How to" articles in search of the magic method. Never found it.   

       At our house what seemed to work best was me drawing up a list of jobs. Then the girls drew straws or guessed a number, or chose a number from a jar full of numbered slips. The winner got first dibs, then then the second chose, etc. In order to avoid a mutiny, each got to choose one chore, then we started over. More groans when someone got one of the least-favorite jobs, like cleaning the bathroom–and sometimes some trading went on. Then we'd put on the music (loud) from a Broadway show or a favorite movie, tunes with an "up" tempo. That quickly changed the mood. Soon our resident quartet would be singing, humming, and jiving to the beat–and so would their mom.

       It always helped to hold out a "carrot," the prospect of doing something fun afterward. So the sooner we wound up the work, the sooner we were out of there, and what we did changed over the years. Sometimes we'd fix a picnic lunch and go to the park or hit the Dairy Queen for some exotic creation. Sometimes we'd zero in on places where they could get rid of the allowances they were itching to spend. Often we'd head for the Place of Enchantment: our local public library. We'd emerge an hour or so later, each of carrying a stack of books to last us a week or so. Of course, our family included five females, so we  m-i-g-h-t go shopping.

        Like every parent, we often thought it would be easier–and more peaceful–just to do everything myself. Obviously, that was true. So why bother? My husband and I thought of it as preparation for life. We knew that one day our darlings would fly away on their own. Knowing how to cook and clean and do the laundry would come in handy. Beyond that, no job is fun at all times. Nevertheless, they'd need to stick with it and do good work or lose their jobs. We viewed our overall goal as getting them ready to live on their own … our lifetime gift to them. So we kept at it, believing, and praying for patience. 

        If that's where you are right now, hang in there. Just don't expect to hear a "thank you" for a few years. But you will. Oh, and by the way, eventually you will have a capable family team, and won't that be a treat?

        Here's to discovering the fun in working together!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed.

        

        

    Saturday: Chores Day

  •       Here we are In this second week of U.S. political conventions. Some say it amounts to a collective national agony we must suffer through every four years. Others label it a celebration of what makes us the United States of America.

        Count me in with the latter group, especially this year. History is playing out before us. No matter what the final result, for the first time we'll have either a black man or a woman in one of the top slots in this nation.

        As is routine in the good old USA  unless, God forbid, we witness another "first," all this will proceed with lots of noise, but no bloodshed. Nobody will mysteriously disappear. 

        No matter how it comes out, some of us will grit our teeth and get on with life. Others will celebrate and get on with life. It's the American way … and it is good.

        Despite (or maybe because of) the headlines and massive TV coverage, the process often feels disconnected from real life. We all know, to quote a well-worn cliche, "that's where the rubber meets the road."  And that's where we live … in homes, in communities that make up the states, which together make up the Nation.

        The election will be resolved, the inauguration pomp and ceremony will pass. Then what? Will you and I stand up for what's right and good where we are? Or will we focus on what bothers us and lapse into apathy, meanwhile muttering, "Oh, well, what can you do? We're all victims of the system!"

        Not true. Each one of us can do something in the place where we are. No matter where we live, no matter our age, no matter our education, our income or occupation, that's where we start, and we lace it up with prayer. 

        Each of us can vote and support elected officials and volunteers who are doing a good job. Those individuals mostly hear from persons with complaints. When we speak enouragement and thanks, our simple words will refresh tired spirits. 

        Each of us can volunteer, maybe for some job that seems insignificent. Later, for one reason or another, we may wonder why we opened our mouths. At that point we can grumble and give grudging duty. Or we can remind ourselves that each little bit counts toward the whole and cheerfully go forth.

        Each of us can write letters … to school board and local council members, to public officals, to our senators and representatives, our Governor, our President.

        Maybe you think one letter doesn't make a difference. Wrong. Years ago I heard a speaker from a company that makes products we all use every day. He detailed how his company evaluates letters and E-mails they receive, whether kudos or complaints. I've never forgotten the gist of what he said: "We're not much impressed by petitions, even when they have hundreds of signers. We discount form letters all repeating the same words, too. They may be sent by different individuals, but we toss them on the pile marked 'pressure group.'  

        "But when we get one–one–letter, maybe handwritten, maybe with mispellings, we know it comes straight from one individual who speaks out of personal experience or strong conviction. Those we designate 'high priority,' especially with letters. Our research indicates every letter represents anywhere from fifty to a couple of hundred individuals who didn't bother to take time and write. Such letters get a reading from company executives and are passed on to other departments. We think these writers help us keep a finger on the pulse of consumers."

        Come to think of it, we're all "consumers" and the same logic applies to everything from TV programming to the local school board. Just to be clear, I'm no shining example of perfection here. Too often I don't commend what I applaud. I don't write enough letters and try to avoid often-boring council meetings of one kind or another. Maybe you plead guilty, too.

        So let's take this time of national fervor as inspiration and make some changes. Each one of us can make a difference in our homes, in our churches, our communities, our Nation. 

        The place to start is with the basics … with what we look for and what we say to each other and to our children, our friends, our neighbors. One well-educated, well-traveled writer expressed  it up this way:  

    "Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious–the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse."

                                                                                        –Philippians 4:8, "The Message"

        Come to think of it, doesn't that describe the kind of person we'd like to have living next to us? Imagine kids growing up in families who live those principles, then going out as adults ready to support the good stuff. 

        You and I can't change the world, but we can change ourselves. We can change the tone of conversations within our own homes. We can be the ones who speak a good word at meetings and at our own workplaces, at checkout counters and school board meetings and in our churches. Before and during whatever we do, we pray. 

        It's our choice whether we will or not. Because this is the United States and each one of us gets to choose what we stand for. It's the American way … and it is good.

        Here's to giving thanks for what we so often take for granted. Let's celebrate it!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed.

     

    What do we, the people, do with this great gift?

  •     I keep forgetting it makes no sense to ask a question when I know–and may not like–the answer. Like when I put on an outfit I'm not sure about, then ask my husband, "What do you think? Does this work?"

       What's the poor guy supposed to say? He knows by experience if he answers, "Yes," I probably won't believe him, because I wouldn't ask unless I had doubts. If he says, "No," I may respond,  "What's wrong with it?"

       Ever been there? The funniest tale I heard was of the wife who got all gussied up, then asked her husband, "How do I look?"

       He took in all her grandeur and said, lovingly, "Honey, you look as good as you've ever looked."

       She stared at him a second or two, put her hands on her hips and asked, "So what do you mean by that?"

        Every husband would be as baffled as that one. Every wife would understand perfectly.

        Bob and I have been married a lotta years by now. You might imagine that guarantees we never misunderstand each other. I hate to blast away that lovely illusion, but it ain't a-gonna happen.

       In any marriage.

       Ever.

       How could it, since marriage joins one imperfect man and one imperfect woman? That state of being will never change, whether you've been married five months or seventy-five years.

       One thing we've learned over the years: It helps to keep that in mind, especially about ourselves. It also helps to laugh, but even more to decide to laugh … and to overlook the small annoyances and frustrations that inevitably come up between any two people. The apostle Paul puts it this way: 

    "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."                                  –Colossians 3:13

      That principle reminds us who we are and how we want to live together. Sometimes we slip up, like any two marriage partners, but when we remember it, we're both happier. Just wanting to builds strength into our marriage relationship, and into each of us as individuals. Take it from Bob and me, it helps put joy into the journey.

      Happy traveling!

      Lenore

      Your comments?

     

       

       

    Lessons learned along the way

  •     As long as we're breathing, we can keep on learning and growing. As they say, life is full of surprises. I think that's exciting, don't you? Who would want to stay stuck? 

        For me, setting up this blog has kept me learning and growing for weeks. (See earlier post, "Looking on the world.") Since I'm figuring it out as I go along, continuing education is guaranteed. (Come to think of it, maybe that's another definition for living life.)

        Until the end of August, I have an article running in a "webmag," a.k.a. "web magazine." (I'll give you the link in a minute.) Writing that came about because the subject matter ties back to one of those surprises in life. This one convinced me that God does, indeed, have a sense of humor.

        How else would I end up writing a book for parents on talking to one's children about sex?

        For those who don't know the story, I wrote the parent's book in the "Learning about Sex" series published by Concordia Publishing House (CPH). The Publishers' goal was to put out books that set forth truth and accuracy about sexuality within the framework of Scripture, presented in an easy, understandable way. Five would be for children and teens, and age-appropriate.

       I agreed whole-heartedly with the concept of the Series and was excited about it, but writing that parents' book sounded like a daunting assignment. Concordia editors assured us six writers that our manuscripts would be thoroughly checked by knowledgeable people in child development, marriage and family counseling, in  medicine, and in theology. Knowing I could call on them at any time, I breathed a sigh of relief … and thanks. 

        Have you noticed that it's easier to feel confident before you begin a project than during? 

        Here's what followed. Every day for months I planted myself at my typewriter, often staring at the wall and wondering how I got myself into this. "Help me, Lord!" became the cry of my heart. My husband's support never lagged, thank God. Somehow I knew deep down I was where I was supposed to be. So I prayed and plugged along … and made the CPH deadline. 

        I've never been so challenged in my writing, nor felt so good about the final product. Over the years Concordia has published three more editions of the Series. My book bears the title, How to Talk Confidently with Your Child about Sex. I've intended it to be both helpful and accurate, so each time I've revised text, checking and updating needed health statistics for my book. By now I've learned more than I ever wanted to know about STDs, teenage pregnancy and the like. 

        Late last fall the Concordia editor in charge called to say they planned a fifth edition of the Series. (You can guess what kept me busy over Christmas and into January of 2008.) The books came out in July, 2008. All along many talented, creative individuals have been involved in production, with appealing new illustrations and fresh formatting for this edition. (The books are available from www.cph.org, as well as many other sources.)

        In another twist, this new edition led to me writing the webmag article I meantioned. It's titled, "Want to Know Who's Teaching Your Kids about Sex? Look in the Mirror!" If you want to check it out, you have until September 1, when it's due to be replaced. Go to this link: www.mtlmagazine.com . Once there, look at the row of gray icons beneath the banner across the top. A click on the heart icon will take you to my article.

         So it turns out the cliche saying is true. Life is full of surprises, from first to last, so let us rejoice! Otherwise life might be something like that movie, "Groundhog Day." Remember? The same day, the same thoughts, the same ways of coping … over and over and over. I don't know about you, but I think that would be deadly dull.

        Of course, some surprises we don't like much. Some disappoint us or cause us deep sadness. Whether they trouble us or zap us with unexpected delight, they remind us we're only human. When we forget that, we get out of balance. To quote one wise old woman I knew, "We go all calliwopsis." 

        So let's embrace it. Here's to living on tiptoe, poised for what comes next!

        Lenore

    You never know what’s around the corner

  •     Although no one would ever call me an athlete, telecasts of the Olympics keep me up way too late every night.

       A more self-disciplined friend records the events that especially appeal to her family. Her daughters love to watch the gymnastics, over and over. They're the right age to imagine themselves on that scene, blissfully ignorant of what it costs. You'll hear Olympic athletes say, "I've dreamed of this since I was a young child."

        That dream–and loving, supportive parents–sets the wheels in motion. If you've listened to the interviews and commentary, you've heard the accounts of families moving across the country so their would-be Olympian could have the best training. One couple mortgaged their home twice to cover the costs. Their family caught Olympic fever, and it took over their life.

        I've been thinking a lot about goals. Sometimes we don't realize we're working on one, don't name it as such. But anytime we direct our efforts and energies in one direction, that's a goal. These can range from the sublime to the silly. To want to be a great mom is a great goal. To expect your kids to always make you look good is silly.

        For our kids and ourselves, the trick is to hang onto reality, but not to rain on the dream. So we search out what's achievable, what fits who we are. Not one of us is stamped out of a mold. It's unfair to think one child is like the other and look for behavior or temperament qualities as if they were. We are, each of us, created unique–and aren't you glad? We are "fearfully and wonderfully made." (Read Psalm 139 and be reassured.)

        The earlier we plug in that little truth, the happier we'll be, and so will our kids. Remembering that colors what we expect, how we evaluate each one and each situation. Or it should.

        So let's applaud the Olympic athletes, those amazing physical specimens, as well as their loving parents. But out here in the real world let's accept ourselves and our children as we are. Let's set real world goals that help us grow while keeping our feet firmly planted in reality. 

        Anything else is madness.

        Here's to appreciating who we are–and each of our children, too.

        Lenore

    Which goals are worth it for you?

  •     Along with education for life, instilling self-esteem ranks high on the list of many parents.That sounds like a noble goal, but it's easy to get carried away with it.

        Perhaps, like me, you've heard some parents exclaim, with pride and even awe, "This generation knows so much more than mine ever did!"

        Others frequently tell their child, "You're so smart!" 

        (Hmmm. From the child's point-of-view, why should this Einstein kid listen to an "inferior" parent?)

        Even adults have difficulty staying balanced when they're constantly the center of attention.  Why be surprised if a child begins to think the world revolves around him or her? 

        To be effective and productive even the brightest individuals need self-understanding and self-discipline. Developing those qualities takes awhile, for all of us. The usual process seems to be try and fail, make mistakes, gaining experience along the way. Humility comes in handy, too. Eventually we gain wisdom.

        Knowledge does not equal wisdom. Wisdom is knowing what to do with the knowledge one possesses.

        Wealth does not equal a happy life. Even if you possess both, your life could be an empty shell, never able to trust that anyone cares about you rather than your money. 

        People to love and who love you matter so much more and give meaning to life. 

        Something to live for provides a reason to get up every morning.

        Real wealth, real peace, consists of knowing who you are and Whose you are. 

        Now, in the beginning of this school year, is a good time to remember that–and pass it on to our children. When we forget, we short-change them . . . and ourselves.

        Here's to education and figuring out what counts,

        Lenore

    Education, Part Two

  •     Now that school is back in session around here, people are shopping–and talking. What children need most seems to be a popular subject. "Good teachers!" says one parent.

        "Good schools, with a lot of choices," says another.

        "What counts most is IQ," says the third.

        "Uh-uh," says the fourth. "Without a healthy self-image, none of the rest matters. Kids who feel good about themselves will make it, no matter what."  

        All agree that they want their kids to have a good life and be able to hold a well-paying job. Hey, that's the American dream.

        Yet the "good life" really is more than the sum of these very good parts. Think how many times we see accounts of individuals who overcame poor teachers and schools, even troubled family situations and poverty, yet went on to achieve remarkable goals. 

        As for the super-intelligent types among us, they may be supremely educated and much-admired, but that doesn't necessarily equip them for living. We once knew a terrifically interesting fellow, a brilliant individual with a string of degrees. The simplest stuff of daily life baffled him, even something as basic as replacing a burned-out bulb in a light fixture. 

        Or take those who become famous and acquire great wealth. They make the news, yes, but often for messing up their personal lives yet again. I've never met a parent who wanted that for their kids.

       Like it or not, parents influence their children more than any other factor, and every survey of teens and young adults bears that out. So even though our darlings, especially teens, argue against it, they do care what counts with Mom and Dad. So it's worth asking ourselves, what do our kids think matters to grownups in their lives? Sometimes our children (and grandchildren) pick up mixed messages we don't know we're sending.

        Casual conversations with friends speak volumes to the kids in our lives. Suppose I meet a friend at Starbucks. The younger generation hangs at the next table, guzzling their fruit smoothies while we sip our Lattes. She's telling me about the Oprah show she saw, and I say, "Oh, man, what I wouldn't give to have her money! All that money, all those houses, people at her beck and call . . . what a life that would be!"

        Later I tell my kids–and mean it–"Remember, money can't buy happiness. That's not what matters most."

       Do you think my child will pay more attention to another "mommy lecture" or to what Mommy said to her good friend?

        I'm guessing it's the latter, so it's crucial to watch what we say, but more than that. First we need to know what we truly believe and what we stand for, then talk about it. We can't assume our kids are able to pick through and discern what's important to us. We need to say the words.

        If integrity makes our list, we point out individuals who demonstrate that, in small ways as well as big. We keep watch for when one of our kids acts kindly or considerately. Be sensitive in speaking praise, perhaps waiting for one-on-one time. Dad gets to hear about it, too. Then tell Grandma (or another friend) how kind and thoughtful this child is, preferably when the youngster can over hear it. 

        As for grades, keep them in perspective. Kids may study hard and do their best, yet fall short of being tops in their class. Let that be enough and say so. Don't we say that's what we want, that they study hard and do their best? When grades alone top the list, pressure to copy someone else's work increases. So does the feeling of not measuring up. 

        So we applaud the efforts, whatever the results. "You worked hard!" is music to the heart.  Searching out something we admire encourages them to keep on, keepin' on. Say "Good job!" as often as you can. (Isn't that what we all long to hear?)

        School is one thing, life is another. Every part of it gets easier when we have a personal cheering section, at any age. Words matter. So do hugs. 

        Our kids need to know we love them, not when, not if, but as they are. Period. They respond to that as a plant responds to sunshine.

        Here's to shining brightly!    

        Lenore

        

     

     

     

        

    Education for life

  •     These past weeks I've been brain-weary, trying to put together this blog.It's been one trial-and-error after another, which seems to be my style. Of course, I made it more complicated by choosing to personalize the look of it rather than just use one of the excellent pre-designed banner templates. One of my husband's photos would be just the thing, I thought, which turned out (for this rookie) to take awhile. But finally, finally, here we are.

          The photo you see across the top gives you a sense of what we see from our back deck. We delight in watching this ever-changing panorama of sky, as well as looking over a bit of open space. My favorite trees, the huge, gnarled old oaks that drag the ground, stand sentinal, as they have for a century or more. Picture a walking trail winding through this. Occasionally small flocks of wild turkeys gobble their way across, sometimes invading backyards and strutting down the sidewalks of our little community. In the cool of the morning and at dusk our resident trio of deer may stroll the open space, enjoying nibbles of the now-dry grass. Morning to night we hear birdsong, everything from Mockingbirds to Mourning Doves.

          As we look beyond our "wildlife preserve" we see hundreds of roofs and treetops. The busy street running through guarantees background traffic noise, but we ignore that and look to the grassy hills beyond, where more ancient oaks punctuate the terrain. Off in the distance–on a clear day–we glimpse the Sutter Buttes, known as the world's smallest mountain range. If you've been to northern California, you know the look of our area.

         Each day ends with a sunset. Some sunsets, like the one you see at the top of this page, make us gasp with awe. We stand transfixed and silently watch the incredible kaleidescope shimmering before us, often forgetting to grab the camera. Always, one verse comes to mind, the only one that fits: <blockquote

    "Be still and know that I am God."   (Psalm 46:10)

        Do we know we're blessed to live here, and are we thankful? Yes. But do we always stop to drink it in? Sadly, no.

        I think that's how most of us are with life, too. We're often as blind to the wonder of our lives as to the magnificence of another sunset … or another dawn.

       Each sunrise officially signals the new day. Maybe yesterday we messed up royally, but today the slate is clean and we get a fresh, new beginning. Once more we can choose how we'll live the unsullied twenty-four hours before us.

        Some days our hearts brim with joy, while others leave us weeping. Most days we label, "just routine." Truth is, no day is routine. Like every sunrise and every sunset, each day is one-of-a-kind, with no instant replays to be had. 

        That's true with the people in our lives, too. We so easily take them for granted, especially the ones we know we can count on. We forget to say, "thank you," and sometimes we forget that love takes care and feeding, like a delicate plant that can wither and die.

        As for mothering–or any kind of working with kids, well, you know how it goes. We get caught up in all the "doing" and forget to just pause and marvel at the mystery unfolding before us. Each child is a unique creation, an individual, like no other human being on earth. Yet somehow God trusts us with this child's care and shaping and guiding, day after challenging–and rewarding–day. We're allowed to be on the scene for the miracle.

       Whatever age we are, it's worth remembering that tomorrow may never arrive. That sets the true value on today: precious. Irreplaceable. A time to savor and cherish. Something to live, not just get through.

        For me, at least, mastering this skill looks to be the work of a lifetime. But I am learning, and I'm praying for eyes to see the beauty of each day and each person in my life. I don't want to miss any part of it.

        So here's to 20/20 vision of the heart!

        Lenore Buth

    Looking out on the world