Who am I? Part #3: Young Adult

I nearly missed going to nursing school as my parents told me during my senior year in high school that there was no money. But God provided and I received a grant via the high school principal. The stipulations included: 

1.   Must maintain a B+ average.

           2.  Must meet with the principal every semester.

           3.  Must never ask about the source of the money.

I complied. Everything was paid except $100 in my senior year, due after graduation.

For these 3 years, I earned money by babysitting- usually for doctors' children- or by working as an aide at the hospital. Thus, I rarely joined my classmates to go shopping. 

Classmate Suzanne realized why I didn't join in and she began  leaving small amounts of money under my jewelry box. Now I could  buy a soda and join my classmates for popcorn She even took me by train to her home in Detroit for a weekend. Her parents treated me as if I was a VIP guest.

During freshman year I had awful roommates. Both were disliked by everyone. Because I endured without complaining, I was given a private room during my junior and senior years. What a deal!

Nursing school was hard and I studied most of my waking hours. It was worth it as I proudly walked down the aisle for the graduation mass on May 30th. The bishop pinned our school pin on, the chairman of the board handed us our diploma and everyone congratulated us. We all wore the graduation white uniform we had chosen several months prior. Our cap had a black velvet stripe. We were GNs- graduate nurses.

I took my state boards in October and scored well. Now I was a RN! My dream since 2nd grade had come true.

                                                                                                                                                          To Be Continued                                                                                                                    

Who Am I? Part 2: Adult Provokes Child

When I was nine, we moved into a 2-story house with a big front porch surrounded by popcorn bushes. Inside was a huge surprise for me: an old upright piano that had been left behind in a small sitting room. 

We had moved out of the first floor of a rented house right across from the parsonage next to the little white church on the corner. 

The minister's 2 daughters taught me how to read music and play their baby grand piano. They were leaving for college and told my mother I was ready for a piano teacher after the upright piano was tuned.

My mother announced a piano teacher would be coming to meet us. I understood later that her criteria was that he or she would come to our house and was cheap. I never heard the phrase "You get what you pay for." But I saw it happen.

This man never tested me to determine where I needed to start. He just gave me book one and I was  instructed to work on the first two songs. I was able to play the whole book in one sitting. 

Every week he brought a new book and my mother was getting very upset paying for them. Then he brought me.one song and laughed saying, "Bet you can't play this one."

It was written in octaves- meaning my right hand had to stretch across eight keys. As an adult, I can barely do that. As a nine-year-old it was impossible. I could play it using the top or bottom of the melody- just not both at the same time.

The next lesson he arrived grinning. He delighted at beating me; "I knew you couldn't play this one!"

Too bad I didn't know Ephesians 6:4a back then:

Piano Teacher, do not provoke your

child/student to anger,

[my paraphrase]

OR

Colossians 3:21, KJV

Fathers, provoke not your children to anger,

lest they be discouraged.

My teacher laughed and laughed. I yelled louder though and threw him out the front door! Literally! My mother came running and boy, I was in big trouble. I've never regretted it even though that was the end of my piano lessons. I was not going to be discouraged. I was going to learn how to play,  

I learned that I had a line when crossed forced me to act. Although I hated confrontation, I could stand up for myself. It was an important lesson I would need in life. As a child, I could advocate for others better than for myself.

As an adult, I taught myself to play the piano and found that I was very good at sight-reading. [Playing accurately without seeing the music ahead of time.] My friend, Alene, was asked to sing at various women's functions. She often phoned to ask me to accompany her. I always asked why she didn't call me sooner?

 "Honey, You can handle it." 

And I usually did, but a bit of practice would have been better for my anxiety level.

Who Am I? Part #1- Childhood Memories

I'm sitting at my computer wondering who I have become and whether that is what the Lord meant me to be.

As a child I became an advid reader. I loved books! I read every book in my elementary (3) and junior high schools' libraries.(Minus the reference books we could not check out.) Librarians loved me. In 6th grade I sat under the fire escape to read during recess. I knew it was off limits, but it was the only place with shade. One day a couple boys from my class were sneaking around the back of the building when they saw me. "Watcha doin'?" the tall one asked. "Yeah, wny are back here? It's off-limits." the other demanded. "Readin'." With a smerky grin, the tall one reached for my book. but I moved it out of his reach. "You never break the rules...why read a dumb book anyhow." "It's about going undersea. Quite an adventure for an old lady and her cow." They stared in disbelief then looked at each other saying, "Proof it!" I think they planned to tease me, instead they sat down across from me. I turned back to page one and began to read. That was the day I became the reading tutor for a small group of boys. Later I learned my teacher didn't miss me. But when the boys disappeared, she went looking. Imagine her surprise when she saw us. The next day she asked me to stay after school. She explained that the boys needed to run off some of their energy, but she was delighted to see these non-readers intently listening. So we came up with a plan: on Tuesdays and Fridays I would take a book out and head for the fire escape. The other days they would burn up those wiggles that made it so hard to sit still and concentrate. When the Miss Pickeral books were finished, the boys would pick out the next one. (Our teacher or the librarian would help, if needed.) I ended up with 5-6 boys coming and they were hooked. By the end of 6th grade, those boys were checking out their own books to read at home. The librarian helped them get library cards at the neighborhood public library to encourage them to read over the summer. As for me, I already visited the public library year round. I was proud that I helped these guys enter junior high as readers!

Heartstrings

God who hung the stars... has taken a thread of His heart and tied it to yours.

The walk to the well is usually a time of catching up on the village news, but I left early this morning so I wouldn’t meet the others. As Mary’s pregnancy is more evident, the barbed remarks have increased. This morning, of all mornings, I just couldn’t face them. My tears won’t stop. I am afraid for Mary. It is too close to her time to be traveling all the way to Bethlehem. Yes, I know Joseph will take care of her, Lord, but couldn’t you have delayed the census a little while? Is this old lady’s request too much for you, Almighty G-d? Would it have too hard to have Mary’s needs considered? After all, she sings with great joy that you have chosen her. Yet you let her travel? Have mercy, G-d on this old woman. Forgive my arrogance. I just love my granddaughter and fear for her and the baby she’ll soon deliver. Lord, can you give me a sign… a little one perhaps? To show me that Mary is well? The tears continued to flow, as I neared the well. Oy, at least I can draw the water without the other woman smiling while looking at one another with their “I know the real story” expressions. I don’t even understand… how could they? “Woman, why are you weeping?” Frightened, I turned to see a Roman soldier looking down at me. What does one say to a Roman? He knows nothing about women’s trials or the promised Messiah. “Forgive an old lady, Sir. I am worried about my granddaughter traveling all the way to Bethlehem for the census.” “So you weep? I thought you Jews trusted your god to take care of everything!” He turned and marched off laughing. I sank to my knees and wept bitterly. My G-d, forgive me. A sign… I ask for a sign and you send me a Roman soldier. Oy, after all these years, this old woman still doubts . . . still doesn’t put all her trust in you. Forgive this old woman once again. You alone know why Mary must make this journey. Why she is with child that’s not Joseph’s; and yet he trusts you and takes her into his home. My G-d, my G-d, help this old woman to understand . . . to trust in you in all things. Until the Messiah comes, I am your servant. Little did I know that as I wept at the well, Mary, too, was weeping as she knelt in the hay before the manger that cradled her newborn baby. A son, as G-d had said. To be named Jesus, as Joseph had been told. Yes, Mary wept with both joy and fear as she pondered all that was and was to come. This great-grandmother will not live to see this little one grow into a man. But I will serve the Lord faithfully all my remaining days, as I promised that quiet morning at the well. ~ ~ ~ This writer spent the birthday of the Messiah at home alone and also in tears. Illness kept me from my family and I wept for understanding… for the loss of memory-building moments with my grandchildren and son. I, too, asked for a sign that God was with me for it didn’t feel that way. No Roman soldier appeared. No sign… just the loneliness, and the feeling of being rejected. The next day, I asked the Lord, “What was I suppose to learn throughout the day of tears?” He gave me the story of the anxious great-grandmother, who, even though she loved the Lord, struggled with the unknown. Her fears were real. For Jesus, who left His throne to be born frail and helpless in a stable, and came to deliver the news of hope and forgiveness, was rejected and despised. What loneliness He must have felt as He hung upon the cross for us! Then, like that great-grandmother, I knelt at the Well of Living Water and prayed, My G-d, forgive me. After all these years, this old woman still doubts . . . still doesn’t place all her trust in you. Forgive this old woman once again. My G-d, help this woman to trust in you in all circumstances and for all things. And until the Messiah comes again, I am your servant. [Christmas 2009] Posted by Constance Gilbert at 2:25 PM

Advent - Guest Post

 

HOME OUR LATEST SUBSCRIBE Tuesday, December 13, 2022

Why Advent Is Wonderful for Women Imagine yourself as a woman born centuries before Jesus                        came to earth as a baby. You have no cultural or political                        rights to speak of and your safety is tied up entirely in                              your relationship with your father, brothers,                                                  or husband. But then, you hear the words of a prophet named Isaiah. He describes                        God forming a servant in his mother’s womb who will bring freedom.                        Isaiah says that God labors like a woman for his people’s salvation,                             and remembers his people with the same intimacy as a mother                                   who remembers the nursing baby at her breast. This God, it seems, greatly values women. As Beth Stovell writes in                                a CT Advent devotional, he offers a "combination of global salvation                          and personal intimacy." We see this most clearly in the person of                            Jesus,  whose light brings freedom to those held captive. During Advent, may we celebrate the first coming of a Savior sent                                by a God who loves women, and may we look forward to the second                      coming—the day when all oppression shall cease.

Joe 's Gift of Life

 

SO MANY GIFTS

By Joe Mazzella

I was sitting on a long, black, folding medical table. Beside me was a woman in scrubs talking about the cold change the weather had taken recently. A radio in the corner was playing Christmas music even though it was still weeks away. I took a sip from the bottle of lemonade I had brought with me so I wouldn’t get dizzy. I looked around at all the other people laying back on their medical tables too. Each one of us had a needle in our arms with a long tube running down from it filling a plastic bag below. Each one of us had come to give a precious gift to help others, make the world a better place, and perhaps even save a life.

It was the local blood drive and I had driven 12 miles across snowy roads to get there. I tried never to miss one even in the wintertime. In spite of all the time it took I felt blessed being able to give this gift back to others. I had been given so much in this life: a loving family, many friends, sweet adorable pets, a comfy home, and enough money to meet my needs. Every day my prayers always included the words: “Thank you God for my life.” The gifts I had been given felt wonderful, yet the one thing that brought me more happiness than anything else was giving something back. You see, in this life nothing brings you as much joy as taking your place in the great circle of Love that God created for us all. In this circle you receive and you give until it all becomes one. The more you give back, the more you get in return. The more love you let flow from your heart, the more love flows into it from above.

There are so many gifts you can give in this life too: a smile, a kind word, a few dollars, a hug, a caring letter or e-mail, and even a pint of blood. Each one of them is priceless and precious. Each one of them brings a little more Heaven into your heart. Each one of them makes God smile. May you fill your life with giving then. May you fill your life with Love.

~ ~ ~

I'll leave giving blood to Joe and my son & his wife as I am unable to do so. I am home-bound and unable to gift folks with a smile, a kind word, or a hug as I go about my day.

 Howeveer, I can write thank you notes, pen pal letters, and pray for those in need. I can also write words of encouragement via emails, my blog or through sharing short stories.

Did you know that the Lord commands* us to be encouragers? I even have a red, heart-shaped  "Official Encourager" badge that humor writer, Liz Curtis Higgs gave me in 1996.

Years later, using Florence Littauer's book, Silver Boxes as the basis, I taught about encouragement at several women's conferences. Every lady in attendance left with a tiny one-inch silver box with a silver bow on top and a magnet underneath. I suggested that they keep their tiny gift near the spot they talked on the phone the most often. It was to remind her to speak only kind words.

For me, encouragement as a part of Thanks-Living each and every day. How about you?

__________

* Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

[Ephesians 4:29, NIV]

Guest Post from my online friend, Joe

 Joe, you always touch my heart and encourage me with your stories... I wait for them every Monday to appear in my inbox! And I appreciate that you always send me a thoughtful reply the next day; when I've sent you a message. Today I'm sharing this week's "story" on my blog including your email address.

Readers: If you'd like Joe's messages on Mondays, send him an email at joemazzella@frontier.com

THANK YOU

With Thanksgiving fast approaching I have been thinking of all the things 

I am thankful for in my life. The funny thing is that the things I am most thankful 

for aren’t things at all. It is all of the special people who have blessed my life 

over the years. I am so thankful for Mom, Dad, and Nana. We may not have 

had much growing up but one thing is certain. I always felt loved.

I always felt cared for. I always felt supported and encouraged by them all. I am 

so thankful for my two brothers, Eddie and Tony. Even though they were five 

and seven years older than me they often made time to play with their 

little brother. Yes, they may have picked on me from time to time but they 

always protected me as well. 

I learned a lot about growing up by watching them both. I am so thankful 

for my wonderful wife, Fonda. We may have grown apart and divorced 

but we also had 3 beautiful children who blessed our lives so much. 

And we remained friends through all these years to this day. I am so

thankful for my two sons, JJ and Casey. You guys may have come

into this world with mental disabilities but it was your spiritual 

abilities that taught me so much about how to live and how to 

Love. Because of you both I laugh more, smile more, and am closer to 

God. Because of you both my life is blessed with Joy every single day. 

I am so thankful for my daughter, Beth. You will never fully know how 

much your love has helped me and touched me over the years because 

words cannot express it. You are a true Earth Angel even if you don’t 

believe it yourself. I am so thankful for all of my friends, some who I 

see everyday and some who I’ve never met in person. Your kindness, 

encouragement, and support uplift my spirits always. And I am so 

thankful for all of my beloved pets over the years. I doubt I could

 love as openly and unconditionally as you loved me, but I do keep 

trying to learn from your example.

They say that if you could only say one prayer in this life: 

“Thank You!” would suffice. 

Let me say then: “Thank You, God for all those you have brought into my life”

ReplyReply allForward

A.A.A.D.D.- KNOW THE SYMPTOMS!

 Easily distracted, hard to remain focused, not concentrating well this week, and thought about this poem by David Eig. Maybe you can relate to it also.

Thank goodness there's a name for this disorder: 

Age-Activated Attention-Deficit Disorder.

This is how it manifests:

I decide to water my garden.
As I turn on the hose in the driveway,
I look over at my car and decide it needs washing.

As I start toward the garage,
I notice mail on the porch table that
I brought it up from the mailbox earlier.

I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.

I lay my car keys on the table,
Put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table,
And notice that the can is full.

So, I decided to put the bills back
On the table and take out the garbage first...

But then I think,
Since I'm going to be near the mailbox
When I take out the garbage anyway,
I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my checkbook off the table,
And see that there is only one check left.
My extra checks are in my desk in the study,
So I go inside the house to my desk where
I find the can of Pepsi I'd been drinking.

I'm going to look for my checks,
But first I need to push my Pepsi aside
So that I don't accidentally knock it over.

The Pepsi is getting warm,
And I decide to put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Pepsi,
A vase of flowers on the counter
Catches my eye--they need water.

I put the Pepsi on the counter and
Discover my reading glasses that
I've been searching for all morning.
I decide I better put them back on my desk,
But first I'm going to water the flowers.

I set the glasses back down on the counter,
Fill a container with water and suddenly spot the TV remote.
Someone left it on the kitchen table.

I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV,
I'll be looking for the remote,
But I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table,
So I decided to put it back in the den where it belongs,
But first I'll water the flowers.

I pour some water in the flowers,
But quite a bit of it spills on the floor.

So, I set the remote back on the table,
Get some towels and wipe up the spill.

Then, I head down the hall trying to
Remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day:
The car isn't washed,
The bills aren't paid,
There is a warm can of
Pepsi sitting on the counter,
The flowers don't have enough water,
There is still only 1 check in my checkbook,
I can't find the remote,
I can't find my glasses,
And I don't remember what I did with the car keys.
Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today,
I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day, 😉
And I'm really tired.

I realize this is a serious problem,
And I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll check my e-mail....

Do me a favor
Forward this message to everyone you know,
Because I don't remember who I've sent it to.

Don't laugh -- if this isn't you yet, your day is coming!
P.S. I don't remember who sent it to me, so if it was you, I'm sorry. 

                                                                ~  David Eig

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Halloween Is Not for Me

 

Halloween is not for me, But books! That's my happy place.

Friendships, Part 2

What do sheep, The Frog Prince, and a pig herder have in common? 

Clue #1: Many of us remember the Grimm's brother's fairytale of good over evil vs. the younger generation's tamer Disney animated version. They tell of a prince turned into a frog by an evil hag as punishment. Removing the curse requires a real princess. Remember? Well, I heard a new version while at a church family camp. The chaplain wanted to reach all ages- from preschoolers to teens and adults. The essence was that everyone has bad times in life. From down days to depression to actual tragedies. The church's responsibility is to be attentive to possible needs and to provide help as God directs;  ranging from a simple smile or hug to providing for needs, such as food, babysitting, cleaning, running errands, or offering transportation.

That week resulted in me being asked if I was having a froggish moment and receiving more hugs than I probably had all of my growing-up years.

Clue #2: A story, shared by Ann Spangler.

 "I  met Judith Fain when she was a doctoral candidate at the University of Durham. As was her habit at the time, she was spending several months of the year in Israel. One day, while walking on a road near Bethlehem, Judith spotted three shepherds approaching each other with their separate flocks of sheep. When the three men stopped to converse, their flocks began to intermingle. Judith couldn’t imagine how the shepherds were ever going to sort out which sheep belonged to them since by now they had melted into one large flock. Several minutes later, as the men said their goodbyes, she learned the trick. 

"Magically, as the shepherds called out to their sheep, the one large flock sorted itself into three separate flocks, with each sheep following the voice of its shepherd.

"Her experience illustrates why the land of Israel has often been called the fifth gospel. Two thousand years after the death of Christ it still testifies to his words and teachings. Hadn’t Jesus assured those who had flocked to him: I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me?

"One after another, the promises of our Good Shepherd are intended to communicate who we are and who He is. We are weak, vulnerable, and beloved.  He is our strong, protecting Shepherd."

Clue #3:  A missionary from Africa, shared he was trying to teach the meaning of the 23rd Psalm. All faces looked blank. No one was comprehending anything even though he had a translator. That week he wrote a paraphrase, which read "The Lord is my pig herder, I won't need anything." His African congregation responded with great joy. They had never seen or heard of sheep, but they understood how the pig herder cared for this major resource.

In the previous post, Balaam, a prophet was not listening to the Lord. So God spoke through his donkey. (Dee Numbers 22:21-35.)

All three clues allude to Jesus, our role model for being caring encouragers, which can result in deep friendships. We are only asked to be available or as Max Lucado says, "Let God use you as a conduit" to reach out to others.

The key is being open to God's plan and learning good communication skills.  

My electric company sends a monthly magazine & I actually look forward to reading it. Regional events are highlighted, an article on photography with good tips, the latest electrical news or explanations,  and a page for requests. 

Every few months I send birthday cards requested for 90-100-year-old folks. This month I sent 3 cards plus a brief letter in response to a senior wanting some books.

She wrote me right back & I sent my first package to her. We've decided to also be pen pals to encourage each other. We both have health issues including decreased mobility. We probably will never meet, but that is the joy of cyberspace and postage stamps.

I'm excited to have a new friend!

9/13/22

I've sent 2 more large brown envelopes & received a long letter plus a homemade card. What fun getting to know each other.

9/20/22

On the topic of friends, I read this today. Mull it over with me.

Friends come and go throughout our lives. Some friendships are brief; others last, but...

"The best kind of people are the ones that come into your life and make you see the sun where once you saw clouds. The people that believe in you so much, you start to believe in you, too. The people that love you, simply for being you. The once in a lifetime kind of people."

Author, Joyce Landorf calls them "Balcony People." I have been blessed with several over the years. Only 9 months with a teacher, who nurtured me and helped me realize my potential. Another teacher taught me more than English and took me underwing for over 3 years. My childhood babysitter still remains my dearest friend for over 70 years. My nursing school classmate proves that miles apart don't matter when you're connected by the heart.

Many doctors, nurses, pastors, and even a Scottish Bible Scholar have mentored me and are a part of who I have become.

My silver-white hair reminds me that it is my turn to encourage and share wisdom... to be a Balcony Person through my writing and relationships. 

Because if God can speak through a donkey, He can speak through anything and anyone. We need to be attentive to the words of others, always listening for the voice of the Lord. For after Balaam's donkey talked, life was never the same. *

* from God's Graffitti by Tim Bertram

(See Numbers 22:21-25 for Balaam's story.)