Let Me Tell You One Thing

Sheets have never been a particular topic that I cared to discuss with anyone.  I mean, sheets are sheets.  One sleeps on them, launders them, puts them on a mattress; they are just sheets, nothing more. I have begun to realize that even our sheets can become a complex matter if you are actually trying to shop for them.  I can remember a time when a sheet was sheet was a sheet.  You could buy them in colors, or you could buy them white.  I even remember a time when the fitted ones all came in twin, double, queen, or king sizes.  Sheets were not a major matter to contemplate.  It occurred to me as time went on, that the market place was filling up with sheets that only tried to confuse me.  I knew the size of my mattress, it was a queen sized one.  But then gradually shopping for new sheets became a thing of wonder.  I usually ended up going home and sleeping on the same old sheets even when I bought a new mattress because I was no longer sheet savvy.  Did I buy 200 thread count or

Around 1999, my husband had some surgery in a doctor's office in Savannah.  After the surgery, he was to keep ice packs on the stitches to get down the swelling.  We had planned to stay in Savannah for a few days and for some reason, I saw him carrying around this silver bucket when we would leave the hotel.  I asked him, "Why do you have the silver ice bucket my mother gave us for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary?" He said, "I knew I was supposed to have ice handy after the surgery and I couldn't find anything else to put ice in".  He dropped it soon after the surgery and broke off the silver handle and also dented the bucket up all around it. I was not too happy. For some reason I began to think about that silver bucket a few days ago, which I still have and which I still polish faithfully, and I had some thoughts connected to that bucket concerning what we do with our pain many times.  I am speaking about our emotional pains. I have found myself

After the busy Christmas season, and feeling pooped from standing on my feet for hours at the time, searching recipes, cooking, shopping for ingredients; I wondered what really motivates me to keep doing this.  My thoughts go back to the meals that our mother made for us down through the years.  My brother and I would bring our children to her house, our sister would be there also, but she didn't have children, and we stayed for a couple of nights, played board games, and smelled  mother's scrumptious recipes cooking. She always fixed different dishes and tried to make everyone's  favorite thing.  When all of us got around the table, a table that she had built herself that was sturdy and had benches, we would enjoy the works of her hands. There would be all kinds of cakes, pies, entrees, and breads.  She would say, "Paula, I made that special Olive Loaf you like so much."  I would just nod not realizing, in years to come, how much that would stand out in my m

    Who Has the Time to Look at Truth      Paula Day Johns   The serenity of a majestic mountain, draped in clouds, with its’ peak extending above, reaching, reaching; and the quietness of a hundred million years surrounding it.   It stands motionless, but appearing as if it had knowledge and intellect. Below its’ jagged peaks there is the scurry of a modern city; there are buses, cars, shops, horns, bicycles, and people.   There are people; people looking. There are people looking for fun, people looking for relaxation, people looking for love, people looking for keys, people looking for children, and people looking for paychecks.   There are hotels, motels, waiters, and store clerks; people looking for the end of the day to have some peace.   There are people looking for comforts, people looking for highs, and people looking for an escape. There are movies and computers, smart phones and tablets, electronic games and social networking; mere technical drug

You would think that a person of my seemingly almost normal functioning would certainly have figured out things by now; however, I am surprised each and every time I step into a new puzzle in my daily contemplations without really knowing the best fit for each of the puzzle pieces. Take, for instance, the puzzle for today.  Do I pick up the piece that says, " Take it easy, don't jump the gun", or do I burrow down into some absolutely nonsensical mythical maneuver to take matters into my own hands and hope for the best? Most likely than not, I will contemplate all aspects of the puzzle of the day, decide which piece of it to put where, and stand back and watch the story unfold.  Once the piece is locked in, and fitting perfectly in that place, it is rare that it can be uprooted and placed anyplace else. It takes a life of its' own and gains speed of its' own accord and takes me along with it. The greatest difficulty is the decision making of the first piece

The Gardener has definitely been snipping a lot on your vine! That evidently means your fruit will be fresh, large, and abundant!   You have been worthy of nurturing and tending even though your trials have been many! The Gardener of my vine, however, has had to take a chainsaw to my vine and take out whole sections of my unyielding vine because I am hard of hearing what He says!   I think I am on probation as to whether or not the Vine Committee (there are three of them) are planning to let me stay in the vineyard because I am such an eyesore. It is really embarrassing because all the other vines get snipped and I get snapped! My last season fruit was despicable! My fruit was so puny I tried to hide it behind the leaves on my branches. I didn’t want anyone to see that my fruit was in such a sad state. I am really trying because the alternative is devastating. I hear the Head Gardner comes in with His entourage and speaks a curse on the vines that do not produce. I hav

In Sunday's Parade magazine, February 17, 2013, an article caught my eye.  My training and education has been in family studies and for many years I have been a practicing family therapist having the opportunity to meet with and allow safe, therapeutic environments for families to develop.   Naturally, the article appealed to me.  I would like to share the highlights and perhaps it will inspire you to get Bruce Feiler's book and put some of his research into play in your family unit. He gave  ninteen questions to his readers to help them have better family relationships.  I am not listing the results in its' entirety but a summary of each question for the brevity of this blog. 1. When a team of pscychologists measured children's resilence, they found that the kids who knew the most about their family history were best able to handle stress.  This answer surprised me somewhat because in our culture I believe we have forgotten the importance of generational histo

This morning, I found an old Floyd Cramer CD that I have had for years. I had not heard the CD in years but remembered how well Clyde and I loved his music when we dating and married back in the 60's.   I was busy packing Christmas angels for storage and the melodious sounds of his masterful piano began to spill into our living room.  I am not one to cry very often but I felt this music beginning to squeeze out the tears and it progressively became a sob. It triggered memories of our young love and how young love is fresh and exciting with so many plans for the future.  I began to think as I sat down on the sofa, sobbing alone, hoping he would hear me from another room, how our love has so much more depth and meaning now after 51 years of marriage, four children, and ten grandchildren later.  It didn't help any that today is my birthday and I realize in three more years I will enter yet another decade of my life and how swiftly the years are flying and how precious each d