Contest: My Favorite Christmas Gift (post #2)

The very best Christmas gift I ever received was an impossible one -  a gift that did not exist from a person who could no longer give. But it was the most precious present anyone has ever given me.

Early in our marriage my husband and I were getting ready for a garage sale. I had a sewing room in the screened-in breezeway between the house and garage, but we knew I had way too much fabric and remnants. It wasn't as bad as the TV show "Hoarders" but Mike decided to help me cut down my inventory. 

When I opened one box filled with cream colored yarn, Mike asked if I had plans to knit or crochet it. I had always hoped to, but the yarn had never made it out of the box. When he suggested we get rid of it I suddenly burst into tears. My mom had promised to make me an afghan years earlier but her Alzheimers interfered - all I had left was the box of yarn. I told Mike to just take care of getting rid of it for me - it was too painful.

After the sale I figured the yarn must have sold, but actually my sly-but-sweet husband had hidden it in the back of our car. He asked around and found a lady from our church who loved to crochet. Ginny spent months secretly making it into an afghan and then on Christmas Mike presented it to me at our family Christmas, along with a note he had written as what Mom would say to me if she was no longer lost to Alzheimers. 

I often use that blanket these days when I take a Sunday afternoon nap, and it wraps me up in the love of so many people: my mom, my husband and Ginny.  Ginny also made up a pillow cover as well as a miniature afghan just big enough for my daughter Kate's doll cradle. 

Remember - tomorrow is the last day for my "Favorite Christmas Gift Contest" - just post a comment here on my blog (not just on FB) about your favorite Christmas gift and you could win a set of three hand tatted Christmas ornaments. The contest closes tomorrow night - so get that post up!

Looking forward to your comments-

Sandy Kay Salsbury

P.S. Special thanks go out to Ginny Lee... I love you!

" My Favorite Christmas Gift" CONTEST - details below

I have not composed a Christmas wish list in years. A long time ago I asked my husband if he wanted me to write a Christmas list to give him ideas. "You can if you want to," he said with a sly smile, "but you're so easy to buy for that I have no trouble." When I asked him how he knew what I wanted, he said that he had come up with "gift groups" (like food groups) and he just tries to give me a balance of things from some or all categories. 

So here is  Mike's list of  “Seven Gift Groups For Sandy” (good ideas for any woman on your Christmas list)-

1. Something scented – think Bath and Bodyworks bodywash or lotion
2. Something shiny – a piece of jewelry like some unique looking earrings
3. Something pretty – an outfit that makes me feel drop dead gorgeous
4. Something entertaining – a chickflick DVD or CD we’ll watch together
5. Something to read – fiction from Davis Bunn or John Grisham
6. Something sweet – it used to always be chocolates, but because of medical issues it will have to be white chocolate this year
          And my all-time favorite gift every year:
7. Something affirming – he always writes me a card telling me how much he appreciates me going through life together and reflects on how God has seen us through the events of the past 12 months.

There are years when we’ve agreed to not to give each other gifts due to financial restraints and other years I've received something from every category. No matter what, though, I can always count on that card, which is the best gift of all.

No matter what other Christmas gifts you plan to give this year, consider writing a card with a few heartfelt words on it for those who are closest to you. There's something about written words of appreciation and love that warm the deepest part of our hearts.

Contest - Contest - Contest - Contest
Write me a post: What is your favorite Christmas gift? Do you receive the same thing every year or does it change?


You can post on this blog through Wednesday 12/21/2012 at 6 p.m. EST. I will choose a winner and send them a set of three hand tatted Christmas ornaments. Looking forward to your posts!

Merry Christmas -
Sandy Kay Salsbury

Seasons Grieving

Even in the most festive and joyous month of the year, there are people who don't feel much like celebrating. I just got word that one of our former pastors went to be with Jesus last night after a long illness. Earlier today I read a post on FB from a daughter who was wishing happy birthday to her dad who is in heaven. Years ago I knew a widow who spent every Christmas Day alone, in homage to her beloved husband who lost his battle with Lou Gehrig's disease on Christmas Day.

In the midst of all the hubbub leading up to Christmas, it is easy to forget that each day there are families whose lives are disrupted by a death, whether it was expected or not. Each holiday someone is experiencing a "first" - the "first Christmas" or "first Easter" or "first Fourth of July" without a loved one.

As I thought about my friend (the pastor's wife who is now a widow) I realized I need to pray even more for her now as she heads into the holiday season with such fresh grief. It is never easy to say goodbye to someone you love, but it is especially difficult at this time when there is so much focus on families being together for Christmas.

I just felt tonight that I would like to encourage us all to look around our circles of friends and acquaintances, being sensitive to those who are especially missing a loved one this year. Just a touch or a word or a note could go a long way toward easing their burden right now.

Have a blessed night.

Sandpaper People Who Rub Me The Wrong Way

• The guy who drives on the shoulder and then cuts in front of you
• The woman with 20 items in the 12 item express lane at the grocery
• The telephone customer service agent who won't listen to your problem
• The relative who comes to family dinners and never lifts a finger to help
• The neighbor who drones on and on about all the trials in her life

 Got any "sandpaper people" in your life? You know the type: the kind that rub you the wrong way the minute you see them coming. The ones with little irritating behaviors that just drive you up.the.wall. Or with big grating attitudes that bring out the "spirit of slap" (as in you just want to slap them).

I like to think I am loving and that I act charitably toward everyone, but I must admit that there are types of people who add a large dollop of instant exasperation to my life whenever I see them coming. Some of their traits include being:

• rude
• crude
• opinionated  
• crass
• vain
• unsympathetic
• impatient
• unkind
• cruel
• proud
• devious
• dishonest
• untrustworthy
• single-mindedly selfish
• hateful 
• mean-spirited 
• insensitive
• argumentative
• stubborn
• hard hearted
• grudge-holding

In my experience, I've noticed two reasons God allows sandpaper people in my life:

1. To show me my own rough edges.Someone once said that the traits I most dislike in others are often because they are traits I possess to some degree, and the other person reminds me of my own failings. I have to admit I have often found that to be true. 
2. To show me who to pray for.On many occasions I have felt my blood pressure rise as I was "stuck" standing in a checkout line with a rude opinionated complainer. I would raise my eyes to the heavens with a "Why me?" only to hear a gentle "Pray for them - no one else is and they need it." As I began to pray, I would gain compassion for them and my frustration would melt away.

Next time a sandpaper person rubs you the wrong way, try praying for them. You may well be the only person who does.

My New Favorite Thanksgiving Dish: Maple Ginger Roasted Vegetables With Pecans

We just got back from spending Thanksgiving with some very special friends. Usually Thanksgiving meals end up with a lot of guilt over poor food choices, but these friends are very aware of what types of food they prepare and eat, and everything was delicious and healthy (okay, so the desserts weren't exactly kosher...).  But this vegetable dish was my all-time favorite. Hope you enjoy it as well.

Maple Ginger Roasted Vegetables With Pecans
(serves 12)

1-1/2 cups pecans
4 medium carrots, peeled and sliced 1/4 " thick on the bias
2 large parships, peeled and sliced 1/4 " thick on the bias
1 medium head of cauliflower cut into 1" florets
1 butternut squash peeled, seeded and cut into 1" dice
1 pound brussel sprouts, halved
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
salt and pepper
2 TB minced fresh ginger
1/3 cup pure maple syrup

1. Preheat the oven to 425. Spread the pecans in a pie plate and toast until fragrant - about 6 minutes. Let cool.
2. In a large bowl toss the carrots, parsnips, cauliflower, squash,and
brussel sprouts with the olive oil, nutmeg and salt and pepper.
3. Spread the vegetables on 2 large rimmed baking sheets and roast for 30 minutes, until the vegetables start to brown. Scatter the pecans and ginger over the vegetables and drizzle with the maple syrup; toss well.
4. Continue to roast the vegetables for 25 minutes longer until they are tender and golden. Scrape the vegetables into a bowl and serve hot.

Have a lovely weekend!

What Thanksgiving Does For Us

If it wasn't for Sarah, you and I might be at work today instead of relaxing around a turkey dinner with family and friends on a national holiday. Although the pilgrims and Indians were credited with celebrating the first Thanksgiving, it is through the persistence of Mrs. Sarah Josepha Hale that Thanksgiving was finally designated as a national holiday. Sarah believed in the power of giving thanks and persevered through five US presidents before Abraham Lincoln finally designated a national day of Thanksgiving. Each successive President then issued an annual Thanksgiving Day declaration until finally in 1941 an Act of Congress made Thanksgiving the law of the land.

Exactly who was Sarah and why was Thanksgiving so important to her? Born in New Hampshire in 1788, she and her siblings were educated at home. Although women were not allowed to attend college, when her brother Horatio attended Dartmouth, he insisted on sharing with Sarah everything he learned.Sarah taught school and married David Hale, a lawyer who encouraged her in her intellectual pursuits. Nine years later, David died of a stroke, leaving Sarah to raise their five children alone.

With the support of friends, she published two books of poetry, the second one containing her original poem that we now know as the nursery rhyme, "Mary Had a Little Lamb."  She also wrote a novel, "Northwood" which described a New England Thanksgiving meal, the first reference to what we now consider a traditional Thanksgiving meal, complete with turkey and pumpkin pies.

Sarah later published a book of short stories, including one called "The Thanksgiving of the Heart." In it she describing how a group of people giving thanks together changes a community.

“Our good ancestors were wise, even in their mirth.  We have a standing proof of this in the season they chose for the celebration of our annual festival, the Thanksgiving.  The funeral-faced month of November is thus made to wear a garland of joy…

There is a deep moral influence in these periodical seasons of rejoicing, in which a whole community participate.  They bring out, and together, as it were, the best sympathies of our nature.  The rich contemplate the enjoyments of the poor with complacency, and the poor regard the entertainments of the rich without envy, because all are privileged to be happy in their own way.”  

Sarah was on to something there – Thanksgiving/giving thanks with others does change something. Hearing the blessings and struggles that other people have experienced in the past year has a way of changing my perspective of my own situations. Earlier today I took a long walk with a dear friend that I haven’t seen in a year. As we talked, I realized that she and her family had gone through several situations that I hadn’t fully pieced together from the few letters or phone calls we have had. It made me all the more grateful for her friendship of reaching out to me even in the midst of her own situations, and more determined to stay better in touch in the future.

I wish you a happy Thanksgiving today – and pray that the power of giving thanks changes us all.

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread - Even If We are Gluten Intolerant?

On FB today a friend of mine was so very excited that she got some sourdough bread and eggnog. This may not sound earthshaking to most people, but this friend, like me, has some medical issues that greatly restrict the types of food her body can handle. Her situation is MUCH more restrictive than mine, but she bears it with an incredibly gracious spirit. The newly discovered sourdough bread is made with millet and her eggnog is made of soy, but nevertheless I celebrate with her at the new variety this adds to her diet.

In what we call the Lord's Prayer, Jesus asked that God would "give us this day our daily bread." I got to thinking about bread, especially as my husband is gluten-intolerant. When we pray for bread, it may or may not be literal bread. For my husband or my friend, it probably isn't - but the God who created them also knows what they can eat. God also knows that I have Interstitial Cystitis (IC) and knows what is good for my body and provides that.

I just had a picture of the feeding of the 5000 and one person bypassing the basket of bread -"No thanks - I'm gluten-intolerant." I doubt that happened - for one thing, their wheat was a whole different variety than we have nowadays, and it is highly unlikely anyone was gluten-intolerant. But if they were, I have no doubt that God made the bread to be exactly what they needed.

God knows exactly what we need from one moment to the next, and He provides it so graciously and abundantly.So whether you need a loaf of bread, a glass of egg nog or whatever it might be - He promises to provide - exactly what you need.

Fall Favorite #1: Chiffon Pumpkin Mousse

I've been a busy little bee today getting my house back in order and conquering Mount St. Laundry. I have just enough time left before popping into bed to share a super-easy recipe we love: Chiffon Pumpkin Mousse. It's faster than a pie though it can be made one if you put it in a graham cracker crust.

Chiffon Pumpkin Mousse

1 cup canned pumpkin
1  box of 4 serving instant vanilla pudding mix (can be SF if you wish)
1 cup evaporated skim milk
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1-1/2 cups Cool Whip
1/4 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

Mix pumpkin, pudding mix, milk and cinnamon together thoroughly. Fold in 1 cup of the Cool Whip and pour mixture into a pretty glass bowl.Carefully spread the remaining Cool Whip over the top of the mousse. I like to sprinkle pecans or walnuts on top. Let mixture chill for  2 hours.

Enjoy!
Have a good night, all!

Rediscovering Past Joys

Last night as I was trying to fall asleep I played one of my favorite albums, "Hymns From The Ryman" by Gary Chapman. It features some old hymns with acoustic arrangements, including Chet Atkins' final recording. My very favorite selection features an a cappella male quartet singing close knit harmonies on "The Lord Bless You And Keep You", also known as "Sevenfold Amen". My mother's church choir used to sing it at the close of every worship service when I was a child.

I remember how the harmonies used to wash over me as the voices swirled and wove around each other, finally coming to rest in a rich tonic chord anchored by a resonant bass. There were several strong basses in her choir and Mom used to call them her "rumble basses". My personal favorite was a tall, quiet Abraham Lincoln lookalike named Lincoln Zareb. I was totally fascinated at how such a powerful voice could just pour out of such a tall slender man.

Listening to that piece last night so epitomized my joy in music that I found myself hungry for more, and I played the piece four more times before I fell sleep. In our current lifestyle, music is not as large a part as it has been in other seasons. I have gone months without playing my guitar, and I don't recall the last time I directed anything. But last night reminded me how I have missed it.

Perhaps the time has come to pick up that area of my life again. Is there something in your life that used to bring you joy? Consider picking up that activity again. Who knows what the Lord will do with it in this new season of your life? As always, I would love to hear from you.

Sandy Kay Salsbury
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Overcoming Chocolate: the Power of Pain

If anyone had ever told me that I would give up chocolate, I would have bonked them on the head with a huge Hershey bar, picked up the pieces and then sat down to eat it. I had my favorite chocolates: Ghiradelli, Godiva, Dove bars, Hershey kisses, Cheesecake Factory's Tuxedo cake, and all manner of chocolate mousse, pudding and ganache. I actually researched to find the very best brownie recipe and took it to almost every potluck I ever attended, rarely having any left to bring home. I loved chocolate milk,hot chocolate, and even frozen hot chocolate. I knew it wasn't good for me to eat so much chocolate, but darn it all - I loved it: the rich aroma, texture, and taste... and the mellow feeling after it hit my brain.

But something changed all that. Last May I was diagnosed with interstitial cystitis (known as IC), which means that certain foods cause me to have excruciating pain (think of the worst urinary infection you've ever had but make it last for-ev-er...). Yeah - that's IC.For more about IC, go to: http://www.womenshealth.gov/publications/our-publications/fact-sheet/interstitial-cystitis.cfm

Chocolate, caffeine, and most spices make the pain flare, along with anything slightly acidic: all fruits (except blueberries, Gala apples, honeydew melon and pears), anything with vinegar (salad dressings, ketchup, mustard, mayo), soy (soy sauce, soy milk, most snack bars), fermented (most cheeses, yogurt, wine), carbonated or with artificial sweeteners (farewell, Diet Coke - I knew thee well). Anything the least bit spicy like Mexican food, a lot of Chinese dishes, or Cajun is out, as well as Italian because of the tomatoes and onions. When I go to a restaurant I hate to order because I have to be very specific about what I can have. I usually just ask for a chicken breast or a steak "seasoned only with salt". The servers are usually very helpful, but sometimes the cooks don't understand and send out something I can't eat.

I have to admit there have been times in my life when I have known acquaintances who had special dietary needs, and inwardly I was less than compassionate, assuming they were just being high maintenance. How my hard heart must have grieved the heart of God. There is nothing like personal experience coupled with pain to open your eyes to a new perspective.

Giving up chocolate has been a lot easier than I ever dreamed - when the choice is a piece of Godiva or pain, Godiva can just go riding on by. I'm learning that I can be a lot more disciplined than I thought in other areas, too - sin of any kind is really not worth the pain.

My purpose in this post is not to complain - I just wanted to share the lessons I'm learning, even if I am a slow learner. I also wanted to share my brownie recipe - please enjoy it for me!

Sandy's Favorite Fudgy Cocoa Brownies

1/2 cup butter 1 tsp vanilla

6 TB cocoa powder 1/2 cup flour

6 TB oil 1/4 tsp salt

1 cup white sugar 3/4 cup water

2 eggs 1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Using a medium size glass mixing bowl, melt butter in the microwave (be sure to cover - it spits!). Mix in oil and cocoa. Stir in sugar, eggs and vanilla; then stir in remaining ingredients. Spread in a greased 9x9 pan (if you double the recipe, it will fit a 13x9 pan). Bake just until brownies begin to pull away from the sides of the pan (about 20-25 minutes - more if doing a double batch). Cool and frost with chocolate buttercream icing or sift some powdered sugar over the top.

Enjoy!

The Freedom of Having "Other Gifts"

Today at work I heard someone whistling an incredibly beautiful tune. I have always wished I could whistle. I can sing, play guitar, ukelele, piano, French horn, alto and soprano recorders and even a kazoo - but I cannot whistle. I have attempted to learn over the years, but the results are frankly embarrassing (and painful to hear). My tactful daughter finally said, " Mom - it's okay - you can give it a rest. You have plenty of other gifts."


The word “gift” has so much emotion to it, whether used as a noun, verb or adjective. I love receiving gifts (especially those given "just because"), I enjoy gifting other people (often with freshly baked banana bread), and I love to bask in the glow of being told I am gifted (as a musician or writer). Just thinking about the word “gift” gives me a rosy glow of pleasure.

Being gifted tends to mean a person is naturally good at a particular thing, like music or art or being able to fix cars (the last is the one that impresses me the most since I don't have that gift!). Everyone has several gifts or areas where they have natural abilities beyond the average person. We also have areas where we wish we were gifted and try to somehow prove that we are, working against the grain and fooling no one. How much better it is to discover the particular gift God has given you and invest time in honing it.


Having a gift is not usually enough on its own - time and energy have to be spent in developing a gift before it is truly wonderful. A rough gemstone embedded in a rock is valuable, but how much more so when a sapphire or emerald is cut to show all its beautiful facets.


As a young girl, I was in love with ballet. I desperately wanted to become a ballerina, but my parents were wise enough to know that moving gracefully was not my gift. Instead, they encouraged me in other directions like piano and guitar, and I have been grateful. Nowadays I find myself with less need to prove myself in areas I am not gifted - like fly fishing, bowling and whistling. After all, as my daughter pointed out, I have other gifts.


How have you discovered what your gifts are? Are there some gifts you have wished you had? I'd love to read your postings.


Sandy Kay Salsbury

Pray It, Don't Say It

My mother, Elizabeth Bloch, was one of the most gracious women I have ever known. She was known for her kindness, musicianship, and willingness to help anyone. She once confided in me that she had been "a rather selfish person" in her young adult years, and she had made a lot of mistakes. As a result, she spent the rest of her life trying to serve others. She hated to rock the boat, so to speak, and spent a lot of her time praying as she went about her daily activities.


I loved my dad, Robert Bloch but there were times that he could be rather blustery. He was the son of a Danish immigrant and a long line of "I am the Papa" figures from the old country. He had very definite ideas of how things should be and would make his opinions known. I remember listening to my older sister arguing with him in her teen years and decided that kind of "debate" was not the most effective way to approach my dad. I would come up with all kinds of strategies to make what I wanted seem to be what he wanted. Sometimes I still resorted to debate, but usually I tried to find a way to get what I wanted without actually crossing him.

My mother had a better way of dealing with people, especially my dad. She practiced the philosophy of "pray it, don't say it" and it was amazing to watch. It worked like this: Dad would have a decision he needed to make, and he was leaning a particular way. Sometimes Mom would have a better idea, but rather than just blurting it out, she would pray something like this:

"Lord, I think ____ is a better choice than what Robert thinks we should do, but I leave it up to You to tell him." That way she wasn't confrontational, she trusted the Lord to lead Dad, and the results were out of her hands. If she was right, the Lord would tell Dad, and then the decision would be made. If she was wrong, only she and the Lord knew it. It only works if you don't care who gets the credit, and there's the rub.

If I honestly want what is best for the situation and the persons involved, I don't care who comes up with the right answer. If it bothers me that no one knew it was my good idea, chances are my motives were a bit dicey.

I'm not saying that I should just sit quietly and pray rather than contributing to a healthy discussion about a decision, but there are times it is better to be silent and let the Holy Spirit do the talking. Another one of Mom's sayings was "I will intrude my personal opinions only in my prayers," which meant that she wasn't going to argue about something - she was just giving her opinions to God.

As Americans, we want to control and tell others what to do, but there comes a time when it is best to quite literally leave things in the Lord's hands. He knows what is best, and I know enough to trust Him.

Better Than Fairy Dust: Bestowing Blessing

When I was a little kid I loved watching movies and TV shows that had a happy ending. I especially loved princess stories like the Lesley Ann Warren musical version of "Cinderella" and adventures like "Peter Pan". Cinderella had Celeste Holm as a marvelous fairy godmother, and Peter Pan (and Tinker Bell) had fairy dust that helped you fly. Every time the fairy dust touched someone, they became a happier person with nice things happening to them. I remember coveting Tink's little bag of fairy dust and wondered what one had to do to get a fairy godmother (I didn't even have a plain godmother, unlike my Catholic friends). I never did get a FGM, in case you were wondering (though I did get my Prince Charming -  which is another post another day).


We all long for something that makes us feel special and transforms our everyday lives into something extraordinary. Fortunately, that can happen without fairy dust or a fairy godmother: all we need are words of blessing. When I am around people, I ask the Lord if there is something He wants me to say to them.  It doesn't have to be much or highly profound. It can be as simple as "May you have a blessed day" or "May the Lord give you extra joy in your work today."  It's not being artificially cheery, but rather being sensitive to what someone needs to hear.


At work I have to send out a report at 10 a.m. every day to the same group of people, some in my office and some far away. I used to write, "Here is the daily report for ____" but it seemed so boring. Over a year ago I started adding a blessing to the report each day. Here are just a few examples.

• "Whatever is your deepest need today, may you feel the Lord meeting you there."
• "May you be aware of the Heavenly Father's attention to your every need today. He is honored when we ask."
• May you be a conduit of blessing to unexpected needs around you today."
• "May the Lord bless you with a healthy dose of humor today. A merry heart does good like a medicine!"
• "May a fresh dose of peace rule in your heart today."

The key is being genuine and spirit-led in what you say or write, sensitive to God's promptings. I have been encouraged by all the notes I get back, saying that a particular day's blessing was exactly what someone needed.  I don't do this with all my email or every time I see someone in the hall, but I do ask the Lord to make me sensitive to those who need encouragement.


Your words may not make someone fly, but they can certainly lighten a heart - and sometimes the right words can send someone's spirits soaring. I guess that means you can have your fairy dust back now, Tink.

"Not Yet" Is Not "Nyet"

Mike and I are currently waiting for God to fulfill a promise He gave us several years ago. As we get closer to the "deadline" for the answer to come, I find myself battling a flagging faith and a waning enthusiasm. I still believe God will do what He promised, but the going is slower and harder - like someone just kicked up the incline a couple notches on my treadmill. I wasn't expecting it to get exponentially harder to "keep the faith", but it definitely has. Sometimes I wish that I could find a cruise control to get me through the next six months, but this is meant to be an active battle, waged with a living faith.

There are times that I wonder if I misunderstood what God wants me to do or if He truly directed me at all. The situation seems impossible with nothing on the horizon to tell me I am headed in the right direction. Nothing has happened yet - am I a fool to believe that it will? Maybe it was a "no" instead of a call to wait.

These are the thoughts that I struggle with. But then I am reminded that a "nyet" ("no" in Russian) is not the same as a "not yet". God loves to do a new thing in my life, something I haven't done before. Sometimes it is something that no one around me has done or heard of anyone else ever doing.

But here is the heart of the issue: just because something has not happened yet does not mean that it can't or won't. The word "yet" is powerful  - add it to the end of a negative statement and see how it infuses hope fizzing through the most glum of settings.

• "I can't do that - yet"
• "Nothing is happening - yet"
• "Our house hasn't sold - yet"
• "The job has not opened up - yet"
• "I haven't gotten married - yet"
• "There are no open doors - yet"

Someone once told me that the key to dealing with a stubborn toddler (or teenager) is to hold out just one second longer than they do. You don't have to hold the line forever - you just need to hold on a little longer than they do.

I think the same is true with our faith - we don't have to be strong forever - just until the specific victory is won. 

Sometimes God does close doors and says no, but more often He says, "Not yet..." 

Faces Or Mirrors?

I was leading music for a women's Emmaus weekend (a three-day adventure to bring you closer to Christ) when a marvelous thing happened: not a single solitary soul was looking at me. Each woman was caught up in worship to the Lord and I as the worship leader had faded completely into the background. It was so humbling to realize God had used my voice and guitar to draw the women to Him, and I felt a new kind of satisfaction.

I didn't always like being in the background, in fact, for most of my life I liked standing out a bit and being noticed. When I was in a room with women in particular, I felt a need to be affirmed, and learned to do things that would garner compliments from others. I became a people pleaser.

I discovered I constantly needed feedback to know how I was doing. Each person became a mirror in which I could see myself, like walking past a department store window display. I was so busy looking at my reflection that I never noticed the beautiful display inside. By treating others as simply mirrors where I could see my own reflection, I never saw their faces. And by not seeing their faces, I could never look into their eyes to see their real needs and who they were. My insecurity and need for affirmation was actually blinding me.

These days as I get my affirmation from God, I no longer am so desperate for approval from others. That means that the mirrors can disappear and I can finally see others clearly. And that is how it should be.

To Blog Or Not To Blog

I made a commitment to blog every day for the 30 days of November, and so far I'm doing pretty well at getting the posts churned out. The problem is, though, that I often am working on my blog late in the evening and it is cutting into our sleep. Mike and I take turns (though it is usually me more than him) saying, "I'm almost done with X and then I'll get ready for bed," and then the other person gets involved in something and it goes back and forth. Before we know it, it's close to midnight and we're getting cranky. 

The point of blogging is building relationship, but if my blogging is keeping me from spending time with the ones I love most, perhaps I need a paradigm realignment.  I also read on a blog the other day that the author was discontinuing her blog. She had gone through a difficult transition in her life and the people on her blog really helped her, but she had recently realized that she was no longer in real relationships with anyone. Her blog world became so much more comfortable she had withdrawn from the real world. So she's going cold turkey and closing down the blog to force her to get out in the world with flesh and blood people. I wish her the best.

I don't think I need to quit blogging, but I do need to come up with some ways to blog without staying up so late. In light of that conclusion, I think I'll close this past and get to bed on time.  Here's my question for you: do your online relationships sometimes crowd out the real people ones? I look forward to reading your posts  - as long as you don't stay up too late writing them!

G'night.

Sandy Kay Salsbury

Thank You, Mr. Ley

Mr. Terry Ley was my sophomore English teacher and the first teacher who taught me how to think. I had always done fairly well in English because I was such a voracious reader, but I rarely studied for any of my classes (wasn't homework just a suggestion for those who wanted more?) so I was a pretty solid A/B student all across the board. A bunch of my straight A friends ended up in AP English ("college prep" is what we called it back then) but because I had a B or two in English,  I took Creative Writing with the rest of the general populace.

Creative Writing under Mr. Ley was an amazing venture. He wrote his own curriculum and started out having us observe our world. One assignment was to go to downtown Cedar Rapids, sit on a bench outside a big department store and just people-watch for 30 minutes. I took a notebook and made some observations, but I spent an hour lost in other people's stories. I haven't stopped people-watching since.

He also introduced us to "Shotgun Writing" (sometimes called "Freewriting")  where we would sit at our desks with pen and paper, and when he said, "Go!" we were to write madly about whatever we were thinking about. The only rule was that the pen had to be moving at all times ("because your brain is always going") until Mr. Ley told us to stop. If you couldn't think of anything to write, you just kept writing "I can't think of anything to write" over and over until you thought of something. You were not allowed to go back, edit or correct anything or even worry about spelling - you were just to get the thoughts on paper. If your topic wandered, it didn't matter - just follow where it leads.

For the first time, my thoughts were not restrained by rules about grammar and punctuation - I could just fly with my thoughts. When I learned how to touch-type (keyboarding, for you young'uns) later that year, my writing really took off because typing kept up with my thoughts a whole lot better than a pen and paper. He also taught us to edit our work - but not while writing a rough draft.

We learned about telling stories through television and film; camera angles and perspectives were taught using comic books (my mother was slightly appalled).One assignment was to write and illustrate a children's book and I discovered how much I loved story. Mine was about a plumber with a big nose who is thrown into the king's dungeon because someone thinks his nose is offensive looking. With Morris (the plumber) in jail, all the kingdom drains start to back up and create a terrible stench. Morris is dragged out of jail and told he has to fix it NOW or be executed, but he has no tools. Things look pretty bad  until a mouse he met in the jail spills a huge container of black pepper and Morris gives a huge sneeze which of course clears all the drains.

Mr. Ley ignited a spark of creativity in me that continues to burn, and in this current season of my life where I make a living as a writer, I am even more grateful for his influence.

As I write, I just realized that I could probably google him and actually tell him thank you directly. I just found some links where he is now a retired professor from Auburn University. Sounds like I have a thank you to write.

Who have been the people of influence in your life? Have you ever told them how much you learned from them? Don't wait too long to look for your Mr. Ley.

Sandy Kay Salsbury

Prayer Triggers

A prayer trigger is something that reminds me to pray, and I need all the help I can get. I used to feel terribly guilty when someone would ask me to put them on my "prayer list" because invariably I would completely forget to pray.

A prayer trigger solves that for me by using my own struggles to trigger me to pray for someone else's need. When I am struggling with discouragement, I find a sister who is also in the same boat. I choose to pray for her encouragement every time I feel that ol' discouragement heading my way. She chooses to do the same for me, and before we know it, God answers both our prayers.

Prayer triggers do several things:

• They get my mind off myself and my problems
• They help me focus on someone else
• They keep me in tune with the Holy Spirit
• They help me gain victory over areas of temptation (If I turn every temptation into a time of intercession, I'm going to stop being tempted in that area)

I spoke with a friend of mine whose husband was just laid off this week and needs to find a new job as soon as possible. She knows I am concerned about my husband finding a teaching job after he finishes grad school in May, so we have agreed to pray for each other. It's already made a difference in my own outlook for the future. I think that's what the Bible means when it says to bear one another's burdens. 

Let me know if there's something I can be praying about for you. 

Blessings on you and yours,

Sandy Kay Salsbury

Breaking Out of Indecision

Today's post may seem a bit silly to some of you, but humor me. Is it just me or do any of the rest of you out there ever have trouble making a decision? Some of you are laughing, because you can't imagine not knowing what you want (and going for it). That's great and more power to you, but there are some of us who occasionally "freeze up" when it's time to make even simple choices.

Like many kids, I grew up wanting to do everything right. I reasoned that if I were perfect, everyone would like me and I would be successful. I became an excellent people-pleaser and highly adept at reading other people's reactions to me. I also was a bundle of nerves when it came to making decisions. I so hated the idea of making a wrong decision that I would try to postpone hard decisions until I had polled all my friends and researched the decision ad nauseum. Even then I still hated making decisions.

Eventually I got to the point that I would "freeze" at some simple decisions as well as the major ones. It was especially true when I had serious PMS (more on that subject another day). The "freeze" usually meant one of two things:

1. Two choices were so similar that I couldn't see one as better
2. I was afraid of making the wrong decision

So one day I came up with a simple strategy:

-Label each choice with a title.
-Choose the one that comes first alphabetically
If I am having dinner and the choices are between a hamburger or a chicken sandwich, I will choose the chicken sandwich. It doesn't really matter which choice I make: the point is that the freeze is broken (I do eat a lot of chicken).

-People don't always know what they want, but they know what they don't want. Occasionally, I make the choice based on the alphabet and suddenly discover that I really would rather have the hamburger this time. There's nothing that says I can't do that - as long as I don't keep flip flopping.

-The more practice you have at breaking "freezes", the less they will happen. Eventually they just melt away.

I just wondered whether or not I made the right decision to post this, but I've decided I might as well (not bad for a recovering people pleaser).

Do any of the rest of you have trouble making decisions like this or know someone else who does? Please post a comment so I know you're out there.

Sandy Kay Salsbury

The Blue Ball

Nora was in Tiny Grandma’s backyard playing in the old tractor tire sandbox when a little boy her age strolled down the alley, a small blue rubber ball in his hand. Nora said hello and invited him to join her in the sandbox. Smiling, he obliged. He had short dark curly hair but was dirtiest little boy she had ever seen. Nora asked if he ever bathed, and he said his mama made him take a bath “’most every night”. Nora was somewhat dubious – how could he be so dirty if he washed so often? She queried him on the proper use of soap and a washcloth, and he insisted that he used them every time. Nora showed him her white skin and told him that he must be doing it wrong, because if he had been doing it correctly, his skin would come clean and be just as fresh and white as hers. Roddy told her he would scrub and scrub, and that he would come back tomorrow.

The next day Roddy came back with a sad expression- he had scrubbed until his skin ached, but it was just the same dirty brown. Nora said it didn’t matter – at least he had tried. She did compliment him on the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands; it was obvious his scrubbing was more successful there, since his skin was definitely lighter. They spent that day playing together and before Roddy went home, he gave her his blue ball to keep overnight as a sign of friendship and said they would see each other the next day.

What they did not see was Tiny Grandma standing at the kitchen window watching Nora play with her new friend. A hard line replaced her usually smiling lips and a chill frosted her cornflower blue eyes. She told Nora’s mama that no granddaughter of hers was going to play with a Negro boy.     

And so the rest of the week was spent in a carousel of activities. Nora and her family swam at the lake, hiked through the state park and sat on a blanket under the stars for the evening band concert in the new bandstand gazebo. They shopped for postcards to say what a fine time they were having, having explored Uncle Ole’s huge garden and ate his fine homemade BBQ chicken with its sweet flame-licked secret sauce. They rode in a speedboat across the lake, and even stopped at the little amusement park to ride a few rides. They walked over the footbridge that had been used in a Hollywood movie, stopped by Aunt Susan’s to see her collection of hand painted porcelain figurines and then picked dark purple grapes for Ole to use in his homebrew. In short, they did everything they could to keep Nora out of the backyard where she might meet Roddy again. Nora did not guess what the adults were doing, but each time they went in or out of the grey little house she kept looking for a glimpse of Roddy so that she could return his beloved blue ball.

Days passed, and all too quickly the end of the week had come with still no sign of Roddy. After all the farewell hugs and kisses had been passed around all the relatives at least twice, Nora’s family all piled into the family station wagon with Nora in her usual seat in the “way-back” where the seat faced out the back window. Just as they waved a final goodbye to Tiny Grandma and pulled away from the curb, Nora saw Roddy run into the street to catch up with their car. She had been holding his blue ball, hoping for one last chance to return it to him. She cried to her father to stop and open the back window so that she could throw the ball to Roddy, but as fathers are sometimes wont to do, he didn’t understand and just kept driving. Roddy got smaller and smaller as his young legs could no longer keep up with the station wagon. Nora looked out the back window and tearfully held up the blue ball to show him she had tried. Roddy shrugged and motioned for her to just keep it and looked at her in the window as the car drove out of sight. Nora buried her face in her hands, and her mama thought it was so sweet that Nora had had such a good time with Tiny Grandma that Nora was sorry to leave.

Nora kept the blue ball and played with it sometimes, but it always made her so sad to think of Roddy that she put it away somewhere and never found it again. Years later she found out how many different colors of skin there were in the world, and her easily-burned-to-a-cancerous-crisp complexion was just what had been most common in her neck of the woods.

NOTE: Coming out of my NANOWRIMO experience last year, I wrote this account of vacationing at my grandmother’s in northern Iowa. My grandmother’s brother, Uncle Charlie, had actually fought for the Union army as a young boy at the very end of the Civil War. My mother used to tell about sitting on the back porch stoop with Uncle Charlie as he taught her “Tenting Tonight” and other songs the soldiers had sung at the campfires at night. My grandmother, nicknamed “Tiny Grandma” because she was several inches short of 5 feet, was one of the most gracious women I have ever known, and it is continues to be difficult for me to reconcile her actions regarding Roddy with the sweet Christian woman I knew her to be. 

Lord, please help me to see everyone with Your eyes and heart and respond accordingly.

He Has Something More

Several dear friends of mine are going through times of transition where one season or job is coming to an end and the details for their future are unknown as yet. As part of the theatre community as well as a university, we see a lot more transitions than many other settings, but it makes it no less traumatic or difficult even when you know it is coming, like my husband's May 2012 graduation with an MFA in theatre.
What message does God have for those of us looking at an indistinct future? The word for you and me right now is "more" - as in, our Heavenly Father has more for you than what you have done here to fore. You have been suspecting this was coming, sensing light breezes blowing from a new direction, and He is holding you as securely in this transition as surely as He has in your steadiest job. It is never fun to see a door close before another obviously opens, but this is a special season when you will experience how previous you are to Him.
God does not have any less resources to meet your needs right now than He did when you had a contract or salary with medical benefits, so do not assume you need to hunker down just to survive. Psalm 34 is one of my favorites and I especially love verse 10:
The young lions do lack and suffer hunger;
But they who seek the LORD shall not be in want of any good thing. (Psalm 34:10 NASB).
Of course, Jeremiah 29:11 is my official transition time favorite verse -
For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. (Jeremiah 29:11 NASB).
In my heart, this verse has long deep scratches on it where I have held on with my fingernails, but it has always proven true. Whether or not we know the specifics, He always has plans for us - something more. Let's trust Him together.

This post is dedicated with love to my dear friend KBB, Regent University's Theatre Cohort A and friends from Pigeon Forge and Lancaster.

Saving Graces

It happens more frequently than I care to admit. I’m in a group of people and suddenly I do or say something embarrassing or awkward. Clumsy or clueless or whatever – I have somehow separated myself from the pack in a not-so-good way and I pray beyond hope that no one else has noticed. As the room grows unnaturally silent, I freeze with the realization that everyone witnessed my gaffe, and brace myself for the first scathing critique sure to come, the first person to throw a sharp-edged verbal stone.

But I won’t go down so easily. With a snap my head comes up and I attempt an unnaturally bright fake smile. “Oh, how silly of me! I can’t believe I did that…” and I attempt to brazen my way out of the situation by criticizing myself before anyone else can. Somehow it feels like it won’t hurt so much that way. But it does.


 Why is it we are all waiting for someone to pounce - to point out our flaws or pick apart our carefully crafted public personas? Sometimes I am not the unlucky one who dropped her tea cup or made a stupid comment, but I know how she feels. I cringe with her, dreading the judgment of the group.


But then something marvelous happens. Someone reaches out a hand and murmurs soft words like, "Here, let me help you," and everything changes. The focus of the group shifts to something else and the danger has passed.
What just happened? Grace. Rather than reach out in judgment, someone has gently redirected the focus away from whatever gaffe was done.


Many of us are quick to give grace to others but are oh so reluctant to give it to ourselves. I used to mentally berate myself for things I said or did, and if I had spoken to another person that same way, it might be considered verbal abuse. 
We belong to our Heavenly Father, who created us in His image. Listen to your inner dialog with yourself. Are you highly self-critical? Rather than harping at yourself for your flaws, try extending a hand of grace - to yourself. 


"Love your neighbor as yourself" is a well known verse, but most people don't realize that you cannot truly love others until you have loved yourself. Do you want to be loving toward others? Start with yourself, and the rest will follow.

                                                                                                             

Tree-climbing Fish

I have spent more time than I care to admit trying to be a tree-climbing fish, as in the Albert Einstein quote: “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

God has built into each of us a personal passion - an inner dynamo that starts humming and energizing when we are doing that passion. "Sandra" means "helper of mankind", and guess what my passion is? Nothing energizes me faster than seeing a need and being able to meet it, from a physical need to giving a word of affirmation or encouragement. On the other hand, if you need to me to sit down with a spreadsheet of numbers and check them for accuracy, I could do it, but it would just drain me, being afraid I might make a mistake. 

Am I more or less worthy because I love helping people but would make a lousy accountant? What is so bad about admitting that I am not good at x, y and z? It is normal to not be good at some things - in fact, it allows me to specialize and be an individual. Unfortunately, we have become a nation of generalists - people who are barely adequate  in a lot of things, but don't excel at anything enough to make a difference.

By choosing to be so broad in our interests, we are short selling the influence we might have had if we had allowed ourselves to specialize a bit more. What if I am  so busy trying to prove I can do everything that I don't have the time or energy or creativity left to accomplish the specific assignments that God has for me to do? Ouch.

Making choices means giving up one thing for another - tradeoffs, if you will. Let's give each other permission to NOT be good at something, to cut others some slack - and while you're are at it, cut yourself some as well.

A Dubious Explanation of Feng Shui

Yesterday someone sent me one of those emails where it promises you that you will be very lucky because this is November and this particular one has five Saturdays, Sundays and Mondays (first time in 843 years). That apparently means this is the month of Moneybags (according to Chinese tradition of Feng Shui) and that if I sent the email to a certain number of friends I would be lucky. Well, I never forward those things so I must not be lucky, but I am perfectly happy being blessed instead.

The mention of feng shui (pronounced Fung Schway) got me thinking, though. I know it has to do with some harmony of spirit and the earth, and therefore the way buildings and rooms are set up are supposed to have some kind of balance, according to this Chinese religion.

I'm rather dubious of the whole concept of Feng Shui (pronounced Fehng Shway) so I came up with a personal theory about that. I think Feng was probably a Chinese man who was weary of moving around the furniture in his house every time his wife felt like rearranging things. One night he came home a bit inebriated to find his wife wanting to switch around the furniture yet again. He put his foot down and said that there was only one right way to arrange the furniture and it was his way – “Feng’s Way”. Over the years other husbands told their wives the same thing and said it was all Feng’s fault. Eventually people just said something was “Feng Shui” whenever they wanted to do something without being argued with. And that is the origin of Feng Shui.

All kidding aside, I find it so intriguing that people are always looking for some philosophy or belief to hang their hat on. Even the ones who say there is no order to the universe still hold the belief that there is no overarching purpose (and that in itself is a philosophy).

I used to really wonder what was true (or even if there was such a thing as truth), and the only way I came to any peace was by asking God to show Himself to be real in my life. God never refuses an invitation like that, and He is the only reason I have peace in this rocky little boat I call my life.

What are you building your life upon? You have to believe in something - and God is the only One who could fulfill that longing I had for so long. Post what you think - i'd love to dialog with you.

Have a good evening - this has been post #2 in my series of 30 November posts. See you tomorrow.

Sandy Kay Salsbury

November, NANOWRIMO and a blog a day

Welcome to November! November seems flavored with gratitude all month long – day by day I think of little blessings and by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, there’s this amazing crescendo… so today I am grateful to have an outlet for my creative thoughts. 


A year ago I decided on the spur of the moment to sign up for NANOWRIMO - an insane competition (basically with yourself) to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. You are a winner if you complete 50,000 words in that time frame and you get bragging rights (I also got a cool NANOWRIMO mug but that came from my husband for Christmas). NANOWRIMO stands for NAtional NOvel WRIters MOnth. Check out their website at http://www.nanowrimo.org/ . They also have a script writing contest in the spring.


The emphasis is get the words out of your head and onto paper (or electronic blips) and churn out 50K words in 30 days. The time for editing comes later, so you just write and write and write... I love the motto: "Thirty days and nights of literary abandon!"  - there is something freeing about just letting the words flow. 


One of the best things NANOWRIMO taught me was that I have a whole lot more going for me than I gave myself credit for. Not only did I come up with characters and a plot on the fly but I managed to write almost half of my wordcount with just a little over a week left (and we were going out of town for Thanksgiving weekend). I'm still a little shocked I made it, but with support from family and understanding friends, I nailed it.  


An interesting paradigm shift happened in the next month or so - if I could win NANOWRIMO, there were a lot of other things that I could probably accomplish. I began to dream again and start new projects. My NANOWRIMO novel was split up into 2 short stories (and an unwieldy narrative I may or may not return to).  


Interestingly, my job at work has started giving me more writing assignments, and I know I am much more confident as a result of doing NANOWRIMO. I have been getting affirmations on several fronts, and it appears that writing is a renewed outlet for me. 


What's your NANOWRIMO? What challenge would you like to accomplish? It's never too late, and this could be the start of a new season in your life. 


As for me, I'm skipping NANOWRIMO this year, but I have a new goal: to write a new blogpost every day in November. Maybe I should call it SABLADMO (SAndy's BLog A Day MOnth) - or not. Regardless, here is Day 1.

Options: You Only Need One

In our consumer society we are used to having lots of options - in any mall there may be a dozen stores selling shoes. Within one shoe store may be dozens of shoes in your size, so you have to narrow the choices by deciding on the type of shoe - dress or athletic, leather or synthetic, stiletto or flats, black or magenta, and so forth. It feels good to have options - it gives a comforting sense of somewhat in control. But what if there are no options at all?

• You need a job and there are no more leads
• You need to sell a house though no one has sold a home in your area in 18 months
• You are restless in your spirit because God is calling you to a different type of work and nothing makes sense
• You are facing a major decision and have no clue what to do

At times like these, four little words have encouraged me: "You only need one."
"You only need one what?" you may ask. It depends on what you need.

• What are you lacking?
• What driving prayer request is on your heart?
• What deadline is looming in your life?
• What piece is missing in the puzzle of your life?

You need only one option when you are facing a major decision in your life. Praying for a new job? You only need one job. Asking God to find a seller for your home? You only need one buyer. Praying for an open door for ministry? You only need one opportunity. You need a miracle? You only need one.
I remember a time we needed to sell a home and I was nervous because the real estate market wasn't moving. Could we seriously expect to sell our home if no one else's home was selling? As a new bride in a new city I needed a job - wasn't it crazy to hope to find a good job when no one was hiring? When there was a financial need, wasn't it normal to experience a modicum of panic when it looked like there were no options to meet it?
In each situation all we needed was one miracle, one answer, one open door - just one, and in each one He answered. God doesn't work in a cafeteria of options - He is the Creator. He doesn't need to wait for favorable conditions or split second timing or for enough provision to accumulate. He has no needs, period. He is complete in Himself and the Source of all things. He created all the galaxies, quasars, black holes, and planets. He delighted in sculpting tiny flowers and thousand-year-old oaks. He still paints a fresh sunrise and sunset every 24 hours customized for every spot on our planet, even when no one is there to see the light show. He crafts every baby's giggle before they even take their first breath. There are trillions of details in our world that demonstrate to us His creativity and care. Is it really so difficult to believe that He cares for the eentsy-est detail in our lives?
The question is no longer if God can or even if He will answer - He always does, and sometimes He even gives several options. The real question is whether I will trust Him to provide the answer to my needs - after all, I only need one.

If You"re Going To Be Able To Laugh About it Later, You Might As Well Start Now

Early in our marriage, Mike was hired as an associate pastor and I immediately began to angst about being a first-time "pastor's wife". I was secretly frustrated that no one could definitively tell me what a pastor's wife was expected to do (though I did get a great lesson in how to make coffee in those giant coffeemakers). How could I know if I was doing a good job if I didn't know what my job was? Finally a wise woman told me, "A pastor's wife is just that - the wife of the pastor. That's it." That lowered the angst level for a little while at least.

That's why I was ecstatic when I was asked to direct the annual children's Christmas musical (I didn't get a music education degree for nothing, and I knew this was definitely an area where I could shine). I even had a very accomplished accompanist in a retiree named Clara. In my personal need to please, I took myself 'way too seriously as a director, and that was most apparent during one Saturday morning rehearsal.

The children and I were singing along swimmingly when suddenly we heard a dreadful chord followed by a loud crash and WHUMP! When I looked over to the piano, Clara had disappeared. Fearing the worst, I leapt off the stage and raced to the piano only to find Clara lying on the floor. Actually, she was ROLLING on the floor in peals of laughter. "Did you hear that huge boner of a chord I played?" she gasped as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I haven't made one that good in a long time, and it gave me such a fit of the giggles I fell off the piano bench!"

As I helped her up, I was privately a bit miffed at her lack of decorum. Apparently my "miffiness" was written all over my face because Clara waggled her finger at me. "You need to loosen up a bit - if you're going to be able to laugh about it later, you might as well start now." The kids all giggled, and we went back to rehearsing, but an irrepressible giggle had permanently been planted somewhere deep inside me.

I have since come to believe that dimples simply mark the spot where God buried a giggle seed, and once one giggle seed comes out, others are sure to follow. In fact, I definitely feel a giggle seed at the corner of my mouth right now.  I see you have one, too.

P.S. Love to you, dear Clara!

The View From The Road So Far - Collections

I collect friends, memories and wisdom. I used to enjoy collecting things, but after living in 10 different states and moving 16 times in the past 27 years of a very happy marriage, I have to really love an object before adding it to the pile of "stuff" we keep moving around with us (if it's cobalt blue glass, there is no contest).

For those of you who are wondering, we are not in the military (unless you consider our forays into pastoring as joining the "army of the Lord"). We've just had a number of career changes over the years as the Lord has led us through various callings. Having just finished move #16 (from one apartment to another across town - lower rent and gained a third bedroom for guests), I can tell you that the act of packing, transporting, unpacking and finding a new place for each item is very clarifying as to its true value to me. Sometimes I unpack something and immediately put it in a box for Goodwill.

My parents grew up during the Great Depression (hope this one doesn't turn out to be as great) and learned how to make do or do without. My dad used to tell the story of how his dad moved their family from Iowa to Oklahoma just in time for the Dustbowl. They were so poor his mother fed them jackrabbits when there was nothing else to be had. My dad learned how to fix almost anything using whatever he had handy. The youngest daughter of a family of 9, my mother learned at a very young age to save ("I might need this sometime," she would say). After we went off to college, Mom turned our basement into a repository of all the boxes of report cards, photos, school concert programs and who knows what else my two siblings and I amassed over the years. When Mom became ill with Alzheimers, my dad made us all take our "boxes" with us to our respective homes. I remember that I had 12 (!) boxes full of what my mom thought I would consider important. I went through each box and while most of it ended up in the burn barrel out back, it was enlightening to go back and experience my childhood memories as an adult. It was also very freeing to get rid of some reminders of not-so-happy memories (burn, baby, burn).

I still have several boxes of my own to go through, but I'm learning I can let go of a lot of things that used to seem important. Because Mom was in her fifties when she was diagnosed with Alzheimers (like her mother and all her sisters) I felt like I lost her much too early. Her body hung around for another 18 years, but the mom I knew was gradually erased. Afraid I would forget what she had been like, I began to hoard every item that reminded me of her, down to scraps of paper with her handwriting. Some years ago I realized I was trying to hold on out of fear, and now am trying to keep only the items of hers I find especially meaningful.

There is nothing wrong with collecting things, but the question is whether having all that "stuff" gives me a better life. Someone told me once that everything I have also has me. Once I own an item, it takes up space in my brain and some grey cells are assigned to keep track of it, whether I mean to or not. If my home is jammed with items, so is my brain - no wonder I get distracted.

That's why I am collecting friends, memories and wisdom. I don't have to dust them and and they fit perfectly in a space I always carry with me - my heart.