Author: Shirleyjdietz

I'm still finding out what I'm about but I think it has something to do with writing and connecting with people and serving God. I don't believe I have to understand it all in order to do it and am pretty content with what comes my way, day by day. I believe there is a God who created all of us, the world we live in, the science we think disproves Him, well, everything. I know my natural tendency is to think I don't need God and I need to be saved from that. I know I need a savior and I'm thankful I have one. The small glimpses I get from the here and now of what my real home is going to be like when God restores it all - that's what fuels me, stirs my sense of adventure, and keeps me going. Until then, I write about what is.

Why Is It Important?

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I haven’t been writing lately. I’ve been doing hard physical work in the yard, reading, walking, knitting. It’s been a bit of a holiday from electronic gadgets. It’s been nice but I have wondered why I’m not thinking of things to write and making myself follow up on them. Sometimes it takes so much effort to make meaningful statements about a rather ordinary life. I started thinking…

Why is this important at all?

Who cares?

Why this struggle to write?

And it was surprising to me when the same kind of question came up this morning in my study of the Bible. There is a chapter in Numbers that is a long list of places that the Israelite tribes camped over the 40 years they spent traveling around the deserts in the Sinai area. Probably over 30 records that go kind of like this “They left the desert of Sinai and camped at Kibroth Hattaavah. They left Kibroth Hattaavah and camped at Hazeroth.” and on and on. The question was  “Why was it important to record the stages in Israel’s journey to Canaan?” I wasn’t really sure why it was important and had to think about it. Imagine that, having to think…

The whole chapter reads a lot like something you’d find in public records today – place names and once in a while a fact or reference to a happening at that place.  To me that means it really occurred and is a historical record. Those people lived and they did that. And there was my answer, or one of them, as to why I write. It’s important to me to leave a record, whether or not I know it’s importance to anyone.  Numbers chapter 33 is not humorous, not really inspiring (well, maybe it is when you realize that 40 years of camping is really a LOT of camping), not much any variety of expression or word choice.  It’s about as lackluster as the details of my week’s activities.

I’ve come from a family of letter writers and journalers, some as far back as four or five generations.  Because of those writings, which I find very interesting, I don’t have to wonder what life was like for them, what they thought about, what their worries were, what kind of families they had, what hardships, what joys, what fun, what they believed and why. I find things in those letters that speak to me about who I am and who I want to be.  Only a few people have access to my family’s letters but there is an internet today that gives anyone with a computer access to what I write.  Who knows when it might be found interesting, or by whom?

The other reason it was important to record the stuff in Numbers 33 is because, as the author said, God told him to write it.  I guess we don’t always know why we’re told to do things, particularly when it’s God who does the telling.  I don’t hear God’s audible voice telling me to record that I cleaned the rain gutters on the house today.  What I am aware of is a lifelong love of writing things down and communicating them to others, an awareness that occasionally others affirm the worth of what I write. In a way that is a command to be using what I can do.  That’s why I get concerned when I don’t feel like writing, when I don’t know what to write.

You mean I have to write that!? No, please…

I’m just saying I wonder if the author of a book like Numbers felt the same way when he wrote chapter 33.

They were hand in hand…

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They were walking together holding hands, this lady and the child with the long, blonde pony tail. They were heading toward a row of seats in the front. I often sit in the back and watch as people filter in. Something about this pair caught my attention and held it. The small one, probably about seven or eight years old, was looking up at the older woman who presumably was her mother.

They were talking and the little one kept smiling and was so focused on her mom’s face, so expectant of something good. Neither of them were unusually attractive but together they were magnetic and beautiful. I couldn’t stop watching. They found two chairs in the fourth row and the girl laid her books down on the chair next to her, still turning to dialogue with mom, her face open, trusting, excited, hopeful.

Is it because I have daughters of my own that this simple familial scene made me suddenly feel like I might cry? I don’t even know what I was thinking – but it was kind of like nostalgia, maybe a bit of envy, a lot of sadness, mother angst.

My daughters are grown and it’s been while since I’ve walked hand in hand with either one of them. I don’t know if we would have had that same dynamic when they were seven and accompanying me to an event. It’s hard to remember what we were like, but I want that. I want that memory.

That mom, I wish I had taken a picture to give to her, I’m just hoping she is marveling at what she has, hoping her memory will be better than mine.

mother and daughters (2)

Wait a minute… March 2015

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from themedicinejournal.com

Today I am gladly embracing the state of “waiting”.  There is a tension involved in waiting for things that could actually drive me to be unhappy or frustrated, but I think it is also possible to just relax and pay attention to what happens when I’m waiting. Some good things happen.

I start listening with an eagerness to hear.  Listening to everything that might have a message.  Kind of like heightened awareness.

I rest more.  There is resting and there is acting, and of course, there is a time for both things. Rest is an absolutely necessary preparation for whatever comes next.  So if I rest while I’m waiting I’m doing something important.  Waiting is not the same as doing nothing.

The ability to wait calmly and purposefully is helpful and reassuring to others.  It’s kind of the opposite of panic and drama, which on an occasional basis is entertaining, but who likes that as a regular diet?  Not me.

In searching for something to do with my mind while waiting, I find some different, creative thoughts popping into existence.

The very definition of waiting implies that something has not yet happened.  There is hope in that and I love hope.   I choose to think chances are high that the next happening will be a good one.  Deciding to be positive, and expecting the positive adds to the chances for a good outcome.

Waiting is, in a sense, empowering.  I recently had a circumstance that was pretty much out of my control. But I still had the power to wait well or to wait poorly.  Waiting poorly is such a waste of energy and emotion – oh my goodness!  I’ve done that too and there was absolutely no benefit from it.

I think I was meant to learn through waiting.  Every time I have waited on God, for his answers, I have learned something valuable about him. And here again is the part about hope – God seems so unknowable at times and yet when I wait I end up knowing more and trusting more.   There are all kinds of examples of this in Biblical narrative.  Can you imagine waiting until you are in your nineties to have a baby – and then having it happen?  Yeah.

Right now I am waiting on a number of things, of varying importance. I’m just saying that it is perfectly okay to be waiting.

(No, I am not thinking of having another baby. Don’t even go there.)

The Simple Power of Genuine Kindness: a True Story – by Jeff Haden

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This is the way it should work.

Kindness Blog's avatarKindness Blog

Business people shaking hands after successful negotiationsMy client acquired a large company and I went along for his initial meetings with his new employees.

In the afternoon he planned a company-wide address. That morning we met for several hours with top executives. (Talk about emotions on full display: ego, anxiety, obsequiousness, defensiveness, fear, excitement… when the new sheriff comes to town all the icy-cool corporate masks quickly come off.)

The meeting ended at noon and when we walked out fifteen minutes later he noticed a big buffet set up on the other side of the atrium. There were plenty of people standing around in white coats and black slacks but no one in line or sitting at tables.

“What’s that for?” he asked a person walking past.

“The company arranged a meal for after your meeting,” she said. “A local restaurant closed for the day to come here.” She paused. “I think the chef and her…

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As I continue on my path of becoming less of a nurse and more of a writer, I decided to attend a writer’s conference.  For me, writing takes  a lot of time.  Studying writing and learning about it takes even more time, which is why I don’t usually do much of it.  I know I should read more but life takes over.  I know I should read more but I fall asleep after about an hour of it (unless it is absolutely riveting).  I have a daughter who reads a lot and writes beautifully – she is the one who suggested I come to the conference, which she also will be attending.  I have a feeling that for three days we will be immersed in a world that is different from the one we normally inhabit.  I have asked myself, “how can I prepare for this?”   The voice in my head answered “By reading some of the books (untouched) on your shelf – stupid.”  My inner voice calls me stupid sometimes but I know it is said with affection and I don’t let it bother me.

I picked up a book this morning and read a poem that I liked.  I liked the way the author analyzed the poem too.  The book is “Praying through Poetry: Hope for Violent Times” by Peggy Rosenthal.  The poem is “The Translation of Raimundo Luz: My Imitation”

I sold my possessions, even the colorful pencils.

I gave all my  money to the dull. I gave my poverty

to the president. I became a child again, naked

and relatively innocent. I let the president have my guilt.

I found a virgin and asked her to be my mother.

She held me very sweetly.

I watched father build beautiful shapes with wood.

He too had a gentle way.

I made conversation in holy places with the chosen.

Their theater was grim.

I suggested they cheer up.  Many repented,

albeit elaborately.

I floated the wide river on a raft.

I set Jim free.

I revised every word.

One morning, very early, I was taken by brutes and beaten.

I was nailed to a cross so sturdy I thought

father himself might have shaped it.

I gestured for a cool drink and was mocked.

I took on the sins of the world and regretted my extravagance.

I gave up and died.  I descended into hell

and spoke briefly with the president.

I rose again, bloodless and feeling pretty good.

I forgave everything.  

-author, Scott Cairns

The Family Vacation

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Let me say first of all that I am very understanding of people who take vacations and go someplace where they don’t know anyone. That is a very healthy thing (not that it’s my experience but I’ve heard it said…). I, however, am blessed with family, all of whom on occasion choose to give up some “alone time” to bond and connect with other family members. I am also blessed to live in Florida. Like, who wouldn’t want to come visit this?

Yes, I live here. It's great.
Yes, I live here. It’s great.

Those of you who don’t get to have family vacations with other family members really need to see how it works. One of my brothers and his family decided to escape four months and several feet of snow and spend some time in my sunshine. The five of them arrived for the one week this year when there was fog and grey skies pretty much every day. This is a weather phenomenon that you can expect to happen.

I love my family and don’t want them to get sick on their vacation so I do clean my house (sort of). But I will say that if you don’t have time, just forget cleaning the floor, because after the group arrives you can’t find it anyway. Get people tired enough from their traveling and they will sleep anywhere, on the floor, on the couch, on weird mattresses. “Just find a place that looks good to you”, I tell them. And from that point on, don’t ask people how their night was and if they slept well. Don’t do it.

Refugee camp decor...
Refugee camp decor…
Blankets, pillows, bags, shoes, stuff X 5 = no visible floor.
Blankets, pillows, bags, shoes, stuff X 5 = no visible floor.

Maybe your family will need some down time after being in airports and cooped up in planes for a day, but maybe not. We went to the beach the first day. Nobody came here to sit in the house. The fog was thick but we found our way. The squirrels were plentiful, the waves were big, it was surprisingly warm and peaceful on the beach and we big people might have taken a short nap. There were a couple minutes of sunshine. I had a great time and learned that I can indeed carry two kayaks on my small car. Yay.

At least the white stuff isn't snow.
At least the white stuff isn’t snow.
Only people from up north go swimming in 65 degree water.
Only people from up north go swimming in 65 degree water.
The moment of sunshine.
The moment of sunshine.

The second day of my brother’s family vacation was also his wife’s birthday. She did not mind at all that the activity planned for that day was a zip line/ropes course high above the ground. Wouldn’t you like to test your youthfulness and defy aging in such a challenging way? Of course you would. It was awesome (watching them from the ground and taking pictures). That evening, in spite of terrorist mall threats, we had a superb evening meal at the new University Town Center – to celebrate the birthday and the fact that we had no significant injuries from the day’s activity. A fun, fun night.

Gearing up for hanging from high places.
Gearing up for hanging from high places.
High places. Yep.
High places. Yep.
More "down to earth" activity - at dinner after an exciting day.
More “down to earth” activity – at dinner after an exciting day.

The third day of family vacation, my daughter and my sister-in-law ran away to the shopping outlet for some quality girl time. The rest of us “elite” shoppers went to the flea market. But on the way, just to make it an educational outing for the homeschooling teens, I took them to lunch at the local Hispanic grocery store/deli. I find that this is one of the most fascinating places to experience a different culture. I will say that most American kids are not used to seeing whole cooked fish, with eyes and scales. It is so exciting to order a meal and not know exactly what you’re going to get. Who knew that “Fajita Mix” was a plate of meat big enough to feed all five of us? At the flea market we had excellent success getting the things on my nephew’s list – a watch, sunglasses and an antique teapot. He is a guy with very eclectic interests. That night we sat out in the yard watching a bonfire and dodging the sparks and smoke. For some reason this is a favorite activity with my family and they ask for it all the time. Go figure.

Humongous plate of meat. We took it home for another whole meal.
Humongous plate of meat. We took it home for another whole meal.

Day four. Did I mention my nephew has eclectic interests? One of his goals for me (bless his heart) was that I should help him sew a cape that he could wear to the Renaissance Festival. Because he might actually have picked up some sewing skills it was classified as a school activity. So, that day’s drama had a lot to do with floor sweeping, black velvet, hooded clothing. We did however take a break and a ride to Apollo Beach to see the manatees gathered at the electric power plant. The water was full of the large, gentle creatures just trying to stay warm. There were so many of them that I couldn’t help but wonder what they were all finding to eat. It was like a big family reunion where no one planned any food. But maybe I was just projecting some of my own anxieties, yeah, that was probably it.

Me and my sister-in-law with our manatee friend, appropriately blue with cold.
Me and my sister-in-law with our manatee friend, appropriately blue with cold.
Brrr... poor manatees.
Brrr… poor manatees.

And finally, the last day of their visit with me was today. We invited some more family over for breakfast, waffles and strawberries, conversation and reminiscing. They packed up their things in their rental car and headed off to spend time with another brother several hours away. They will come back briefly to spend the night before flying back to the cold,snowy north.

I love my family. We plan together, work together, play together and want to stay together. Because we live in such scattered places, sometimes that “family vacation” is the way we do it.

I want to write but,…

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I’ve started to write a couple of times lately and then had to delete sensitive material, leaving nothing worth posting.  There are times like this that if I wrote what I was doing I would have to lie about it, or kill all my readers. That would be very counterproductive.

I’ve been dealing with a lot of dirt this week, stuff you wouldn’t expect to find in high places, but there it is.  I have a very small portion of the world to oversee, but that doesn’t mean I take my job lightly.  I’m getting visitors this weekend, VIP’s, and making preparations for their comfort and safety and entertainment has been on my mind.  And three times this week I’ve met with a high ranking Navy officer to… there it is again, more of the stuff I can’t tell you.  And yet on the surface life looks so average, so normal.  Appearances are important.

Some day I’ll write a book and it will all be out there.  What a relief that will be.  Just sayin’…

Draw Me

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Luck of the draw, to draw a following, I’m drawn to that, draw your weapon, draw me aside, draw up, draw down, draw away. After a while this simple word with only four letters starts to sound and look funny because of all the ways it appears in our speech – 25 different meanings in my dictionary. The common thread seems to be the ability to cause to move in a particular direction. That causes me to think, what draws me? What causes me to move in a particular direction, toward or away from something? Or someone?

I’m drawn to things of beauty. I’m drawn to simplicity. I’m drawn to optimism. I’m drawn to challenges. I’m drawn to usefulness. And when none of these things exist, I’m still drawn to being wanted. I want to be wanted. That word starts to sound funny to me too.

It started back in grade school where it was mandated that we go out and play, like it or not. I loved it, especially when it was the season to play kick ball, or touch football. Those were mostly “boy sports” but there were at least two of us girls who always wanted to be included and knew the rules of the games. It was good, no it was GREAT, when we were picked to be on a team, not last, but somewhere in the middle between the star players and the incompetents. We were valued and wanted.

Even now, I will do some things that I don’t necessarily like to do, simply because someone I care about wants me to do it. No beauty involved, maybe complex and inconvenient, maybe not completely fun, maybe I’m not being useful, but someone affirms my value by wanting me. That is a very strong draw. (Disclaimer: This is not to say that I DO everything I’m drawn to. I can’t. I don’t.)

What started this train of thought was a very beautiful, peaceful song by a group called “Selah”. It’s called simply “Oh Draw Me, Lord”. I’ve heard all my life that God draws people, which is what this song is about, and I started wondering how, and why. The only other words in the song besides “draw me” are “and I’ll run after you.” It sounds to me like God does something first and then I respond.

I’m no theological genius, but it makes sense to me that if there is a God, he should make the first move. He should have a way of drawing my attention to himself. He should show me stuff he’s done, he should get me curious, he should be fun and maybe a bit mysterious. Yeah, I know it sounds kind of like the perfect boyfriend/girlfriend. Actually, the analogy holds because the “why” is the same in both cases. I am wanted.

I believe God wants me. I believe it intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. I believe it because this world is just too awesome to be here for any reason except to draw our attention. Honestly, do you have a beloved pet? Have you looked into a pair of soft animal eyes and not wondered what they were thinking and why they loved you? Have you spent a few minutes at sunset, looking at the colors in the sky and the formation of the clouds and not felt something in your spirit? It’s not just that it’s there, but also that I can see it, and think about it, and call it beautiful. I am drawn to wonder, and I haven’t heard of an adequate scientific explanation of why that happens.

My response is, “go ahead God, draw me more, keep doing it. I want to be sure that I’m wanted.” I don’t think I have to be worried about being the last one picked for the team either. There is a statement in a miraculously preserved book, that claims God has said “If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to me”. There isn’t anybody he doesn’t want! I’m just saying that this is what makes me want to know more, and that’s what “running after” is all about.

wpid-20150215_170830.jpg

Trucking

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image

I was waiting out by the road so my brother wouldn’t have to come down the drive. When I saw what he was pulling I understood why.

We started our adventure about 5pm yesterday and drove until 2am with stops only for gas. It turned out well that we were through Atlanta at night and didn’t have morning rush hour to deal with.

The motel was great!  I am highly impressed by any place that has a variety of pillows, that all smell good. Nice, nice, nice. ..for about five hours.

A full day ahead, in which I may attempt driving this thing – but absolutely no backing up (my bro is great at that).

image

A Different Kind of R & R

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It often means rest and relaxation to others. Not to me. I can’t even rest and relax when I’m asleep.  My R&R is responding to randomness.

Randomness has a couple definitions, some of which I apply to my life and some, not so much.  The one I like is “random is often used neutrally to describe that which is done or occurs by chance but also suggests that one is receptive to the possibilities of the unexpected”.  I often have to make decisions about going places and doing things that are not my usual routine. Truth is, I don’t know what my usual routine is anymore.   Something unexpected is always happening, it seems, and those are the things to which I love to respond.

I have four younger brothers and a couple weeks ago the oldest of them called.  He lives in the same state as I do, but it’s been years since we devoted much time to each other.  We are more often at family gatherings with crowds of other people to divide our attention.

“How would you like to help me drive up to Wisconsin?  I’m taking a truck and trailer up to get some equipment and I thought it would be a time for us to get in a good talk.” I had to agree that 30 hours of drive time would amount to a pretty good talk.

In my mind I’m tallying up the things I would need to reschedule or back out of.  “Well sure, I think I could do that but let me have a day or so to work on it. I’ll let you know.”

Road trip!!!

And that’s how things get started.  After telling several people what I was considering doing I had to call him back to find out why we were doing this in the middle of winter, trying to get up and back between blizzards.  Also, was I actually going to be asked to drive the truck with the 30 foot trailer or was I just going along to keep him from falling asleep?

The truth is, I love family adventures more than any other kind.  Should I not take any opportunity to get to know these people with whom I share genetic material? And how better to get to know them than to actually be doing something with them?  Appalachian hikes, trail rides on horseback across Florida, camping across the country and picnicking at 12,000 feet  in the Rockies, cruising with everyone for a 50th anniversary – all these things started with a somewhat unexpected idea, to be rejected or embraced. Thankfully, most of my family is of the “bring it on” nature.

My randomness is by no means purposeless or unplanned.  Just unexpected.  In fact, planning and anticipating is at least half of every adventure for me.  Sometimes it takes weeks, and other times it gets pulled together in hours.  There’s a lot of variety.  Because of all this I have actually forgotten how to be bored, well, almost.  The brother I planned on starting the trip with tomorrow morning has already called to delay our departure because of unforeseen circumstances BUT it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he showed up at the door, ready to go tomorrow morning.

There are really two reasons this lifestyle works for me.  One is that I do need a lot of variety, whether at work or at play. I have very few routines and don’t do them very consistently. I love surprise!

The other reason is that I don’t claim to have control over my circumstances, so it never disappoints me when I don’t.  Those circumstances are in the hands of God, whom I look to kind of like a writer and director of a big story, and the only one who has read the whole script.  When I get up in the morning, I’m not always sure where my part is going to be played out but I know the director is going to direct me.  After all, he’s given me a part in the story because he wants me there.  What seems random to me is in no way random to him.  He is the ultimate planner and takes care of all the details.  I just have to respond and follow directions. There is a lot of peacefulness and freedom to have fun in that.  And sometime tomorrow I will probably be having fun, somewhere on I-75, talking with my brother.  Just sayin’…

My four brothers lined up in back. On the left is the eldest one with whom I will soon be reacquainted.
My four brothers lined up in back. On the left is the eldest one with whom I will soon be reacquainted.