Happy Little Trees

I listen to many people talk. Some are monotone. Some talk fast. Some talk slow. And some speak with much inflection.

Maybe it's from my years in the theater (okay! I'm counting high school drama club), but I try to make sure that when I speak in front of a group, it's clear speech with some inflection for emphasis. I can do all those things just fine and speak with expression (and even fun accents), but what I really wish I had was a more interesting voice.

When you hear someone's voice, it instantly sets off synapses in your mind and you quickly form an image and ideas. I wish I had a very recognizable voice like that--a voice of emphasis and strength.

Perhaps I really just want Maya Angelou's voice. I can't remember the first time I heard it--maybe in a class at school listening to a recording of one of her poems--but I will never forget her voice.

As I write this, I'm trying to scheme a way I could have a voice like that. All summer I could practice speaking like the dear, late Maya Angelou. It might make people laugh instead of making me sound more dignified. I could never reach that depth and would just wind up sounding silly.

But I still may practice.

I can't believe my dad would have been 70 years old today. He passed away at the ever-seeming-younger age of 56 from pancreatic cancer.

I miss my dad very much, but I am grateful for all the years he lived, because he lived them well. I had a great father who was a loving husband to my mom, a wonderful granddaddy to my nieces and nephews, a dear father-in-law, a kind brother, a silly and trustworthy friend to his many long-time buddies, and a fun co-worker (and his other many, many, titles and roles). He was fun (hence, the party hat), smart, and rolled through life rather peacefully.

When I think about the years since his death, I reflect on what he missed. I remember that in heaven there are no more tears and no more pain. Some hard things have happened since his death. He missed events like 9-11 and the many tsunamis, hurricanes, and tornadoes. He missed divorces and deaths. He's in heaven which gives me great peace. At the end of life, what's done is done, but you hope to leave a legacy behind you of people seeking out what is truly important in life, and my dad did that.

If my dad was celebrating his 70th birthday here on this side of life, I bet he would be doing one of his favorite things. Or he'd be wishing he was doing one of those things.

Bruce's Top 10 List
1. Eating some good food.
2. Playing golf.
3. Spending time with his grandkids.
4. Watching a UK game.
5. Driving a fast car.
6. Teasing someone.
7. Underlining passages in his Bible.
8. Reading a John Grisham book.
9. Watching an investigation show.
10. Eating some more good food. :)

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

I suppose God made our bodies a little more cushy on the back end to accommodate for sitting. I feel like I sit too much. I sit all day at work. I sit in the car driving to and from work. To relax after work, I sit on the couch. That's a bunch of sitting!

But then when I stand, I get tired of standing and want to sit. Before a plane ride, I try to stand as much as possible, because on the plane, everyone has to sit for what could be hours.

I kind of wish someone would event a car that enabled the drive to have a sit or stand choice. Also, this idea could be carried over to plane travel. I would pay extra for a seat that allowed me some stand time.

I have such hopes for the future--a hope that we will all be standing tall!

Marriage adds new elements to all parts of life. Modern marriage adds the element of room temperature adjustment. I don't know if Charles and Caroline Ingalls ever argued over temperature. If it was cold, they needed more firewood. If it was hot, all they could do was open their one tiny cabin window with real glass and perhaps the door. But in today's day and age, temperature can be adjusted by specific degrees. And all of us, seem to have our preference of temperature.

I prefer to live out the indoor day on a nice 70 degrees. My sleeping temperature preference is a cool 68 degrees. My husband and I can mostly agree on the day time temperature (of course, most of that time we are at work), but for sleeping temperature, he prefers a warm 72. We've made an adjustment to about 70. Although I sneak it down an extra degree after I noticed he has set it up a degree or two. He usually notices.

If my temperature is off by just a couple of degrees, I wake up with sweat around my hairline. It's really weird. How does my body know the temperature is not my favorite? You'd think if I was sleeping, I would just sleep and not be so picky.

I might develop a match-making website called "Six Degrees of Separation." If a couple was too many degrees different in temperature preference, the relationship would not be a match for the system. In real relationships temperature differences can still work--but effort on behalf of both parties must be instituted such as adding elements like flannel pajamas or a partial bed heating element.

I have not included the sleeping element of a fan (ceiling or boxed) because that would be an entire additional chapter. But for the record, I do like a small fan for white noise, and a ceiling fan on low during the night.

I made a praise song out of a Backstreet Boys song today. I could not get the song out of my head, so I decided if it wanted to invade my brain and shower time, then it must have a positive purpose.

I don't know the copyright laws for using the tune and changing the words around. I might need to consult Weird Al. However, I really like the praise song.  

"Are you spiritual? yeah-ahh."

I tell ya, it's catchy. I really hope Chris Tomlin doesn't read my blog. He might take my idea.

We're celebrating our first Christmas tomorrow. "We" as in me and Paul.

We've been sharing tales of Christmases past doing our best to morph them into something that is our own. Paul has been exploring traditions of Santa and the Christian meaning. I am trying to break free from the notion that Santa gifts are left unwrapped, fresh out of the red velvet bag, under the tree. Paul grew up with wrapped Santa gifts. The Santa that came to my childhood house was in a hurry, and probably pretty tired, so the gifts were just left as is.

Christmas seems to give a different lesson every year, no matter what your age. It's a time of remembrance, reflection, and restoration (I love alliteration!).

Remembrance:

• The faces, smiles, hugs, and laughs of loved ones.
• What it was like to be a kid at Christmas.
• Shaking gifts without breaking them trying to guess the surprise.
• Not sleeping very well.
• Different dishes that remind of us of relatives. (Aunt Mischelle's taco mound; Uncle Charles' fruitcake; Aunt Connie's broccoli casserole)

• Thinking about what went right and wrong with past Christmases.
• Gleaning out the truly important parts of the past.
• Confessing my past attitudes on unmet expectations.
• Reading the story of the birth of Christ in Luke.

Restoration:

• Leaving behind grievances.
• Looking ahead to new beginnings represented by the hope of baby Jesus.
• Accepting Christmas as a gift not of just presents and the presence of people, but as a symbol of God's ultimate gift of the sacrifice of His son.

Merry Christmas. And God bless us,  every one!

In high school, I called myself Beth the Great. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I mixed a World Civilization lesson with my old teenage self-absorption.

But on this eve of the eve of Thanksgiving, I pronounce myself, Beth the Grate-ful!

It's easy to focus on the have-nots of the world. As humans, we're more likely to be looking at the greener grass or what is missing instead of the abundance we have.

I am grateful.
I am grateful for the love of Jesus Christ in my heart that gives me a peace that passes all understanding.
I am grateful I know there is life beyond this life.
I am grateful for those that love me.
I am grateful for those that let me love them.
I am grateful for laughter.
I am grateful for the beauty of God's creation.
I am grateful for breathing and living this day!

My prayer is to stay grateful! I pray not to let grumpiness get in my gizzard (I really don't know what that means, but it seemed like a Thanksgiving saying). I pray to see things in the right perspective under the microscope of Christ, rather than one I've fashioned myself.