This week I’ve celebrated several highs and am thankful for them. Some of them are very personal. I enjoyed shopping with my Nancy for new furniture. As she approaches her fortieth birthday next week, she has turned her focus to improvements to her home. She has refinanced her mortgage, a very wise move. She will own her home much sooner. She’s way ahead of her parents who have never “burned a mortgage.” God willing, she will have other options because she left apartment living and bought a new house. It serves her well. We sent furniture shopping. She made wise and beautiful choices.
We attended the awesome Space Coast Symphony Concerts last weekend, volunteering to aid the audiences in two locations. We celebrated the Olympics through the years, noting patriotism, courage, and successful completion in meeting high goals. Our society needs that encouragement.
We enjoyed babysitting our grandchildren after Paul, Mary, and Nancy returned to their jobs a week before the students. We love their ingenuity, their energy, their creativity, their accomplishments, and most of all, their love for us. They are super ready to learn in their new classes this year. We are thankful that our teachers are ready to face the significant challenges. Changing enrollment, conflicts in facing the continuing pandemic, lots of grace and mercy to face these challenges will mark this year. Is it an improvement over last year? It remains to be seen. But they are ready and able to create learning communities for the students who come to their classes. This takes Olympian courage.
Finally, I published my 27th book, “Seashell Saga” I enjoyed writing this book, as I’ve enjoyed completing the others, but this one is personal, as all my writing is. Here is a young girl, who wants more than anything to become a great writer, does everything she can to improve her craft. She learns to write–and shows her expertise–at journalism, poetry, screenwriting, memoir, and journaling. She is also an achiever at acting and music. Yes, once again, I’ve followed Flannery O’Connor’s advice: “Write to discover what you know.” But, I’ve added the role of the family’s entrepreneurship, philanthropy, and fostering children–all things i regret not accomplishing in this life, but true dreams of mind. So, I’ve had a chance to live vicariously through this character and am already planning a sequel to tell the rest of her story.
But, there have been some disappointments. A story I spent weeks perfecting did not get judged in the Scribblers’ Writing Contest. I haven’t figured out why. It will be included in their new anthology, along with two poems. For that I’m grateful. A second story, which I think is the best story I’ve ever written, was dismissed from judging because I used lyrics from “Sounds of Silence” and “Send in the Clowns” because of copyright issues. It was the right decision, but I have found it impossible to contact Paul Simon and Stephen Sondheim personally to obtain that permission. So, I rewrote the story and a companion piece using old hymns in public domain instead.
I am grieved with the resurgence of the pandemic. It’s very close to home. I mourn the loss of Ken Greenwood. Several close friends and family are positive. Another dear couple is fighting a difficult battle. This plague has continued to divide us, to cause suspicion of others, and to be a source of worry and angst. We’ve gotten a glimpse of freedom, even knowing a modicum of risk is involved, but daily life is a risk, right? I am angry about government interference. I am seeing Revelation warnings here, the mark of the beast.
I’ve spent the last month pretty isolated. Now, I’m listening to news reports again, to the detriment of my mental health. The border. Afghanistan. Taliban. Weak leadership. Woke. Critical Race Theory. Murders. Road Rage. Inflation.
How do I balance it all? I am thankful that God is sovereign, He knows our sorrows. He knows I’ve lived long enough to survive the conflicts of Korea, Vietnan, the Sixties, The Seventies. Things seem to be cyclical. I get that. I’ve studied and love the study of history and literature. I get it. But maybe my coping skills are withering along with my bodily effects of octogenarian declines. But I know God will bring those of us who believe in Him through. He told us there would be times of prejudice, of conflict. That’s why He sent the Prince of Peace. That’s why He ordains the hope of heaven. I am ready, Lord, for the Second Coming. Maranatha, Lord. But until that time, I am encouraged by the following:
I have a healthy marriage, a mate who loves and honors me, children who may not call me blessed, but at least tolerate me, and grandchildren who are my best hope for the future. I have a roof over my head, food in the pantry, reasonably good health, and, for the most part, a positive outlook on life. I can still say, “Good Morning!” and mean it. I have our weekly small group which is tight, loves studying scripture, loves each other, and holds us each accountable for our faith and the following of our Lord. I am part of a healthy church, growing, dynamic, and willing to face the next year and a half without facilities, looking forward to the construction of our new building. With just a little bit of hope, I can continue. And that’s the View from Here for August 13..
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