I Am Depressed

Thanksgiving is the beginning of the Christmas season. Well, not to the stores. They have been stocking the shelves with Christmas stuff for at least 2 months, maybe since July 4th, but I am old and old-fashioned so to me Christmas begins on Friday after Thanksgiving. 

The reason I am depressed (see the title) is the way Thanksgiving gets dismissed as a marketing tool by the merchants who depend on Christmas sales as the last chance to get in the black.  Maybe that's why they call it "black Friday." Thanksgiving is the celebration of the Pilgrims survival after their first year of illness and death when half of them died. 

Thanksgiving is an opportunity for us to reflect on the year and give  thanks to God for his blessings and protection. It's not just a day to play football or hit the stores for Christmas shopping. It's not just a time to begin next years obesity run or make the most of the hunting season. 

I pray for a year when we look at Thanksgiving as an opportunity to  give thanks and praise for success, joy, love, and blessing, and to initiate the Christmas season with an overflowing sense of thanks and praise.

On the Futility of Doing Good

I remember a line Minnie Pearl used on the Grand Ole Opry that describes my emotional state. She came out on stage with her famous flower-covered hat and the price tag dangling from it and exclaimed, "Oh.  Lordy, I feel so unnecessary." That useless, emptiness may be diagnosed today as depression. 

Sometimes the spark that keeps me driving on, that prompts me to action is absent. Sometimes I feel the uselessness of my efforts is a burden. When I spend money and effort to benefit someone, but the potential benefit is never realized, it registers in my soul as failure. It may happen over a long time with the recipient becoming increasingly dependent on the righteous and generous benefactor. Like an enabler and an alcoholic, both parties seem to become more and more addicted to their roles. 

One or both may express disdain for the situation, but they never break the relationship. The merry dance continues with ever increasing extremes of behavior. More money, more effort, more time. Until finally one of the parties changes something. One could become independent or the other could become bored with the steps of the dance. It does take two to play, and either one can disrupt the rhythm and change the rules. 

Who wants to be first? Change something; rewrite the game; learn a new method. But we are humans and subject to foolish habits and faulty reasoning. Check out the sequences in this paradigm and see where you can improve your life.

Just Quietly Withdraw

I have always been proud to be an American. There are events that cause me great distress, but I figure that I have to take the bad with the good. I read on the Net and the news that Texas and some other states were seeking permission to secede. I guess if I have to make a choice about my citizenship, I'll have to go with Texas.

I noted that Texas does have a balanced budget and the U.S. is deeply in debt. I realize this is an outcry and protest against policies and practices that are expected to continue in the light of the outcome of the election. It won't change anything, but it may let some people vent a little.

The problems that are now facing the private citizens will not change in the afterglow of the election. Prices are still gong up, even though gas flucuates and bounces with the holidays. The war seems to be continuing even though the President has vowed our troops would come home. The health care system is a mystery nobody understands. I feel confident in saying that everybody is going to die. 

I think these little forays into fantasy are good for us, sort of a release of frustration. We feel like we've done our part even though foreclosures are still threatening, drugs are still prominent at the street corners, children are still being abused, drive-by shootings are reported daily, and our borders are not secure.

Thank God for Thanksgiving

The fall holiday season is heating up and Thanksgiving looms on the horizon. I really love it because it is such a mixture of family, and history, and faith. Of course

When I was little we always went to my Mother's family celebration. One time I remember we went to my Father's mother's and celebrated with my uncles and cousins. Of course later, football got associated with Thanksgiving Day, and the Parades on TV in New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago became part of the tradition.  

I really love the story of the Pilgrims who suffered the first year in Plymouth and survived. I like to read it during the season and give thanks for all they did to make our nation strong and free and Christian. 

In the Bible there are lots of prayers and offerings of thanksgiving. Psalm 100 is an example. The Book of Nehemiah contains lots of examples of thanksgiving prayers, but Thanksgiving is not a religious observance. It does mean giving thanks to God for blessings and grace. Thanksgiving is a day which our whole country recognizes that there really is a God and that he is ultimately in control. Many people don't want to call America or the United States a Christian nation, but our government has declared the fourth Thursday in November to be Thanksgiving Day. It is a memorial of the Thanksgiving the Pilgrims held after their first and most dangerous year.

I guess I still call America a Christian nation. President Obama did not, and lots of other people would not agree with me. But they might not agree when I call America my country, either. Well, that's tough. It is my country and, if I want to call it Christian, I guess that's my business.  

Friends Are Forever

shelled and unshelled pecans (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It's fall and the pecans are ready. In the fall we always make a trip to visit my friend Bob who sells the best pecans in Texas. My daughters and I had already mentioned going to his place to get some for pies and cakes and cookies. But on Monday morning I got a call that he died when his house burned down.

Mary went to the funeral with me. His children were wonderful. The two boys looked like him. The girls were beautiful and gracious, and there were grandchildren I knew nothing about. He did leave a legacy.

There were pictures that recalled his lanky frame and open smile. A picture of Bob reminded me of his warm hug and honest challenge. 

We were coworkers in the prison system for 10 years. In that harsh and unforgiving system, we formed strong bonds of friendship. I think of him among his pecan trees always assessing their needs, evaluating whether he needed to spray or add fertilizer.

Bob would pick up a handful and describe the characteristics of the variety--round and full, or long and rich with oil. 


He was often disparaging about pecans in the grocery story. He always reminded me that they were at least 2 years old and the quality did not approach the ones he sold.

At his funeral there was a floral arrangement before the casket beside a bushel of pecans.

At work he was always challenging with inmates. We ran some  counseling groups together. I found that I was usually under Bob's scrutiny in that environment too, but that sword cuts both ways. I learned a lot about him in group, but I also learned from his techniques and approach.

His office was the last one at the end of the hall. If I went to consult him about something, he would be curled like a paper clip in the desk chair with one foot in the top drawer devouring his daily dose of John B. Watson or B.F. Skinner. He was an avid behaviorist. It worked too, except for all the emotions and thinking that went on in the human being, behaviorism worked. Skinner and Watson didn't know what to do with emotions, and Bob wanted to explore them.

I'll miss Bob, and I'll remember.

Who Is a Wordsmith?

Words (Photo credit: sirwiseowl)

Wordsmith gives me visions of a man with large muscles wielding a hammer over a smoky furnace and maybe it’s not a bad connection. A wordsmith is a craftsman who uses words to shape and build an idea like the black smith shapes iron.

The builder of ideas chooses words for their feel and texture. The writer of political speeches is careful in the choice of words to make the speaker one of the common people. He must not seem arrogant or use words that set him apart from the common people but neither should he be common or coarse.

The preacher as a wordsmith draws his listener to see his own sins and submit them to the cleansing of the Savior’s bloody stain. The journalist is a wordsmith who seeks to transport his reader by the power of his words to a scene of national importance. It may be an election, a war, or surrender, but his words are the only entry. The wordsmith is charged with making it real to the reader.

At some time we are all called on to be wordsmiths. We relate the sorrow of a funeral, the celebration of the winning goal, the solemn joy of the wedding vows, and we hope the listener can experience the same emotion we feel. It’s not an easy job, but learning to share your experiences with others through your words is a challenge and blessing. Enjoy it!

Remembering Ima Jean

Ima Jean was one of the best friends I ever had. We were teenagers together, and we went to church together, and we endured camp together, and suddenly she is gone. I haven't seen her much in the last 40 or 50 years, but when you have a good foundation, the friendship is stable even after all that time.

I knew she had cancer, but she detailed the course of treatment, and I thought she would be here for a while. I know the devastation cancer causes to body cells and systems, so I shouldn't be surprised that it was quick.It was widespread in her body. She didn't belabor the fact when she wrote about it; she even minimized it. She was concerned about the doctor's distress in delivering the news to her. Her days were filled with family and friends and love. Her last days were mostly pain free, and she celebrated her birthday just before the end. As things go, she didn't do badly.

I've been focused on memories for a while now, and remembering Ima Jean is one memory I cherish. She was beautiful and joyous and precious. She learned of the beauty of loving God before I did, and she taught me to enter that sphere of understanding when we were still school girls.  I will always be indebted to her for ushering me into that special place with my Savior.

Ima Jean is in the middle and she still looks just like she did when we were 18.

It's funny that memory can make friendship so special and current even though we haven't seen each other for so long. Oh, Ima Jean, I'm gonna miss you, but I'm so glad I knew you when we were just starting out. You made me better for the rest of the journey.