Role Models for Getting Old

Doppio fossile stradale (Photo credit: giovanni_novara)

My mother failed to warn me about getting old.  It's not her fault-she died when she was 38, so she never dealt with that experience. I found the people who did the research and encouraged me that getting old is O.K. I kinda like it. There are a few problems with it that cause me and most of the people I know some headaches. Memory slips, aching joints, and recurring boredom with new styles and stupid song lyrics remind me that I'm not one of the young people anymore. But on the whole, I like me now. I like the things I've learned along the way, and I like that I am still seeking things to learn and study and explore. This summer I learned to make some really cool paper airplanes, and I have found some new kite designs I really like. 

I don't bake a lot anymore, but I'll never exhaust my interest in making bread. The problem with that is that standing for a long time will cause my feet and legs to cramp all night. I either need to to it more often or eat bought bread.

After making the airplanes, I decided I might like to engage in origami. And I'd like to make some beaded jewelry-sounds good for Christmas projects. I also want to refresh my Latin verb conjugations and study the Hebrew alphabet. I love to study family history and genealogy. I hope to get a new project done in time for the Family Reunion next year.

Getting old is O.K. I remember people who knew my mother speaking of her as witty, intelligent, and adventurous. I'm sorry she didn't live to realize the potential of a long life, but I'm so blessed that I am there now, and I remember her and I'm blessed by her influence.

Got Inspiration?

I have written about my daughter Carol in this blog before.  She has some problems and is disabled.  Her right arm was amputated because of MRSA after a surgery which was not successful to replace her elbow.  Arthritis has ravaged her body, but she is a tough cookie.  A few weeks ago the preacher used the parable about the man who had one talent and didn't use it.  He buried the talent(money) in the ground so that he could return it to the master.


Carol immediately identified with the one-talent man: she said her talent was cooking and serving food.  Now that she is limited in her activities, she considers that her talent must be expressed in the creation of new recipes and and special menus. Earlier in July she decided that we needed to prepare supper for youth of the Church who meet on Wednesday night. Her daughter and I do the beating and chopping, but we credit her with all the glory. She does not make it hard on purpose, but sometimes it is hard because she wants it to be good and prepared right.


Last night we prepared supper for ladies of the church.  We didn't have as big a crowd as we planned for, but we had a wonderful time.  The food was light summery--salads, sandwiches, mousse and cookies.  The decorations were rich with tropical flowers and bright colors.  I was inspired by her efforts and thought in planning. 


Sometimes when she was in pain or infection was racking her body she has prayed for God to take her out of this world because she felt he was a burden instead of a blessing.  She didn't think she could be useful to her family or to God.  Lately, she has received comments that her presence and efforts are inspiring to others. The preacher said one day that he didn't feel like coming to Church, but then he remembered that Carol would be there, and he reconsidered the issue.  "If she can make it, I surely can," he thought.


Now she is looking for someone who paints T-shirts to make her one that says, "Got inspiration?" Maybe she has more than one talent.  


Carol Is my Fifth Child

Keeping Up

keyboard (Photo credit: breahn)

My mother was insistent that I speak correctly and write well. She died before I learned to type, but I am sure she would expect me to be accurate and know the style guide by heart. I assume she would also expect me to keep up with changes and acknowledge changes in conventions as they occur. In recognition of her influence on my education, I am, today, proclaiming a new standard in my writing. I will no longer put 2 spaces after a period. 


 Farhad Manjoo writing in Slate gave a long and convincing argument to free us from those pesky extra spaces. I'm sorry I haven't known about this all these years. I could have saved myself untold hours at the keyboard. Since I learned to type many years ago and have continued all the habits I acquired then to this very day, it may take me a while to convert to the new system.  I have reviewed this page for every period and removed all the extra spaces I found.


I wish all the things I need to change in my lifestyle and habits were as easy to accomplish as the "two-spaces after a period" one is.

Does God Benefit from Our Suffering?

Ten Commandments (Photo credit: glen edelson)

I will state my answer to the question at the beginning:  No!  I don't believe God takes any pleasure or gets any advantage from the suffering of his believers.  He goes to great extremes to tell us not to do that that cause us pain.  The Ten Commandments and the injunctions against sinful behaviors are all ways in which he tries to steer us away from things that he knows will cause us pain, but when we engage in behaviors that he has warned us against, we shouldn't be surprised if there are negative consequences.

The things God forbids are things that destroy us.  You may think the lying won't hurt you because the lie is about someone else or a distant event, but lies have a way of coming back to bite you.  Lying is a difficult sin to deal with because your life, your friends, your job are all based on your words.  When those words are lies, there is no longer a framework to build on.  Cain lied to God when he was questioned about his brother Abel.  Funny thing about truth:  It will come to light, even in the darkest places.  Cain's sin began with a murder, but lying about it only compounded the sin.  It did not lessen the judgment.

What about my sins?  Do I lie to protect my name or my reputation?  It's an election year, and I am convinced that most of the political rhetoric I will hear will be a lie.  Lying doesn't protect anything.  My name and my reputation are already established, and the lie to protect myself will only add to the rubble.  God will not be fooled and nobody else will either.
  
The best advice about lying comes from Shakespeare.  Polonius tells his son Laertes  in Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3:  "To thine own self be true, and it shall follow as night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man."  The advise was better than the man.  Polonius was a conspirator against Hamlet, and both he and Laertes paid with their lives.  Good advice is cheap.  Living a good life is demanding and difficult, but it's easier if you don't lie to yourself or others.

Depression is a Fact of Life

I thought I had some moral dilemmas, turns out it was just a neurotransmitter imbalance. (Photo credit: Divine Harvester)

I've written about depression before, but the press it gets seems to demand another look.  Are you really sure you want to go that route?  Being or becoming depressed is really pretty simple.  I can do it, and most of the people I know could give it a good try.  

Of course there are situations and events that are depressing.  When I worked in the prison system, inmates would tell me they were depressed and they thought antidepressants would make them less depressed.  They wanted a magic pill that would take away their loneliness and remove the mess they had made of their lives that brought them to a 5X9 cell.  It doesn't work that way.

First, let me emphasize that if you find yourself in a prison and you aren't depressed about it, you need to reassess the situation.  You should be depressed about committing criminal acts and wasting your life in non-productive ways.  Depression in this instance is a spur to change.

Medication can change the way you feel.  It does not change the reality of your situation.  I assured the inmates I counseled that their best option was to change the way they approached life. Occasionally I found someone who would try my way, and lo, and behold!  It worked. 

One guy told me he was so depressed he didn't even want to eat.  Let me assure you that the food in prison left a lot to be desired, but it still sustained life.  I told him he must go to meals everyday even if he didn't eat.  He would have a routine; he would talk to other people, and sometimes he would find something he might like.  He tried it a few times.

On his next visit I told him to make a chart and evaluate everyday on a scale from 0 to 10--miserable to fine. and each day note whether he had gone to meals.  He reported his best days as those he had gone to meals whether or not he had eaten the food.  It was an absolute revelation to him that going to meals, talking to other people, engaging in life was an antidepressant.

Of course, if you're not in prison, you might need to use other scales to measure improvement.  Physical exercise, just exertion, can bring about an antidepressant effect.  There is a reason for this beyond the obvious acts of getting dressed.  The neurotransmitters that help to regulate human emotions and are responsible for things like sleep are produced in increased quantities when they are used up.  If you don't use them, the body won't make anymore. If you do use them, the body strives to replace and replenish them.  

The moral to this story is that if you are depressed, the remedy is to be more active.  Engage in activities that make you tired like running, walking, jogging, washing windows, chasing grandchildren, or riding horses.  Of course, it helps if the activities are rewarding in themselves.  If you wash the car, you may gain a great deal of satisfaction from the fact that you did a good job and it didn't cost much; you will look smashing in the sparkling car, and your neurotransmitters had a chance to increase.

Antidepressant medications don't give you more neurotransmitters.  They just keep the ones that are present active a little longer.  As long as there are neurotransmitters available, the cells don't make anymore.  The body is very efficient that way.  Medications may have severe side-effects that are very negative.  Use all the non-pharmacological  remedies available to you to make your life exciting and challenging and rewarding without the side-trips to prison or the hospital.  For another remedy, click here.

Another post about depression

My Uncle Jimmie

Cotton farming was hard, hot work, but it also afforded time to reflect on life  which Jimmie did a  lot.

My mother's favorite brother was my Uncle Jimmie.  I guess it's O.K. to say that out loud now since they are all gone now and it won't hurt anyone's feelings.  I doubt it would be a surprise to anyone anyway.

Jimmie was the closest in age to her and she idolized him.  I hate to say he was conceited, but he was definitely cocky.  In school he was a sportsman.  She told me she always stood behind a very tall man at track meets because she was afraid to watch in case he didn't do well.  He attended the University of Texas and played basketball and football.  He bragged to me that he was a hit with the girls--"I had good teeth and all my hair."  

He loved to tease and he always had a question or a puzzle intended to amaze and mystify.  By the time I became the object of his interest, he was a farmer and country philosopher.  He actually aspired to grander things: he loved to dance to Glenn Miller, Wayne King, and all the big band era musicians.  He taught me to dance.  When I was a senior in High School he agreed to teach all the kids who wanted to learn to dance.  

Glenn Miller was one of Jimmie's favorite conductors and  he taught me to dance to  the big  band music.

This came about because at the prom when I was a junior nobody danced.  The girls in the class conspired with me to have a dance every Friday night at the Community House.  He refused to do any of the arrangements--that was strictly up to us.  We reserved the building and borrowed records and a record player.  All Jimmie agreed to do was chaperon. He told us the boys would have to wear a coat and tie and we must have an admission fee.  


The most important rule was that if he ever saw or smelled any liquor, he was through.  We figured there was no chance the boys would even show up.  But they did, and they wore their best pants and sport coats and ties--it was great!  Admission was 25cents.  After a few weeks the quarters added up to enough to buy new records.  There was no Jitterbug and Rock hadn't been invented yet, but we all danced and learned manners about what was appropriate at a dance.  It just lasted that one year, but at the Prom in May everybody danced.

Jimmie influenced my life as long as he lived.  He was an example of integrity and honor that supported me in my marriage, with my children, and my life in the community.  When he was dying, I was privileged to visit often, cook for him and comfort him as much as possible.  I had the chance to tell him how much I valued the influence he had on my life.  That may have been the only time I ever saw him cry.

My memories still bless me and I still recall things my Uncle Jimmie said.

A Spiritual View of Illness

I have been researching the recent change in medical doctors' opinions about about how a patient's spiritual condition may affect the outcome of disease.  When I was young, doctors did not ask about faith or spiritual connections.  Healing was all about the microbes and blood tests--the science of the body--but now there are serious studies exploring the connections between religious beliefs and medical outcomes.

When psychology became important in medical treatment, doctors began to  see connections between the mind and the body as causal.  We are one organism:  What affects the mind also affects the body.  Now doctors are exploring the connections of the spirit to the mind and the body.  Is it really true?  We are one organism and what affects one part of us, may presently cause changes in another area.

 It is easy enough to find out if certain beliefs cause a difference in a religious population rates of illness or mortality.  Do fewer spiritual people get cancer from smoking than non-religious people?  If so, the fact that many of them believe smoking to be a sin and refrain from it may explain how their religion protected them.

Another confounding factor may be definitions.  Religious does not necessarily mean spiritual, at least, not to all people.  A great many people are religious but do not seek inner peace or understanding--it is a difficult difference to explain.  Who knows what happens in a person's spirit unless she can tell you; then it becomes a matter of mental ability to describe or understand.  

I have found that spirituality goes beyond obedience to the commandments and supersedes sin--Spirituality is a plane of communication with God.  I like to read some of the writing of Brother Lawrence.  He talked about "practicing the presence of God."  In the matter of illness, we have to consider that God may allow us to suffer pain due to the illness, but it doesn't mean he isn't beside or in us as we  go through that experience.   

When I am experiencing pain, I may look at my current activity.  Is there something God is showing me about what I am doing?  Is it something I should rest from?  Not that the activity itself is wrong, but it's just that at that moment God will show me something else he wants me to see.  I have lately begun to have pain in my neck when I sit in church.  The pain seems to result from the fixed position.  Maybe it's just that sometimes my neck hurts, and it's not spiritual.  It's something to do with my neck.  Maybe I just need to address it with the doctor.  Maybe God will bless that, too.