Relationships are like streams in the desert, forging friendships of love and respect, bridging cultural, religious, and ethnic differences. My life sings my song of relationships as I pass through this world, the love and acceptance I give to and receive from others.
Relationships are fluid and ever changing. Like the Big Ditch after a heavy rainfall, they can be running full force, carrying a lot of debris downstream. A few days later, the gentle, clean, running brook is back. In a relationship, this high tide of water may be words spoken in haste, seemingly popping out of our mouths before we know it. The gentle waters of refreshment will only return by admitting errors and seeking forgiveness and restoration. What will you gain for such effort? A lifelong friendship which will be a shelter from life’s storms and a platform for life’s triumphs is what we gain. We have very few of these relationships in our lives. My sister Chris and I have the pleasure of this type of relationship. I have learned how rare they are indeed, and treasure ours more each day.
There are streams in the desert which run underground, forming huge aquifers of refreshment. These relationships bring much pleasure when they surface but due to distance, busyness, family responsibilities, and other 21st century living realities, they don’t surface often. I have many of these relationships with people, some live nearby and others quite a distance. They are there for you in thought and prayer but not in deed. I can shift the underground rock formation and have the water spring to the surface with a simple email or phone call.
The oasis of the desert is a place of refreshment. Painting a picture of cool refreshment and escape from the heat, I liken relationships of kindred hearts that cross paths, usually unexpectedly and typically for one time only, such as your fellow traveler on the 747. An hour flight is too short when we encounter a person cut from the same cloth as ourselves yet we usually hesitate to exchange contact information. It’s a moment in time to treasure but is typically fluttering by as a butterfly in a bed of clover. Serendipity.
The rain in the desert brings seemingly immediate results, as suddenly the land is ablaze with yellow and orange flowers. The timid scrub oaks leaf out and the grass greens up as the drops fall on the soil. These relationships may be seen as those ones where we connect at first meeting and within a week, we feel as if we have known them forever. …and we plan to know them always!
I think about the foundation of relationships that are healthy and cherished and the fundamental blocks they are built on. Trust would be important to me. Interested in me and things that are important to me would be a requisite. We would have to have in common the meaningful things of life. A shared feeling of mutual enhancement of one another’s lives. Relationships take t-i-m-e
T time
I interested
M Meaningful
E Enhancement
The greatest gift you can give to anyone is time.
Mimi
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
My Diving Coach
Oops! Ouchy! That hurt! I didn’t know when I was going to be diving off the board but I wasn’t going to be tagged a quitter for not trying.
Swimming most everyday of my childhood, from about 9 to 12 years of age, wasn’t cheap. The cost of the pool wasn’t bad, but it did eat up my allowance for the week. But what else was I to do with $2.00? There was a higher cost —chores. All chores had to be done by noon and checked for their quality of excellence. Momma had a work chart detailing what we each had to do that day to have the privilege to go swimming from 1pm until the late afternoon rain shower chased us out of the pool or 4 pm came. During storms, we hung out in the dressing room to see if the rain shower and lightning were a sprinkle or a drencher. Then the pool manager would decide if the pool would reopen or not.
As soon as we arrived, Chrissie and I would stake off our territory, by putting towels and flip flops next to the wall. Our favorite spot was right past the rope dividing the deep end from the shallow. You had to swim across and back the width of the deep end to pass the test and be allowed to swim in the deep end and dive off the board—our ultimate goal. Kate, three years younger played with friends on the other side of the rope.
The lifeguard blew his whistle, indicating that rest period was over. Every hour for ten minutes the pool enjoyed a tranquil respite of children thrashing about, lap swimmers, babies clutching on to their mothers and the constant use of the diving boards by boys doing cannonballs into its waters. Heading back to the water, Chrissie tired of trying to teach me to dive and had joined some friends in the shallow end for a beach ball volley game. Kate headed to the baby pool to see if Anna had come today. My belly had recovered durin the rest period from the belly lops so I resumed my diving practice.
It was then that a “life guard type fellow started giving me instructions.” Furst, yo gotta bend over and touch your toes. Then whiles yous bent over, walk towards the pool until yous plumb in the pool.” He was an older black man dressed in a trench coat and wearing a lifeguard hat. I wasn’t sure if I should listen to what he said, much less talk to him, but I did.
“Really?” I had never heard of such a thing but it made sense to me as he went on to explain that when you dive your arms and head go in the water before your stomach and legs. Feeling very silly, I did this Johnny maneuver several times.
“Next time you go into the water, keep your arms stretched out and go in first with your hands. Keep your arms next to your ears. Bend over and kick your legs up.”
Following Johnny‘s instructions to the letter, I plunged into the pool. I knew it was a dive but then Johnny said, “Does your belly hurt?” I vehemently shook my head no. It was then that I realized that I had not belly flopped. Johnny told me to kick my leg higher and to just keep practicing.
Johnny continued to critique my dives through the summer.
By the end of the season, I was diving off the board.Upon his passing, Johnny Banks was honored by the city. At least once during the summer time I visit my old teacher on his bench, thanking him for teaching me the value of diligence.
Mimi D
Swimming most everyday of my childhood, from about 9 to 12 years of age, wasn’t cheap. The cost of the pool wasn’t bad, but it did eat up my allowance for the week. But what else was I to do with $2.00? There was a higher cost —chores. All chores had to be done by noon and checked for their quality of excellence. Momma had a work chart detailing what we each had to do that day to have the privilege to go swimming from 1pm until the late afternoon rain shower chased us out of the pool or 4 pm came. During storms, we hung out in the dressing room to see if the rain shower and lightning were a sprinkle or a drencher. Then the pool manager would decide if the pool would reopen or not.
As soon as we arrived, Chrissie and I would stake off our territory, by putting towels and flip flops next to the wall. Our favorite spot was right past the rope dividing the deep end from the shallow. You had to swim across and back the width of the deep end to pass the test and be allowed to swim in the deep end and dive off the board—our ultimate goal. Kate, three years younger played with friends on the other side of the rope.
The lifeguard blew his whistle, indicating that rest period was over. Every hour for ten minutes the pool enjoyed a tranquil respite of children thrashing about, lap swimmers, babies clutching on to their mothers and the constant use of the diving boards by boys doing cannonballs into its waters. Heading back to the water, Chrissie tired of trying to teach me to dive and had joined some friends in the shallow end for a beach ball volley game. Kate headed to the baby pool to see if Anna had come today. My belly had recovered durin the rest period from the belly lops so I resumed my diving practice.
It was then that a “life guard type fellow started giving me instructions.” Furst, yo gotta bend over and touch your toes. Then whiles yous bent over, walk towards the pool until yous plumb in the pool.” He was an older black man dressed in a trench coat and wearing a lifeguard hat. I wasn’t sure if I should listen to what he said, much less talk to him, but I did.
“Really?” I had never heard of such a thing but it made sense to me as he went on to explain that when you dive your arms and head go in the water before your stomach and legs. Feeling very silly, I did this Johnny maneuver several times.
“Next time you go into the water, keep your arms stretched out and go in first with your hands. Keep your arms next to your ears. Bend over and kick your legs up.”
Following Johnny‘s instructions to the letter, I plunged into the pool. I knew it was a dive but then Johnny said, “Does your belly hurt?” I vehemently shook my head no. It was then that I realized that I had not belly flopped. Johnny told me to kick my leg higher and to just keep practicing.
Johnny continued to critique my dives through the summer.
By the end of the season, I was diving off the board.Upon his passing, Johnny Banks was honored by the city. At least once during the summer time I visit my old teacher on his bench, thanking him for teaching me the value of diligence.
Mimi D
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Lesson from the Summer of '66
My Unusual Teacher
Flop! Ouchy! That hurt! I didn’t know when I was going to be diving off the board but I wasn’t going to be tagged a quitter for not trying.
Swimming most everyday of my childhood, from about 9 to 12 years of age, wasn’t cheap. The cost of the pool wasn’t bad, but it did eat up my allowance for the week. But what else was I to do with $2.00? There was a higher cost —chores. All chores had to be done by noon and checked for their quality of excellence. Momma had a work chart detailing what we each had to do that day to have the privilege to go swimming from 1pm until the late afternoon rain shower chased us out of the pool or 4 pm came. During storms, we hung out in the dressing room to see if the rain shower and lightning were a sprinkle or a drencher. Then the pool manager would decide if the pool would reopen or not.
As soon as we arrived, Chrissie and I would stake off our territory, by putting towels and flip flops next to the wall. Our favorite spot was right past the rope dividing the deep end from the shallow. You had to swim across and back the width of the deep end to pass the test and be allowed to swim in the deep end and dive off the board—our ultimate goal. Kate, three years younger played with friends on the other side of the rope.
The lifeguard blew his whistle, indicating that rest period was over. Every hour for ten minutes the pool enjoyed a tranquil respite of children thrashing about, lap swimmers, babies clutching on to their mothers and the constant use of the diving boards by boys doing cannonballs into its waters. Heading back to the water, Chrissie tired of trying to teach me to dive and had joined some friends in the shallow end for a beach ball volley game. Kate headed to the baby pool to see if Anna had come today. My belly had recovered from the flops so I resumed my diving practice during rest period.
It was then that a “life guard type fellow started giving me instructions.” Furst, yo gotta bend over and touch your toes. Then whiles yous bent over, walk towards the pool until yous plumb in the pool.” He was an older black man dressed in a trench coat and wearing a lifeguard hat. I wasn’t sure if I should listen to what he said, much less talk to him, but I did.
“Really?” I had never heard of such a thing but it made sense to me as he went on to explain that when you dive your arms and head go in the water before your stomach and legs. Feeling very silly, I did this Johnny maneuver several times.
“Next time you go into the water, keep your arms stretched out and go in first with your hands. Keep your arms next to your ears. Bend over and kick your legs up.”
Following Johnny‘s instructions to the letter, I plunged into the pool. I knew it was a dive but then Johnny said, “Does your belly hurt?” I vehemently shook my head no. It was then that I realized that I had not belly flopped. Johnny told me to kick my leg higher and to just keep practicing.
Johnny continued to critique my dives through the summer.
By the end of the season, I was diving off the board. At least once during the summer time I visit my old teacher on his bench, thanking him for teaching me the value of diligence.
Mimi
Flop! Ouchy! That hurt! I didn’t know when I was going to be diving off the board but I wasn’t going to be tagged a quitter for not trying.
Swimming most everyday of my childhood, from about 9 to 12 years of age, wasn’t cheap. The cost of the pool wasn’t bad, but it did eat up my allowance for the week. But what else was I to do with $2.00? There was a higher cost —chores. All chores had to be done by noon and checked for their quality of excellence. Momma had a work chart detailing what we each had to do that day to have the privilege to go swimming from 1pm until the late afternoon rain shower chased us out of the pool or 4 pm came. During storms, we hung out in the dressing room to see if the rain shower and lightning were a sprinkle or a drencher. Then the pool manager would decide if the pool would reopen or not.
As soon as we arrived, Chrissie and I would stake off our territory, by putting towels and flip flops next to the wall. Our favorite spot was right past the rope dividing the deep end from the shallow. You had to swim across and back the width of the deep end to pass the test and be allowed to swim in the deep end and dive off the board—our ultimate goal. Kate, three years younger played with friends on the other side of the rope.
The lifeguard blew his whistle, indicating that rest period was over. Every hour for ten minutes the pool enjoyed a tranquil respite of children thrashing about, lap swimmers, babies clutching on to their mothers and the constant use of the diving boards by boys doing cannonballs into its waters. Heading back to the water, Chrissie tired of trying to teach me to dive and had joined some friends in the shallow end for a beach ball volley game. Kate headed to the baby pool to see if Anna had come today. My belly had recovered from the flops so I resumed my diving practice during rest period.
It was then that a “life guard type fellow started giving me instructions.” Furst, yo gotta bend over and touch your toes. Then whiles yous bent over, walk towards the pool until yous plumb in the pool.” He was an older black man dressed in a trench coat and wearing a lifeguard hat. I wasn’t sure if I should listen to what he said, much less talk to him, but I did.
“Really?” I had never heard of such a thing but it made sense to me as he went on to explain that when you dive your arms and head go in the water before your stomach and legs. Feeling very silly, I did this Johnny maneuver several times.
“Next time you go into the water, keep your arms stretched out and go in first with your hands. Keep your arms next to your ears. Bend over and kick your legs up.”
Following Johnny‘s instructions to the letter, I plunged into the pool. I knew it was a dive but then Johnny said, “Does your belly hurt?” I vehemently shook my head no. It was then that I realized that I had not belly flopped. Johnny told me to kick my leg higher and to just keep practicing.
Johnny continued to critique my dives through the summer.
By the end of the season, I was diving off the board. At least once during the summer time I visit my old teacher on his bench, thanking him for teaching me the value of diligence.
Mimi
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A stranger —but not for long!
Sitting at my desk in a corner of the workroom of the Public Library, I don’t have any visual warning of someone coming to see me. Be it a scheduled appointment or one of those “I was hoping you would be here”, I have no idea who it is except by the sound of their approach down the stairs outside the doorway of the workroom. The bounders announce their arrival in much the same way as the arrival of royalty is proclaimed by trumpeters.
Landing in my office was a 60’ish looking man who identified himself as my 11 o’clock appointment. As a true bounder, he said that he “always likes to be a bit early!” I was abruptly brought back from la-la land where I had been planning a very enjoyable afternoon since I would be finishing work at one o’clock.
Standing still for just a few seconds I noticed this man had a good amount of black, wavy hair that made a striking contrast with his very white skin. There was ruddiness his cheeks, an easy smile on his face, and a twinkle in his blue eyes. He was on the short side of six foot, dressed in casual clothes—jeans, a red t-shirt with something printed on it that was no longer discernable, and brightly colored Nikes. Typical bounders’ apparel.
I stood to introduce myself and shake his hand. He was interested in our program’s computer tutoring and if anyone was available to help him to learn how to uninstall programs. As we were both standing and I had not been able to get a word in edgewise, I motioned for him to take a seat in a chair and then I sat down myself. He rolled his chair to the edge of my comfort zone and began telling me about himself. This bounder had lived in Australia for more than 10 years, worked in the largest women’s prison in the country, done some teaching, and is currently taking classes with the WILL organization. He wants to learn Spanish. Twenty minutes later, he candidly admits, “I am a talker so you will probably have to boot me out of here!”
I replied, “It is time for you to be moving along but it certainly was a pleasure to meet you.” Handing him a business card, I walked to the doorway and he bounded away.
The magnetic force of Silver City has snatched another one from the cosmos of unique individuals whose motto may be “Life is bound to be short so attack it with zest!”
And just think, they pay me to do this job!
Written August 3, 2010
This encounter was also a gift of my day.
Landing in my office was a 60’ish looking man who identified himself as my 11 o’clock appointment. As a true bounder, he said that he “always likes to be a bit early!” I was abruptly brought back from la-la land where I had been planning a very enjoyable afternoon since I would be finishing work at one o’clock.
Standing still for just a few seconds I noticed this man had a good amount of black, wavy hair that made a striking contrast with his very white skin. There was ruddiness his cheeks, an easy smile on his face, and a twinkle in his blue eyes. He was on the short side of six foot, dressed in casual clothes—jeans, a red t-shirt with something printed on it that was no longer discernable, and brightly colored Nikes. Typical bounders’ apparel.
I stood to introduce myself and shake his hand. He was interested in our program’s computer tutoring and if anyone was available to help him to learn how to uninstall programs. As we were both standing and I had not been able to get a word in edgewise, I motioned for him to take a seat in a chair and then I sat down myself. He rolled his chair to the edge of my comfort zone and began telling me about himself. This bounder had lived in Australia for more than 10 years, worked in the largest women’s prison in the country, done some teaching, and is currently taking classes with the WILL organization. He wants to learn Spanish. Twenty minutes later, he candidly admits, “I am a talker so you will probably have to boot me out of here!”
I replied, “It is time for you to be moving along but it certainly was a pleasure to meet you.” Handing him a business card, I walked to the doorway and he bounded away.
The magnetic force of Silver City has snatched another one from the cosmos of unique individuals whose motto may be “Life is bound to be short so attack it with zest!”
And just think, they pay me to do this job!
Written August 3, 2010
This encounter was also a gift of my day.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Life's Legacy
Life’s Legacy
How wonderful to be among a packed out house of worshipers last night! The service was presented by one family —one brother gave the opening prayer and welcome, the cousins sang, another brother gave an encouraging, humorous, well-presented inspirational message. Some of the songs were new to us and others old favorites; some in a different language (not tongues but Spanish).
I’ve been to this place before but it wasn’t the same then—the people before were somber and without hope. Both times the people were looking back at a life of a loved one but the funeral service last night was one of certainty of the love of God for all who have slipped their hand in His. While candidly speaking of their loss and grief of their father passing into eternity with God, they spoke of his legacy of a life spent serving and exalting our heavenly Father. The faithfulness of God in caring for His children was apparent through the many examples of God’s provision for an obedient servant who left high school with only three months remaining until graduation because he felt such urgency in his calling to evangelize. Coming from a family of twenty children, pennies were counted and the masa stretched but they were given a foundation of faith which lives on in his children, grandchildren, and many other individuals.
My heart’s cry is to let me “pass if forward”, as well as, I run the course God has set for me.
How wonderful to be among a packed out house of worshipers last night! The service was presented by one family —one brother gave the opening prayer and welcome, the cousins sang, another brother gave an encouraging, humorous, well-presented inspirational message. Some of the songs were new to us and others old favorites; some in a different language (not tongues but Spanish).
I’ve been to this place before but it wasn’t the same then—the people before were somber and without hope. Both times the people were looking back at a life of a loved one but the funeral service last night was one of certainty of the love of God for all who have slipped their hand in His. While candidly speaking of their loss and grief of their father passing into eternity with God, they spoke of his legacy of a life spent serving and exalting our heavenly Father. The faithfulness of God in caring for His children was apparent through the many examples of God’s provision for an obedient servant who left high school with only three months remaining until graduation because he felt such urgency in his calling to evangelize. Coming from a family of twenty children, pennies were counted and the masa stretched but they were given a foundation of faith which lives on in his children, grandchildren, and many other individuals.
My heart’s cry is to let me “pass if forward”, as well as, I run the course God has set for me.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I heard a rap...
I heard a rap on my car window while stopped at a red-light. I was startled to see a mime. Where had he come from? I had no sense of fear—my daughter had taught me well. “Mom, when you get in your car, the very thing you should do is lock the doors."
The mime and I made eye contact. I smiled and he returned it with a smile. I mouthed the words, “Nice face!” He replied by motioning that I should roll down my window. I replied that I could hear him just as clearly with the window up.
The light turned green and as I was pulling away, I saw his brightly colored sandwich style sign on the corner. It read:
Written during a Writing Group five minute write from a story starter,” I heard a rap….” 1/18/11
The mime and I made eye contact. I smiled and he returned it with a smile. I mouthed the words, “Nice face!” He replied by motioning that I should roll down my window. I replied that I could hear him just as clearly with the window up.
The light turned green and as I was pulling away, I saw his brightly colored sandwich style sign on the corner. It read:
Sounds of Silence, Inc.
Voice Lessons
Our classes will
leave you speechless!
Get your coupon for a free introductory
lesson from our representative today!
“Mums the word at Mimes United!”
Call 1-800-listnup
MimiWritten during a Writing Group five minute write from a story starter,” I heard a rap….” 1/18/11
Friday, January 14, 2011
Paradoxes and their Lessons from Mark 10
Five Paradoxes of Luke 10 …. Many Lessons for Life
What is a paradox?
” a statement that seems to contradict itself and yet expresses a valid truth or principle. “ Warren Wiersbe
From Websters’
1: a tenet contrary to received opinion or common opinion
2 a : a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed to common sense and yet is perhaps true b : a self-contradictory statement that at first seems true c : an argument that apparently derives self-contradictory conclusions by valid deduction from acceptable premises
3: one (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases
A piece of a jigsaw puzzle where the coloring of the piece doesn’t give a clue to it’s location—Michelle Detterick
How would you answer the question?
Do any paradoxes come to your mind from the Scripture?
Mine: It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.
It is a "great paradox in Christianity that it makes humility the avenue to glory." Read Mark 9:35 The first definition of paradox would put all of Christianity as a paradox. Living in 24/7 fits definition 3. My prayer and Share group is studying through Mark and using Be Diligent Stay on Path by Wiersbe as our guide. We are up to Mark 10 and the title from the book is of the Chapter: The Servant’s Paradoxes Of course we first have to decide who’s the servant? It’s us, folks!
Questions to wrangle with:
Do we really think the Bible applies to us?
Can it be seen in our actions and known in our character?
Do we view ourselves as God’s servants?
What are the implications of being a servant?
As I See it, through my windshield of my life, understanding a paradox of Scripture comes in stages. Getting into my truck on January 4th, I took the following pictures as it defrosted. They increased my understanding of the term paradox. It was my view or understanding of what I was looking at through the windshield that changed, not the scenery itself. The truth of the paradox is unchanging but our understanding of it can increase. We may just need to sit still a bit longer, that is not in a cold pick-up but the place of communing with God.
The pictures represent:
Photo 1: People who are Pharisees, those who are pushing Jesus away.
Photo 2: Crowds who followed and disciples in public places, “seekers.”
Photo 3: Disciples in private, pursuers of intimacy with the Lord.
When I am not pursuing intimacy with the Lord, or stuck in the two-year-old’s phase of “I can do it on my own, I am living in picture 1.If we are trying to grow spiritually “on our own” or without learning the Word and ways of God, it is impossible. We are stuck, living in picture #1 settling for the muddled, while the clear view of #3 is available.
Paradox 1- The Two Shall Become One
The Law meant to protect and preserve God’s way of love had been twisted by man to suit his whim and ease the restrictions of the Law. Jesus answer and Heart message challenged the common ways of thinking of that day (and ours) and went against the flow of tradition. Read and discuss Deuteronomy 24:1-4.
What is the commonly held thought about divorce in “society?” Sally-blow at the mall interview type answer would be ”as long as it’s good.” How about from Pauline in the pew? Unfortunately, it may be the same as Sally but with an addendum of “you’ve given it a try!” And WWJSay? Well, quite a bit and definitely not the going thought of 2011 view in America and elsewhere. Your vows are not only to each other but include God. God is included in your relationship with one another. That doesn’t always mean you will always have smooth sailing but God will enable us to stay in the boat (not bail out) and for the boat to stay afloat.
Lessons: Divorce is painful. Immensely painful. God is the Great Physician and Healer of our wounds, including those that cut to our core. Accept His forgiveness and salve for your soul.
Support the “one-ness” of your marriage and that of others, especially those of your children. Be proactive in support, doing nothing to divide and do everything you can to increase their special one-ness. Pray. Support your prayers through your actions.
Recognize the role of a “helpmeet” changes through the chapters of a marriage. Determine to be a helpmeet to your spouse in your current chapter, not yesterday’s or tomorrow’s.
Hugs from Mimi
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