Hi God, It's Me Again

 One thing that I have done since retiring is taken a renewed interest in reading my bible.  I use the Bible app daily reading plan to complete the bible in a year's time.  Every morning, I open the app and read or listen to the passages for the day.  Then following that I pray for those on my heart for that day.  

Each time I begin my prayers I say, " Hi God, It's me again."  I think I begin this way because I feel I have such a personal relationship with Him.  I pray often and I feel my prayers are just talking to my God.  A prayer life is so important to having that intimate relationship with Him.  It takes time to form a habit, and to make praying an essential piece of life and not just a casual practice.  

Sometimes I go to God in prayer with an urgency for something that is heavy on my heart.  Perhaps I have heard about a serious illness, or a friend's needs for prayers for their family.

Other times I am more casual and just sit and talk with God, like a simple conversation.  Does He already know all that I am telling Him?  Certainly.  But as with  any child, I know he likes to hear me talk to Him, just to hear my voice.  Much the same way I feel when I speak with my family and kids.  I may already know the news, or perhaps there is no news at all, but I want to hear their voices just because I love them so much. 

Then there are the times that I just sit in quiet with Him, not saying anything, but simply wanting to be still in His presence.  Just because I want to be near to Him, knowing He is always there with me no matter what.  

I think it is important to understand that as much as I would like to ask God for everything I want or need, and sometimes I do, I don't expect anything in return, it's enough to just be with Him.  I know that God answers prayers in different ways and just because I ask, does not mean I am going to be immediately given my hearts desire.  Why? well, His ways aren't my ways.  I can't see what the ultimate picture is and don't know how each action I ask for will fit into my overall life.  Also, I have been brought up in the church and been taught that God answers prayers three ways.  Sometimes he says yes.  Sometimes he says no.  And sometimes he says be patient, I'm doing this My way.  

As a believer, I can feel frustrated when I hear people say to me, "I prayed to God, I really did but He didn't care.  He wasn't there for me."  I understand why they feel like that, but in my heart I wish they would dig deeper into the word and continue to build a relationship with Christ.  Instant gratification is only for search engines and fast food restaurants.  Those are of this world and not a spiritual world.  Any great relationship takes work, and a consistent  commitment of time and energy.  With trust and faith a spiritual life can be so incredibly fulfilling and rewarding!

As I write this tonight, I pray for everyone to experience the love and comfort of simply knowing Jesus Christ and trusting in His presence, with each and every prayer.  

Section 3: Call Me Maude

 Here's the next section, there's a couple new characters, I hope you enjoy!

************************

After leaving the walking trail and taking a very long bubble bath, Maude almost felt human again.  At least better than Erma, she thought in dismay.  

The dining room at the independent living apartment building, Redbud House,  was full of conversation seasoned with sadness. The mood, like a foul smell, continued to rise up to the top floor apartments The penthouse apartments housed the core group of investors from whose  brain child, Cottonwood Arbor, had emerged.  They were a hodgepodge group, all from different walks of life, yet all had ended up in the town of Wheatbury, either through lifetime work or now retired.  

As investors, they had a private floor of well accommodated apartments to themselves, with a conference room in the center of the floor plan. Tonight, the room was being used as a dining room for the board members.

Nicholas and Esmeralda Reyes had their heads bent together over their cell phones, comparing notes in hushed Spanish, their  restaurant, now actually owned by their children, catered the meal.

Marcella, sat sipping her spicy tomato juice, while checking her twitter account for tweets about today’s events.  Harold, sequestered on  a sectional sofa in the corner, was  fielding calls from the local news sources giving comments and answering questions.  Ben and Maude hunched over the computer, as they checked the email account for the visitors. Many condolences were rolling in, along with inquiries for openings on the waiting list.  Seniors were pragmatists.

A knock on the conference room announced the arrival of the Reye’s family’s catering van, with the night’s meal.  No one was in the mood for dining room fare after the ordeal.  Comfort food of  homemade chips and salsa, tamales, stuffed poblano chilis, and arroz con leche.  Was just the kind of comfort they all needed. Flavorful and robust food helped to fill the void they were feeling.  

“Yes, she was a dear woman,” Harold’s voice boomed from the corner, his voice carried no matter the distance. “No, the Arbor Village Estates have no comment at this time, the circumstances are being investigated.” 

Maude and Ben turned toward Harold’s voice, in curiosity of the conversation happening on both sides of the cell phone connection.  

“Of course,” Harold  with a practiced phrase, “We will release a statement as soon as the authorities allow.”  Maude caught Harold’s gaze and he gifted her with an eye roll in answer.  Local news, made for cautious handling.  

“Do you think there will be a big fall out for Cottonwood Arbor Village?” Ben whispered to Maude as they scanned through the last page of email and communications from the day.  “I sure hope not, the last thing we need right now is to have the resident’s families to raise concern over the safety of the facilities.”

“Harold knows how to spin the story,”  Maude , “As long as we are on this side of his spinning, I think we will be fine.”  

*************************

Dr. James Mertzen watched the models showcase the newest product the network was taping for SSN. The “boot scootin’ bootie,” the orthopedic boot that had wheels on the bottom, was supposed to make having to wear a boot for ankle and foot soft tissue strains and breaks more fun and functional.  The wheels on the bottom raised and lowered to match the height of the other leg’s shoe.  Vernon thought it looked like a broken hip ready to happen.Oh well, as an orthopedic surgeon it wasn’t too bad, a  two for one benefit, money now, money later.  

The models for the product were spinning one legged donuts in front of the green screen, showing off their paper white teeth and fresh young faces.  They were in their twenties, not barely ambulatory patients in a nursing home.  The good doctor wondered if he truly would be liable if one of the seniors were injured wearing the boot.  He rubbed the bridge of his nose hoping to rub the tension out of his forehead

He’d better talk to the legal eagles on this one before it aired. All he needed was another lawsuit.  Mertzen was already in Lowell Barry’s pockets much deeper than he ever envisioned he would be beholden to anyone. 

The Senior Shopping Network(SSN) was his brainchild.  He’d put all his money into it and so far it had been a success. He’d used his entire inheritance from his father’s estate, 200 million dollars . 

Before buying the network he’d studied his competition, and found they sold anything and everything under the sun on their channels. However not necessarily  the senior targeted items that his network showcased. 

Vernon rubbed his eyes, and watched the screen. 

 

HIs cell phone buzzed in his pocket.  He wanted to ignore the nuisance. He wasn’t on call.  Wasn’t in the clinic and for once had no patients in recovery at Wheatbury Regional Medical.  There was really no reason to have to check his phone, other than pure human curiosity.  

“Mertzen”

“Well, hello there Jimmy, Lowell here. Am I catching you at a bad time ole buddy?” 

“Oh course not...Barry. What do you want?” Rubbing his forehead, just above his brows, James knew a full blown headache was now on it’s way.

“Do I have to want something to call my frat buddy? Maybe I just want to catch up, make a golf tee time with my friend.” said Barry, his voice as greasy as the diner’s burger James had eaten for his lunch. And having the same effect on him, as  nausea and heartburn began it’s way up his GI tract to keep his headache company.

“But you don’t want to play golf do you, Barry? You want something, what now?” 

“Well,” Barry said, “remember that little ole shipment of AgeRedo that you just promoted on the SSN?  Well...I need you to donate 100 cases to Cottonwood Arbor, from both of us of course.”

“That’s a $5000.00 donation, so are you writing me a check?” Mertzen growled. 

“Nope, you owe me….remember…..Jimmy? You owed me then, you owe me now….you will always owe me.  Remember, once a brother, always a brother. Can you recall  the Alpha Kappa Lambda pledges, brother?” Barry said,  with a snide tone to his voice as he continued. “I believe in brotherhood as friendship of the highest calling. And... I accept the membership in Alpha Kappa Lambda as binding for life.” 

 

James cringed, Barry’s constant dramatic pauses made him want to strangle him.  

“You seem to have a very selective memory, Barry. There are several more parts to the pledges, yet you only remember the ones you choose.”

“That’s because those are the only ones that matter, as long as you are practicing medicine and have patients who might mind if they knew the truth.

 

"Call Me Maude" Section 2

 Thank you for all the kind comments. I am enjoying writing once again. Tonight I've had technical difficulties with the formatting on my blog, so I apologize if it has any glitches in the paragraphs and dialogue margins. Not cetain why it is having issues this evening. I must say that right now the posted excerpts are going to be feast or famine.I have some writing done ahead so feast it is for the moment, but when I runout it may be famine unless my writing speed increases. As we reach famine, your comments and suggestions will be much appreciated.

Chapter 2:

Detective Ed Neill drummed his fingers in a rippled staccato on the front edge of his desk.The day started out normal, with a stack of files on his desk of cases he had been working on recently.  Nothing too dire, after all, this was Wheatbury, Kansas.  Most of his cases involved burglary, larceny, assault and battery, and the  occasional fraud or embezzlement. Rarely did any other case cross the desk, rarely as in only once every few months. 

He guessed this was his lucky month.  He’d just been called out to a crime scene at the

Cottonwood Arbor Senior Living Community.  Two of the residents discovered a body

on the walking paths in the arbor area. Neill really didn’t think this case was going to turn out to be much.  After all, it was a senior living community.  Old people died unexpectedly all the time, it was part and parcel with the demographic.  The old lady was probably out walking by herself, and keeled over. No one missed her until the other two elderly ladies stumbled on to her, would be his assumption.  He’d know soon enough and maybe, just maybe if the case was a quickie he could stop by the ground’s restaurant for a bite of lunch.  His great-aunt lived therefor a short time while she’d been in rehab for a broken hip.  The restaurant made a great reuben sandwich. 

Neill pulled his cruiser up to the circle in front of the walking path area’s entrance. 

There were a few people milling around the area near the coroner’s van.  Well, that

was to be expected.  Natural or tragic, death always drew an audience. 

Neill saw two older women, standing nearer the body than any of the other residents.

  He  decided that they must have been the ones to find the deceased.  He’d done this dozens of times...but it never got any easier.

“My name is Detective Neill, please tell me your names and whether you knew the deceased?”

“My name’s Marcella Lawson and this here is my friend and neighbor, Maude Sampson.We live over in the Redbud building, top floor, the penthouse so to speak.”

Neill nodded, “yes ma’am, I see, did either of you know the woman?”

“Yes, yes we both did. Lordy, as soon as I got over the shock of seeing that finger,

I knew that it was Erma, it was her signature purple polish with the powercat emblem that the squirrel was gnawing on,”  said Marcella. 

The detective saw the other woman, Maude, seem to gag a little at the illustration.She looked a bit pale for a woman who’d been standing in the sun. He’d have to watch her. The last thing he needed was to have the old lady faint on him.

“Was it a regular routine for Mrs. Walters to walk here?” Asked Detective Neill. 

“No, it certainly was not. No sir.mmm, mmm.” said the woman named Marcella , with a hands on the hip stance that brooked no denial of her opinion. “It’s just not like Erma to go out walking by   herself, or at all for that matter.” 

“I agree,” added the lady named Maude Sampson. “She’s practically attached to her Spitfire   Scooter and that little three wheeled thing just isn’t stable enough for these trails. I  don’t even know why she  was out on the trails. Ever since she broke her hip, she has   stayed  close to home.  Her regular  exercise was water aerobics and her idea of nature was sunning   herself on the sun deck following water zumba class. ” 

Neill looked over at the victim, he remembered the lady Marcella had called her Erma.

  The Coroner’s technician had already arrived before him, and partially covered her 

with a tarp, but her face sporting a freshly coiffed hair style was in view. 

 “Cept for Erma’s hair, she looks like she’s been dead a while detective,

like maybe more than 12 hours, that would have put her here in the

middle of the night, which really makes no good sense at all.”

Detective Neill looked quizzically at Marcella, 

“Now Mrs. Lawson, why would you say, or even know that?”

“I’ll tell you why Mr. Detective, I was one of the lab techs at the Wheatbury coroner’s

department until I retired five years ago. I worked in those offices for more than thirty

years.  So, detective,  I have seen more than my fair share of dead people

and I know fresh... and I know stale.” 

“Marcella, you okay?”  

The sound of Marcella’s  frustrated voice, carried across the path like a mom’s

voice scolding an errant child. A head jerked up in attention, and a man rushed

over to Marcella’s side. He looked like he’d just walked off the golf course.

“You doing okay here Marcee?” the man asked, his voice pleasant but his face

sending signals of -don’t make such a fuss, you're causing a scene-. 

“Now Marcee, I’m sure the good detective didn’t mean any harm in his asking.  He’s just getting the  details sorted out.” he said, patting her arm softly while stepping in front of her. “Detective, my name is Harold, Harold Johnson,” he’d said  while extending his hand fora greeting.  Marcella and Maude called me and my golfing partner, Ben Baumann over to help

with the squirrel while they contacted the police to report Erma.”

“And where is your golf partner now?” 

“He’s sitting on the bench, right over there.” answered Harold , pointing to the man sitting

in an area on the far side of the path.  

Sure enough, a man in garish blue plaid pants was sitting with his head cradled in his hands on a bench. The man looked paler than his white hair, but didn’t look up, although Neill thought for certain that he had heard their conversation. Neill noticed that  Ben Bauman's eyes narrowed just a bit and his lips pressed together in a firm line as he glanced at his golf partner, and then Mrs. Lawson. Stepping to the side, just a bit, he casually draped his  arm across Mrs. Lawson's shoulder. his golf partner looked up at the detective, then back down at Erma.  

“Detective, how soon you think we can get poor Erma moved on out of here? asked Mr. Bauman,  "The bright sun can’t be doing her much good, nor the other folks around here watching the proceedings going on.” 

     Maude watched silently at the proceedings around her. She could tell from looking at Ben that the wheels were turning in his head faster than top speed on his golf cart, and a squirrel-chewed-on, deceased old lady was not going to do the retirement community’s  outreach and public relations much good. Ben was on the board of directors with the Cottonwood Arbor startup group.  His chief responsibility was P.R. and promotions. 

“As soon as we wrap up the preliminary questions, the coroner’s office can remove the deceased,  and the remainder of the questions can be completed at the station.” Detective Neil said before resuming his questions.

  He took a moment to look at the bystanders. The sun was warm and all involved were wilting as quick as a bouquet of dandelions in a toddler’s fist. He needed to wrap this up fast or he’d have more seniors perishing in the heat.

        “Can you give me an approximation of the time you ladies found the resident?” He asked.

 Mrs. Sampson spoke up first,

 “I think about three hours have passed since Marcella and I called out to  Ben and Harold on the third tee box when we saw the squirrel with Erma’s finger.  

“Why did you call over to them? Asked the detective.

“We couldn’t just let the varmint scamper off with it, but neither one of us knew what to do!” she replied with exasperated fatigue.

Harold saw her frustration level rising, he motioned Ben over from the bench, pantomiming to grab a water bottle out of his golf bag for Maude. Maude kept on talking. 

“While I had called the authorities to report the incident, Harold  and Ben walked over and tried to coax the squirrel into giving them the finger!” 

“Oh my lordy Maude!” exclaimed Marcella, “Let me tell the detective.”

With the squirrel well supervised, Marcella told Neill that she and Marcella had then

began to look around forthe owner of the missing digit, and that 

was when she had found Erma, stretched out behind a clump of ornamental pampas

grass not three feet from a big cottonwood tree with no less than

four squirrel nests in the branches.  It is a wonder she was only missing one finger, thought Neill. 

Everyone thinks squirrels are cute and cuddly, little do they know that the little buggers

will gnaw on almostanything,  even dead animals, they are omnivores not herbivores, he thought while shaking his head. 

The detective watched the dwindling group of onlookers, the atmosphere was calm,

but then finding someone wasn’t exactly uncommon at an elderly retirement community

like Cottonwood Arbor. The squirrel did add a new twist though. 

 What a mess.  Poor Erma. Poor Cottonwood Arbor. This was just the kind of incident the facility did not need in the news.Detective Neill left the women and men who found the incident and walked through the small grouping of seniors, crossing over to the coroner’s technician, and knelt down next to the body.  

“What can you tell me so far Ted?” Neil asked the tech.  

“Female, looks to be in her 80’s to 90’s, no obvious wounds except for the missing  third finger on her left hand.  There does seem to be a faint purplish tint to her lips, doesn’t look like cosmetics, more of a stain.  Shows on her teeth and tongue also.”

“Did you find any containers or substances around her that could have contributed to the coloring?” Asked the detective, as he examined the scene.  

“No sir, not a thing.” 

“Do you know whether or not the body has been moved?” 

“I would think it has been,”  said the technician, with just a little bit of sarcasm added to his voice. “I just don’t see how the lady fell in such a prone position.”  Erma was laid out on the ground, arms at her sides, head facing to the left as if she had been arranged on an exam table.

“Agreed, just wanted it confirmed.” Sighed Neill.

Detective Neill’s knees creaked and popped as he rose from kneeling. He grimaced, thinking it wouldn’t be too awfully long before he would be checking out the amenities of Cottonwood Arbor.  He  rubbed his forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose.  This case wasn’t going to be quite as simple as he’d hoped.  

 “Alright,” he said , while looking at Erma, then the technician, “get all the pictures and evidence tagged, then transport her to the lab. I think it is time we all got out of the sun.”

Sharing some fun... "Call Me Maude"

 

    Retirement takes some getting used to, but I just think I might be getting the hang of it. The first few months felt normal, because it was summer time and teachers have extra time in the summers to enjoy a change of pace. The actual feeling of being retired didn't begin until August when everyone was going back to school, and I was not. I felt like I was perpetually playing hooky. It was weird to drive around during the day, shopping and meeting friends. Like I was on a never-ending mental health day. Then the holidays began and that took up some time. Now I no longer feel guilty to go to the gym each day at 8:30am for my classes, instead of after work. I have made friends, and can do as much or as little as I want with my time. I guess you could say I am finding my niche.

    Today I reopened a document on my computer that I began quite a long time ago. I like to dabble with writing and I had begun a story with an interesting character set in a retirement community. I pick up where I leave off every once in a while and then it gets shuffled to the back of my interests once again. I always thought I wanted to be a "real" writer, whatever that means, and share my silly stories with others. But instead they lie quietly in my computer. Today after opening it I thought, "well heck, why not share it on my blog."

So that's what I am going to do. I think I will put in out there in increments and see how it goes. Maybe it will encourage me to take it farther. Maybe it will just silently fade away. We will find out. If you like it, leave me a comment. I hope to put out a part each week for a while. If you have ideas for the story, share those too. Let's see what happens. Because....why not? So here goes, meet my friend, Maude. Enjoy!

"Call Me Maude"

Call me Maude and listen well my friend, this is the advice of a master.  Knocking back four “Dirty Dentures” during the Jeopardy trivia challenge at Paul’s Tavern is just plain dangerous at any age.  

Maude woke to a day full of promise and a head full of pounding pain. The sun was a little too bright and the birds just a wee bit too cheerful to suit her mood today. Rising slowly to her feet and shuffling cautiously to the front door with her head pounding out a staccato beat to her heart seemed to be a wicked and  bitter acknowledgement of the poor choices made the night before.  Being dumb when it came to alcohol didn’t stop at 20, or 30 or any other darn age. But then again, neither did having a good time with a bunch of friends.

Easing down onto the chair that was conveniently placed by the front door, Maude blindly patted the floor beneath the chair for her shoes.  The chair, a simple wingback, was an exotic floral brocade showing parrots and tropical flowers in a raucous pattern of jungle hues. She put it  there to put shoes on or take them off. Maude winced, grabbing her temples with one hand while continuing to search.

    ” I love this damn chair,” she groaned, “but today, I swear that the birds are not only squawking with          glee over my compromised, vodka soaked brain, but also mocking me. 82 years old, you’d think I’d         know better than to over imbibe, but damn those things are tasty! She was in a habit of talking to              herself, after living alone for so many years.

The doorbell buzzed. Loudly. It was a standard issue at Cottonwood Arbor Senior Living Community. The facility felt that most seniors were a bit stone deaf. Maude grimaced, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t, the doorbell was one size shrills all.  The sound set her brain into a new spasm of pain.

“Maude, are you ready? Let’s get our walk on.” 

She opened the door and in came Marcella, her walking outfit for the day putting the wingback  chair to shame.  Maude swore that her friend  found wilder clothes then any other person she’d ever known.  Fluorescent pink hibiscus with neon green leaves on a black background decorated the blouse and Marcella paired it with pink Bermuda shorts. Set against the espresso hue of her skin, she somehow  pulled it off and looked more exotic than gaudy.  No small feat in their small  Kansas town. 

 

“Marcella, I’m dying here. Do ya think you could tone it down just bit?”  

“It’s not any fault of mine that you had to make a fool of yourself last night with those lemon poppy seed martinis. Maude, you should have followed my lead and drank Shirley MacLaines, those spicy tomato juice drinks with just a few jalapeño slices mixed in are so much better for you.”

“Ugh. No Thanks.” Maude , as her stomach lurched a little thinking of any food, even tomato juice. 

  “Why do you call it a Shirley MacLaine?” 

Marcella chuckled just a bit, her deep throaty laugh sounding like warm maple syrup oozing down pancakes, all rich and smooth.

 “It’s because of the jalapeños, there are just enough to make it burn a little, so it keeps coming back to life through the evening. They come with a sidecar of Tums.   Now get up and let’s get going.  Walking is good for the soul, and it might just sweat out that pickled brain of yours too.”

Maude grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, her sunglasses off the counter, and her keys from the bowl by the door, then closed it softly behind her. 

 “Lordy, what a b-e-a-utiful day!” exclaimed Marcella as she opened the door of their building to enter the sidewalk toward the wooded walking paths.  

“Yes,” Maude groaned, “it’s amazing.” 

“Would you look over there.  Harold is just now teeing up on the first green. That man has got a mighty nice swing, and a few other ‘mighty nices’ too, mmm,mm.”

Maude was wide awake and walking, but that didn’t improve her disposition.  However, Marcella seemed happy enough for the both of them.  The walking paths were laid out under a canopy of cottonwood tree limbs, which created a shady retreat from the glaring summer sun.  Maude was thankful at least for the reprieve for her eyes.

They walked at a pace brisk enough to get a little cardio. Cottonwood Arbor Senior Living community was named after the very wooded area they were now walking through.  The town of Wheatbury, Kansas was a trendsetter in the realm of retirement living. A town of 50,000 people and 3000 of those residents resided at Cottonwood Arbor.  It was a residential utopia of gerontology advancement and all because Maude’s friends had a vision.

Now that the vision had become reality, all that was needed was a bit of overseeing of the investment and of course continued PR that came with protecting their assets and replacing residents as they kicked off.  Maude was pragmatic, she often told her friends…”we are old, after all.”

Her  mind was thinking about their  latest ad campaign as she “umm hmmed” to Marcella’s constant chatter.

  A brown ground squirrel came scampering across the path. He was dragging behind him an odd, stumpy, stick-like object.

Find Your Tribe = Joy

 I had the best time today at the gym.  Many might think that is an odd statement. After all,  a person goes to the gym to work out, sweat and generally get tired from exercise.  But I found myself in the middle of my workout class with a big smile and enjoying every minute of it.  Why? It's simple.  I have found my tribe.

When I first retired and went to the morning gym classes, the 8:30 a.m. ones,  the time in the past when I would have been at work each week day,  I was once again walking into a group of people that I didn't know and had to work to meet.  This seems to be my destiny.  I have always walked into new situations alone and made a spot for myself.  Well this time, the new retired me not only entered a new situation, I found my tribe.  A great group of women, the majority of which are 60 years old and older, who exercise, smile, laugh and encourage each other several times a week.  

Today's class was a group exercise dance class.  Here we were, a room full of women grooving to club songs , most of us with some grey in our hair, and having a blast.  Now if someone were to look into the classroom ( and many do) I was wondering what they would see.  I could imagine a TikTok of all of us with this song playing, the one we were working out to today: 

It tickled me so much!  Just imagine. 

 It's so much fun, but I kept thinking about what my kids would see if they walked by.  I'm certain they'd laugh and love it.  Much like the other night when we were all together for Christmas playing a card deck game  ( Like "Apples to Apples" or any of the variety where you play by matching answer cards to topic cards).  On one of my turns, I had to read a card that was so much cooler than I am, It had texting slang in it and honestly, I needed to be about 18 years old and have more of a swagger to carry it off, consequently my kids died laughing at the almost 60 year old white mama trying read the card.  I was ribbed and teased but we all laughed until we cried.  

That's how I felt today, with "my tribe," grooving to the club songs and having a blast even though I knew it had to be a sight to see.

It got me thinking.  I think each of us are truly most happy when we find our tribe to be with.  Each person may have a different definition of tribe.  It might be a tight knit family, a group of friends in a social club, school peers, sports team, church members, co-workers, or any other set of people who share a common interest or passion.  It must be something one looks forward to doing and the others in the group encourage attendance to feel a sense of belonging.  Whatever the tribe, as long as it fulfills the needs of camaraderie and acceptance then happiness and joy will ensue.  

As we approach the New Year, my wish for each person is that they may find their tribe, something to look forward to each day of 2023.  And most of all, embrace the joy! 

You're Gonna Make It: Unlocking Resilience When Life Is A Mess

 Whelp, here I am, four months into retirement.  Do I like it? YES! Has every moment been easy in this transition....no.  I floundered around for a while the last couple months, knowing that school would be starting and wondering what exactly to do with all my time.  It was one of those lost days when I checked my email and found I had a message from WaterBrooke Multnomah.  It was the opportunity to join one of their launch teams for a new book.  I'm always ready to see what they are publishing so I opened the email and, I couldn't believe my eyes.  It was as if God had not only been listening to my prayers asking how to transition to this new stage of growth called retirement, but also was putting tangible help right into my hands.

The email contained an invite to read and review Daniel Fusco's new book, "You're Gonna Make It, Unlocking Resilience When Life Is A Mess."   

This is my first Daniel Fusco book to read, and I didn't know what to expect, but I loaded it into my trusty Kindle and opened the page.  My first impression was, wow.  Not because the first few words of Fusco's book were astounding, (though they were very good) but because his writer's voice was so conversational.  It was like he was sitting across the table from me, just having a nice chat and telling me a story from his past.  The book continues in this conversational prose throughout.  I found reading Fusco's book very comforting as if he and I were becoming friends and he was encouraging me through God's word to find peace and hope in fostering resilience as I work through life's changes.  

Now, I love reading my bible, but I can't always say I love reading biblical nonfiction.  Depending on the topic, I can often find them insightful but dry, almost mind numbing and I have to work at staying focused and purposeful when reading and studying.  Yet Fusco's book, "You're Gonna Make It," didn't feel that way at all.  He does a good job of incorporating personal accounts, pop culture references (to keep it interesting), biblical teachings and pastoral explanations.  I continually felt encouraged and fed as I read.  I actually spent a few nights reading it in bed and staying up a little too late because I didn't want to put it down, I just had to get to the end of the chapter.  This never happens for me when I read nonfiction, so that is a true endorsement!   

Now I look forward to checking out Fusco's other books but I want to encourage everyone to read, "You're Gonna Make It."  No matter what stage of life you are in reader, let's face it, life is always messy and we can never foster too much resilience through the help of God.  

Potiphar's Wife

 So, I've been busy, at least until this week.  I just saw my son, graduate  high school and that was a busy weekend.  Then I finished the school year and retired with all that the transition entailed.  Finally this week I have been able to take the time to read for one of my launch team commitments with Waterbrook Multnomah. I received an advance copy for an honest review.  Kind of like a great meal, you save the best for last when it can be savored.  That was my experience this week with Mesu Andrews newest book, a fictional novel, Potiphar's Wife.  I always enjoy fictional books best and when saturated with historical facts and references the treat is so much sweeter.  

Potiphar's Wife is an intriguing story of Pharaoh's  Egypt during the time of Joseph and his brother's from Jacob.  The story of Joesph is a well told one from young children's Sunday school lessons to a Broadway musical.  Yet in each telling we hear of the woman siren who tried to entice Joseph to sin, yet we never fully meet her to know her story.  Andrews clearly states in her afterward and author's notes that her novel Potiphar's wife is a work of fiction.  However she did do ample research to place as much historical fact into the story as possible.  Through research she learned that Potiphar's wife in the Koran was named Zulieka.  She also found evidence of political happenings at the time period of Joseph's captivity in Pharaoh's Egypt to weave into her story. Through her research and author's creativity she has written a compelling tale that makes both the time period and biblical characters come to life to entice readers to not only enjoy the story, but peak curiosity to delve further into the bible to learn more truths about the world of the old testament and the people who worshiped God through faith and determination.

I must say that many plot twists and turns kept my attention throughout the story.  I won't share because spoilers ruin the fun.  But even until the very end, I was surprised with sone of the events.  In my opinion that creates an entertaining and fun story. 

I can't wait for Andrew's next book, as she makes the characters so real it is hard to say goodbye to them.  I recommend Potiphar's Wife to anyone looking for fiction to enhance the story of Joseph and his life in Egypt.

Saving kids....

 This May, May 20th to be exact, I am retiring from public education.  I have not been on the job as long as many others, I was a late bloomer and finished my degree after my own children were in high school. So I am retiring with 17 years in my current district and about 6 from another district and being a para from a special education cooperative.  I have mixed feelings about retiring.  I wish I could have taught longer, but my health mandates less stress.  

Over the last 17 years  I have worked in various positions and over all I have worked diligently to save kids.  Mostly that meant to help kids (students) graduate from high school.  In high school you have to earn all your credits in the courses needed to graduate.   If a course is not passed then it must be repeated.This is not the same from previous years in education.  From kindergarten through 8th grade a student can be promoted even when they don't pass the course content, but when high school is reached, every credit counts.  

17 years ago, when I began working at Buhler,  I found that more than ever, I love helping students.  Trying to learn who they are and how they feel about school then how they best learn was my passion.  It still is my passion. However I learned the last couple years that it is time to embrace a new adventure and retire.I wish I had a count of all who graduated high school that I had in my classes.  I have loved them so much.  They make me smile.  I listen to their joys and hurts.  I listen to their dreams and I hope that they meet them and find joy in their future.  

However, covid happened, and attitudes changed.  Students lost drive and so did I .  The pandemic took its toll.  One unique positive came from the last two years.  A student, a boy, pre-pandemic, an unexpected life changing event.  Johnny.

Johnny began as a sophomore student in my class in January 2020.  Now Johnny is a member of my family and a son to me.  Johnny is a gregarious person who captures friends and hearts with his outgoing personality.   Johnny isn't an easy student.  He has a big personality.  Yet I love him.  

He will graduate from high school in two weeks, and I am very proud of him.  I work hard to make sure he has all the paperwork he needs completed for college done and that he is prepared for the next step in his education.  I want him to reach all the goals he sets for himself.  I treat him the same as I did my son and daughter.  He reaps all the benefits of a school mom who loves him as well as the consequences of a school mom that is focussed on education.  Yet he seems to deal with me well. =)

I think in my heart Johnny represents all the students I have had and loved and tried to help.  He is special because of the circumstances, I actually took him home to care for him and "mom" him, even though I mom most of my students every day.  Johnny has a family, a mom and a dad and brother and sisters, yet he allows me to care for him too.  it is a blessings for both of us.  

I will meet some of Johnny's family on May 14th, at graduation.  I am nervous.  Just because I don't know them yet.  I am humbled that I get to be a part of his life.  I want to care for him and give him a home.  I know his family loves him too.  It will be a special day.  

It will be so hard to leave the school and the building on May 20.  But I know each student that I ever had in my classes will remain a part of my heart.  I will miss my peers, my colleagues.  They have been my family for so many years, I have been with them everyday and they have treated me dearly.  It hurts to know I won't see them 10 months of the year.  Yet I know it is time. 

New adventures await, New challenges are ahead, and those at school, both students and faculty-friends will forever be in my heart. ❣️

What Remains True

 Nancy Naigle has once again captured my heart through the characters in her newest release, What Remains True published by Waterbrook and Multnomah with a release date of May 3, 2022.  As a member of her launch team, I was privileged to read an early release copy and I can sincerely say that from the first page I was hooked.  

The book begins with this quote, "Embrace this day, and make it your goal to make each one memorable. Say yes to new opportunities."  Merry Anna Foster, a big city COO for her family's office supply chain of stores is in need of a change of pace.  To prove a point to her ex husband and his request for more alimony,  she finds herself in the small town of Antler Creek.  With the intention of staying only a couple weeks, Merry Anne rents an old cowboy bunkhouse and takes a job as a sales clerk for the bunkhouse owner's gift shop.  Over qualified for the position, Merry Anna quickly becomes indispensable to the shop's owner and becomes friends.  She gets to know the neighbors and community of Antler Creek, especially the handsome bachelor bull-rider who owns the land next to her home as well as the local feed store.  Adam Locklear has one goal for his life, to win the upcoming national bull riding championship and begin a new business enterprise.  Through various twists and turns, life presents many challenges and joys.

One of my favorite aspects of Naigle's stories is the way she builds her characters. Her character development is so rich and engaging that I end up becoming attached to them and dread the end of the story, just because I won't be able to be a part of their lives any longer.  That is really a true gift in a story teller, when they can create a sense of caring for the fictional people.  Naigle does just that and makes it hard to say goodbye to them.  

As sad as I am to complete Naigle's books, I know that I can look forward to her next adventure when she introduces me to an entire new set of people to get to know again.  Naigle is one of my favorite author's and I heartily recommend , What Remains True for your next read.  

Crowned With Glory

 I recently received a new book from Waterbrook and Multnomah and I was charmed with their new publication, "Crowned with Glory" by Dorena Williamson.  "Crowned with Glory" is the story of a little black girl and her joy in her individual beauty starting with her wonderful unique hair.  She embraces all the styles and ways that she can express herself and her God given beauty.  The book is a rhyming narrative that catches the reader's attention from the start.  I appreciate children's books that explore the diversity of various people and how God made each of us perfect and beautiful in our own way. I am pleased to recommend "Crowned with Glory" to my readers.