The (Right) Stuff I'm talkin' bout

July 20, 1969, man walks on the moon. I'm happy to report that I was only one year old and don't remember this amazing moment in our nation's history. But for some reason I've always been intrigued by the story. In high school, my favorite movie was The Right Stuff. I decided that year that I would marry Ed Harris or Dennis Quaid...whichever asked me first. I watched this movie and was amazed mostly by the rigorous physical trials these individuals endured in order to be chosen to be on the team of those worthy enough to participate in the space program. I also fell in true love with Sam Shepherd as Chuck Yeager. What a man! He had all the ability and guts it took to excell over the highly book educated candidates but was never even a contender because of his lack of higher education.

We all know different personalities of Christians and other religions for that matter. We know those who have really big theology brains...those who have studied, dialoged and commentaried on every theological concept imaginable. I fell deep into that well in college. I mistook heady theology for spirituality. Then we know those who are all experience...all emotion...and never seem to sober up long enough to 'think'; decern for themselves what scripture says and how it will be applied to our own life. I think of how in The Right Stuff, there should have been a candidate who was the perfect combination of Chuck Yeager and the college boys. One who had the heart AND the brain in perfect alignment. I wonder if that's what we strive for in our relationship with God and in our practice of growing spiritually....that most healthy and worthy combination of heart and brain.

Big Red

We spent last week with my parents between Sequin and Gonzales. Of course that meant a dip in the Guadalupe EVERY day. Ever since I was 7 and my sister was born we have made many trips to our pecan farm and now our parents live only 3 miles away. We did everything we always do...make our daily pilgrimage to the river loaded down with our plastic chairs, water and towells. You have to go slow in the summer because 1, it's hot. But we also have to keep an eye out for critters...snakes, ants and other creations of God I can't explain. When we were little the biggest treat of all was for Dad to take us to Goss'. Goss has a convenience store that looks like something out of Hee Haw. There was always fly paper hanging from the ceiling, there is no 'actual' door but a sliding piece of tin that was shoved aside during business hours. After crossing the threshold we knew the way to the soda water cooler. I'd lift the lid and fish around till I found what we wanted. A glass bottle of Big Red. We turn around avoiding the hound dog laying just behind us and walk over to the little window inside where Goss was sitting waiting to take our money. Goss always wore a cowboy hat and we knew he was there when we saw that old Caddy with the horns on the hood. There is nothing better on a hot Texas day than that red suggary concoction. This past week, Dad took us and we bought it again...against the better judgement of two grown up girls. Mr. Goss died last year but the store is still there still making the best Bar-B-Que chicken on Saturdays...go early, they run out early. Here's to childhood memories and great sisters.

My new bicycle

In 1974, Santa brought me a bicycle. The frame came from my grandmother's barn. My uncle rescued it from the snake pit, primed it and painted it purple. Mom purchased a white wicker basket for the handle bars, a banana seat with daisies on it from the Western Auto along with some new tires for my uncle to install. On Christmas morning, it was standing in front of the Christmas tree all gleeming and beautiful. In my Christmas stocking was the final touch...rainbow streamers to stick into those rubber thingies at the end of the handle bars. What a gift! What a showstopper that bike was. I never thought I'd be more excited to receive a gift than I was that day when I was 6.

On Saturday of this past weekend, I was amazed again at the joy of a new bike. Except this time, it was a REALLY NEW bike. Yesterday as I was listening to The Stones sing, "She's A Rainbow" and completing my first big outing, I realized the stupid grin on my face and decided I didn't care who saw me. The feeling of riding that bike really fast all on my own was so freeing and so exciting that I've decided I'm going again! ...as soon as my hiney recovers from yesterday. What other simple gifts are there? Where else am I missing the joy that should be so plain? That bike and the effect it has on me now forces me to look...look hard...for more simple joys.

The loss of a girlhood heroine...

It's Summer 1977 or 1978 in Pasadena, Texas. Kim Kelley, Melissa Padgett and myself are scrounging around the bayou near our neighborhood. We brought a bucket so we can pick wild dewberries...mom said she'd make a pie if we came home with enough but we always ate most of them as we picked them. When the berries ran out or we got bored with that...it was time to do what we really went down there to do - play Charlie's Angels! The terrain was perfect. In the Summer, the water running in the bayou was just a trickle so none of parents were concerned about us drowning. Just a lot of interesting sand piles at the top of the bayou and a bridge over the water made out of whatever we found. So we'd come up with a senario and decide what our mission would be. There were three of us so of course the only decision remaining was...who got to be Farrah! Melissa had dark hair and a haircut almost exactly like Sabrina's (Kate Jackson) so she didn't really have a choice - it was a given that she couldn't be Jill! So it always came down to Kim and me. After a few episodes of Charlie's Angels as filmed at the bayou we finally decided to take turns being Jill and the other Kelly. Many daring jumps across the 'raging river' and numerous shimmies across that elevated pipe that carried God knows what made for an adventure that I bet not many little girls have today. Gone are the days when parents can let their little girls hang out for hours near a construction site, let them explore a new house being built or play important women of the small screen fighting crime and eating berries.
Thanks Farrah for inspiring in me a sense of adventure and imagination!

What do you mean, NO!?!?

I've often heard theologians, social analysts and just simply insightful people talk about how our society is a "ME" society. We girls are raised to believe we are princesses and very very special and boys are taught from day one that they are strong and can do anything. We are given love, yes, but we are often also given the nasty gift of a sense of entitlement by the very people who love us most...our parents. I don't think anyone is aware this is happening when they are doting on children in this way. We all ended up with this attribute to one degree or another. Children are told that they deserve a phone or a car or an allowance before they've earned it. For years and years we're just given stuff! for no reason except that we're vewy vewy special. Free gifts are wonderful and I'm certainly not indicating that I think no one should get anything out of simple love and care. Good grief...how could I get that whole 'grace' thing if I didn't. But my concern is this. How many years of 'you-are-wonderful-and-you-deserve-everything-you-want' does it take before we end up believing it. As teens we think we should have everything. As adults we get disappointed if the job doesn't come through even though we've worked as hard as we could. And as people of faith, we even start getting grumpy when God doesn't seem to be coming through on something we've been asking for. It's all the same. We think we deserve what we think we want. Well, I have a revelation for myself today (actually I have to remind myself of this about once a week) IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU HONEY! This big world is full of wonder and I've realized (again) that I'm a small part of it. I was also reminded to find my joy in it NO MATTER WHAT. As many of you know, I'm not saying to be one of those sacrine happy people in your faith. I'm not saying to walk around with your smile and singing that God will get me through when you're just not feeling it. Struggle, shake your fist, get mad, pray, figure it out. Take a while to do it. But through it all is a sense of God's love, patience and certain knowledge that growth is taking place.

Solitude in a crowd

After walking from Arlington National Cemetery and across the Potomac, we finally reached the Lincoln Memorial. I was hot and sweaty and my feet were killing me but I had just enough energy to climb the steps so I could see the massive statue of Abraham Lincoln sitting on his throne. I shot into the shade, snapped the photo of Abe and got out of there...I just couldn't stand the heat and stillness of the air in there. My only want at that moment was to find a place where the air was moving and the sun wasn't glaring. I found this place by venturing out of the crowd. About 15 steps away and around the side of the memorial I unfolded my map of the city, sat on it and kicked off my flip flops. Finally, I was finding solitude...finding rest. In that moment, I started looking around. I decided that looking out onto the Mall was expected...so I decided to look up. And I was overwhelmed by the sky, the columns of the structure I was sitting on and the moment in the continuous history of that place. I thought of everything that has happened on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I wonder if anyone ever sat where I was sitting during of those historical moments. Anyway, I was reminded to look for and experience something other than the expected. That's easy when you're on vacation so I'm challenging myself to do that once I get home tomorrow. I'm going to start looking at things from a different angle. I'm going to try to remember to see things from another perspective...from a different point of view.

A meaningful moment

At the Vietnam War Memorial, I had an interesting experience. As I was making the rubbing of my father's name, a group of young people asked me how I knew where my dad's name is on the expansive memorial. I explained about the book of names and the list of the death dates on the back of the piece of paper I was using for the rubbing. This simple question quickly turned into a list of questions :) I'm no expert on this memorial - when it was completed, the artist, etc. But I learned from these fellow tourists that there is still an interest in the people who experienced loss as a result of the Vietnam War. They wanted to know how old I was when my dad died. They wanted to know about my mom and what she did after that. They wanted to know about my grandparents and what there views were on the war after they lost my dad. They wanted to know if I am angry. We continued to visit for about 10 more minutes. I think we were greatly affected by each other. Imagine...strangers loving each other. What a meaningful thing to happen in the midst of a hallowed place.