Celebrate Life

Recently I've been having some conversations with a friend about end of life issues. Mainly about what's on the other side. This isn't an academic issue with him. He'll by leaving us soon - and he's hungry to have conversation about where he's going.

Theological concepts he's never questioned before are now paramount and somewhat troubling.

I'm honored that he talks to me. I know what it's like to question your faith with the wrong person.

Next week our church is having a healing service. I recently heard a person telling about how somebody she knew (or knew of) was instantly healed of ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) after attending a healing service.

To me, that's not what healing is necessarily about. Because here's an absolute fact.

We're all gonna die.

Isn't healing about accepting that fact and celebrating life anyway - with the assurance that the next life will be even better?

I hope my friend comes to this celebrating and assurance. But, whatever he does, I'm honored to be his friend to the end.





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Leadership Styles

When I was doing consulting work one of the things we did was train mangers. For many years we've known that the way to be successful in most any endeavor is to treat your customers and your employees well.

This isn't rocket science (although I did work at the Cape.) It's common sense.

But we continue to glorify mean bosses even in these hard times.

A new movie (documentary) came out today called "The September Issue." It's about Vogue editor Anna Wintour, the same woman who was glorified in the movie "The Devil Wears Prada."

Since we're no longer in indulgent, extravagant times, it'll be interesting to see how this new movie does. I, frankly, don't understand why we put up with tyrants, especially ones that rule the fashion and gourmet food industries.

That's partly because I don't understand the importance of these industries. Anna Wintour has been quoted as saying that people "mock" fashion because they're afraid of it.

Yes, I admit it. Some of those outfits in Vogue really scare me.

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Should I Get a Tattoo?

I'm just kidding. I wouldn't get a tattoo. But a person whom I love and admire above most others has a little butterfly tattoo on her ankle. And it wasn't a youthful indiscretion. It's relatively recent. It's one of the things I love and respect about her.

Since coming home the only way I can get my daily two-mile-fast-walk in is to go to the mall. In Minnesota Dave and I were outside every day because the summer was cool and dry. Here the hot, wet air slaps me on the cheeks when I go out for the paper at 7 A.M.

It's only fair that Floridians occasionally envy Minnesota weather.

Anyway, I was happy to see that there aren't many empty spaces in my mall. In fact there are a couple of interesting new stores.

The first is a Tattoo Parlor called "Avenue Ink." It's sleek and upscale with red leather couches and catalogues on black lacquered tables. (At first I thought it was a Chinese restaurant.) The tattooing booths are in the back.

How do I feel about this? Like it or not, tattoos are now mainstream. It's a personal choice. Remember when only "bad" girls got their ears pierced? I understand that "Avenue Ink" is doing well.

The other interesting new store is large and sells only flip flops.


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Do You Want to Get Well?

I know, this question seems like a no-brainer but it's among my favorite Jesus quotes.

Today a woman called to tell me her husband died. She was sobbing so much that I could barely understand her. I immediately offered to go right over to her house but she said she'd come to mine.

As it turns out her husband died five months ago. Her grief is as fresh as the first day. She stayed with me for two hours and never stopped talking about herself and her feelings. The couple of times I tried to distract her or tell her something of myself she had no interest.

Nor did she have any interest in counseling or medical help for her depression.

I realize the above makes me seem horribly insensitive.

But here's the thing. The last time I talked with her was about a year after my husband died. I happened to see her in a store and she spent half an hour crying and telling me how much she missed my husband. I finally had to take her into a little tea shop to get her calmed.

I know she's ill. Help is available. But she doesn't want to get well.


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Coping Capacities

Yesterday's sermon was about learning to be content.

My minister talked about the Apostle Paul who famously said, "I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am."

That's saying a lot because he was in a pickle a good bit of the time.

My minister also quoted Victor Frankel who came to some amazing conclusions when he was a prisoner in a concentration camp in World War II.

What he basically came to was that other people couldn't change who he was - no matter what they did to him.

I believe this as well - but I don't always feel it. Sometimes I feel like "This person's driving me crazy."


Back in the years when I was writing poetry, (and this is probably no surprise to you) I wrote one about this very subject.



HELP STOP CRIME
by Cecily Crossman - 1972


I accused you of a felony,
I thought you broke my heart,
And ruined my life.
But,
After thoroughly investigating the crime,
I will concede,
It could have been an inside job.




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Time Travelers

On Saturday two girlfriends and I saw the movie "The Time Traveler's Wife." It's a love story about this girl who falls in love with this guy but the problem is that he keeps disappearing.

Sometimes when he returns he's older - sometimes younger - and always in need of clean clothes.

In some ways this describes your everyday male/female relationship problem.

Oh, and I forgot. She tricks him into getting her pregnant.

This movie kept my interest but I was frustrated by the ending. No problems are solved. I thought when the guy was diagnosed by the genetic specialist (he had Chrono Impairment) we'd find the secret of this impromptu and inconvenient time traveling and get in corrected.

Another frustration: They get rich by cheating on the lottery i.e., getting the numbers in the future, then going back to buy a ticket. Does it seem right to you that this swell, handsome guy should use his powers for stealing?

And finally, there's the laundry factor.

In all of these ooy gooey romantic movies they never seem to have to deal with real life. The ooy gooiest one that comes to mind is "Bridges Of Madison County."

At some point you have to run the sweeper, do some laundry and buy groceries.

That's when lots of guys disappear.


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Hard Times and Feeding the Homeless

I went with some friends to serve lunch to the homeless today.

It looks like an easy job because all you have to do is dish up the food and smile.

But looks are deceiving. First, there were way, way more hungry people there than last time I volunteered. Several agencies that do this work have gone bankrupt, leaving these people with fewer options.

They line up outside. Women, children and handicapped first. The first man I saw looked a lot like Nick Nolte. For a second I wondered if it was Nick Nolte.

As I've shared with you before, the food is served for one hour - period. So we want to do it as fast as possible in order to feed everybody in line.

We failed today.

My assignment was to serve the salad. Easy, right? It was in a huge bin. I'd already decided that I could go faster if I filled the compartment in the paper plate with my plastic-gloved hand, and, because the guy knows me, I'd already had the big lecture about not putting too much on the plates.

But at the last minute, instead of salad dressing, the guy came along and poured about two gallons of guacamole dip into the salad and mixed it up. (This food is all donated so they just do the best they can.)

Guacamole dip is like glue. After losing a couple of gloves in the salad and having to stop and fish them out, I switched to tongs. My thumb is still sore from one solid hour of squeezing tongs.

The man standing next to me, the one handing me the plates, told me he volunteers there every day. I can understand why. It's such an honor to do this.


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