Rockets Red Glare

I was tired this evening... dozing in the recliner with the laptop glowing. I know that never happens to anyone else, but my life is SO exciting that I just don't make it through most evenings without nodding off. I woke up with full intentions of going straight to bed, but alas, the television was on the History Channel. I don't know why I was there, it's usually HGTV or a rerun of NCIS. Not this time.
The War of 1812, the battle of Ft McHenry, and the battle of New Orleans helped define the vision the United States had of itself and maintains today.
Two pieces of music stand out because of that war. First is our national anthem. It was written by Francis Scott Keye after that battle. He was being held aboard a British ship, and was watching the 25 hour bombardment of Fort McHenry all day and through the night. When dawn came, the flag was still raised over the fort and the Britsh left. They had given up that part of the fight but still pressed on to take New Orleans.
Another song was written about that battle, written much later and without the same reverence.
So here's the Battle of New Orleans:


And our National Anthem:

Tender Mercy

In April of 2005, Elder David A Bednar spoke in General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. His topic was "The Tender Mercies of the Lord". In the talk, he gave several examples of small blessings given to individuals that were just what they needed at that particular moment in time. He said "....the Lord's tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ."
Ronald darling did not care for the talk. It was much too touchy-feely for him. Fluff, he thought. But a week ago we experienced some of the Lord's tender mercy.
We recently bought a semi-new car. Actually, it is the same year, make and model as the old one, but it has 200,000 fewer miles on it than the old one. So about 10 days ago, it started sputtering, chugging, gasping for air. Something like that. So Ronald darling decided to take it to the garage and have it checked. I drove the old car (which we haven't sold yet) to work and would see him at home. I parked in the seven level garage across the street from my office. Ronald darling took the car to the shop, but they needed to keep it. What to do? He was six miles from home on a hot summer day.
He decided to hop on the bus (30 or 40 years since the last time he took a bus), come downtown, pick up the old car, drive it home and then pick me up after work. He tried to call me, but his cell phone was not charged. It wouldn't have mattered, mine was turned off.
I usually eat lunch in the cafeteria, but on that day I had to go to the IRS office. shudder. It's four and a half blocks from the office and it was a hot summer day and I am a semi-old lady. I decided to drive. I got hung up in conversation so did not leave at 11:30, but at 11:38.
Ron rode the bus downtown but missed the stop and had to walk back two blocks to the garage. I don't have an assigned spot to park, and if I did, he wouldn't have known where it was; he's never been in the garage before. So, I left the building, crossed the street, climbed the flight of stairs to the second level and headed for the car. And there he was, walking toward me from the other end of the garage.
Some people would call this a coincidence. I know better. It was a tender mercy from the Lord. Ronald darling drove me to the IRS, dropped me back at work and picked me up after. We both basked in the knowledge that the Lord loved us and was aware of us, every moment.

Happy Flag Day

You're a grand old flag,

You're a high flying flag

And forever in peace may you wave.

You're the emblem of

The land I love.

The home of the free and the brave.

ev'ry heart beats true

'neath the Red, White and Ble,

Where there's never a boast or brag.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot.

Keep your eye on the grand old flag.

D-Day, the Sixth of June

War is hell. Too frequently necessary, but hell, nonetheless. We teach our children from the beginning to play nice, to say they're sorry when they hurt someone. We teach them that all men are their brothers, that we are all the children of our Heavenly Father who loves us. That He loves all men and that Christ died for the sins of all men. If we teach them well, and if they are receptive, they learn to believe it and then to know that it is true.

And then comes the necessity of war. We have to teach them to defend themselves from those who seek their death. We teach them to kill, and to understand that they may be killed. To fight on anyway.

We teach them of the 2,000 stripling warriors, who believed their mothers. Who believed that if they did not doubt that God would deliver them. And we teach them that it doesn't always work that way.

We teach them that they are part of a greater good, to rely on their companions and to protect one another. And we pray.

Today marks the 66th anniversary of the beginning of the end of World War II. My father flew bomber support for the troops storming the beaches of Normany. The weather changed day to day and hour by hour. At times, he had to return to base, unable to drop his load for fear of hitting the Allied forces. He never talked much about the war but was proud of the role he played in freeing Europe from tyranny.

He kept in touch with many of the men he served with during that war and the wars that followed. There develops a kinship amongst the men who serve together.

"And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother"

- Henry V, act IV, scene 3

In Flanders Fields

-Lt Col John McCrae MD

18872 - 1918

Canadian Army

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

I Count

I do, I count.... frequently. When I walk, I count. I don't think it's always been like that, but now? I count. I think it started with "10,000 steps a day will make you healthy and lose weight". Out of curiosity, walking around the block, you know? I started counting.
But then, do you count every step or every stride? Or are they the same? Army drill type, left, right, left, right, left. Do you count every left and every right, or just every left? Don't know. But I don't count every step, because I lose track. So I start over, or try to pick up where I think I might have maybe left off. Maybe.
But if I stop counting, if there is nothing else going on in my head, which is most of the time, I find that I'm counting again. Huh. If I sing while I walk, I don't count. But I walk to the beat of whatever I'm singing. Which is frequently the Marine Corps Hymn. It just seems more march-ish than "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder". Sorry, Dad.
I'm not Monk-ish or anything. I don't line anything up in rows. Except shoes, but that's how they're supposed to be, right? And hangers. Hooked over the rod from front to back, the garment hanging with the front on the left side of the hanger. The shoulder seams right on top of the hanger and the garment centered around the hook. But nothing nerdish or geeky. Really.

How Ironic!

I wrote the previous post on Mother's Day, just before I left for church. I was so full of wisdom and comfort for those whose lives are not exactly perfect... sort of like mine. I would certainly like to have an "ideal" life now, but even more, I would like to have had an "ideal" home and family when my children were growing up. Even more than that, I would like to have been an "ideal" mother when my children were growing up.
Trust me, both of my children could tell you stuff that would scare you, if you knew them about me. Fortunately, they haven't... so far.

So, then I went to church and directed the music in Sacrament meeting. It was Mother's Day, so I had chosen the following hymn. As I sang it, I had to exhibit strict control to stop myself from laughing. After my earlier post, it was ironic to sing these words. Peace and plenty? Hate and envy ne'er annoy? Time doth softly, sweetly glide? Making life a bliss complete?

Yeah, right. LOL
Love at Home
1. There is beauty all around
When there’s love at home;
There is joy in ev’ry sound
When there’s love at home.
Peace and plenty here abide,
Smiling sweet on ev’ry side.
Time doth softly, sweetly glide
When there’s love at home.
Love at home, love at home;
Time doth softly, sweetly glide
When there’s love at home.
2. In the cottage there is joy
When there’s love at home;
Hate and envy ne’er annoy
When there’s love at home.
Roses bloom beneath our feet;
All the earth’s a garden sweet,
Making life a bliss complete
When there’s love at home.
Love at home, love at home;
Making life a bliss complete
When there’s love at home.
3. Kindly heaven smiles above
When there’s love at home;
All the world is filled with love
When there’s love at home.
Sweeter sings the brooklet by;
Brighter beams the azure sky.
Oh, there’s One who smiles on high
When there’s love at home.
Love at home, love at home;
Oh, there’s One who smiles on high
When there’s love at home.
Text and music: John Hugh McNaughton, 1829–1891

I Have A Family Here On Earth

I love watching home improvement shows. I love to watch Ty build a house from scratch; everything completely perfect at the end, running smoothly all the way, in just seven days.
There is another type of home improvement show. In these shows, things don't go exactly as planned. The people work too hard, too fast, too desperately in order to have everything perfect right NOW.
Isn't that the way we sometimes work on building our family? We think that lots of people have perfect families, perfect children, perfect relationships with their spouses, parents and in-laws. Lots of people are having wonderful family home evenings where the children's minds and hearts are opened to the Spirit and their little testimonies grow rapidly and unwaveringly. Lots of people have harmonious, peaceful, uncluttered homes. They don't have to run through the house grabbing things and throwing them in the back bedroom when the doorbell rings. They can quote scripture from memory, including chapter and verse, instead of saying, "It says somewhere something about....". They never raise their voices to their children, never threaten to throw away all their toys or knock them into next week. They never raise their voice to their spouses, never sulk or pout or whine.
We think that if we were good enough, everything in our lives would run smoothly and be perfect all the time. Life doesn't work that way. We are where we are in our progress and everyone else is where they are. Building our family relationships with spouse, children, brothers, sisters, cousins and parents is a work in progress. We build as best we can where we are. There is no magic wand and there is no finish line. And there is no time when we can say, "I'm finished, all done!" Our relationships with our families, forward and back, continue to flow.
I am blessed with a great family. Parents who loved me and raised me with good values and work ethic, who kept me safe when the world could not. A brother and sister I grew up with, played with and squabbled with and love who have grown even dearer over lo, these many years. They are married to wonderful people whom I also love dearly.
I have two children who grew into charming, funny, intelligent adults, in spite of me. I have two grandsons who are growing up way too fast for me, who are sweet and smart and caring.
And I have Ronald darling. How much more could I ask for? 'Nough said?

Ah-Ha Moments

I recently attended "Time Out for Women", an interesting, uplifting, quirky weekend shindig. There were speakers, musicians and lots of stuff to buy. I went with a group of 9 other women who were also interesting, uplifting and quirky. I had a wonderful time, talked too much, slept too little, ate too much and spent WAY too much money! But I had a blast!
We arrived on Friday evening, in time to eat dinner and attend the Friday evening session. The speakers were great, the music... not so much. I thought that opinion was a personal preference issue. However.
After dinner and the evening session, most of us ended up back at the hotel in our bedroom and talked for hours. What a hoot that was! Two of us in the room were in my age bracket (pretty old) and the rest were mothers of children still at home and very young children. Those young mothers were very nice to us old broads, laughed at our jokes and didn't do any of that "just smile and nod until she shuts up" stuff. Or if they did, they were very good at it - I didn't notice. LOL
Oh, yeah - back to the music. The musician was one I've seen in workshops; a great teacher of music history and style. But he can't sing, although he did. He composes a lot of music and everything he performed was his own. I didn't like it. The last piece, I suppose, was intended to be the spiritual highlight of his performance, but it wasn't. It went on for decades... okay, many minutes. And it was very very very very very very repetitive.
I didn't say anything about it during our apres' event chat but someone braver than I am, did. Turns out we all had basically the same opinion. Some of his remarks were interesting but the music? Nope.
One of the ladies was not a member of our church. When we began speaking frankly about the musician, we asked her what she thought. She figured that maybe that's just the way music is done in our church! LOL

But back to the title of this post.... While we were talking, one of the sisters asked if anyone had an Ah-ha moment. Something that just popped out. I had, but just couldn't remember it! I meant to take notes, but forgot the paper and pen with which to do that. It took me until lunch the next day to remember. But here it is:
Self-discipline is remembering what you REALLY want. Duh! I know what I want, but I have not been demonstrating the behaviors that will make it happen. I have a list of things that I want; and an even longer list of the things I need to do to make them happen. And an really much longer list of the things I am doing that get in the way. So that's my new wise saying.... I'll let you know how that's working for me!

Hoof in Mouth Disease

I know you've never said anything stupid, right? I have occasionally. Rarely. Infrequently. Seldom. Once in a freaking while!

For instance. I was at the Bishop's storehouse several months ago, maybe a couple of years ago. Working along side a nice guy, friendly, cheerful and a little shy. So I asked him where he'd come from and how long he'd been in the ward.

Eighteen months! A year and a half and I had failed to notice. Or, if I had noticed, I had forgotten... or failed to recognize him. Yeah.

And trust me, I never ask someone when they are due unless they TOLD me they were pregnant! In the last 15 minutes!

I have a couple of other examples that are still too humiliating to recount even after 20 or 25 years.

But yesterday there were witnesses.

I worked for a company for 25 years. I knew a lot of people really well. Now I work for a different company and many of the people I knew before are here. A nice cozy arrangement. A woman and her son worked there and work here. Not in the same department, but in the same building. Yesterday I got on the elevator and they were both on it, along with several others. They were headed downstairs, they had pushed the elevator for the main floor, they had their jackets on and she had her purse. I logically presumed that they were leaving the building. So I thought I would be cute. So I asked a question.

"Where do you two think you are going?" I asked.

I thought later of all the things that could be going on and for which there would be no good answer. There could have been worse answers than the one I got, but still.

When she replied, I heard the indrawn breaths of the others on the elevator. Her nephew had committed suicide and they were leaving to be with family.

She turned to me as soon as she'd responded and said "You couldn't have known." I hugged them both and expressed sympathy but felt like dirt.

So, would it have been better to have said nothing? I wouldn't have been a dim wit, but she would have gotten no sympathy.

Maybe I just won't try to be cute anymore.