Silent Heroes

There are several variations of what may come to one’s mind when visualizing his or her perception of a hero.  There are comic book heroes such as Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, or even Word Girl.

Many people have benefitted from the heroic actions of the police, firefighters, soldiers, etc.  It is the uniformed men or women whom they see as heroes.  And they are, and deserve to be recognized.

         

          There are “heroes” who do it for the glory – just to be recognized as heroes.  And there are the silent heroes who work behind the scenes, who don’t ask for recognition, many who would prefer not to bask in the glory.  These are the true heroes.

          Roland is one of those heroes.  He does things out of nature – not because he’s seeking a reward or glory.  He just does things because they need to be done.

          For example, he’s really not mechanically minded, but he will stop to give people a lift or assist where able – whether he actually knows the person (or people) or not.

          One time (many years ago) he noticed an acquaintance waiting at the bus stop.  He offered her a lift just because of his nature.  But for her, it was a heroic act of rescue.  Neither of us knows all the details and so it is only speculation as to whether she woke up late, her car wasn’t running, she had barely missed the bus . . . whatever. 

She  has been grateful to Roland for his actions all this time – and it really wasn’t a recent thing.  Maybe 30 years ago?  Maybe longer.  An incident that Roland probably thought nothing about even in that moment, but in that moment he had become her hero.  And she has never forgotten.

My dad was a hero just by his example – supporting each of us in our dreams – supporting us from “behind the curtains” never feeling the need to set foot upon the stage himself.  And really not wanting to.  He didn’t have a desire for the praise. 

He was wise with money and knew how to budget and provide.  We may not have been financially wealthy, but daddy kept the family together and saw to it that we would take a family vacation each year. Daddy was a silent hero.

I remember being stranded on the road myself.  Kayla and Corey were with me.  Kayla was maybe about five or six.  We didn’t have cell phones then – and payphones were only a dime.  With the car (I believe I was driving the one that belonged to my grandmother, actually) pulled over to the side, I took each of the kids’ hands and started walking.  A man pulled over to see if we needed a lift.

As I pushed Kayla and Corey into the car, I thought: “What am I doing?  I don’t know this man.  He could just try to steal us and hold us for ransom”

But this “grandpa” who had picked us up became my hero for a moment.  As it turned out he really didn’t live too far from my grandma. 

And there’s another time when my neighbor was stranded on the freeway – with at least six kids in the car.  It was the “hippy era” and those long haired freaks had earned a reputation among the older generation which was less than flattering.  But it was two of those long haired “freaks” that helped us to move along.

And then there are the occasional customer service representatives who are serious about resolving my concerns.  Those are true heroes for making me feel like I am more important than a paycheck.

Strange how such little actions on our part can have such a huge impact on somebody else’s.

I.R.S. = It Really Sucks

          After our youngest son, Randy, returned home from his mission, he decided to open an account at the credit union.  To complete the process, a driver’s license or picture ID with a valid address was required.  No problem.  His DL had expired and going to the DLD was also on the agenda.

          But he still needed proof of address.  We had moved and his old DL revealed the old address.  He was asked for something to prove his new address – like a bank statement.  Are you kidding me?  It was like a no win situation.

          Recently, (even though we had actually filed our taxes a month early this year) we were asked to include Randy’s FASFA on our taxes.  Randy had not completed his FASFA as he was waiting for the results on our taxes.

          I never fully understood that old cliché that says we can’t have our cake and eat it, too.  Seems like in those last two scenarios we can neither have nor eat.  We can only view whatever cake others may have or are eating. 

          It’s like being told by a podiatrist to stay off your feet (by walking) in order to let them heal – but that you should exercise your feet in order to give them strength.  Huh?  It’s either one or the other.  How can a person seriously do both?

          This is the first year in mine and Roland's married life that we actually have a tax refund.  But we also owe back taxes. We owe this. We owe that.  We will never even see our refund.  It would be nice if we could pick who gets it.  But at least the debt will be lessened in one way or the other.

I am a Summer Scrooge

          I don’t mind sunshine.  I can drive when the sun is out and lighting my path.  There are a huge number of summer activities that I do enjoy.  I just don’t care for the heat.  I would rather have it cool.

          April hasn’t even ended, and already I’m changing my perspirated drenched clothes two or three times a day.  What am I going to do in July?  If it’s above 72 degrees I am an ogre. 

          Even the dog is panting after hours of sleeping.  Our walks now have to happen before school.  Just two weeks ago it was midday because it was too cold in the morning.  I think if the weather were to change gradually (maybe just one degree every other day) it wouldn’t be so bad.  This 20 – 40 degree jump has got to go.

          I enjoy having an A/C and fans.  I like the coolness of water and being splashed. I would still rather have the crisp air of fall though.

The Left Lane is for Passing

          Last May the bishop (leader) of our ward (Church boundary) had some major health problems along with his second counselor.  My husband, who was serving as the High Priest Group Leader, said to me that if the bishop had passed away during that time, the mantle would have been handed to him and he would have had to step into the bishop’s shoes (metaphorically speaking) until a new one was called.

          I don’t know how soon the first counselor (at the time of our ailing bishop) was called to take over the position of bishop.  But my husband was called as his first counselor.  It was to be his fourth calling in less than two years.

          But his second counselor holds the record of short lived callings.  He had been called as a Sunday School teacher – I don’t know for how many months.  He was released in order to serve as a counselor in the Elder’s Quorum.  The week after he was put in the Elder’s Quorum position, it was announced that he would be the new second counselor of the bishopric.  He had lived in the ward for only six months.

          So last June we got our new bishopric: our 32 year old Caucasian bishop, my 56 year old husband (of Hispanic decent) and a 34 year old fireball from the Philippines  Our new bishopric resembled that of an Oreo Cookie.

This last Friday the second counselor and his wife moved out of the ward.  We all knew it was coming.  Today they spoke in Sacrament meeting.

          The first speaker was his wife – she gave an awesome talk about staying on course.  She had two comparisons of wanting to “change lanes” and trying to “hurry things along”.

          Her first example was/is one that many of us are guilty of.  We drop by the store to pick up whatever. We happen to be in a hurry and the lines are seemingly never-ending long. (She must have been at a Wal-Mart)

          The specific example she used was a woman with a fidgety child.  She was in the express line and saw another line open up – but was still behind two or three people.  And for whatever reason, the line stopped moving.

          The child continued to fidget and the woman jumped in and out of lines causing her more anguish.  As the speaker checked out, she looked back to see the woman behind three groups of people.  If she had just stayed in line to begin with, she would have been next.

          The other example she used was in passing trucks on the highway.  She has learned that when she is in the left hand lane and she sees a semi signal to come over, she will allow it to come into her lane knowing that once it has passed its obstacle, it will go back over into the right.

   

      

          She says that non-understanding drivers will be upset that she has allowed a truck in and will attempt to pass both of them, swerve into the right hand lane, floor it and will have to slam on the breaks in order to avoid the obstacle that the truck driver was trying to avoid in the first place.

          So instead of passing this speaker and the truck, the “hurried” driver has to wait for the truck, the speaker, and whatever cars behind her before he or she can move back into the left lane – which defeats the purpose for having gone into the right lane to begin with.

          What’s the big deal?  Sure, being behind a truck is not always ideal – but a truck in the left lane is not going to be in the left lane for very long.  Trucking takes experience.  The drivers have a better view of things from where they are sitting.  Sometimes we need to trust that they know what they’re doing and show a little patience.

          Same with our Father in Heaven.  He can see a whole lot further down the road than we can.  We need to trust in Him and stay on course and not be in a hurry to get around what we think is unnecessary.  If we just accept the “slowness” as part of the plan to begin with and stay on course, our journey will be a lot smoother.

          The speaker compared moments in her life when she herself wanted to switch lanes thinking they might get her to her spiritual destination at a faster pace, but would end up becoming discouraged or frustrated, but would have a better understanding about WHY when she finally did arrive where she thought she wanted to go.  And continues to go.

          She’s experienced so much anxiety over this last move – not wanting to leave but needing to.  And now that they are moved she is more at peace.  And now has a better understanding at staying on course and having faith in God who is ahead of us seeing all.

          It was a really good talk.  I did have more to go with my notes.  Rather than elaborate further though, I can create some new posts out of what’s remaining.

No, you DON’T have my permission

          I’m not an avid facebook user.  In fact, the more “improvements” that are made, the less I use.  I haven’t deleted myself.  For one, I haven’t figured out how.  And I still like to look at pictures.  Especially when I know my brother-in-law is going to be posting better pictures from an event that my camera just doesn’t capture.

          Truth is the novelty wore off for me about two months after I opened my account.  And now with facebook controlling which posts I view or what might be important to me (the pictures copied from wall to wall to wall with humorous captions are NOT what I would pick to clutter up my home page.  I would like to hear (or read) about how life is going for my friends – but then with all this new rig-o-moral, maybe everyone has decided not to include anything personal whatsoever)

          Now it just seems so complicated just to stay on facebook. What’s up with this: “you have been invited to” or so and so “sent you a request” and then you have to leave the fb page and give your permission to surrender whatever photos or information you have posted to fb (like is it really private – seriously) and as I don’t want to do that, I don’t ever go into the application (take birthday calendar request for instance) and I would like people to get reminders if they really would like to wish me happy birthday (as I enjoy having the application to remind me) but not at the expense of surrendering my photos.  But at the same time, if I truly feel that way, I shouldn’t be posting them in the first place)

          I have finally inserted pictures onto the posts that I’ve written thus far –mostly ones that I’ve “borrowed” from Google.  I respect the ones that have copyright right on the photo – but I don’t always see what lies underneath.  And just because it’s marked “copyright” doesn’t mean someone else may try and use it and just crop off the “copyright”

          So I’ve been hesitant about using my own photos – not so much landscape.  I don’t care about those.  I have an adorable one of Jenna making an “angry face”.  It’s an older photo.  She’s grown a lot since then. But her expression cracks me up. I have shared it here  At the same time I don’t wish to risk desecration to my photos when other people use Google and decide to use her picture for themselves in an offensive way.

I actually don’t have a problem with people using my photos – so long as they don’t desecrate them.  Once I put them on Google or facebook, I feel like I have lost control of that.

As Different as Mustard and Aqua Velva

         The refrigerator in Sunny and Patrick’s house is buried in photographs and wonderful thoughts.  Family is very important to them and they are on display at all times.

          Children’s art work decorates the walls above the dining room table and there are portraits upon the piano.  The house is decorated nicely, and the feel is one of warmth and love.  It is inviting.  It says that their children are important and family matters.  It is welcoming and full of joy and positive self-esteem.

          Grandma also keeps photographs and art work.  Her refrigerator is covered with magnets that hold up treasured memories.  There are pictures in every room showing off her grandkids, her children, their spouses, etc.  It says that her posterity is important and it is good for our self-esteem.

          Kayla and I both live in Cracker Box houses.  We both have more stuff than we do space.  And though we’ve had different family members over at different times, neither one of us is equipped for having the whole family over. It would be like trying to cram 15 of us in a walk in closet or as comfortable as eight people stuffed in a Volks Wagon bug for 25 miles.

          But still we have the comforts of our family in photographs – and display our posterity in a positive way.  Anna likes to move the magnets around on the refrigerator and Jenna likes to hang her art.  And I have scanned many of her drawings and crafts since she was three. 

          We’re a bit cluttered at times.  Actually more clutter than I would like.  It’s livable.  Our children know they’re important. 

          We have barbeques on occasion.  We have done other family activities as well.  We keep in contact through e-mail, through phone, in person.  We are a close knit family.  We are in my opinion.  But every family is different.

          Recently we visited with Roland’s family.  He has three sisters and a brother.  All three sisters are older.  His mom happens to live with the youngest of the three girls.

I had been to her house before.  Each time we’ve gone it seems to have been redecorated.  This year the display was showcased to perfection.  Tons of candles and pottery and decorative STUFF – nothing personal about it.  It was how you’d want your home to look to potential buyers.  It was how you would want it to look for the media.  It was sterile.

She used to have photographs upstairs and along the hall.  But they got moved – pushed back on some shelves in the corner.  You would have to literally move the desk and each picture in order to view them all.  No kids’ art.  NOTHING on the refrigerator.  Nothing seemed inviting – to me anyway.  It was all material.

They have five adults living under one roof (plus two children; and constant visits from their three grandchildren and their parents) and have five TVs (at least two of them are on 24-7 whether they are even being watched or not – usually not) and at least four or five computers (none of them updated however.  That’s a surprise – but then they really don’t spend that much time on it; I would guess the kids do more than anyone else)

And yet I know they love their family members.  (We’d gone to another state for mom’s surprise party – and our room and gas were all paid for before we had even arrived) and spend huge amounts of time together.  But there is no memorabilia.  Nothing that stands out to build self esteem.  And I wonder how much of a difference it would even make to them.

They love to dance.  They love to party.  They love to drink.  They don’t much care for religion.  If they want a message, they can watch the evangelists on TV. 

To say our families are as different as day and night would not only be cliché – our families are more drastically different than I think night and day are.

They love and admire our boys.  Richard’s done well at bringing them up, they say.  Richard tries to explain that it’s not solely just himself but the values taught in the gospel.  They don’t want to hear it.

Their understanding is that God knows them.  They’re not out killing anybody.  They are decent human beings.  They’ve got it made just fine without religion.

My family members are active and hold church callings and are dedicated – not just on Sunday, but every day.  Three hours is too long for Richard’s family – and to extend it to the entire week?  Uh –uh. 

They are good people.  Just an entire different comfort zone – for them.  But Not for me.  I like the photographs and the religious values and spending time with family without booze.  I’m certain that they would be just as uncomfortable in my world.

Those Poor Confused Geese

          I’m walking my dog at the park when two geese started honking.  Highness hadn’t even noticed them until they brought it to his attention that they were there.  So of course he starts yowling and the geese took off and started circling the park – honking loudly as they flew.

          Now since I don’t speak geese, I don’t know if they were warning other birds that there was a crazy dog in the park or if they were announcing: “No – it doesn’t appear to be springtime over here, either.”

Or if they were just lost from their flock and asking others to make themselves known.

It’s supposed to be springtime huh?  According to the goose’s bodily calendar, it is time to end their southern vacation and get back to work in the north.  But the elements just don’t jive with their predictions.  And it’s frustrating.

But geese are not the only ones to suffer here.  It is every driver in the road who encounters poly cones and orange barrels, signs that say “Road Closed” and “Men at Work”.

Actually I haven’t seen the “Men at Work” signs this year.  I suppose after the elements they have faced the last few years, it is better just not to post them than to have the public say, “Where?  I don’t see anybody working”

It rains.  The sun shines.  The wind blows.  Sometimes all within five minutes of each other. It can be very frustrating.

That’s how it’s been every year I have tried to plan Jenna’s birthday.  Everybody wore coats on her sixth birthday when we had the clown.  I finally had a back up this year.  And so we held it indoors.  Guess what.  The weather was nice.

I hope the geese realize that it’s not just them.  We have all experienced a degree of questioning Mother Nature.