We All Need to Laugh

It is said that laughter is the best medicine.  And why not?  We are happy when we laugh.  We’re content.  We’re not expressing worry, stress or anger.  Laughter allows us to move on with our lives.

A family member on my husband’s side passed away unexpectedly.  The funeral is tomorrow and is out of state.  Initially we had considered getting a loan against the title of the unwanted truck and purchase a plane ticket – but the interest on the loan was outrageous; the airfare would be close to six hundred dollars.

We have over drafted in our bank account and so someone wired some money to Roland so that he could drive down – only it wasn’t enough.  A hundred dollars for a 12 plus hour drive (I don’t know how many miles) we were still going to have to borrow some money one way or another.

When we had gone for a visit just two short weeks ago (I made mention in my last post) we took my mom’s car.  As the car was not returned in superior condition, we didn’t bother to ask to borrow it again – although it is only Roland who is going and won’t be eating (or dripping) ice cream in the back seat. So for this next trip we have borrowed my sister’s car.

My husband can laugh at situations that others may find stressful.  And I admire that a lot.  It was just one frustrating thing after another of the events which took place this morning – well, midmorning.  He couldn’t leave as early as he would have hoped.  It was a matter of running around all morning from location to location and searching the internet and double checking.

Not only did it put him behind, but I had told my sister I would pick her up before noon and because our simple plans turned into complicated hassle, I was late with meeting her.

It was a comedy of errors from Roland’s point of view.  He didn’t get out of the city until just before 12:00.  Just before.  He won’t get to his sister’s house until after midnight.  I hope that they will call his phone instead of mine.  I plan to be in bed.

Why did I borrow my sister’s car if I have one – and a truck?  They’re unreliable.  If they should happen to break down, I would rather have it be in the city where there is a mechanic nearby.  The route between our house and his sisters is mostly desolate.  Not a lot of mechanics or rescue crews.  Besides Kayla’s car is better on gas and her gas gage isn’t broken.

I love Roland and his sense of direction – not just on the roads, but in life.  I need to lighten up and laugh more.  He’s great.

Make Every Second Count: You just Never Know

          Two weeks ago we left the state to be with Roland’s family.  We spent most of Friday driving, checked into a room and spent two days there.

          We didn’t meet up with the family until after 4:00 pm on Saturday.  Roland and his brother had both come from out of state to celebrate their mom’s 85^th birthday.

          The eldest sister had actually sent the invitations out in January.  We had told her repeatedly that we just didn’t have the finances.  And just the week prior, we didn’t even have reliable transportation.  We ended up borrowing my mom’s car and our expenses were paid for.

          There was Elvis, and dancing, and hugs, and kisses and a tremendous surprise.  Roland’s mom had an exceptional birthday.  Cameras went off in all directions.  I would guess over 600 flashes – but that’s just a guess. 

          The next morning we posed mom and four of her five children (there was one who was unable to attend) before Roland’s brother and his wife returned to their home state.  More pictures were taken with I don’t know how many cameras.  It is nice to have those memories.  Especially now.

          Last night the family called to tell us of Roland’s older sister’s passing.  It was so unexpected.  I am still bewildered over the news.  Who knew that all of those pictures would show her in her final moments?  Wonderful, happy photographs of the very last memories we will have of her.

          We’d gone down visit before.  Maybe every other year.  Twice to bring mom back for a visit, once for the funeral of Roland’s uncle. 

          I’ve been to a lot of funerals during my lifetime.  Most have been LDS.  I like LDS funerals.  I can’t say the same for non LDS. I think I’ve been to about five that have been of another denomination.  And with each of them it has felt cold and so non-personal to me.  For it seems that anyone could be lying in that casket and the sermon would be exactly the same.

          Not all LDS funerals leave one feeling good about the person or the way the arrangements were made – but for the most part (at least in my experience) LDS funerals are beautiful and filled with love and devotion.  For the most part, even if you may not be familiar with the deceased, by the time the services end, you will know something.

          We sat around for two hours at Uncle Gil’s.  There was a small amount of hushed visiting and family members taking a break for their smokes and returning to the mostly empty pews.

          With most LDS funerals I have attended, there is a viewing beforehand.  And there has always been a line.

          The services are usually done by friends or family members – remembering and honoring those that have passed on.

          The Relief Society (women’s organization) rallies around the family – often providing the family with a meal for after the services.

          Roland’s family doesn’t have any of that.  They could.  But choose not to.  For Uncle Gil they hired a preacher, a minister, a man of the cloth – I actually don’t know what his title was.  A handsome sum of money was donated by the family members who might attend on Christmas and Easter (if that)  It felt as though they were trying to buy Uncle Gil’s way into heaven.

          I think the family would find a lot more comfort if they were to allow Roland and myself to conduct – because we would honor his sister by holding the kind of funeral that I am used to attending.

          I’ve given talks at funerals before.  I spoke at my great-grandmothers, my grandma’s and my dad’s.  I thought my dad’s was wonderful.  I talked a bit about daddy’s childhood and how he had met my mom.  Patrick took over with honoring him as a family man. 

          Corey was out of the country at the time.  We played a message that he had recorded prior to my father’s death.  And Kayla (who was in her last year at high school) sang “My Father’s Eyes” There was music.  It was a really nice service.

          After Bill’s (my brother-in-law) first wife died, I learned things about her that I hadn’t known before her passing. There were some really nice talks at that one as well.

          There are many LDS funerals that seem to go on and on – but as a whole, I think they are nice tributes and find a lot more comfort in them than these “impersonal sermons” as I call them.  I just don’t find the same sense of peace that I do with LDS funerals.

          We are still awaiting details.  But these are my thoughts at this time.  

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.