Nana Mama's Joy

Choices. We face them everyday. I have always maintained that more than three are a detriment to any decision making power I may possess. What is it that causes one type of person to delight in the realm of possibilities? And another to shudder at the prospect of reaching any conclusion, be it right or wrong? Maybe this stems back to my childhood and having to choose between flavors of ice cream. Or perhaps, as my parents would recall, one of many nightmare visits to the children’s shoe department where I couldn’t decide “which” pair of shoes best suit my fancy. As I grew older, my spirit of indecision did not depart. What outfit to wear? Which record to buy? Who to invite? What was routine for most people was frustration to me. Even at my present stage of life, I struggle with choices. Forced to square off, face to face, with a pound of ground beef - I ponder my alternatives of what to do with it for supper. If that decision is too much for me - there is always...

To Shop or Not to Shop? That is the Question. I consider myself a traditionalist. I like to go to cemeteries on Memorial Day…. Cook out on the 4 th of July…. And go shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. If there weren ’t so many traditionalists out there, how would that day have become the “busiest shopping day of the year?” Many folks shudder at the mere thought of the Mall on that frantic Friday. They want no part of the hustle and bustle, which marks the official beginning of the holiday shopping season. They would much rather stay home, eat leftover turkey and watch football on television than fight the crowds, long check out lines, and traffic jams in parking lots. Wimps? About a dozen years ago, I succumbed to the lure of the newspaper ads in the Thanksgiving Day edition. I began pouring over them after feasting at the holiday table…. I drew up an itinerary and a carefully itemized list of what I wanted to buy at each store. Being a morning person, i...

Laughter is good medicine (ask anyone) and I enjoy a funny story. With the technology age we are in, it seems that everyday I find a smile or two from reading the forwarded email funnies sent by friends and co-workers. I don’t usually have as much appreciation for the jokes made in reference to national origin, gender or hair color. So the day a message came across my screen depicting the differences between men and women at ATM machines – I did the token “yuck yuck” and hit the delete key. I’m the first to admit there are great differences in “how” men and women think and relate, but I’d much rather find humor in human stupidity (in general) rather than which gender has less of it. It was probably only a few days after the yuck-yuck message that I paid a visit to my neighborhood bank. It was after hours and I pulled into the drive up teller machine. You would think that with all the government regulations – they would make it mandatory for all ATM’s to work the same. I slid in my card...

The past few weeks have found me pondering the matter of "hope" as I prepared a talk on the subject. It gave me an alternative to my usual view of things through the eyeglasses of "joy", but interestingly enough… in that study, I found the topic of this month's column, which is counting "on" joy. While watching the NCAA tournament last month, I was struck by the great joy experienced by the winning, lower seeded teams as they knocked off some of the higher ranked ones in the early rounds. Now, no one goes into an athletic contest not “hoping” to win… but in cases when the "unexpected" happens, and a favored team is toppled, the jubilation seems much greater! Everyone enjoys a Cinderella story. Observing such joy took me back to the days of watching my boys participate in parks and recreational sports. Each of the three was involved in the summer ball programs as well as the other occasional leagues. Invariably, our oldest son always ended up ...

Do you have a store room in your house? A basement or perhaps a room hidden away from the eyes of visitors that houses the trash and treasures of your life? For twenty years, I have lived in an old two story home with ample area to keep “stuff,” and mercy, have I ever kept everything! In anticipation of a possible move, I have spent the past several weeks sifting through the closets, drawers, and storage areas of our residence. The results have been incredible. It’s not as if I didn’t know what was there… but just that I had forgotten much of it, and the sheer volume was overwhelming! We have a wonderful attic. It’s like one you would see on the cover of a Nancy Drew mystery… bare rafters, wooden plank floor, windows looking down to the ground far below. A single light bulb illuminates the large area, which until recently, was filled to overflowing with two decades of family collectibles. Included in that description are the castoffs from our parents’ store rooms and the entire lifetim...

Ten years later... I can still sense my tendency to try to "be it all" - but the difference is - I choose to just "give it my all" and embrace who I am... why does wisdom come so late? For most of my adult life, I have struggled with an identity crisis. Actually, the crisis has not been with who I am, but rather, with whom I wanted to be. Being a Christian wife and mother, I have had certain expectations of how I am perceived… both by God and man. When looking for biblical examples of what to strive for… I can always turn to Proverbs 31, but that woman intimidates me so greatly, I prefer to have a name and face (even a face in my imagination) with whom to emulate. The New Testament gives us a glimpse into the lives of two sisters, Mary and Martha, who with their brother Lazarus, were friends of Jesus. Often I have attended women’s studies where the “Mary or Martha” styles were examined and the strong points of each discussed. Martha...

This column was written ten years ago and what a difference a decade can make! Now that I'm in my 55 th year (is that possible?) I still consider myself "middle aged" - although at last I'm finally seeing some benefits to aging, (like discounted hotel rooms for "mature (50+) travelers"). I think I still have a few years to go before I can really reap the senior discounts, but considering the cost (in years) I'll be patient. Last month, in this very column, I made the declaration, “I am middle-aged.” Not that I became middle-aged last month... or even that I just realized it at that time... but that I first became willing to admit my status. Denial can offer great comfort, especially when referring to a woman’s age. Ever since I was old enough to do simple arithmetic, I knew I would turn 46 years old three days into the new century. And I had always considered the 45 th year to mark the beginning of mid life. Some may think that age 40 is a better med...

Those four words were the name of a column I once wrote for a now defunct Christian newspaper. I hadn't written much more than family Christmas letters for a couple dozen years, but when that door opened - I walked boldly through it, regarding it as a creative outlet and opportunity to record thoughts and life stories as family history. If they happened to bring a smile to some unsuspecting reader along the way - so be it. I have that entire set of yellowing newspapers in a Rubbermaid container in the basement of our house. I picture the kids going through all the "stuff" when I leave this world and coming across the contents of that storage bin (about 2 years worth of monthly publications). My fantasy plays out with someone opening the lid and eyeing the papers. "Hey, look! It's the newspaper Mom used to write for!" Everyone stops what they are doing... they sit to take a break, passing the frail papers around the room, now filled with all my children and t...