Follow-up – a question of correct bronze metal winner based on a 4 second delay after a 1 minute time slot arose on Tuesday after this was written. The content of this blog is correct as of time of the event presented.

I am a grower: of children, of flowers , of yeast rolls. All three have a positive purpose and also a mysterious turn at various times. Focus on flowers. Small seed scattered and stomped on undergo a magical transformation to a bloom that could only come from that black dot. A recent catalogue offered wildflower seed by the pound, 4,876 seed for $16.00. Who counted? And all changes happen without any directives on our part. Channel Bette Middler and hum the last verse of The Rose.

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed, that with the sun’s love
In the spring becomes the rose.

Regeneration. To grow again where impossibility seems the only choice. When a volcano spews hot molten lava over a landscape it produces a vastness of bleakness. Yet, imperceptibly over time a green algae appears in crevices and spreads, though it be slowly, over what appears a dead landscape.

That miracle of resurrection was part of the Olympics. Flowers are our offerings for a special visit, a wedding, a funeral. In Paris, a small bouquet was given to each gold medalist who stood alone on the winner’s platform. In 2011 an earthquake struck Japan. Children who fled to an area north of Tokyo were drowned in a tsunami. Parents planted sunflower seeds which give back a golden memory each year. A sunflower symbolizing survival to stand as a winner was a part of each bouquet.

In the way of language, a new connotation for flower blossomed with a special recognition given to Rebecca Andrade as she raised her hands symbolizing her affirmation as most outstanding in the women’s gymnist competition. So many presentation ceremonies have a chosen child or a lesser official making a bow or curtesy as they hand flowers to the honored recipient. The entire stadium was applauding and cheering as Simon Biles, silver medal, and Julia Chiles, bronze, on a step below, both pointed arms and bowed. Journalist coined “flower bow.” and various commentators chose their reason for the action. The women themselves said it was a spontaneous action to recognize ability and sportsmanship. Each in her own way after a time of practice, commitment, and performance brought her bloom to a unique bouquet.

The point is this- whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.

2 Corinthians 9: 6

At least I got your attention. The topic definitely came up obliquely. First, I was reading Job. That’s the book whose name is miss-pronounced and seems to be about troubles of a good person whose friends offer questionable advice until God speaks up and sets them all straight. In the midst of His speech, God speaks of creating a Behemoth- see quote

“Look at Behemoth,
    which I made along with you
    and which feeds on grass like an ox.
¹⁶ What strength it has in its loins,
    what power in the muscles of its belly!
¹⁷ Its tail sways like a cedar;
    the sinews of its thighs are close-knit.
¹⁸ Its bones are tubes of bronze,
    its limbs like rods of iron.

The commentary definition of a Behemoth is unicorn which definitely isn’t biblical to me. Elephant seemed to fit the description. I’m mulling over a comment I need to make that i have been trying to skirt, yet some form of it needs to be said. So the supportive statement floated up, “Deal with the elephant in the room!”

Still with me? Person to animal contact with elephants. The first was National Geographic: vegetarians do not have to be skinny. Walt Disney and the ear worm march of the elephants from The Jungle Book. A trip to the children’s zoo to pet a pint size one and find out that the skin has little prickly hairs. A son on a trip to Thailand visited a compound and sent a picture that emphasized the relationship between a six foot man and a full grown pachyderm. Next and last, I have a movie made as I ran along the side of elephants being moved to the Astrodome for the circus. They are not slow and lumbering.

How was all this helpful? They really do have long memories, not only for their own kind, but with people they have had bonding time with in the past. They are a social group: compassionate to members of their herd, protecting others as necessary, and offering strokes of love to those who are grieving. I will invoke them as my totem when I speak as graciously as possible to excuse the beast from the room.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Colossians 3:12

and

Speaking the truth in love. Ephesians 4:15

This can be one of those weeks that divide the world, not necessarily bad and good, just a moment of ‘this is my thing” and “not so much.” The first competition starts now and stretches into the future. In the USA between now and November, each of us of voting age will make a choice of whom to vote for and then have to live with our choice. A tightening of the stomach and a shaking of the head or maybe even a loud shouting voice delineates the sides. “I WON” or “i lost”

My eye was caught by equalizing words now used to make sure a proper variety of people get an opportunity in various situations. I hope medical worker have the chance to study and serve regardless of size, color, country of origin, yet I also hope they are chosen because they were the VERY BEST in the competition. The words that tipped the scales for good hiring by a company used to be diversity, equity, and inclusion – DEI. Now the choice breakers are merit, excellence, intelligence – MEI. Supposedly this first letter change will lessen or remove the possibility of demography hinderances. One more requirement for finding a job.

Ah, and then we come to the most stressful moment for me. I am not competitive.I don’t even like speed games against myself. I was last chosen for a team and hoped that meant that I never got to play. I am on the side of the Astros, yet following them through a season is head shaking. The interlocked rings of the Olympics provide stress from two directions. My country’s status is at stake, and if I read correctly, the winner of gold for swimming trained in Arizona, but won for France. Then my body wants to go back to bed when I read of Bile’s comeback after a mental health rest to perform a twist land named after her. I’m quite satisfied not to be defined by five golden rings.

So if you are a participating politician, a job seeker, a committed vocal fan, or an ever training competitor, be patient with those of us who just try to breath easily, clean the sink after meals, and offer you encouragement as you need it. Trying to do my daily best counts for the scorekeeper who is judging me. I can win the race and also share the victory.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

Romans 8:37

Resting is good, when needed. Rushing is necessary, when needed. I’ve not done the research, yet easy does it can be a predicted response. You are handed a wee child, maybe even a swaddled one. Your arms begin a back and forth motion as you bend over and make cooing sounds. If a sitting down place is required, one hopes the piece of furniture that calls forth peace is close by, a rocking chair. Anything more than rhythmic placidity is usually connected to a rambunctious young lad and the results are disastrous.

Comfort and purpose are tied to my early rocking chair memories. Ours was half of a pair that were foundational in our living room. One was a 1920’s chair with wooden arms and legs and a half top that matched the padded seat. The rocker was its twin except for the curves that enabled the motion that defined the chair.. Some adult sat in that chair providing me with a lap to settle on. I was read to or bandaids were applied or maybe I just rested a head on an available shoulder. In the winter my daddy moved it to the bedroom in front of the then permissible gas stoves. He rubbed vaseline into chapped hands and leaned forward to let stove warmth melt the grease and ease the stiffness of arthritic fingers. Scoot the chair back just a little and it was still close enough to provide a cozy spot to read the Baton Rouge Advocate to wind up the day.

Just a moment rocking chair remembrance is a time or two my preacher birth dad would take my brother and me though the swamp to a bleached wood house built off the ground to avoid flooding. A long front porch was lined with wooden rockers of the same bleached grey wood. Women sat in them and held small children. Men lined up propped up against the front wall by one leg bent to brace them, and their arms were crossed over their chests. We slightly older children sat at the edge of the porch and swung our legs in the darkness to the same rhythm of the rockers as we sang hymns like Blessed Assurance. No tune could outrun what would match the rockers.

Fast forward. David and I did get our own family rocker from one of his brothers as a wedding gift. I sat in it to do needle point and all the raising children chores. Middle son moved it to Corpus. It was stollen from the back of his truck in the return move and for a while we were without. I retired from Kinkaid and a rocker is the gift instead of a gold watch. The front has the emblem of the school and the back has a plaque that says “In Grateful Appreciation of Charis Smith.” Every morning before I dash into what rush requires, I sit and move slowly. Chair motion doesn’t disturb reading or writing or praying. I can lean forward for ease of getting up and going forth. At night it is waiting as a place to recall the actions of the day, always gently and quietly. The chair is part of making the place to accept the invitation that is offered.

“Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.

Matthew 6:6

We counted on reading once a week to once a month. Life with pictures and summarizing comments kept us up with world news. Good Housekeeping provided decorating suggestions we never carried out and recipes we cooked. Daddy made lawn chairs from the directions in Popular Mechanics. This week I remembered Reader’s Digest because of two articles that spoke to truisms of life.

In 1988, Roteert Fulghrum wrote a book and the title article appeared in Reader’s Digest: “Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” Its points matched positive behavior choices after Beryl, our recent storm. First, “Clean up after yourself.” When calm came, people were out gathering leaves and small branches to create a semblance of neatness. Children with mininiature rakes were working alongside purposeful adults. Granted browning piles line most streets, yet step one was accomplished. Next, “Be kind.” Before the day was over I had phone messages from local and far away checking on status and offering assistance. My grown children count and so do those like the neighbor walking around with a small chainsaw offering to help with larger than a hand saw but smaller than a tree chopper limbs. Lastly, take this to heart, “Always take turns.” If there is no power, there are no traffic lights. In some cases major intersections were dark and in some cases yellow cones were out as a warning. In either case people had to note where they were in the time to go cycle. Once the pattern was established you had to pay attention and take your turn. The last one to stop cannot be the first to go. Follow directions and you are ready for the first grade.

I also thought of an article my husband had printed because it spoke so succinctly of the inability to always offer perfect solutions. “Helping People is a Ticklish Business.” Even when the offering is ticklish, the necessity of trying is still essential. For whatever reason, a tree that crashed still blocks a northbound thoroughfare. Phone calls and suggestions have been offered to house owners and city employees and no action has been taken. I just this Monday night got power, eight days down the road. People with small children, and limited funds, and lack of food still aren’t reconnected. Edicts have come from the state governor and complaints made to the local electrical suppliers. Yet, I have seen crews of workers at various hours of the day and night doing, I assume, their best. Options for the rest of us exist from helping at a food kitchen to offering space to a friend still powerless, or even to voting against someone we feel really caused unnecessary delays. Just because my A.C. finally works doesn’t mean I can walk away from the problem.

³ Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, ⁴ not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

Philippians 2;3-5

When this summer ends, I feel life will go a different way, never to be quite the same. Nothing will be bad, just different. Twist one you know if you are a faithful reader. I am now 88 and that number carried more weight than I thought it would. I couldn’t pretend I was “advanced middle age ” any more. My mother moved out of her house that year in her life and I am paying attention to each day that I can do most things by myself that are required and also to what is not on that list any more, like heavy lifting and driving long trips alone. I’ll never be 39 again!

Then many of you joined me in the weather that Beryl brought to Monday. In my baby book for at least half of my life is a hurricane. In Louisiana, one watched the trough cross the Gulf, checking on where it might land and how it might be classified and what it would be named. Our family watched rain and wind action sitting on a glassed-in porch with my Daddy explaining what was happening. After the first sweep, calm of the eye, and the second wave moved onward, we would put on our rubber boots and go out to assess the outcome. Beryl did not even have reporters standing in the Gulf with a microphone, yet I woke Monday morning to extreme torrential rain and winds of only 100 mph that seemed to twist trees and snap the ends of branches instead of just bending and swaying. I am one in a million still without power and have a whole new attitude toward being prepared for what might be ahead in this year’s storm season.

Then circle around to a more permanent personal change. I married David in 1961 along with the various entrepreneurial ideas he envisioned. Mixed in with spittoons and saddle cases, he brought to life his vision of owning a chemical company. All our married life, I shared space with Texmark Chemical in Galena Park. He died in 2017, leaving to us in a struggling economy towers, and tanks and shrinking business deals. To inherit someone else’s dream is a mixture of respect and realism. This past week we have finally been able to to release keeping that dream alive. It is a breath catching moment, and amazingly freeing. After aging, a hurricane, and not being constrained by a chemical plant, something new awaits. And it will be good.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

Isaiah 43: 4 – 9

If I were an investigative reporter, I would have put on sunscreen and gone out into the heat to an outside city limits stand labeled FIREWORKS FOR SALE! and done an in-debth interview. However, I am not of that ilk and, I’m assuming, neither are you. So here is provided for you in the cool and quiet of your own home some details that may be new to you.

All of us have firework stories. I have written of some and have heard personal tales from varied sources. These are the types of fireworks that may be part of a rite of adventurous passage involving some audible or visible reaction and no shrapnel. Alll have constraints to keep them “safe.” Simplest are caps for toy pistols or band snaps to be thrown on the sidewalks. Roman candles and helicopter rockets have restrictions on size. Even those that create smoke screens have curbs. Unless you have a license for a grand production, each firework has an across the counter limit for propellant, casing size, and length.

Down to the nitty gritty ,or to the boom and glow, if you prefer. Selling fireworks restrictions come from various counties and from the Texas Department of Insurance, naturally. In Texas,Six days a year are on the allowed sell now list: Texas Independence Day, San Jacinto, Cinco de Mayo, Memorial Day, 4th of July, and the Christmas to New Year’s week.

All that having been said, remember your own moments with loud and bright. Was one on a sidewalk outside your house with a small box of matches to light a firecracker and throw it in a ditch? Was it being driven as a teen, especially of the male gender, to a stand to choose some to create your own show? Was it sitting on a hillside with family or a handholding special one watching the sky light up? Two bits of music are needed. Remember this day and the moment “when the rockets’ red glare gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.” My favorite is sitting with a three year old at the far edge of a concrete porch lighting a sparkler for him to hold. “Let’s write my name in the dark,” he says.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,

let it shine,

let it shine.

“And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave,

o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!”

Teaching vocabulary, I would often say,”This is one of my favorite words,” until a student interrupted, ‘Aw, Mrs. Smith, you just like every word.” Out of the mouth of babes as the saying goes. A sentence or a conversation is limping along and then commodious, impetuous, or nonchalantly illuminate the moment. A variety of choices can arise that bestow light on a dark place.

The seven unique letters of various exist to render clone unnecessary. Joan Jonas’s exhibit in the MOMA used a series of mirrors in front of her presentations, so all I kept seeing was a repetition of me. Soon disinterest and boredom set in. Morning routine can carry me to coffee as a habit. One day I long for something more: I dress early, walk four blocks, and order a cup in a different location. Varying order to waking up opens up a whole new possibility for the day.

We tend to choose friends we mesh with. Activities don’t require negotiating, Topics to discuss can be picked up and laid down and returned to without losing the main idea. A different person asks to sit at your table and the kaleidoscope shifts. You laugh more or find yourself finishing each others’ sentences. The variety they insert is invigorating.

Various denotes thinking outside the box. A story and an adage. I visited a hospitalized friend who had lost her phone in her bed. We did the usual. We patted and lifted sheets to no avail. The light went on in my head. I dug in my purse for my phone and dialed her number. The ring took us to the right place. After stuggling to solve a problem, someone offers the maybe even outlandish solution that works and my daddy would then say, “There is more than one way to skin a cat.” God, in wisdom, didn’t think one size fit all. Various counts.

For the body is not one member, but many.

1 Corinthians 12:14

For a child’s special day in a school year, a parent brought a treat for everyone. A vacation birthday, like mine, meant I missed out. I completed 88 years yesterday and while nobody is alive who remembers when I was a baby, 35 people from my dentist to my three children acknowledged that June 17 is special to me. I could tell story after story about my life or even give details of yesterday. Yet because it was year 88, I am going to offer a poem that I wrote in 2009 with a class of children to help them consider what defined them. Maybe you will think what you are most like as a person in whatever year you are.

I am an 8: stable yet moving around in smooth circles. Up, over, around . Down, under, up. Resting at the point of crossing.

Even when I lose my position and flip, I am a driving belt keeping gears turning or maybe I’m glasses; looking, seeking a vision, pursuing understanding.

At times I sink to the bottom, weighed down with garbage: worries or commitments

Other times I go to the top: a soaring balloon about to escape entirely unless someone holds my string.

But mostly I am an 8: stable yet in motion, rising at the point of crossing.

So teach us to number our days, That we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

Psalm 90:12

P

New York exemplifies the ultimate destination for city traveling, yet for me a tinge of apprehension comes with the excitement of exploration. In my lifetime, I’ve had four purposeful visits to the Big Apple. Each taught me something about myself and what a location requires. Growing up most of leaving home trips were by car to relatives. College age I managed one summer job in Santa Fe, a real adventure, and then camp out field trips with students requiring the appearance of oozing with fun. When I was 35, David had a meeting in New York. Three days away for me. Two memories. Early in the morning, he told me where to meet him at 12:30 and left. I entered the elevator with two men. As the door closed, one of them said, “Do you want a floor.” I answered, “First please. I’m visiting and have three small children and I never get to push the button.” I figured out how the subway worked and took myself to what was important to me, the Public Library. Somehow, I needed to see the lions and wander through what rows of books I could fit in. Not much else in time allotted, yet a thirst for more lingered. I could make survival happen.

Trip two was nineteen years later before school started again after Christmas. I had a friend whose husband was assigned to a lab in the area. We made a train trip to the city and came and went from cavernous Penn Station. Then one day we drove to Long Island, slipped through a barrier, and walked in solitude on a deserted beach between the Atlantic Ocean and elegant sprawling mansions. This was an absorbing atmospheric moment. Trip three came about because all spring WSJ had articles on a Homer Winslow exhibit at the MFA. To see The Gulf Stream in all its glory with the shark circling the boat was all the excuse needed. Throw in supper with friends from a time my son taught in Japan and a dream became reality. Our hotel looked out on the rectangle of Central Park, giving the geographical lobes of my brain a permanent solidity of space.

At age 88, will trip four be a swan song? Don’t bet against me. Some in our church choir were going to be part of presenting a new piece in Carnegie Hall. Their going was my underlying draw. Same son as an earlier time joined in to be travel arranger, planner of days, and wheelchair pusher as necessary. We walked the High Line identifying plants by an App on my phone, had a reunion supper with previously mentioned friends, nodded sagely if not completely understanding the modern art of MOMA, and were impressed and blessed by the music These Ancient Words. Over a period of 53 years, I learned I would be cared for even in riding an elevator, that nature provides solace even in the midst of tall buildings, that creativity appear and endures even as time passes, and that the resounding last ancient word is what age and travel may provide: WISDOM.

Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?

Job 12:12