Mornings start a new day however the moment is revealed. One child was barely walking when the skill of swinging over the rail of a crib and plopping to the floor at daybreak was the first step to a new day. My bed shook a little and a small hand patted my face and a jubilant voice declared, “I up!!!” At that point day after day choices had to be made. Some were family hafta’s from breakfast to getting another adult off to a job. A grocery run might be on the list after delivering older children to school. Off in the corner of my mind were a few wanta’s that might or might not make it to completion. Life had a routine that rocked on the edge of a rut.

Days make months that bleed into years and now I am the only one to decide the flow, yet the routine doesn’t always come easily. The last month has had several outside intruders. One non-threatening health problem required meeting commitments: insurance, physical therapy, doctor appointments. Times for actions taken were penciled in calendar squares. I also had made a decision to change banks. To move money I had to make time to contact a long list of businesses with passwords to make sure money was in the place it should be when payment was required. Every day seemed to demand instigating, noting down, and verifying phone calls or internet connections before I could walk away satisfied after making a heavy black check mark .

Monday my decision maker rebelled. I had planned to go to the bank at 9:00 and finalize a next step. Like a rebellious child, some part of me stamped a foot and screamed, “No!” I sat at the breakfast table with my arms folded over my chest. Then the idea came. I went to the wash room to the infamous junk drawer (you probably have a similar one). I moved everything from more than enough screwdrivers to mixed up batteries to the table. I tested keys and put in a labeled envelope. All hardware of various screws, nails, and bolts were assigned to baggies for Good Will. After an hour, I had a drawer any neatnick would be proud of. Without apologies, I took a morning nap. After lunch, I filled the rest of my day with fringe wanta’s. Tuesday, I turned life over again to cerebral tasks because for Monday to clean a junk drawer was just what I needed.

Ponder the path of your feet, then all of your ways will be sure.

Proverbs 4:26

How special that September came in on a Sunday to provide a full week of the thrill of looking for change. Early in the month we start with a holiday and a four day week. Even if the 1894 recognition for a improving work conditions is not the focus idea, most people look on Labor Day as a chance for one more small trip, bar-b-que and watermelon, and a breather before settling in for an every week the same routine. We even dare to use the word FALL with a little optimism.

Theoretically, September is the first fall month, though that is difficult to prove. The average high temperature may – and may is the operative word – drop to the low 90’s before October comes. We live with the encouragement of daylight arriving later in the morning and dusk falling earlier in the evening. That’s because the Earth’s spinning on its tilting axis and orbiting the sun leads us every year to the Autumnal Equinox on September 22. If you live on the equator, day and night have equal time.

A mixed affirmation of look for something new is the browning of leaves to fall and collect in piles on lawns and under trees. To rake instead of mow is herald of a different season. However, hot, humid weather still greets mornings and the danger of a hurricane, or even two, lurks through the month. One recorded as late as November caused flooding in Big Bend Park in West Texas. In 1961 high winds and rain blew through on Labor Day and wiped out the underground water supply for Spring Branch delaying for a week and a half the real beginning of school.

All else aside, I consider September as the start of moving on instead of January. From families with offsprings to committed teachers, the 9th month is a new year. One is now a 5th grader instead of just a 4th. Friday night football along with profession teams begin thinking about a championship. Clothes, clubs, and school supplies need new as the adjective of choice. This month is a specific reminder of hope, change, and the repetitive circle of a year.

As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.

Genesis 8:22

This is maybe a topic that right off the bat divides my readership whoever you are. Read and follow. Couldn’t care less. Comic – not tickling my funny bone. Those story strips were probably part of the reason I sorta read in first grade and through years of teaching I clipped panels to illustrate plays on words or illustrations of allusions, those life lessons that everyone is familiar with. Join your journey with mine or just shake your head at what attracts some people.

My daddy loved comic strips. He sat in that previously discussed rocking chair and chuckled out loud at the antics of Jeep in Bringing Up Father and of Li’l Abner , the hillbilly who lived in Dogpatch, the counterpart of the day for The Beverly Hillbillies. He sat me on his lap in a position where he could see the paper over my head. One finger pointed to what was happening and the words that brought life to the actions. Two of my favorite strips are still in our paper. Though at one time I was enamored (yes, that’s the word to choose) with Prince Valiant and his Singing Sword and ongoing adventures, that fervor has dwindled. He married, had children, and now is being drawn by the fourth illustrator since 1937. The story line is like reading paragraphs and problems/solutions need to be remembered from Sunday to Sunday. My next ongoing series is The Phantom, currently #22, I think. Very up to date, the strip this week deals with AI and a capsule that is programed to think it has landed on the moon instead of in the jungle.

Comics are not all of this world. The story lines of Peanuts are still from the archives of Charles Shultz and the personalities of his characters will ever remain the same from Lucy being snippy to Charlie Brown’s memorable lines from A Charlie Brown Christmas. B.C. works with the stone age crew that at times offers a spiritual moment to note and remember. As the verse for the week reminds us, papers have to fill pages. On some days, I am just glad I have these as a choice over political discussions, climate disasters, and riots around the world.

There’s no end to the publishing of books, and constant study wears you out 

Ecclesiastes 12:12

Ask any child, “What makes a superhero?” Loudly and clearly, “A cape!” From a towel, to one of Dad’s shirts, to a red shiny swirl with a clasp at the neck, that one item transforms one from timid and incapable to stalwart and invincible. Not a cape, yet maybe my daughter thought I needed help dealing with the challenges of aging when she gave me a shirt identifying me as a javelina complete with a line presentation of the squatty stalwart body with protruding tusks.

I dressed for going forth to solve a problem this week. Age requires more than Tylenol. Some medicines need to be provided only by prescription, approved by insurance, and taken religiously on schedule to avoid disastrous results. Over a week end I had reached a need to have a refilled moment. I checked a password and texted a message to the doctor and received a reply that the request had been sent to the pharmacy.

In and out of a drug store can take care of any need from a greeting card to photos developed. Dealing with the pharmacy is a different level. The white coated employees are the ones who have a degree in the field and can mix and offer specialized advice. The blue outfits can verify your birthday and address and charge your prescription to the card on file. When I called to check, my order was In Process. At 6:30 that night, the word was it would be filled in 90 minutes. That was past my bed time. I’d pick up in the morning.

On line at daylight, the word was Not Available. Time for action. I javelined up and went forth filled with righteous indignation. As I walked through the auto opening door, two phrases came to mind. “A soft answer turns away wrath, ” and “Pick it up by the easy handle.” By the time I got to the back of the store I could say, “What can you do to help me?” A blue-shirted girl was able to call a pharmacy two miles away, share all the information, and give me a yellow sticky to solve the problem. When I looked up javelinas they are not as aggressive as I thought. They live in support groups and find a place to rest in the heat of the day. I can put on my shirt and do that!

So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength,

Colossians 3:12

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