EVIL FACEBOOK?

EVIL FACEBOOK?

Life is flying by! Like that saying about the toilet paper roll—“As it gets closer to the end, it goes by much faster!”

If you know me at all and are my “friend” or see anything I post or write about, I celebrate life! I try to soak up all the good stuff and share “Good News!” because…”Life hits you hard, Bro!”

Summer is winding down, school is back in session and life is busy! It is only 118 days until Christmas!–Life can turn into a constant doledrum (if you let it) and the good stuff gets pushed aside.

Guilty! Here is my typical day: get up, post Tweet on Twitter, exercise, check e-mail and Facebook, go to work, check Facebook, lunch, play a word on Words with Friends, check Facebook, back to work, check Facebook, drive home, make dinner, check Facebook…You get my point. I rarely have time to pencil in lunch with an old friend, a lengthy conversation with my mom, the car breaking down, taking my new husband to work, let alone the doctor appointment for that lump that hasn’t gone away…

Sometimes life is just about getting back to the simpler things. Unplug for a moment. Go and sit on a park bench and enjoy the cool breeze. Or, if you’re like me and you live in the desert (and it’s still summer here!), go sit in front of or under a fan and enjoy that sensation.

Like being hypnotized by the stripes on the freeway when driving a long journey, I find it mesmerizing to watch a fan in action; the symmetry of its cylindrical rotations, the control I have over it, the soothing white noise it creates, the refreshing movement of the air in my surroundings.

Try it and tell me what you observe…

 

 

Whirring Fan

“Because I am happy does not mean that everything is perfect. It means I choose to look beyond the imperfections of life.”

 

– I saw this quote/ book on Facebook and it resonated with me.

 

FACEBOOK can get a bad rap. I’ve heard many people tell of how “Facebook ruined my marriage” or, “I just don’t have the time,” or, “I don’t get on there because I know it isn’t real—it’s just everyone’s “highlight reel!”

I also know that some people post waaaay too much information; and that can be dangerous.

I confess, I didn’t do FACEBOOK for many years and I had a list of my own reasons, including some of the above.

I heard that the creators of Facebook initially had a “thumbs down button,” but then they removed it. That got me thinking about the intent and motives of the creators of this popular social media platform.

 

But I still have questions-

Why a “like” button and not a “LOVE” button?

Facebook –It does have its limitations.

But does Facebook really ruin marriages? Or was the marriage already in trouble?

Do “Facebook people” posting a highlight reel have better lives than you? Or is the thief called comparison stealing your joy?

Of course, be careful of what you “put out there.” This life may be temporary, but the internet is forever! 😉 😉

–—

Mid-monsoon summer heat is in full force here in Arizona.

In this sticky and exhausting heat everything turns indoors. I “unplugged” and sat mesmerized in the coolest part of the house and stared up at the fan whirring hypnotically overhead. I remembered back to childhood when I used to love to yell into a spinning fan to feel the simple joy of my voice reverberating through the blades. Lost in my reverie of simpler times, I have to blink my eyes so they don’t dry up and pop out of their sockets; and I am struck by what I can see in the fan when I do this—

It’s as if I can stop the fan with the power of a BLINK!

I think about those people posting good stuff on Facebook’s–those “highlight reels”

Isn’t life a bit like this? A succession of events that whir by us so quickly that often we don’t see that it is made up of lots of individual “snapshots” of significance.

Without those individual parts, the power wouldn’t be so strong or able to push the air from the vaulted ceiling to reach me all the way at the bottom.

But life stops for no one. We don’t have the power to blink away earthquakes, tornadoes or tsunamis. When we are paralyzed by the devastation of a divorce, or a loved one’s death, or a diagnosis, or depression—no matter how much we blink or how loud we yell into the whir—it just keeps on.

Sometimes the posts I see on FACEBOOK haunt me—heartbreak, divorces, family illness and tragedies all shared at the arm’s length of social media.

And also there is such beauty shared; artistry, new beginnings, celebrations and stories of triumph that jolt me out of my depths.

Maybe FACEBOOK is simply the snapshots that people think will reach others? Maybe FACEBOOK is just a bunch of noise trying to be heard beyond the whir of life?

It isn’t perfect and we all know that each and every person who posts on FACEBOOK isn’t either. Not a single one.

But what if the power of the story, picture, post or whatever it is, truly reaches someone in need? We’ve all witnessed the power of FACEBOOK in creating awareness of ALS…What if a post impacts someone’s life in such a way that it reaches them at “their bottom” and brings them a little coolness, refreshment or hope? Or maybe just an ice bucket poured over their head?!

Isn’t that the idea behind FACEBOOK? That we would share? That we would “like?” That we would reveal stories and interact with each other in a way that today’s technological society that has embraced and which has become the norm? That a difference could be made, if even for just one person?

 

 

 

 

 

If you are one of those who is against “EVIL FACEBOOK” or who hasn’t embraced technology (this is me and was me fully just over a year ago!) it doesn’t have to be FACEBOOK (or Twitter, or Instagram, or Pinterest or e-mail, or ANY social media for that matter!)

Maybe what you are doing right where you are–experiencing that snapshot in life: the tragedy, the illness, the new life or new beginning– Maybe someone needs to hear your whir?

Reaching out

 

“He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” 2 Corinthians 1:4

 

Maybe someone needs to lean on your shoulder; feel your hand reaching out (not to press the “like” button!) but to be helped up! Maybe someone simply needs to hear an encouraging word, smile, or story and to feel the refreshing breeze of hope that rushes through a soul when you realize you are not alone in your struggle.

Maybe you need to SHARE your story to witness to someone who has gone before you and will help guide you through.

“I will go before you and make the rough places smooth…” Isaiah 45:2

You don’t need to have access to a “LIKE” button to go out in the world and share a little love.

And to that I say–

 

LIKE!

 

Please share! 😉

“Mister T” and the Peaches

School is back in session! Although I don’t have children, I get to reminisce and share in the excitement this year because my new husband is a teacher!

I not only love this teacher ;), but I LOVE teachers and I loved school! Looking back, even the teachers who were “mean” spent their lives making sure I learned to pay attention, to give respect, how to multi-task, and (ugh!) even how to do long division. And, (now I know) they took on this job while making “dittly squat” for an income!

Both inside and outside of the classroom, my teachers delivered lessons that still stick with me to this day.

I remain in touch with several of my junior high & high school teachers who had a profound influence on my life. This story is about one of these men; we will call him “Mister T.”

—

Colorado Peaches

Colorado peaches are some of the best things on this green earth! A fresh Colorado peach is so juicy, sweet and tender, perfectly ripened by the Rocky Mountain climate and soil—they are out of this world!

My father loved peaches—only Colorado peaches, though. He loved them so much that he bought the tree and planted it in his yard so he could experience one of those beauties at his whim! Plus, as the cancer began to take over his body, his trips to the grocery store lessened.

Sadly, that tree he planted bore not a single peach.

Year after year—nada, nothing, zilch.

My father passed away March 29, 2008 and never ate a single Colorado peach from his tree.

Why?

The question that is never far away

The healing doesn’t come from being explained

Jesus please don’t let this go in vain

You’re all I have All that remains

-Mercy Me “The Hurt and the Healer”

If you’ve lost someone close to you, you know how it goes. Even though you feel your world has stopped; the world, in fact, keeps spinning. Time continues forward; people keep moving on; there is always the “TO DO” list.

As we went about the tasks of cleaning out his closets, settling accounts, paying doctor bills, we nearly missed what was happening with the tree.

Neighbors began calling.

He had one of the old voice message systems that recorded messages on a mini-tape. We heard his voice at every missed call. It was heartbreaking, like he was still here and waiting to return calls. “Just leave a message and I’ll get right back to you…”

At least four neighbors called and several family members who had been to the house; all with very similar messages –

“…Let us know if you need help. Especially with that peach tree…”

WTH?

So my sister and I went out to the yard to investigate.

What we saw stunned us into silence. With tears in our eyes, we looked up and shook our heads in disbelief.

Five years after he planted it and just two months after he passed away, that peach tree’s branches were so filled with peaches that several of the branches hung to the ground! Many had leaned over into each of the neighbors’ yards—No wonder they were calling!

 

Peaches at last!

Our silence turned to awe.

There were so many peaches that each of those neighbors and family members picked to their hearts content. We packed several baskets and took them to friends.

Abundance

We had some ourselves and baked no fewer than 12 peach pies which we froze and enjoyed over the next two years. Those pies were absolutely heavenly! We’ve held on to one, saving it for a very special occasion…

—

It’s May 30, 2014 and a beautiful clear Colorado day; the day before I will to marry my “Mr. Right” in Golden, Colorado. He and I go for my favorite run to Two Ponds and then around by my Dad’s old house. As we begin our run, I always pass by one of my favorite junior high school teacher’s house. Every time we do this run I tell my fiancé— “One of these days “Mister T” will be out taking care of his yard. I can’t wait to introduce you!”

We round the corner at the exact time we see his garage door opening and guess who steps out and begins working on his fence?!?

Barely able to contain myself, I nudge my running partner, “Today’s the day.”

I continue to jog right up to my old teacher. It has been years and he has aged; I can see it in his eyes. His eyes shine with recognition and a little confusion.

“Mister T!” I say, “It is Julie…uh..Stoddard…uh.. but soon to be different.” I wink at my fiancé.

“Oh my God it is!” He says and wraps me in a big hug.

“I always remembered the Stoddard girls; that deep voice you girls have, just like your dad!”

We go through the introductions and the reason we are back in town. He is happy in sharing his congratulations and I tell him how much he meant to me as a teacher and mentor. I know he is still making a difference in young lives as he shares some of his latest endeavors. Yet, there is a sadness in him; a weariness.

“How’s your dad doing? He still up around the corner? He still doing well?” He asks.

It’s my turn to feel sad.

“He passed away just over 5 years ago.” I tell him of the death sentence he was given. I also share with him the 13 years of bonus life we had with him and the triumphs of the unconventional treatments. I hold back on sharing how tough those last months were, watching the losing battle, I don’t like to re-visit that pain.

He looks me straight in the eye, I see the sadness in him again, “I’m so sorry, Julie. He was a good man.” He looks over to my fiancé, “Not that you need to hear this right now, with your good news for tomorrow…But, my wife,” he stops and looks back at the door to his house, “Over 40 years we’ve been together…She’s in there…can’t walk; can’t take care of herself; wearing a diaper.” His shoulders sink, “I just got through prostate cancer. The next day she falls. Now she doesn’t even know who I am.”

I choke back the tears in watching my teacher struggling with this. It all just seems to flood out.

His eyes drop, then he looks up, “I used to talk to God all the time. Now I just have questions. Why? I just don’t know anymore.”

This breaks my heart. I remember those feelings; the anger, the questions, the frustration, the helplessness, the weariness, the very same struggle I see in him.

Breathe

Sometimes I feel it’s all that I can do

Pain so deep that I can hardly move

Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You

Lord take hold and pull me through

-Mercy Me “The Hurt and the Healer”

And I did just what this song said. I fixed my eyes on the Lord and laid all my questions and feelings at the foot of the cross. I handed it over to the only One who I knew could bear my questions. I trusted Him to be faithful. But the heartache is still real; cancer is still cancer; Alzheimer’s is still a thief, death still happens. I still have questions.

But I trust I will be given answers some day.

 

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.” 1 Corinthians 13:12 (The Hope Bible)

OR, like one of my new favorite quotes from Sonny Kapoor who repeatedly says in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, “It all works out in the end. And, if it has not yet worked out, then it is not yet the end!”

 

I grab ahold of my teacher’s hand and tell him the truth, “I wish you didn’t have to go through this. I don’t know why. I don’t have any answers.”

I really don’t. I hate this. I wish I had something hopeful to share with him. I am at a loss. I tell him he isn’t alone. I end up sharing how hard it was at the end for us with our father; the deep pain of watching one you love wither away, mentally, physically; the utter weariness and exhaustion of one’s spirit to witness such a thing.

But, I also tell him how I wouldn’t have survived without the prayers of my friends, encouragement from family and others sharing their struggles & stories. I tell him that God hasn’t left him and can handle his questions and to never stop talking to Him. I tell him how I believe God draws very near to us when we are brokenhearted; how I truly felt that. I tell him we will pray for him.

We continue on our run and we do. As we go by my father’s house and the tears come.

We pray for the pain we witnessed in “Mister T.” We prayed for his wife. And then I remember all those peaches.

I begin to wonder. Maybe, this is like those peaches that showed up after my father passed away?

Dad wanted those peaches so bad.

“Mister T” wants answers so bad.

But we may not get those “peaches” in our timing.

It’s the moment when humanity

Is overcome by majesty

When grace is ushered in for good

And all our scars are understood

When mercy takes its rightful place

And all these questions fade away

…

I fall into your arms open wide

When The hurt and the healer collide

-Mercy Me “The Hurt and the Healer”

 

 

And, just like this “divine collision” Mercy Me so beautifully describes, it is at this very moment, “Mister T”, my dad and I will sit down and savor that last peach pie.

The moment

Is it finished?

Question: How do you eat an elephant?

 

 

How do you eat an elephant?

Answer: One bite at a time.

I love this! Whenever I have a task, project, event or any challenging, time consuming, and effort-exhausting item on my “Things TO DO” list, I remember this.
Just start with a bite (and it usually is a pizza) ;)…but it begins.
When I set out to pursue writing and took on the idea of a weekly blog – it felt like a herd of elephants; trampling on my every plan of how I want to spend my time. And yet, here I am again. Let me explain…
—
We ascended the path uphill on one of our favorite walks in southern Oregon. The subdivision houses packed in side by side turn into countryside. The wildlife sightings increase and the open air, farms and landscaped beauty explode across the senses. Scents of earthy manure, wildflowers and the occasional whiff of a skunk assault the olfactory nerves.

Our walk

It’s July 4th and even the back country roads are more quiet than usual.

Wildlife!

As we plugged along uphill, we felt the temperatures of our bodies and the heat of the black asphalt warming; perspiration beads across our foreheads and trickles down our bodies. We approached the awe inspiring work of a new vineyard. Row after perfectly aligned row greeted us. We both smiled as we saw the bright green leaves popping their heads out of the cream colored encasements at the base of the planting; evidence of success.

Baby vines peeking out

As we walked, we reminisced about the progress; remembering when the hillside contained rocks, majestic oaks, brambles, thistles, grasses and probably innumerable amounts of other surprises.
The oaks were transported, one by one.
The rocks relocated, load by load.
And the grasses and other ground cover all removed.—That alone took several seasons.
Then came the rows and rows, upon rows and rows– of lines, of plantings, of piping, of draining systems, of watering systems…
Years later (and minutes later in our walk,) we neared the far end of this newest vineyard.

The far end

We were a bit surprised to find another soul out here. An older gentleman, possibly in his 50’s or 60’s was hunched over and at work in what captured our attention. He was pulling weeds amidst the last few rows. As our journey neared him, he stood up and walked closer to us:

“Beautiful morning,huh?” he said to us looking up.

“You bet!” we replied, “Got your holiday plans set for you, huh?” We said as our eyes scanned row after row of the baby vineyard with the acres upon acres of vines that he was working his way through.

“Yep! All by hand; no pesticides! Trying to get rid of the poison oak and hand pulling everything else.”
Our jaws dropped. We were speechless.

“You watched the progress of this?” He asked.
“We have.” We nodded our heads, “Totally amazing how a field has been turned into…all of this.”
“Quite a project…” he looked back at the row he had just left.
“Really does a number on the back …and the hamstrings…but it’s cool to see the progress…”
Our conversation continued for a bit, and then we turned and continued up the hill and let him get back to his work.

“Wow! And we thought our weed pulling was a pain?!”

As we got to the top of the hill we stopped, looked out and, in awed silence, we admired his “project.”

 

His work

 

“All by hand?” I thought.
I pondered what the rest of his holiday would entail- still so much work to do.
And so much more each and every season. Did he have help?
Not to mention the utter dependence on the sun, the soil, the climates; the uncertainty of what the wind might blow his way.
Will his work ever be finished?

The next day at Table Rock Fellowship, a church in the neighboring town, the Pastor spoke to those who listened of the beauty and privilege he feels when he gets to share his testimony and spread the love and message of Jesus. I listened in humility as he shared his story, then looked out at the hundreds of people, rows upon rows of seekers that he was reaching.
– He even mentioned a story of an elephant.
—
I am convicted of my own “work” once again.

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5

I believe there is work to be done; in the landscape of my heart and in the fields where I have been planted. I know there are people listening, watching, (and hopefully!) reading who need to hear a little love—people who need to hear the Truth.
All that God ever asks of us is to Trust in Him, rely on Him, believe in Him and be willing to be open ourselves up to how He can use each and every one of us.

Keeping my eyes on the Master Gardener, I know that I am not alone in this task (for He is ALWAYS with me) and I know that I am not the only one He has working for him.
I seek, connect and open my ears and eyes as the fields before me expand.

I climb the stairs to my office and type in the password to my computer.

I close my eyes and reminisce on God’s faithfulness over these last months while so much took place: the planning, the marrying, the moving, the honeymooning…

I open my eyes to my bible and study God’s word and the vines.
I listen; I trust; I rely on Him and prepare my heart and soul to be weeded.
I believe.
As I return to the blog and the task written in my heart, I type the first sentence—“Is it finished?”

And I take yet another bite.