Boo!

Happy Halloween everyone!

It's not my favorite holiday, but there are elements of the celebration that make me smile:

1. Knowing I'll be eating those individually wrapped Reece's Peanut Butter Cups days before spook night.

2. Watching babies cry in the supermarket when scared by a motion sensor witch.

3. Seeing those stuffed witch mannequins plowed into telephone poles.

4. Cracking up over a dog that's been dressed up in a ballerina tutu.

5. Creating my own version of the Harry Potter pumpkin juice.

6. Having a Harry Potter movie marathon.

7. Singing my favorite Halloween song.

Witches riding through the sky
on their broomsticks way up high
black cats howl as they go by...
This is Halloween!
Oooo oooo
This is Halloween. BOO!!

Hmmm....perhaps I like Halloween more than I thought.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

 (And remember...Autumn also brings Thanksgiving!)

Legacy

For some reason I've been thinking a lot about some of my pioneer ancestors lately. Possibly in part because I've been tackling a bit of family history work. I think it's a wonderful thing to do when life seems a little overwhelming. Sometimes it helps to look at our ancestors and see how they handled some of the stresses in their lives. True, their trials were of a different nature and time, but tough times are tough times regardless of when they occur. The emotions are the same: disappointment, heartache, and grief are experienced by one and all. Ponder, for example, how Adam and Eve must have felt when Cain slew Able. That had to have been a difficult time. And yet, we read nothing that indicates they threw in the towel, and said, "That's it! This is too hard!" Instead, they lived on, had other children, and did the best they could under challenging circumstances.

I think that's all any one of us can do, when tribulation enters our lives. We all get knocked flat from time to time by various trials. The true heroes are the ones who quietly pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and continue on their way.

One of my ancestors, my 10th great-grandfather (John Howland) fell off the Mayflower. (This is where we suspect we inherited our klutz gene, but I digress.) It would've been easy for him to have panicked and decide that was it--life was over. Instead, he fought desperately to survive. He managed to grab one of the halyard ropes hanging off the back of the ship, and he held on for dear life until some of the other passengers noticed his plight. He was hauled aboard, and fought off the ravages of a severe cold. He also managed to survive that first, ugly winter in the Plymouth colony, during which time, several people perished from illness and lack of food. John Howland managed to live through all of that, and he eventually married another survivor, Elizabeth Tilley. Both of Elizabeth's parents died during the first winter in that settlement, but she endured, and went on to help her husband raise a large family. (I descended through their daughter, aptly named: Hope.)

Keturah Lunn Broadbent, was expecting a child when she crossed the plains in a handcart company during the 1800's. One day as they crossed the Nebraska plain, she didn't feel very good. During a brief lunch break, she wandered off and sat under the only tree visible for miles. The pioneer company didn't realize she was missing, and started back on their journey west. Meanwhile, my 2nd great-grandmother went into labor all by herself. Eventually, a passing Native American saw her plight and helped deliver the baby, a strapping boy she later named, Orson. This wasn't the way she had envisioned giving birth, but she got through all of that, and the new friend who had helped her, rode after the pioneer company to let them know that she had been left behind.

I could go on and on . . . but I won't. ;) I think you get the idea. This life wasn't meant to be a smooth and easy journey. It was to be filled with challenging trials that would stretch us to the limit of what we think we can endure. Looking back over my own life, there are things I have experienced that I would never want to wade through again . . . like the suicide death of my father . . . barely surviving my first pregnancy that was filled with complications . . . the severe illness I endured before finally getting diagnosed as a Type 1 diabetic, etc. and so forth. Though I wouldn't want to relive those events, they are the things that have helped to shape me into who I am today. From the lessons learned during my own school of hard knocks, I have learned patience, empathy, tolerance, and the fact that no matter what life throws my way, I can survive if I will follow the courageous example of my ancestors, and keep moving forward. An interesting sense of humor has been passed down through our family line. I know it helps us to cope when challenging moments come. I've always believed that laughter is truly the best medicine. There are times when hard trials surface and it seems like you will never smile again. But I have found, even during those difficult days, the Comforter helps us find a way back to the sunlight.

Someday, our example will be discussed by our posterity. Hopefully we will have left a legacy that will inspire faith, a smile, and the courage to continue on. We may think that we are the only ones affected by the choices we make, but we're not. Others will come along who will look to us for guidance in dealing with the challenges they will face. May our lives reflect the image of hope they will need.

A Fortunate Life

One birthday, about twenty years ago, a friend from Australia sent me a book entitled "A Fortunate Life." It was written as a memoir and as I read into the first, second, an third chapters I wondered why the publishing company let that title slip through, because the author's life was anything but fortunate. He would overcome one trial or obstacle, only to encounter another that was waiting in the wings. Several times I set the book aside in frustration, only to pick it up again to see how the man shouldered his burdens and moved ahead. And, he not only moved ahead, but did so with lightness and gratitude, saying, "Mine is a most fortunate life."

By the end of the book the fortunate life was evident. The determination, positive outlook, and kindness he'd built into his character over the years made him a person to admire and emulate.

I can't remember the author's name because the book is gone and my reading of it was twenty years ago, but I do remember his life outlook. In fact, the story came back to me yesterday as I was grumbling about some little irritant that was ruining my day. I paused, looked up at the mountains with their Autumn colors of burnt orange and yellow, and took a breath. "Mine is a most fortunate life," I said loudly, and a most wondrous thing happened...my heart was changed from grumbling to gratitude.

Amazing grace.

A WRITER'S GARDEN

October is a time to tidy up, clean up, and put away. The harvest is done.  Only a few die hard potatoes are left in the garden.  The last brilliant roses are defying the coming snows. The season is nearly over.

 

 

Every year the onset of cooler weather is my signal to trim back my perennials, root out the annuals, dig in mulch, roll up and drain the hoses, rake leaves, put away the patio furniture, and generally get my yard ready for winter.  I learned a long time ago that the more effort I put into making all secure in the fall, the more beautiful and work free spring will be.

Like most writers I find an analogy to writing in almost everything around me.  I've often compared spring to the excitement and discovery of starting a new work.  Summer as the patient slogging through the grand vistas and discouraging, blistering middle, and fall as the completion, the time of harvesting or finishing a novel.  October is that period of clean-up; the time of going back through the manuscript to check the spelling and grammar, ensure that it's in the best possible shape. Review the comments of beta readers. It can be seen as exhausting necessary work or it can be filled with satisfaction from knowing you've done your best and you have a completed, ready for submission story ready to send to an agent or publisher. 

October is also the time to plant tulips.  Tulip bulbs, or those "big seeds" as my granddaughter calls them are almost magical and are often used as symbols.  To me they are a symbol of faith, a promise that no matter how deep the snow and how low the temperatures fall, spring will come.  Each writer needs a bit of tulip faith.  Even as this season's manuscript is sent on its way, seeds, big seeds, need to be planted.  Start that next manuscript before you hear back on the one already sent.  Dream big.  Plant big seeds.

 

 

  

Observations on Today's Teenagers

I'm fresh off an eight-day stay with two teen-age grandsons. What a completely different experience from raising my own kids! Granted, I only had one son who lived - these boys are the offspring of that son. Their third son is currently serving his mission. My son always said he probably missed his brother more than we missed having a second son. That may have been true when his three sisters bugged him and one shared his journal with a girl friend. (Not sure that breach has even yet been repaired!)

But these two grandsons are a fun mix of his good and not-so-good characteristics. It is fun to see, and yet there are times I wanted to tell them their behavior was not acceptable now, nor was it from their father all those years ago.

The 13-year-old is totally in the moment. He never misses a thing. He can quote conversations verbatim that you didn't even realize he heard. He is a talented musician - plays a wicked piano and is now taking voice lessons. He sings from the minute he gets up until he falls asleep at night - much to the annoyance of his 15-year-old brother because he isn't singing softly, but at the top of his lungs! He spends as much time fixing his hair as I do - maybe more. He has an immaculate and well-organized closet. His shirts are color-coordinated. He's extremely observant and questions everything. Why do you do it this way? Why? Where? How? Fun conversations with this one! And he loves shopping. Being the youngest, he got to do lots of shopping while his mom was redoing their house. She is working at being an interior designer. He is thinking of being an architect. He loves taking long solitary walks.

The 15-year-old is something else. Totally lost in his phone and music. Never without ear-phones. Also spends much time with his hair and grooming. He is an individual who doesn't want to be classified with the crowd. He started wearing headbands to school and tie-dyed a bunch of shirts while I was with them. His friends call him a hippie, but he's certainly not laid-back like that generation that we are familiar with was. He also is musical (their mom plays the piano beautifully and sings). He plays the piano and last year began guitar lessons. He's quite good and loves blues combined with rock. Thank heaven! Couldn't have stood eight days of rock! He also loves to bake cookies and has the recipe memorized for amazing chocolate chip cookies.He is a skateboard star - doing things that frighten me! His dad's dare-devil streak certainly came full bore to him!

They are too busy to eat unless I force them to sit down to the table - then they devour whatever is there and are gone again! Getting them to bed was impossible, though they both had set bedtimes - 9:30 and 10:00 respectively - but it never happened! My instructions were to take their phones when they went to bed - and I'm convinced that if I hadn't, the 15-year-old would have stayed up all night on his!

I guess the electronics are the main difference in raising my kids and staying with these boys. Homework is done with Google. Texts are sent to teachers about assignments. Everything is instant communication and constant! Although I was very happy for it so I could text them and say "I'm coming to pick you up. Be out front." Or "Where are you? It's time to come home." or they could text me. "Gramma, I forgot this. Will you bring it to me when you pick me up from seminary?"

It is a new world, but some things never change. Boys will always be boys and try your patience and press to test at every opportunity. I'm just grateful they are good boys! What would I have done if they were juvenile delinquents!!

Morality and Education

I would love to know the statistics on the number of students being home-schooled now as compared to thirty years ago. I know the number would be vastly greater today, therefore, my next question is, why? Does education today have a different purpose and dynamic than it did thirty years ago? Does it have a different focus than envisioned when America was established?

The Founding Father's set the Constitution on pillars of decency and morality. Because of this standard, there was a philosophy of acceptance of all religions in the communities being established across the country. The Northwest Ordinance, drawn up in 1787, outlined the standards that territories must follow in order to become states. Article 3 of the Ordinance required that schools in the new communities should be established, and that students should be taught three basic things: religion, morality, and knowledge.

When French political statesman and writher Alexis de Tocqueville visited America in 1831, he was intrigued by the vibrant successes he witnessed in the fledging country. In his famous work, Democracy in America, he wrote the following:

Religion in America takes no direct part in the government of

society, but it must be regarded as the first of their political

institutions...in France I had almost always seen the spirit of

religion and the spirit of freedom marching in opposite directions.

But, in America I found they were intimately united...There is no

country in the world where the Christian religion retains a greater

influence over the souls of men than in America.

 

 

In the early 1900's an influential educator by the name of John Dewey began to train teachers at Columbia University Teachers College. By 1953, 1/3 of all the presidents and deans of teacher training schools in America were graduates of Columbia's Teachers College. There is a note of interest which should be looked at in connections with this training. John Dewey based his entire program on humanism, in fact, he was the President of the American Humanist Association. He signed the Humanist Manifesto, and consented to its principles, one of these being:

 

I believe in no God and no hereafter. It is immoral to indoctrinate children with such beliefs. Schools have no right to do so, nor indeed have parents. I believe that religious education and prayers in school should be eliminated. I believe that denominational schools should be abolished...I believe that children should be taught religion as a matter of historical interest, but should be taught about all religions, including Humanism, Marxism, Maoism, Communism, and other attitudes of life...I believe that unborn babies are not people; I am as yet unsure whether the grossly handicapped are people in the real sense. I believe there is no such thing as sin to be forgiven and no life beyond the grave, but death everlasting.

 

 

With such dogma permeating our "modern" educational system, is it any wonder that the basic strength of our system has deteriorated? Whereas America in its early years was the envy of its European neighbors, it now ranks towards the bottom of global comparison. The 1950's, 60's, and 70's brought a further "dumbing down" of American education and morality.

 

Is it any wonder that more and more parents are opting for private schools with a return to the principles of education set down by the founders, or for home schooling? It doesn't surprise me in the least.