The wind has changed

I feel as if I'm Mary Poppins.

Remember that moment when the children first heard that Mary Poppins was leaving. She turned to them and said "I only promised to stay until the wind changes."

Well, the wind has changed. . . in my life and in the life of the 4-H program where I've had the honor of playing a real-life Mary Poppins.

I had the best job in the world. I got to spend most of my time having fun with kids, and along the way, got to see them grow and excel and mature and become better than they ever thought they could be.

With a spoon full of sugar, the kids completed tasks and grew a little taller while they did it. They helped others with their tuppence or two and learned to think about what others needed before they worried about what they wanted. Along the way I met some of my best friends who weren't above jumping into some sidewalk-chalk adventures with me. 

I left the office Friday evening knowing that there is a favorable wind blowing now in White County 4-H, and if everyone continues to think the best before assuming the worst, think of others before thinking of themselves, think twice before bickering over the unimportant, then things will be just fine. My only request is that you continue to give all you have to keep the wonderful program thriving in White County.

As for me, I'm ready for the next step in my life. Haven't got a clue where that will lead me yet, but oh the fun it will be finding out.  My umbrella's open and I've caught a favorable wind.

Photo credit: Wil Bingman in Chicago

There will always be time for one more thing

I have lost control.
I have allowed life to take over my life, and I did it without even putting up a good fight.

I'm beat; plain and simple, I am beat and ready to put some white undies on a stick and wave surrender, only I haven't done laundry in days, so there isn't a clean pair to be found. Henry Kissinger may have said "The urgent takes all the time from the important," but I'm living it.

When did I lose control? Has it been slipping away a bit at a time, or did some big catastrophe set my world wobbling? I'm not sure. All I do know is that when I heard the words "I'll be glad when my kids don't need me so much" came out of my mouth, you might as well have slapped me in the face.

Since when did I become so self important that anything became more important than what my children need from me at any moment?

I know it's been a tough week. Disappointments in my career, piled on top of scholarship deadlines for Wil, worked in around wedding planning with Jenny, added to an already ambitious work schedule has put me teetering on the edge of collapse (others would claim I've already tumbled over that edge with a mighty thud).

How selfish of me to complain and pout and throw a tantrum because my children needed more of me than I thought they should this week. One day they'll be busy with new lives they create, and I'll ache for the day they needed me, wanted me.

I taught about phytochemicals in nutrition this week, except I call them "fighting" chemicals. Each phytochemical gives fruits and vegetables their super-hero fighting powers. Just like Spiderman can weave a web and Superman has his x-ray vision, phytochemicals have secret powers that make them superheroes against disease.

So, I asked the third graders at NCO who their favorite superhero was.
"You," exclaimed one young lad.

Yep, I think there's still time tonight to proofread one more scholarship, check out one more wedding bouquet website and play superhero for a bunch of kids who just want someone to love them. Besides, clean underwear is really overrated.

The next time I wish my children's childhood away, you have permission to wash my mouth out with soap.

photo credit: By me of my two great kids! May you always be kids in my heart

There's an app for that

Sometimes life just slaps me in the face.
Today, it was a good slap.

Facebook, the online social networking service, operates a lot like the old party-line telephone. Pick up the phone at any time (or log on in the case of Facebook) and find out what your neighbor is doing, what friends they're talking to, or who's over for a visit. It's almost like being back in Green Acres. Sometimes, it seems as if you're peeking in the windows of your friends' lives.

You can play several "games" on Facebook. One lets you pretend to be a farmer. You "click" to plant and harvest crops, build barns, and more. Other games allow you to send "gifts" to friends, receive daily horoscopes, or answer quizzes about your friends.

So many of my Facebook friends play these games, their antics often clutter up my Facebook diary, but Facebook allows me to "hide" these game postings with a simple click of my mouse. Today, a friend posted her results from a game called "Gifts From God." As I went to hide this posting, a message popped up asking me to verify the action. The message stated "Are you sure you want to hide "Gifts From God?"

Wow.
How many of us do that every day; how many of us hide the gifts God has given us?
We fail to share the gifts of the spirit. We fail to find joy in little things. We fail to see the beauty of life around us. We fail to lift up our fellow human being. We fail to forgive and forget.

We fail and fail and fail again.
We fail to use our voice to lift up His goodness. We fail to give our wealth to the care of others. He fail to pray for our adversaries.

We choose complaining over comforting. We choose sarcasm over sympathy. We choose bickering over blessing. We choose self over sacrifice.

We choose to hide our "Gifts From God."

And, we choose it day after day after day until we forget we ever received any gifts. Stop hiding your gifts. I, for one, would like to see what God has given you to share. I'll be right here on the "other end of the party-line."

Photo credit: Judy Mae Bingman. Photo of Emily & Jenny, best friends who aren't afraid to share the gift of music God has given them. 

Passing on my way

When the time comes, just say "I'm passing on my way."

I had never heard death described quite like that. The radio DJ, announcing the death of a popular singer, said, the artist "passed on his way."



Passed on his way . . . how fitting a description.

"Passed on our way," as if to remind us that we began in one place, spent some time in this place, before heading  on to the next place.

We weren't just here then gone.

There was a purpose to our journey, or as Og Mandino said in The Greatest Miracle in the World, "You are not the momentary whim of a careless creator experimenting in the laboratory of life . . . you have a purpose."

We are on our way from somewhere to somewhere, and, along the way, we pass by here.

We do not "pass away," for that implies what legacy we left passes away. We do not "die." That is so final, too final.

We pass on our way, and along the journey, have the time of our lives.

For whatever reason, my "purpose" seems to be enlightening children to the potential inside of them. It's there as infants, and somehow, through all the trials of life, we begin to forget, to doubt, to stop believing. Be the spark that rekindles that hope in others. Don't hold back.

"And I leave you now, not with sadness but with satisfaction and joy that we came together and walked, arm in arm, through this brief moment of eternity. Who could ask for more?" The ragpicker in The Greatest Miracle in the World

photo credit: Judy Mae Bingman