The Chair Is Here! Plus Other Stuff

We bought a really cool recliner the first week of July. They put a rush on it to get it to our apartment in two weeks. Three calls later, each call declared it would arrive in only 10 more days. 

Oh its not as big as the one we had in TX. No body makes that size anymore. For tall recliners, now there are only sizes gargantuan and double wide. Those are bigger than a love seat. But we finally found one that could fit in the apartment.

It is not as big as those others but it fits well enough. Raymon's feet still hang off but his head is supported!!! 
____________________________

Fascinating what each of the new docs exclaim. 

Perhaps I should not agree so quickly, but of course I do!

Anyway, just hearing that another medical guy listened and then said something else makes you feel better. So that's where we are.

PT gave him new exercises yesterday and new goals. 

In fact, all the docs have given him new information, told him these are the problems now and how he could better work on his recovery. 

So guys, we are on the better course. That means life is in the "now-changing-mode" rather than "recovery-mode". He is not out of the woods yet, but the path is no longer uphill.

So what's up with your lives these days? 

Better to email Raymon at fullertoniii@yahoo.com this time. He'd love to hear from you! I love reading your comments here too!!!

______________________________

Several vital parts of our lives are returning--the Male Downtown Glee Club will reopen after a dark summer. Raymon will most likely go back and join the guys. Our volunteer day at the hospital down the street known around town as the Allen Pavilion will restart on a Wednesday. (We are thinking about two days a week.) He is going to wait a while longer for the AUX police beat. Sadly, due to Sandy, the South Street Seaport Museum is not going to reopen. However, there may be something there other than the Museum.

At present he is writing about his encounters with New Yorkers. Since meeting a New Yorker normally takes about 5 seconds unless you are trapped on a subway train, these events are more like brief encounters. Unless you meet Raymon that is! :-)

I've been writing preteen fiction and having lots of fun. It is also pre-editor:-) May that is why it is still fun?

Goodbye friends. Send your thoughts and prayers our way and let us know yours.

Juggling Dove Bars

Back again from that other blog, Updates, Raymon. Frankly I'm not really too sorry to be away so long. Keeping blogs straight according to what is happening requires focus, which I seem to be in short supply of these days.

But I did want to share this little tale I wrote on Updates, Raymon with all of Apt. 3 G readers. It just a memory really. Life then and now...enjoy.

Dove Bars

Tonight we had a tasty treat, a Dove Ice Cream bar. 

That single luscious indulgence is a trip down memory lane for us.

Walking NYC's 5th Avenue from lower Manhattan to the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve became our tradition back in the 1980s. One of those years, we tasted roasting chestnuts, yuck. Trust me, the song is so much better. 

Some time around 1985 I think, we were approached by a rolling refrigerated cart and a young man, equally refrigerated. As I recall, we all were refrigerated. It was freezing but no one seemed to mind. It was the perfect weather for Christmas Eve in New York City.

[You know, this could have been a street festival in China Town. Christmas Eve makes a better story. Proceed.]

The young man approached us with a test product called Dove Bars. They were not yet on the market. He was passing them out, asking folks to give them a try and what they thought.

Its been almost 30 years since that original Dove Bar. My 1st in NYC. Tonight was my 2nd in NYC. 

I'm glad we got to try it all those years ago. Kinda makes you wonder if something we said had anything to do with them being here today. 

excuse me, my mind is going to wonder now...

Bus BX 7 MH 100

Both BX 7 and the 100 stop in front of our apartment building. Both are great means of transportation. And right now, both seem to have minds of their own. Or would that be wheels of their own.

Perhaps it is my own impatience or not but it seems this month that there are lots, no make that many "not-in-service" buses in route these days. All of these not-in-service buses are of course in any bus route I decide to take.

I am thrilled to see more buses driving around, perhaps with trainees??? But for some reason, I don't think that is the real reason. Fearfully, I noticed my favorite bus 100 had a double axle (basically the seating of a double axle equals almost two buses). However, the trouble with that great improvement is that the MTA reduced the number of bus 100s on the line. NOOOOO, that meant the waiting time is awful and the bus, no matter the seating is ridiculous. Once this experiment is over, I feel sure bus 100 will go back to its trusty steady standards.

What other reasons could there be for many not-in-service buses in the month of June. Um, upper Manhattan Bus convention? Coffee Break for every third bus driver trainee? Experimental break equipment test for NYC street driving? The reasons could be endless.

BX 7 is my favorite should anyone ask. BX is for the Bronx. Yeap, you can zip up to the Bronx, hit Target, Starbucks, go on up to Staples and Sack and Save plus a fabulous gourmet food store and to top it off, the best thrift store in the universe...oh, hike back a bit and ride home!

But its time to turn the corner and head to the park. Oh I wish you could all walk the 4-5 blocks to the green park and sit in the shaded benches. There you could join us and watch the softball games, all ages, all skill levels and several different languages. But the international language of baseball dominates.

By The Way, See Updates

Sorry I've not written here in a very long time.

All of my blogging has been focused on updates regarding Raymon's (hubby) medical saga. There is more to come so I image that I will not be here for some time to come.

Help yourself to Updates, Raymon,

raymon8844.blogspot.com

Raymon's, my comments and prayer requests will be there as well as others comments.

Currently, we are resting before surgery # two.

While many of you are involved in life-threating situation, know that this is not, only a long term process needing all of your support.

To date, our NYC family, Abilene and Georgetown families, Internet family, DFW metro families plus our nationwide family have all come together to blend hearts into one supportive hand. Thanks is more than we can express.

(Should this be news to you, we ask that only emails, Facebook messages, blog comments at Update, Raymon and texts be the methods of communication. I will not be getting back to everyone all the time but will try!)  

Raymon's Saga

I've been out-of-touch lately as I've been blogging on another blog, raymon4488.blogspot.com
(see in the links on the right hand column)

If you have opportunity to go there, please read the archives and you will see that hubby and I have been on a medical adventure. In fact, we will be there for a while longer.

God is in control.

Love to all of you,

Lindy

A Faster Train

I admit it, I've never been to a rodeo. And yes, I am from Texas. I have ridden a horse, fed a cow, helped bring a calf into the world (from afar) and applied clown makeup.

I have attended horse shows, riding exhibits and feed lots; assisted 4H, cub scouts, boy scouts, girl scouts, brownie scouts, community and church groups all with their rodeos. But somehow I've missed the rodeo experience.

I have been to cowboy and cowgirl museums. I have viewed and enjoyed lots and lots of western art, sculpture, painting and pottery. And still rodeo is not on my resume.

But today at 3:00 PM on the C Train, NYC--the rodeo found me along side the biggest horsepower in the universe.

Today, I watch the A train express be overtaken by the C train local.

Since I was on the A train expecting to transfer to the C train, this was most fascinating! Never ever - ever had the C train beaten the A train to a station, particularly with a stop between. The C train had to make a stop, the A train did not. The C train still beat the A train!

It was rush hour but in the Subway it is always rush hour.

This observation / experience had to be one of those NYC moments I was warned about. "Keep your eyes open so that you don't miss anything."

Um, one normally slower subway train passing a normally faster one...now this is exciting stuff folks!

In this case, you really did have to be there. 

Seven Minutes

The last six months in our country have been full of horrific life changing events. This blog was written before the murders in Sandy Hook and after Hurricane Sandy.

***************************************************

Some things in life really don’t matter all that much.

Obtaining the window seat on an airline, shotgun in a car unless you are prone to car sickness or even voting in the perfect candidate (don’t kill me please, I am too pretty to die yet.)

What does matter is seven minutes left on the Laundromat dryer.

Every so often, my least favorite job in the universe, changes. It used to be filling the car with gas. Since we no longer have a car, problem solved. Next it was loading the dishwasher. Since we no longer have a dishwasher, problem solved. Are you seeing a trend here?

The next least favorite job in the universe is climbing the stairs in the Subway… problem redirected, not solved. Buses are now added to routes, elevators here and there and hiking boots rather than sneakers really do help. But stairs seem to multiple. This is one job that seems insurmountable and thus must be ignored as a least favorite and turned into rite of passage. In other words, since it is a means to an end, let it go.

Which finally gets me back to what really matters in life, seven minutes left on the dryer.

Did I tell you that doing laundry in a laundry mat requires fortitude, diligence and quarters? Plus diplomatic skills unknown at the United Nations.

I digress. Again.

Today was the much dreaded laundry day. So dreaded that we take turns as to who will forego their entire day and venture forth into the bowels of our building’s basement (not G rated). It is always anybody’s guess as to which of the four washers and four dryers will be working for the three building in my apartment complex.

We arrive prior to the opening bell to get first crack at all machines. We turn on the lights, causing all roaches to scurry to their roach places (actually things in that department are much better since the feral cats are now on guard.)

Machines loaded, detergent, soaps, bleach, etc.…water everywhere…call the contract service…and move wet clothes to dryer.

Two neighbors have come down to check out the time remaining on the washers just to see when they can get started. 

And before all is said and done, I ended up using all four dryers. After all, I was there 40 minutes earlier. Unwritten laundry mat law—first come gets whatever is available …however normally I leave a open washer anyway. But today I wanted to get it done.

Thus all four dryers got loaded immediately after all four washers when through their paces.

A few months ago prices were raised. Apparently to justify this, more minutes were added to the drying time. Someone forgot to tell my clothes. Burning clothes can be a problem. Also loading extra clothes in the dryer lumps them together so badly that nothing dries!

Never mind. I just keep my eye out, remove and fold early before the new time runs out.

Happily, an extra seven minutes is left for the next user.

Oh, I’m not the only one. Just about every one is sharing minutes now. No one needs the extra drying time. No one needed the price increase either but this was long before the fiscal cliff talks so we can’t blame the talks on this one.

Clothes folded (enough to get them back upstairs anyway), sheets back on the bed and hubby sweetly planning his trip to the dungeon next week!

What would you do if a stranger gave you seven minutes?

Rename the Blog

It happened again!

While riding the Subway a woman reflected Christ to me in such a way that I was both humbled and amazed at the bravery of her act.

Naturally Raymon, my husband if I haven't told you his name by now, was talking with several people at once while in route. One of the ladies of the group was simply exhausted and joined me on the bench. There were two empty seats beside me. Trust me, that is a rare occurrence.

We began chatting as if life long buddies. Of course it was our accents that opened the conversation. She had one too so that began a geography lesson for both of us. Next were our hopes and dreams of traveling which for both of us were pretty much done, barring the occasional jaunt to the moon and back.

Then the huge question of "why did you come?" For several stops I proceeded to tell her our story.* Amazed she listened with punctuated amens. I knew she was a believer, thrilled to learn of God's plan. Then I asked her with flippancy to pray for me.

With eyes deeply peering into mine she grabbed my hand, with the subway express train roaring by each stop she said, "Lets pray right now."

And we did.

These two middle aged ladies, hand in hand, heads bowed, bundled with packages to the max and one with talking in a level voice asking God to protect and bless me and us here in New York. On the A Train traveling who knows how many miles per hour with left over silt on the rails from Sandy moving toward the end-of-the line. What a blessing God sent. What a ministry.

He continues to fill me with surprises in the heart of this most godly land.

God truly must love NYC.




*see archived early posts and profile

Its Not Our Fault!

How do I say this...its not our fault! Now before you decide that that sounds terribly whinny which of course it doees, or that it must be our fault for me to say that it isn't...well I must protest. It is not our fault!

Rather, it was not our fault.

Well, may it was a tiny little bitty partly our fault--but not much. Really.

Okay, so some folks really messed up. Just a few. Actually, we don't know how many.

The result? A mess.

A real mess.

A multi-million dollar mess.

That can't be cleaned up.

Have you ever been helpless to fix a problem you have been accused of creating? And to make the situation worse, you must witness others make the problem worse, knowing you will again be accused?

Actually, it happens a lot. Road rage is a major culprit I hear. So glad I'm not driving these days! Spouses, ever walk in on your love who has had a bad day? Yikes! And what well behaved student gets punished along with the rest of the class because of one bad apple? The domino effect of a work crew dropping the ball on one item leading to another to another to another....

Life sometimes isn't fair. And lately, the fairness meter is stuck on the heavy hand of "un".

So next time you come across anyone, yes anyone, remember that their fairness meter may be stuck on "un" for no reason other than the fact that they got up that morning.

Pray that Jesus will hold up others' "un" meters.

He's good at it.

Milestones

Thinking of all the parental milestones one hears about, it is truly amazing to experience one.

The moment of conception, the birth of a child, the child’s first word, first step and even potty training for some reason is ecstasy for every parent. There are all kinds of firsts before the one first that cause the mom and dad to hold their breath in a strangle hold before exhaling; the first day of school.

This first is like no other. This first is when Mom and Dad hand their child over, their gift that they have reared, nursed and yes, done the potty training bit. This is the first that someone else looks into their eyes and says, “I’ve got this.”

 And their child says, “I’ve got this.” (Or not).

And it really doesn’t matter what the parent feels inside, Mom and Dad have to look their child in the eyes, the child’s soul and say, “We know.”

From this moment, Mom and Dad know everything has changed.

True? Yes. Right? It should be.

Of course, the child still runs to the parents for every single bit of support. Yet there is that hunt for independence that wasn’t there before. And the family is ready for the search.

We know.

Our family is ready for the search.

Milestones are part of growing and growing up.

But turning the child over doesn’t make the inner soul feel any less parental, only more so. That mixture of joy and ache is a victory to be savored. The next milestone is nearer. Children will soon bring children of their own to life. 

Ah, I read that I am being cryptic again. I am inspired by our spiritual NYC body, growing in number, faith, knowledge, example and wisdom; walking in Jesus steps and living as He would have us live. Our family is growing, reaching one milestone after another. 

And so it begins.

No, not the fantastic Olympics of 2012. They have been amazing have they not? I simply can not decide which sport I shall be taking up after watching these athletes perform.

No, not the hope of cooling Fall weather. HA.

No, not the joy of the recent hair cut--so long overdue.

What you ask?  Hubbie's birthday week! And what a week we have planned. For the first time we have decided to do a full week of birthday celebrations, partly to make up for a few years we had to skip but mostly because it sounds fun.

The goal is to travel as far as we can on the public transportation system to some destination we've not been to before. The trip itself can last a long time and you can meet people from all over the world.

Today we rode the A train to #1 where we met two families from France going to see the Statue of Liberty. That is a normal thing here. Hubbie meets a family from distant lands almost every weekend while volunteering at the South Sea Sea Port, but that's another story.

From the #1, we board the Staten Island Ferry, lower desk along with at lease 4 thousand other people (I jest) and three school groups, each grouped in separated neon colored t-shirts. Going toward Staten Island, we lingered over the Governors Island side. On the return trip, we shuttled over the Statue of Liberty Side--another family from another country, I forget where, sorry.

Let's see, A to 1 to ferry oh, then the train for the full length of Staten Island. Beautiful ride if you've never taken it to the end. There really is nothing to see, only a wire fence and river channel, but it is really cool to have done it. Also, the few block around the area had a gingerbread house painted purple, yellow and green. I am sure I would have gone simply to have seen that house.

All in all, we rode 3 trains and one boat today for the cost of one round way subway fare. Not bad!

Tomorrow? City Island!

SEVEN NEW SISTERS

God's family is huge. There has been two millennium of brothers and sisters who have born and died that I will one day meet. Add those to the rest of the living family that are not-yet and now known, that is quite a reunion.

But today--what a day--today, God by His grace blessed seven beautiful women with salvation, adoption and a huge family. The ladies acted out of obedience and were baptized.

Being a part of His family, I'm seven times blessed, oh why bother with numbers? It was / is an amazing unity of souls, rejoicing and praising God's name.

Everywhere... everyday... everyone...

God

Hang on everybody.

I have about 4 posts in draft mode.

I'd love to say that I was perfecting each post -- so, why not! :-)

The truth is by uh, after perfecting them for so long, my current browser will no longer work with some stuff. In fact, after this weekend, some of you may be dealing with Internet issues as well.

Sooooooo, I'll be hunting for a browser that wants to read my blog :-).

As soon as all is tip top, Apartment 3G will be observing life again!

Thanks guys.

Lindy

Seam Lock

Today I reached into my sewing basket. There was that really handy bottle of seam lock stuff my dear friend from down South backed away in my bags the last visited.

The product glues down threads that you cut to make into buttonholes (or rather someone else has!) and thus they last a bit longer. This ingenious product just might make the Sharpie product line go out of business in my house as I truly color in worn out buttonholes with Sharpies--don't you?

Of course, I've been doing that with purses for years. I've got a 33 year old purse that looks brand new, as long as I keep it out of the rain!

Obviously, reaching for that stuff made me think of my BFF.  She is a great seamstress. When I think of the great seamstresses that I know, I think of my sister and her.

But when I take down my sewing basket, Mom fills my mind. We never sat at the machine together or darned or anything like that. But we did little things like sewing on buttons. I watched her thread a needle and learned how to hand sew a lock stitch. It was so amazing to see her do such mundane but valuable things. She was always so overwhelmed by tasks, kids, duties and my antics. To watch her quietly pick up a shirt as if she had nothing else to do and whip up a torn hem or sew on a button -- I was in rapture.

But that must be what most mom's do. Take out time from a crazy day and quietly do what else needs to be done. No muss, no fuss, just do.

And so my sewing basket is precious to me. No, Mom was not a big sewer when I was a kid. But I don't remember any lose buttons or ripped hems, probably thanks to Big Sister or me after I was big enough to handle the scissors without a spanking.

Sister taught me to sew and so much more. But Mom gave me a look that said, "This is important honey, learn it well and tuck it away until you need it. Place it in your catalog of a thousand chores under no muss, no fuss, just do."

I see Mom's look when I pull out the sewing basket.

AUX NYPD Graduation, Wall / Door / Hat

IT HAPPENED!

After canceling / rescheduling four times, it happened. The New York Police Department graduated the Auxiliary Police class of 2012 on June 5th, 2012.

All invited guests had also rescheduled, some canceling bus and plane tickets. Finally, none could reschedule again. Only dutiful spouses and doting parents attended. We were surprised by two out-of-town guests who's original invitation prevented attendance, who did attend as the latest schedule allowed it!

And what a graduation night! At least it wasn't raining...

Many special announcements had been made that the doors would "open" at six o'clock while the event would start at 7 PM. One simply had to be there at 6 PM to get a decent seat. No big deal, this is NYC. Everyone knows in order to get a seat at the nearest park bench, reservations must be made a whole season before hand.

Raymon left far earlier than I as he and his fellow grads had to gather together, rehearsal and do all manor of grad stuff way out in Brooklyn and then drive into Manhattan. In full dress uniform no less. I don't know why.

Making sure to arrive at exactly 6 PM, I messed up and got there around 6:10. Oddly, the mammoth crowd was only about twenty deep.  According to all the announcements, weren't the doors suppose to be open now?

About 6:20 PM, some door did open. And this un-mighty crowd shuffled forward for the sole purpose to have our purses, watches and cell phones checked, airport style. (Not as extensively as we got to keep our shoes on.)

"Out the door and stand against the wall to your left". He raised his voice slightly so that we could hear him. He seemed a little embarrassed about the whole thing.

Okay, I'm ready, where is THE door! That wasn't THE door was it?

No.
 
Now we had THE wall. All of us desperate family members and relatively few friends are now standing against the building wall. (All of us are looking for any door now.) Directed to stand there by the next set of very efficient fellows, it seems that we must wait here to enter THE door.

Standing. Outside. For 30 + minutes. (remember the rain?)

And we all had lots to say standing against the wall; plenty to discuss about the Mayor, the way things were being run, the disabled and / or pregnant women who had to be somewhere against that wall in some sort of need and most especially--good grief, what if we had really done something wrong!

Oh yes, we all really had something to say. Do? Nah.

And promptly 10 minutes before graduation, THE door opened and we all trotted into mass chaos -- five minutes of finding a seat, it was the most fun I'd had in days.

Graduation. In under one hour, he was declared along with the rest of the five borough classes among the many courageous AUX NYPD officers. It was memorable and lovely. I got to meet many of those he works with and who have come to respect him.

One of several memorable moments of the evening was when the band played jazz music for the entrance of the colors.

There was and is much about the AUX NYPD graduation that hangs in my mind. But the faces under the hats showed more than humanity, they all showed a youthfulness no matter their age and wisdom, a determination to hope and to seek goodness.



When was the last time you saw godliness reflected in a police uniform?

Could / Can Jesus Be Surprised?

Once again I stand, rather, sit amazed at a new thought. Jesus was as humanly touched as all of those he healed.

Was Jesus as effected as those healed? Did he always know that healing was ahead? I was always taught that as an omnipotent being, he did. Even when He whirled around asking, "Who touched me?"

(This is another topic which has filled commentaries and thesis's I have not read, you can if you want.)

His power to heal was divine, not human. So his experience and that of the woman was not the same. Nor could it be. Well that makes sense. Until they looked at each other and knew the result, not of the healing but the result....I think they both had the same emotions. Happiness that the yuckiness was over and joy that salvation was in place.

Now that I need to clearly explain that to myself, I find myself going...uh?

Sure, mercy and immense love where there, even empathy played a role; without that, why bother. But I think I am talking about wonder, amazement, happiness--real joy, and faith both in human beings and in His father.

(off topic, sortta) Did Jesus, even though God is His Father, ever get a faith shot? Needed or not?

Did my Jesus, as a human on this earth, experience every single emotion along with us plus divine and whatever emotions go with that?

What do you think?

I'm stumped, I gotta ask Him.


~~~~~
[If you haven't read The Five People You Meet In Heaven or you haven't interacted with some random person just noticing that they are a child of God--do it. I keep trying to do all these great Jesus acts in other peoples lives and before I get a chance, they have effected me. Past blogs: the lady with the fan, Primo across the street, the teens from 24/7, the deli, hubbie's waitress, the student, the Mother's day Spiritual daughters and more are the audio of Jesus in my life...] 

Oxygen and Good Shoes

We took the A train to the S shuttle, walked at least 100 miles under ground and stomped up, oh... 20 flights of stairs, then saw the sunshine...started walking again, outside on the sunny side of the amazing city streets.

Next?

Okay, in order to visit a fabulous bookstore we then walked to the 6 Train station, riding to Brooklyn Bridge, then back uptown to Spring Street and yes, climbed some more stairs...it was a great bookstore.

Time to go home!

Simple, just retrace our steps, grab the 6 Train at Spring Street to Union Square/14th Street. We did just that and then walked way downstairs and got on the L Shuttle and rode west to the Eighth Avenue station. There we transferred to the A Train -- during rush hour. We did let one train pass as a few shorter women fell out, gasping for air--really--one almost fell at my feet coughing and sputtering before recovering and dashing away for her next train.



Let me explain. When seated on a subway train, oxygen is fine, air flows freely around mid-thigh level in a mass of humanity. That is unless it is mid-winter and everyone is dressed in five layers including boots, scarves, hoodies and thermals. What no real New Yorker will tell you, (but of course I will because I'm a bit of a sneak) is that everyone carries a 30 minute air supply tank strapped to one arm. That is the true origin of the term "strap hanger." (30 minutes will not cover the normal hour ride for a 4 mile trip, but one expects that the doors will open periodically allowing fresh air to waft in.)

It has never been proven however it has been suggested that the Delta airline personnel who developed the in-flight personal overhead oxygen emergency supply system was a long time strap hanger from Queens.

So it is fairly simple to spot newbies; they are the ones gasping for air as they fall out of subway cars. If they are short and standing they literally cannot breath when the cars are packed. There is no air at that level. If they are sitting, they have a chance. But the likelihood of available sitting in rush hour is very unlikely.

A general rule of thumb is to remember your oxygen comes in three levels. Level one (fine and you are sitting so an asthma attack is satisfactory) level two (breathable unless you are under five feet and without protective shoulder padding) and level three (best, except that heat rises but who cares, you are getting off at the next station).

And that is our New York Minute for the day.

Back to me!

Ah, riding the Subway from 14th Street to 207 Street standing face-to-face with humanity after a long day.  Everyone is thinking about how wonderful a refreshing shower will be when they get home.

That very thought is what gets me through the next three flight of stairs and up to my entry way. My shower awaits. And then it hits me. To shower, I have to stand. Forget it.

Mother's Day Alert.

Thank you all daughters out there who are born of other women but are also daughters to those that love you.

Last Mom's Day weekend was special because of all of my lovely spiritual daughters, devoted friends, loved ones and nieces circled me with the honor due a mother. Now that I know the true meaning of flabbergast.

I freely admit it was drudgery every Mother's Day at church to listen to compliments lauded upon mothers and grandmothers, so justly deserved by all means--I piled them on as well! But the sermons in church about did me in until I stopped going to church on Mother's Days, I simply couldn't take it when they asked the grandmothers to stand. 

It was saluting the grandmoms that did it. Over the years I had resoved the motherhood thing and how it related to my womanhood, sisterhood, Christianity and life in general. But the idea of never being a grandmother was something I simply hadn't puzzled through. And those annual on those Sundays once a year in May did not help.

But this year it did not matter. On Mother's Day Weekend, young women came to me, thanking me for being me for them. What? How? Each of them had mothers to exonerate, honor, revere. I had  planned to focus on my mom and let the day follow its course.

No, these particular young women determined to honor me on Mother's Day Weekend. In order to carry off their plans, the ring leader had to make sure I'd be around so the "cat-was-out-of-the-bag". Thus I had a week of unbelief regarding this "setup". Then truly they picked me up and off we went to bunch, gifts, readings, laughs, honors, tea and prayer.

They made it clear that to them I was their NYC mom. They adopted me. Not replacing their moms, but announcing me to be the mom God brought them. Amazing, me a mom at 60! And an oxtimom at that!

So like Sarah at an old age, God blessed her. And now my quiver is full with 8 young women from that Saturday.

Rejoice my daughters, rejoice for God will bless you as He has blessed me. You have honored me above yourselves.

3 Snippets

He asked me to teach him about God's will for his life. 

It was somewhat like being kicked in the stomach by a Mac truck. With all that stuff God said about false teaching--this really scares me.

But then again, I don't have to be scared. I'm not doing the teaching. Phew, what a relief. And if I really think hard about, the will of God is pretty easy...He wants everybody to be saved.

His will in a nutshell. Go tell somebody else this amazing news.

So what do I tell this guy? Nothing I guess, looks like he already knows.

I'll just love on him, pray for him and just be there.

What he saw in me in the first place caused him to ask the question. God'll do the talking.

Dear readers, please pray for me, most of the time I get in the way.


Nothing to do with spiritual stuff...um

Apartment meeting; about 13 did not show up. Four of us did and began to take apart a letter we had been working on for months. It wasn't five minutes before we were looking to each other, seeking one or another to take the lead in this failing endeavor. Then the circling began, round and round we went, charging villains not present of dastardly but deserved behaviors.

It was all for not. The meeting adjourned. Nothing of worth happened. My husband and I quarreled after it was over sure that the other did not take the high road.

Was it a waste of time?

A bitter individual, a Tarrah card reader, a befuddle housewife and well meaning but ineffective male locked horns over a dead cause unwilling to let go.

When is it time to give in or stand up and be counted?

Its been over a week and I've heard nothing...um


Dear readers, please pray for me, most of the time I get in the way.


And this is church folks--

True, last week on 181st in Washington Heights while on patrol...

She was a waitress, tired probably, lonely and with more shift to come.With a sigh and exclaiming to no one in a whispered voice, "I'm useless."

He heard her, stood up and said, "you are not useless." He hugged her. After a brief shock, she hugged back.

He went back on patrol and assumed that she finished her shift.

It was a fasinating experience, one I suggest that some of you would never enjoy, entertain, contemplate, consider or so much as wink about. However perhaps everyone should do it at least once in their lifetime. Or maybe fifty times just to get it right. I am not sure that it can be done correctly. Not now. Oh sure, at some time far far away, a long time ago, in some far distant land, somebody had it right. But now that I think about it, we, all of us, had better figure out a way to get it right.

What?

Last Tuesday I worked as a election day polling agent.  The entire day. All of it.

Nine votes were cast. 


It was a long, tedious process with so much redundancy if someone were to try and commit voter fraud he would have to do it in triplicate. And then the fraud plan would need to be placed in a large envelop, to be sealed by a plastic seal, then a paper seal and then in a larger purple envelop before attaching the return receipt signed by both party representation and finally packing the assemblage in the blue suitcase. (The legendary blue suitcase has been in every election since 1964. No one knows what it is for so it continues to be used.)

Obviously I got home and recovered as I am typing about the event. And yes, I plan to do it again. After all, I have to see if we ever break into double digits.