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.