The Journey – Page 3 – 365 Days of 60

St. Patty

Saint Patrick’s Day is a religious and cultural celebration held on March 17, the traditional death date of Saint Patrick, the foremost patron saint of Ireland.

Saint Patrick’s Day was made an official Christian feast day in Ireland in the early 17th century. The day commemorates Saint Patrick and the arrival of Christianity in Ireland, and celebrates the heritage and culture of the Irish in general.

Patrick was a fifth century British Christian missionary and bishop in Ireland. It is believed that he was born into a wealthy family. His father was a deacon and his grandfather was a priest in the Christian church. According to the Declaration, which Patrick allegedly wrote himself, at the age of 16 he was kidnapped by Irish raiders and taken as a slave to Gaelic Ireland. It says that he spent six years there working as a shepherd and it was during that time that he “found God.” The Declaration says that God told Patrick to flee to the coast, where a ship would be waiting to take him home. After making his way home, Patrick went on to become a priest.

According to tradition, Patrick returned to Ireland to convert the pagan Irish to Christianity. And he did, converting “thousands”.

Saint Patrick is said to have used the shamrock, a three-leaved plant, to explain the Holy Trinity to pagan Irish. I love that.

What courage. All heroes are full of courage. When God says a thing is a certain way, well, it is that way. The real courage is saying “yes” and joining in.

Today I attended the funeral of a good man. He was not a missionary. He does not have a day named after him. He is not honored by a country.

But he was a hero, the biggest kind of hero. He first and foremost loved his God. He then lived his entire life, of 84 years, serving his family every single day.

I did not wear green today. I wore black.

But in St. Patrick’s honor, I am going to make myself a steaming cup of green tea. I am going to thank God for choosing this man to do good work. I will also thank God for Govel Thornberry who lived his life as heroically as St. Patrick. I will lift my mug of green tea in honor of them both.

Irish Blessing

May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Pondering

I’ve been thinking a lot about how people view sixty year-olds. When I was 20, I could not imagine being old 40. When I was 40, one of the worst things I could foresee was being 60. Well, crap! If that did not indeed happen.

I know…60 is the new 40 or 50 or whatever people who are 60 say. That is not encouraging to a 40 year old.

In caring for my nearly 90 year-old mother, I often look back at her life. When she was 48, her husband (my dad) died. I remember thinking that somehow that wasn’t too bad for her since she was already old. I was 18. The stupidity of youth. Perhaps more kindly stated, the innocence of youth.

Even now as I sit and type, I gaze across the top of my desk to see my mother napping, at 10:00 AM. We had breakfast and coffee and read the Bible and prayed for (many) people. She has certainly not forgotten how to pray.

Some things are intensely deeply rooted in her. It is like discovering that an old tree in your yard has massive roots beneath the ground that spread out in all directions and are nearly impossible to destroy. You can’t see them, but you know they are there.

She does not remember that we ate breakfast, yet she knows every word and every melody to every song in the church hymnal.

Last night I played a (very simple) song on the piano. Mama thought I was amazing. Which, in itself, is amazing. She often tells me I am no longer her nice daughter. After I got up from the piano, I looked at Mama and she was nearly in tears. I asked what was wrong. She said: “I’ve owned a piano my entire life and I never learned to play.”

I have had near panic attacks when I realize how quickly my mother became old. It has brought an urgency to my life.

When I was in my 30s and 40s working full-time, I remember my one week of vacation feeling stressful. It was always the sense of “hurry up and relax”, knowing it would be over in a flash.

And it was indeed a flash since my mama was helping me make window treatments and hemming my skirts and enjoying a day of lunch out and dress shopping. Those days are gone.

This is my new normal Mama. The one who dislikes me and clings to me, both within a few minutes of time.

I know one thing for sure. I am going to spend more time playing the piano.

Serious Sunday

Today the pastor was making reference to another pastor on staff who had endured a fractured wrist during a motorcycle accident. The accident occurred when this pastor was riding and tried to avoid hitting a squirrel. Admirable.

The pastor was poking fun at him a bit, calling him a “novice” and saying it was a “rookie mistake.” He stated that seasoned riders know how to avoid the majority of accidents. An important lesson that is taught in “motorcycle riding school” is this: Do not focus on what is straight ahead of you. Huh?

The safe way to ride is to look to the place you WANT to go. Aha.

He said that many motorcycle accidents happen when the rider is so focused on the guardrail as he turns a bend, that he actually hits it because he is not looking past the guardrail.

That idea immediately took me back to when I was learning to drive. I was out one evening with my dad. I was moving along slowly and he noticed my gaze was down toward the front of the car. He asked what I was looking at. I told him I was watching the yellow lines on the road so I would be sure to not get too close to them. He quickly informed me that I need to look straight ahead and not focus on the lines. It was nearly verbatim to what the pastor said this morning. My dad’s words were: “You have to look ahead of you. You have to look where you are going, not where you are at the moment.”

It’s funny how hearing something 44 years later makes so much sense.

How often we see the bumps in the road, the distractions, and focus so anxiously on them that we cannot look ahead. We forget to keep our eyes on where we want to go.

I want to see the big picture. I want to notice the bumps and be aware of them, but keep my gaze always on the horizon.

Thanks Dad.

Walking for a Reason

Ah…the park at 6:15 PM. Still light. Still chilly. But able to get in my 30 minute walk/run. Felt great to be out in the park again and off of the indoor treadmill, watching Dr. Phil. I’m not saying I am a huge fan of Dr. Phil’s, though I believe he does good work. I just need SOMETHING to focus on while I walk and yet go nowhere.

Sometimes when I am walking/running I wonder why I am doing this. It is certainly not fun. I would always prefer to be sitting on my sofa wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot green tea and reading or at my desk writing.

Though, being back at the park has its upsides. It is peaceful and beautiful and I see fat frogs hop into the pond, from sunning themselves on the edge. I watch ducks splashing in puddles left from too much rain. One of the paths takes me past an alpaca farm. They are interesting creatures. And I often see breathtaking sunsets.

I also often see 20 year-olds and 30 year-olds and 40 year-olds walking/running, which takes me back to the above wondering…why I do this.

At 60 shouldn’t I be surrendering? Shouldn’t I be giving in to what I want to do and say forget this?

Maybe. But the question that begs to be asked is, what do I want to do?

I want to stay as healthy and vibrant, and okay, fit, as possible for as long as possible.

Yes, at the moment I have to push myself to lace up my Asics and drive to the park. The next push is getting out of the car at the park. The (extremely) temporary satisfaction is staying put.

The (extremely) longer-term satisfaction is just doing it. At 60, I should have learned that temporary doesn’t cut it.

Serious Sunday

The fisher who draws in his net too soon,
Wont have any fish to sell;
The child who shuts up his book too soon,
Won’t learn any lessons well.

If you would have your learning to stay,
Be patient – don’t learn too fast;
The man who travels a mile each day,
May get round the world at last.

This little poem called Persevere appeared in the Children’s Book of Virtues by William Bennett. It is a children’s version of the original anthology, The Book of Virtues. These books aim specifically at the time-honored task of moral education of the young. Moral education meaning the training of the heart and mind toward the good. It involves many things; rules and precepts and the do’s and don’ts of life with others. It also involves the example of adults, who through their daily behavior, show children they take morality seriously.

There is much talk going around about how important it is to “have values,” as if they were pretty stones you collect and put into a pouch. Bennett stresses the importance of morality and virtues not as something to possess but as the core of human nature, not as something to have but as something to be.

The above poem, Persevere, is all about stick-to-it-iveness. Sticking to something makes all of the difference, whether that is math, history, English or life.

The years go by so quickly, which certainly seems to speed up exponentially when you are over 50 or 60 years old. Oh, how well I know.

If time is going to continue moving swiftly on, we may as well travel a mile a day; do something to head in the direction in which we want to go. Pretty soon we may actually get round the world at last.

Whatever world that is.

The Right Write

The Hendrixson family has little quirks, as does every family. One of ours is about writing utensils. My boys are very picky about their pens. It has to be right. It has to feel right. It also has to write right and require the precise amount of pressure to flow smoothly.

I love pens, too. I love markers and highlighters and Sharpies and crayons. When I was a little girl, I loved chalk and chalkboards. I wanted to be a teacher only because I would get to use chalk every day.

I think it was maybe 5th grade, Mr. Wheeler, an older (he was probably my current age or younger), geography teacher, had acquired a stainless steel gizmo that held chalk. It looked like a large mechanical pencil. I loved that thing! I don’t know much about geography (but I do know that I love you, and I know that if you loved me too, what a wonderful world it would be.)

I digressed. Honestly, I don’t remember much about geography but I certainly do remember that awesome chalk holder.

And speaking of mechanical pencils, oh man, that is my thing. Growing up, I was so envious of classmates that used mechanical pencils. I always had my No. 2 yellows but I sure did covet the mechanical ones. I thought it was so totally cool that the extra lead was held in the slender, little plastic box and how fun it would be to put in a brand new stick of lead.

I remember thinking how truly life-changing that might be. In my heart, I assumed they were only for the well to do. Being one of six kids, my mother probably bought a dozen-package of No. 2 yellows for 50 cents, which gave us two each and well, there you go.

In my 60th year, I still love mechanical pencils, and I use them. I have a blue one on my living room desk and a purple one on my kitchen desk. I also love the erasers. They work so well! They are always white and soft and remove every evidence of an error.

I cannot help but smile and get a little bit of a thrill when I open a package of not No. 2 yellows, but Paper Mate #2’s HB 0.7mm lead with jumbo twist-up eraser from Target for $4.99.

In my 60th year, I can go buy a new mechanical pencil every day, if I so desire. I do not take that for granted.

It’s so nice to find an area in your life where you are finally able to say: “I have arrived.”

A small pitcher of Kindness

I love to go out to breakfast with my boys. They are all adults. One is married and she is a real gem . I love going out with them anytime, but breakfast together is really special. It may be that it is the break of a new day or it may be the sweet comfort of lingering over cups of hot coffee. I’m certain it is many things, but for sure, it is truly wonderful.

About twice a month I have breakfast with my middle son, Christopher. He has orthodontic appointments at an office a couple of miles from my house. It is a perfect opportunity to meet for breakfast afterward.

Christopher is a graphic designer and we often talk about the importance of good design and how good design affects nearly everything we do. That may be how well the cup holder works in our car or the way a box opens or the lettering on a sign or the way a conference room is set up. Design is everywhere!

Often we talk about the importance of ‘good design’ within a company framework; the way that Apple is run or the way P&G is run or the way a restaurant is run.

For example, not only does Christopher love Chick-fil-A for their spicy chicken sandwich and delicious waffle fries, he loves the company design; the way they run their business. They excel at customer service.

We all know how it goes there. After they serve you and you say thank you, what do they say? “My pleasure.”

For a flower lover like me, I take notice that on the tables inside the restaurant, there are always fresh flowers in a vase. Nice touch.

I have known two young people who worked at Chick-fil-A. They both loved their jobs. How many high school students can say that about working in food service?

When an atmosphere is created to truly serve others, it shows. And if the food is reasonably priced, it is win-win.

S. Truett Cathy, the founder of Chick-fil-A said: “Food is essential to life, therefore make it good.” He also said: “How do you identify someone who needs encouragement? That person is breathing.”

Mr. Cathy found a way to encourage people every day, with friendly, respectful service and good food.

Today we ate breakfast at Northstar, a family favorite. The motivation behind this blog post is a very simple thing that happened there this morning.

I walked up to the coffee area to get a fresh refill and picked up the large, metal container that reads “Half & Half”. As I picked it up to pour into my mug first, before I add the coffee (an old trick I learned from my sister), it was empty. I went to the counter and asked if it could be refilled. “Oh yes” the friendly young server said. She took it from me and within five seconds, handed me a delicate little white glass pitcher of cream. “Here you go” she smiled, “Take this to use right now while I fill the larger decanter of cream.” It may have been only another minute or two but she didn’t want me to have to wait even that long.

Needless to say, I was impressed. Those things matter.

Who knows? Maybe she respected me because I am ‘older’. Perhaps she thought I looked like I needed a little TLC. It could be that she thought Christopher was cute and she was trying to impress his mother. Lots of variables.

However, I am going to trust that Northstar simply believes in stellar customer service, that they realize people pay a bit of a higher price for premium food and organic eggs and a warm, lovely ambience.

I am going to believe that they have a business model that is, as Christopher would say, “a good design”.

It could be that as I am aging, I am understanding the value of being treated well and with respect. So when I see it in action, it is refreshing and appreciated.

It’s funny how those things become more important. They always have been but you sure do notice when you are 60+.

I am happy to pay a little bit more for organic eggs, with a side of kindness.

A Beautiful Compliment

For the past few months, I had been experiencing mild tummy discomfort. There did not seem to be a real pattern, for example, after drinking milk or eating dairy. Most of the time I dismissed it as nothing and popped a chewy Tum. They are actually quite tasty.

I tried to not worry about it much, though with the amount of information to which we are exposed, I could not help but be a bit concerned.

My doctor-husband kept asking me how I am feeling and I kept saying “okay”. He insisted I see my own doctor, a kind young woman in her 40’s. Yes, that is extremely young. My doctor-husband is usually of the mindset “everything is fine”. So when he suggested I see my doctor for some testing, it made me nervous.

I had a nice visit with her and she felt we should order blood work and an ultrasound of my belly. I agreed that it would probably be best. Though, I do not enjoy needle sticks. Who does?

So that night and next morning I fasted then headed to the lab. It was actually fine! The technician was great. It may have helped that Mike is her doctor and she thinks he is the cat’s meow.

That same afternoon, I got my lab work results in my email. All within normal limits, except my TSH was a bit high, which is a sign of an under-active thyroid.

My doctor sent me an email and said she would recommend to begin a small dosage of a thyroid medication to get my TSH to a good level. My doctor-husband agreed. She told me that an under-active thyroid can be a cause of tummy issues. She also felt I should go ahead with the ultrasound anyway. Which I did.

I had not had an ultrasound since the birth of my last son, 30 years ago. Oh, good Lord, that makes me sound SO old.

The ultrasound technician was wonderful, a 63 year old spunky lady who reminded me a bit of a (more serious) Carol Burnett. I was all set for icy cold goo to be poured onto my belly, but it was warm! I commented about it and she said: “Oh honey, I have been doing this for 38 years. I’ve learned a thing or two. I bought myself a bottle warmer.” Brilliant, I thought. With age does indeed come wisdom.

The procedure continued. She was very helpful, alluding that everything at least ‘looked’ normal. As a professional, she could not actually say that, as I totally understood. But I did appreciate her subtleties.

At one point, she said “Oh my goodness”, to which, of course, I said “What??”

She smiled and said: “You have a beautiful liver. It is absolutely gorgeous.” I laughed and said: “I do?” “Oh yes”, she replied, “I have seen a lot of livers. Trust me, I’ve seen some ugly ones, but yours…yours is beautiful.”

Okay then.

When you are in your 20’s and 30’s and 40’s, you don’t really give much thought to your internal organs. You assume they are working well and can take whatever you throw at them. You mostly care about how you look on the outside.

Well, when you are 60+, one of the nicest compliments someone can give you is: “You have a beautiful liver.”

I am nearly blushing right now, simply writing about it.

The Reverend Billy Graham

“When wealth is lost, nothing is lost. When health is lost, something is lost. When character is lost, all is lost” ~ Billy Graham

For 99 years, he kept his character. He wasn’t perfect. He admits moments of deep discouragement, at which time he stated: “I go to God in prayer with tears in my eyes, and say ‘O God, forgive me,’ or ‘Help me.’” Simple.

Billy Graham was certainly a man ahead of his time, in many ways.

During his 1953 Crusade in Chattanooga, when the head usher insisted on segregated seating, Mr. Graham personally tore down the dividing ropes between the races. From then on, all of his Crusades would be integrated.

He developed a warm friendship with Martin Luther King, Jr. and strategized privately with him about their respective roles in the civil rights struggle.

On a scorching July 20, 1957 (about one month before my birth), approximately 100,000 people packed the stands and outfield of Yankee Stadium for what was intended to be the final day of the New York Crusade. Another 20,000 people were turned away.

The Crusade had already been extended once, for an extra three weeks. But seeing the overwhelming hunger for the Gospel, another extension was discussed. Mr. Graham was already exhausted from the first six weeks of preaching, but he felt no peace about stopping.

The decision was made to extend the meetings for as long as Madison Square Garden was available: Labor Day weekend. Amazing.

I love the truth of what Billy Graham saw in those thousands of people: a hunger. Powerful.

A word that could describe Billy Graham’s life is consistent. He had one pressing goal in his life and he stayed at it and at it and at it.

As the news stated, Mr. Graham provided spiritual counsel for every president from Harry Truman to Barack Obama. His love for God and for people crossed all political, racial and societal lines. He didn’t judge. He just loved the Lord and that covered all conversations.

Billy Graham died in his sleep early Wednesday morning. Though no family members were present, his passing was peaceful, stated Mark DeMoss, a spokesman for the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association.

DeMoss said Graham’s personal physician, Dr. Lucian Rice, described it this way: “He just wore out.”

Graham’s beloved wife, Ruth Bell Graham, died in 2007. She is buried at the foot of a cross-shaped walkway in the woodsy Prayer Garden at the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Engraved on her memorial stone are these words: “End of construction ~ Thank you for your patience.”

The story goes that Ruth was driving on a long stretch of highway, under construction work. There were lane changes and arrows and lots of things that needed full attention. At the end of that stretch of highway, there was a sign that stated those words: End of construction. Thank you for your patience. Ruth thought that was a befitting statement on her grave.

Clever and true.

Billy Graham, like his wife, will be buried in a birch plywood coffin built by inmates at Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola, La. The coffins cost $215 each.

I love that so much. Thoughtful and simple and caring till the end.

What an incredible legacy. He is personally responsible for changing millions of lives. And we well know that those lives translate into generations of changed lives. Now THAT is a legacy. We are forever grateful, Mr. Graham.

Serious Sunday

This morning, the pastor said these things: If we follow our money trail, it reveals what we are obsessed about. When you look at your bank statement, it will clearly show your obsession or obsessions. It tells us something. It always has and it always will.

Is it clothing? Gym memberships? Restaurants? Boat payment? Strictly bill-paying and no fun at all? Giving to the needy?

About what are we obsessed? Our lives usually make that revelation.

How obsessed are we about prayer?

God hears all prayers. How often we feel the need to pray for the poor people in Nicaragua or the orphans in Guinea or the young girls in forced prostitution in India. And Lord knows, they certainly need our prayers.

But we all need prayers. Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and Mark Zuckerberg need prayers. Justin Timberlake, Kim Kardashian and Will Smith need prayers. Billy Graham, Joel Osteen and Brian Tome need prayers.

And so do you. And so do I. From the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich and the meanest of the mean and the nicest of the nice. WE ALL NEED PRAYERS.

What we learned in church today is that those above mentioned in Nicaragua and Africa and India actually WANT to pray for US! We sometimes forget that people consider it an honor and a privilege to pray, even for strangers. What a sweet thought.

Today we took ‘selfies’ and attached that photo to a page that included our names and a request for a specific thing. Those will be sent to thousands of people in Africa, India and Nicaragua. They will look at our photos and pray. They will look at ME and pray for me EVERY DAY. How amazing is that?

I believe that prayer is a mystery. Yet, I believe in that mystery. I believe in that power. I have seen it change things. One of those things is me. I know that I know that I know there is a higher power who hears me and intervenes and intercedes and gives me grace and patience and words.

I have heard it said that one of the biggest benefits of prayer is that it connects us to God. I believe that is true. But I also know (that I know that I know) that it is powerful enough to change outcomes and change hearts and change directions.

And those things change futures, which is something I am unable to do (dang it).