Musings from the writer's desk

Myra and the Preacher

writermyra — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 02:53:01 +0000

Many years ago, a good friend of mine named one of their dogs, Myra, and another of their dogs, The Preacher. It was an interesting mix. As I understand it, Myra was quite the problematic dog. Go figure! Not sure about The Preacher…didn’t hear as much about his antics, but I suspect that Myra was the more eccentric of the two.

And, that brings me to this silly story. On Saturday night, we were at a wonderful birthday party for a friend. Our preacher and his wife were there, and while I was standing close to both of them, the preacher whispered in my ear…”I need to ask you something.” I assumed that the preacher was asking me something because he knew that I am a smart woman of the world, knowledgeable in all matters. At least, that would be my assumption. As it turns out, he needed two names. One name was the name of a lady who has been in our church for probably 50 years. The other lady is someone I have also known for many, many years. In fact, her son was a good friend of my oldest son, Brad.

No problem with this question, right? Wrong! The minute I was asked for two names, I went blank. Nothing appeared in my tiny brain..not a first or last name..not an initial..not a clue. I stammered around, embarrassed to admit my senility. My brain had gone south for the winter. Problem is…it was 70 degrees in Texas! I apologized, and then slowly the names came to me, but it was too late. Once again, my 62 year old memory had failed me.

I’m old!!! I can’t remember things that I have known for years. I can’t recall names, situations or dates that are stored somewhere in my brain, but seldom appear at the designated time.

And so, as it turns out, you may be able to teach a dog new tricks, but if you teach its namesake anything new, she’s likely to forget it!

Stay tuned. More comments concerning “the 60′s” to come. This is the subject of the book I’m writing now.

Little Richard

writermyra — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 23:37:59 +0000

I was driving down 1960, on the road from Liberty, Texas to Kingwood for a doctor’s appointment and lunch with girlfriends. I tuned the radio to KSBJ, a Christian station in the Houston area, to listen to Christmas music. I have to admit that this is the only time of year that I tune in to this station. I am a huge country music and NPR fan, so I normally divide my time between those two stations. Well, I was crusing along, singing those carols and enjoying my wordly Christmas when the announcer came on with this message:

“We have received a note from a boy’s mother,” he said. “The boy is 11 years old, and his name is Richard. Here is the note that Richard left for his Mom and Dad to read:

(Remember that I cannot quote this exactly)

Dear Mom and Dad,

I don’t want anything for Christmas this year. I don’t want any toys, clothes, candy or anything else. I just want everyone in the world to be happy and smile a lot. It’s silly for me to get presents when it’s not my birthday. It’s Jesus’ birthday.

Love, Richard

The announcer came back on and said….Richard is only 11 years old, but he gets it. He knows what Christmas is all about.

I sat there and thought about Richard. I wondered if he would get any presents this year. I’m pretty sure his parents will still give him a nice Christmas. But, I don’t think Richard cares about things. Richard obviously knows Jesus pretty well. He thinks that the world should be smiling more, and this 11 year old child understands that we would all be happier and smile more if we celebrated Jesus’ birthday at Christmas and stopped spraying each other with pepper spray at Wal-Mart. I knew I had to write about Richard.

Richard is tugging at my heart…no, that’s not right. Jesus is the one tugging at my heart. He’s saying to me that Christmas is not about “presents”…it’s about His “presence”.

PRESENCE…NOT PRESENTS. THANK YOU, JESUS FOR BEING BORN FOR ME, AND THANK YOU RICHARD, FOR REMINDING ME.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL! MAY HIS PRESENCE BE WITH US…EACH AND EVERYONE

Come, Dayspring, Come!

writermyra — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:02:52 +0000

Here is my Christmas poem for this year:

Come Dayspring, Come!

The night was still, no earthly sound,

Only the cry of lambs abound.

An eerie mix of solace and fear

Waiting, still waiting, our King to appear.

A new dawn arrives, the silence is broken,

Voices of shepherds and magi are spoken.

Who is the babe who rests on the hay?

Can we come closer…dare we stay?

Shall we bow down and lie at his feet?

Will we wake him from slumbering sleep?

Questions float like clouds running by,

What are we seeking here, and why?

Sing His praise with anthems clear.

Christ, the newborn King, is here!

Beat the drums, let the trumpet sound

Gather, everyone, in Bethlehem town!

Come, bright dayspring, come

Shine your mercy on everyone

From king to pauper, greatest to least,

Teach us, Lord Jesus, compassion and peace.

Good will to men! Let this be our cry,

May mercy, justice, and love abide.

Let every tongue confess, and every heart know,

That God came down, His love to show.

Ring, Ring, Ring Me Up!

writermyra — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 22:47:33 +0000

I love the goofy Target lady. Call me crazy, but this woman is a hoot! There she is, working out on the treadmill, lifting weights, and practicing her mad dash into the Christmas season. I identify with her way too much. We laugh at her, but most females experience some of this “rush” during the holidays. Today, for instance, much earlier than normal, I began decorating my tree. After a couple of hours of tangled ornament hooks, falling icicles, and tissue paper wrapped around my ankles, I began to freak out. I wasn’t cackling while icing dripped down my arm like the Target lady, but I was stressed out, tired, frustrated, and NOT HAPPY.

Tomorrow, thank goodness, I can get away from the tree for several hours. That would be when I GO SHOPPING WITH ALL OF THE OTHER NUT CASES OUT THERE!!! Actually, I did stop once today during my decorating marathon. I walked past the tree and knocked over part of a little manger scene that was on my sofa table. Then, it hit me. I’m knocking Jesus out of Christmas. I’m getting everything done except the right things. Oh, I’ll make the church programs and sing all of the carols, but where does Jesus fit into my Christmas extravaganza?

He’s right in the center of Christmas, where He always was. Now, all I have to do is put Him back in His rightful place.

Thanksgiving at the Health Care Center

writermyra — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 02:23:58 +0000

I was playing the piano tonight for the Thanksgiving dinner at one of our local health care centers…aka..nursing homes. I do this every year, and enjoy it a lot. The place was packed with people. I would guess 150 more family members were there, but I’m a terrible guesser, so let’s say the attendance was somewhere between 75 and 250. That should get it. Anyway, I sat down on the piano bench, as I have done many times before, in many other places. And, quite often at these events, I hate to say, something is wrong with the piano. As you may have guessed, pianos endure a slow death in church fellowship halls, nursing homes, community centers, city halls, and every other place where I try to tinkle the ivories. So, I’m about to sit down at this piano that hasn’t been tuned in 25 years, and that’s a guess that’s probably low…and I notice, right away, that the music stand is propped up on the keyboard, not attached to the top of the piano. Then, I notice something else. It looks as if some glue or tape has been stuck on the back of this music stand, and I know I’m in deep, deep trouble. There is no way I can keep my music sitting up long enough to play. This will be a disaster.

But, it’s almost Thanksgiving, so you probably know where I’m going with this. When I placed my book of music on the broken edge of the piano, where the stand would normally sit, it sat there….I MEAN, IT REALLY SAT THERE! I was amazed. That never happens. And so I played one piece after another, and only three or four times did my music book fall into my lap, but I’m pretty sure no one noticed because they were eating that food that I wanted.

And that brings me to another blessing. When my hour of playing was over, I asked one of the ladies if I could have a take home box. It is a good thing to be brazen when turkey, dressing, and all the sides are involved. She said that I could, but when I went up to the buffet line, all of the food was gone. I asked another girl, and she apologized. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The food is all gone.” Well, you could have knocked me over with a turkey feather. I really, really wanted some of that delicious smelling food! I began to walk back to the piano to get my music when this same young girl ran up behind me, and tapped me on the shoulder. “That lady up in front wants to talk to you,” she said. And do you know what that nice lady wanted to talk about? Turkey! Yes, she knew just where there were some extras, and she loaded me up a plate that fed me and my husband, with leftovers to spare.

Yes, I can tell it’s Thanksgiving week. There have been way too many blessings floating around for a regular old week.

More than just a break between Halloween and Christmas

writermyra — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 20:57:17 +0000

Sometimes, I almost forget about Thanksgiving. It’s wedged between the multi-masked, ever flamboyant Halloween and the Christmas crazies. Actually, I did celebrate it for about 3 days. I took down my Halloween garden flag and put up a “Be Thankful” turkey flag. I had good intentions until the Christmas bug bit me, and today, I hesitate to admit, I put a snowman flag in the yard, and I am close to finishing my Christmas decorating, except for the tree and lights outside.

Now, before you count me out as a total nut, not to mention an ungrateful one, allow me to explain. For the first time, maybe ever, we are being treated to a lovely Thanksgiving celebration with our grown children and grandchildren. In only a week, the hubby and I will fly to Pennsylvania for a wonderful meal and some precious time together. This is my excuse for decorating early this year. I don’t have to prepare Thanksgiving food, so I’ll just skip over Thanksgiving and move right into the Christmas season. That way, I can get a jump on the “real holiday”.

But wait, something is wrong here. Thanksgiving should be the most important holiday. It is the only time of the year when we spend time reflecting on God’s great gifts to us. These aren’t presents you can put under a tree…these are real gifts, like peace, joy, love, contentment, health, happiness, and so on. This is the one time of the year when we look at our lives and realize how good we have it. Oh, we all have our bad days…perhaps months and years. But, if you are able to read this, and I am able to write this, I would say that we are blessed.

And so today, I thank you Father in Heaven for family and friends, for good food and a beautiful, comfortable home. I thank you for a body that still moves, though slower than I would like, and a mind that works reasonably well most of the time. I’m thankful that my mother is still with me, and I would remember all of my family members who have passed. I won’t forget their empty seats at the table. I am grateful beyond measure for sons who would make any parents proud, and for their wives and families. How blessed we are! And, God, you really outdid yourself in the husband department. Truly, I would not be here without his constant love and support.

And so, as I sit here in my “Christmas House” I am thankful today and every day, Dearest Lord, for one more day to laugh, love, live and breathe. You have never failed me. Your love is everlasting and Your fondest desire is for good things for your children.

I may not have that turkey flag out anymore, but I won’t forget about Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving shall always be in my heart.