Not-So-Good-For-You Secret Pleasures

We all have habits that make us feel good. Mine are chocolate, Pepsi, and romantic historical novels. The first two are just fine if done in moderation. ** a little off the subject, perhaps, but an insightful sidebar: I get a kick out of the nurses at my family doctor's office. Whenever you go for an appointment --whether it is your lenthy annual physical or simply to pick up prescription renewal -- they have you stand on the scales, check your blood pressure and take your pulse. Then they go over the permanant details that are written down on your record -- "Do you still take a multivitamin, a B-complex, and Calcium everyday? ("Yes.") Drink alcohol at a minimum?("About two drinks a year.") Have one Pepsi everyday? ( I lower my voice and respond in a conspiritor tone: "Sometimes, just on a rare occasion, I even have two.")

So what do you think their reaction would be to my lunchtime reading material? Maybe I should bring it up. That would throw them a curve, huh! Can't you just imagine their faces? They'd turn to look at me just to see how sincere I was about that huge revelation. They would see me smiling and nodding my head up and down, realizing I was not being facitious. Their reaction would be reflected in their shocked expressions: What??!? She reads novels. Then they'd raise their voices and scream: AHHHHH!!!! DIAL 911!!!! CALL THE SQUAD!!!!! WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY HERE!!!!!

Ok, I'll pull myself back on task here. On the flip side of the above we all have one or two favorite pasttimes or pleasures that either are not safe or not healthy for our bodies...or for the longevity of our life for that matter. But you have to promise not to tell my dermatologist before I reveal the secret I'm about to tell you. Not only is she a great doc but she is also a very good friend and she would absolutely KILL ME if she knew this. Mine...are you ready? You sure?

Mine is the tanning booth. There! It is finally out in the open. Whew! I love to rub the cocoanut-fragranced lotion on my arms and legs. Then I turn the radio to some station that plays current pop music -- the kind you play at the pool when you're laying out. Next I lay down on the bed and let the lights make me feel like I'm on the beach somewhere faraway. It's my "Take me away Calgon" minutes. I feel myself exhale. My body totally relaxes. I let my mind wander to warmer climes and palm trees and little paper umbrellas topping off delicious fruity beverages.

Wow. Did that feel good or what? Sharing something I've kept bottled up inside for years is pure relief. Now I don't want you to think I'm "hooked" on this terrible-for-your-skin machine. That last time I was actually in a booth? Over two years ago. Maybe I should go to a support group for these long lulls in between my sessions. TBUA: Tanning Booth Users Anonymous. Known as "Taboo" for short. All right. All right. I know this entity doesn't exist. Maybe it should. I think my coined name is darn cute. Don't you?

Pulling an All-Nighter

Wow. What memories this brings back. Staying up all night. I remember in college it was a desperate necessity. Tonight it is a gift. A gift of time. My desk stack that needed attention now is demanding attention. Pronto. In fact it is downright SCREAMING. How do these little "things" collect? Gather? Congregate? Magazines that have interesting articles. Websites scribbled down you want to check out. Letters to write. A shared DVD from a neighbor. Addresses that need entered in your book. The answer is of the multiple choice variety. Pick one: A. By ignoring B. By letting them C. Your daily schedule doesn't allow for them D. All of the above

Ok, which one did you pick? Mine? It was definitely D. Thus I decided not to do A, not to allow B, and do the opposite of C. I am maturely taking responsibility and firmly grasping my destiny. I am embracing each item that found itself not immediately tossed out and/or refused but was, almost unconciously so, brushed into THE PILE. I have put my foot down and quite responsibly, I might add, not allowing any further growth. (Kind of like rabbits, you know? You start out with 2 then WHAM before you know it there are 150 !!)

I like challenging myself to meet my lofty goal. So far I'm wide-eyed and bushy tailed. And, best of all, I am plowing through the eclectic collection of goodies. The desk already looks cleaner. Almost empty. My husband is going to lay his hand on my forehead to check my temperature. (Always a good idea to catch 'em off guard every once in a while with a little surprise.) Just you wait. He'll probably nose around a bit out of pure curiosity and, perhaps, a little dose of doubt, to see if I didn't scoop it all into a drawer. Or hide it under the bed. Or stuff it in a closet. Funny. I hadn't considered the closet option before. Hmmmm.......

Relief

We all feel sympathy when a friend or family member is experiencing the anxiety of waiting for the results from a medical procedure. The kind of news that could irreversibly change their lives. Each of us has been through that. Some more than once. You pray. Hope. Wish. All are sincere. You include each person this news will touch.

And then when it is yourself or your spouse or your child that is waiting for that information the perspective is personal. Real. The prayers take on a different persona. Less concept, more specific. Less effusive, more desperate. There is no buffer of space or time. And the worst aspect? You can't do a thing. Nothing. All you can do is answer the call when the phone rings.

Our family just lived with and through this situation. The final report was the best type a patient wants to hear. The doctor, in essence, presses the gauge on top of the pressure cooker with the "B-word" letting out the steam. Everyone sighs with relief and renews their vow to take advantage of each day we have here together. Love and laugh. Open their eyes and ears to opportunity. Try new things. Release old grudges. Don't put off until tomorrow those items on your TO-DO list. Start now.

So don't wait. That is the bottom line. Smile. Explore. Absorb. Say "please" and "thank you". Let the Lord know each and every day that you accept His blessings with an open heart.

Gray Skies on Good Friday

The overcast layer of different shades of gray fits my mood on this day. I want it to be dark and gloomy every year on Good Friday. I appreciate how the somber ambiance enriches my personal experience. It's as if History transcends Time and thousands of years later we all can "feel" this day of death. This day that fulfilled the promise. This day of ultimate Triumph.

I wonder what the people who were in the temple thought when the curtain rent in two as Jesus breathed his last. Startled? Scared? Annoyed?

I think of all the people who almost a week ago lined the streets as Jesus entered Jerusalem riding the donkey. Shouting "Hosanna!! Hosanna!! (which means "save us") and waving their palm branches. Where were they today? The man they wanted to conquer the Romans....didn't. The man they wanted to arrive as a king....didn't. Were they going about the daily lives ignoring this teacher who disappointed them? Paying no attention because he hadn't lived up to their expectations? Completely forgetting about him. He wasn't worth their time. Were they now standing along his route to Golgotha throwing stones at his stooped and bloodied body? Calling him names? Spitting on him? Or were they gathered along the way bearing public witness for this savior? Were they crying? Did they believe in all that he stood for? All he had taught?

My heart is full. My soul rejoices at the one act that saved the world for eternity. My mind is awed how the child grew up to follow his father's plan and became the symbol for the purest form of love and grace ever shared with all mankind.

Not "Hosanna".... but "Hallelujah".

Being a Mother at Easter

This subject matter is one that I visit every year as we celebrate life everlasting ensured by the gift of a father and the sacrifice of a son. I cannot imagine nor fathom the depth of overwhelming, heart-wrenching pain Mary endured at witnessing her son hanging on that cross. Her sorrow had to have absolutely consumed her. Here was that young woman who had been visited by an angel who told her she had been chosen by God to bear His son. A joyous, miraculous event! And now thirty-three years later she stood literally under his feet with tears streaming down her face watching his pain as he died before her eyes. Even though she knew who he was. Had listened to him preach. Teach. Had heard what he promised if people committed their lives to his Father.

Yet as she followed him to Calvary while he half-shouldered, half-dragged that massively heavy burden, she herself bore the excruciating weight of every human mother. We have all been overwhelmed at times with wanting to make things better when we see our children suffer. But to be present and have no control? Feeling absolutely helpless? And know that it must happen.

But she did come, didn't she? Came for her child. Her boy. Just as we all are there for her child. As well as our very own.

It's Peeps Time!!

Easter baskets were a big thing with my family when I was growing up. They were hid inside the house every year so no matter if it was snowing, raining or bright and sunny the hunt was on! We each had multiple baskets -- some small, some large. Each was filled with some candy or a small gift and a sprinkling of jelly beans always topped them off.

I have been a chocolate lover since I left the womb yet I must confess that when I spotted those yellow sugar coated marshmallow birds nestled in the green grass every year I was a very happy girl. More like thrilled. I challenged myself to make those confections stre-ee-ee-tch out for as long as I possibly could. That was really, really hard for me. So I would tell myself the wait was worth it. Why? Because the longer the birds sat out uncovered the chewier they got. And, oh, how I paced myself to allow them to reach that perfect moment, you know, when they were just passed that "instantly dissolve on the tongue" stage but before the "hard enough to bounce off the floor" plateau. Like I said. Perfection.

I'm going to the grocery tonight. Hmmmm. It's hard to control that cart sometimes and it can be quite stubborn. Maybe it will make up its mind to take a little stroll down the candy aisle. I wouldn't be surprised if one of those little boxes of 6 connected-at-the-hip gaggle of birdies will take flight and land right inside that rolling basket as it slows down just a little, tiny bit....

The Bathroom Wall

Yesterday afternoon found my mind revisiting a situation that happened to me two years ago. Totally out of the blue this woman burst back into my mind, wrapped up in all the pent-up, frustration of what I DIDN"T say to her then. Boy, I sure wish I had verbally layed her out standing there in that beautiful, tropical hotel lobby when I had THE perfect chance, with me having every right on the planet to be as furious as I was. (Rats. I hate it when I am mature and act like a lady. )

All of a sudden this incredible dialogue eloquently listing all of her indiscretions came flowing out of my mouth. Literally. Out loud. The phrasing, my voice modulation, the subtle use of emotion. Man, I was so smooooooth. Proud of myself? Absolutely. Eloquent? Better than Lincoln. And my audience? Thoroughly appreciative. Awestruck would be an even more descriptive term.

My performance was ever so persuasive with just the right touch of emotion quietly punctuating my masterful presentation.....especially when heard by the best friend a girl could have. The perfect listener and critic. The bathroom wall.

The same confidante that has been there for me through thick and thin, good and bad. Always sympathetic, forever on my side. Never has it betrayed me. Never has it let on to all of the secrets it has heard. Oh, the stories it could repeat, the juicy blackmail material. I am ever so grateful that it cannot.