#2. Never criticize someone unless you have walked in their shoes for a mile.
This was mostly learned from Grandma Pyfer(Josie). She was the most accepting person I knew. I can't think of her criticizing anyone. When I was a teenager I loved to be with her. I felt so loved and I could share stuff with her. She was a good listener.
They say that Big Grandma (Mazie) was even more wonderful in this way. Everyone was sitting around one day talking bad about some man. After sitting silently for quite some time, when there was a lull in the gossip, she said, "Well, he sure can fiddle."
It's a blessed heritage I received with this teaching, but I have gotten away from it. The temptation to speak ill of someone when I'm frustrated with him/her is one of my greatest temptations. Putting them down justifies my own anger. But, always in the background of my conscience I have that voice of Grandmas Past, "Never criticize someone unless you've walked in their shoes for a mile." And, of course, Jesus has to chime right in with them telling me to love my enemies and do good to those who hurt you. I hate that! Actually, in the end, I love it. My newest example in this is Matt who gets most angry when service people are not treated kindly. Like waitresses, clerks, etc. "Get behind their eyes," he says, "Put yourself in their shoes." So maybe some of this old stuff is being passed down. I can only hope.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Things I learned growing up
#1. Never rush into the presence of God.
I think this was said most about going to church. Things like:
The night before get your clothes ready, shine shoes, set out your clothes.
Read your Sunday School lesson. Pray for the person who is going to speak.
Get your envelope ready with your tithing in it.
Get to church early so you can sit and meditate seeking God's presence.
Maybe there are others...
These seem like "old fashioned" ideas. Certainly out of step with our present "rush,rush" society. To me they seem like lessons from another world.
Terry and I can do these things pretty easily now, even though we have lots of church responsibilities. Our freedom makes that kind of discipline fairly easy.
But I think about parents who are fitting church in-between Sunday soccer games and Saturday night movies, parties, etc. Maybe that's why new theology talks more about God being present in every place. We either find God at the soccer games or we can't find room for God at all. I got the feeling, growing up, that God and church were one and the same thing. I'm glad I don't think that way any more. But I do think we're missing out when life is so packed full. I know, for myself, I get addicted to the adrenaline flow of the hurry lifestyle. When life slows down too much I get antsy. The old disciplines help with that. And I like what happens at church when I prepare myself to really meet God. That's another thing I was taught, to come to church expectantly, believing God would be there. And God always was (is).
I think this was said most about going to church. Things like:
The night before get your clothes ready, shine shoes, set out your clothes.
Read your Sunday School lesson. Pray for the person who is going to speak.
Get your envelope ready with your tithing in it.
Get to church early so you can sit and meditate seeking God's presence.
Maybe there are others...
These seem like "old fashioned" ideas. Certainly out of step with our present "rush,rush" society. To me they seem like lessons from another world.
Terry and I can do these things pretty easily now, even though we have lots of church responsibilities. Our freedom makes that kind of discipline fairly easy.
But I think about parents who are fitting church in-between Sunday soccer games and Saturday night movies, parties, etc. Maybe that's why new theology talks more about God being present in every place. We either find God at the soccer games or we can't find room for God at all. I got the feeling, growing up, that God and church were one and the same thing. I'm glad I don't think that way any more. But I do think we're missing out when life is so packed full. I know, for myself, I get addicted to the adrenaline flow of the hurry lifestyle. When life slows down too much I get antsy. The old disciplines help with that. And I like what happens at church when I prepare myself to really meet God. That's another thing I was taught, to come to church expectantly, believing God would be there. And God always was (is).
Monday, December 7, 2009
A gift
I haven't been thinking about her much at all lately. I didn't expect to meet her again, especially in a dollar store.
Thankfully, I was not in a hurry. I had taken the afternoon for shopping, looking for stocking stuffers. There was a long line at the checkout. I was standing, wondering if I'd spent too much when she caught my attention. She didn't look like Mom at all. She was not pretty. Her grey hair was matted to her head, her eyes were watery and she stood kind of slumped. She had her cart in line but she was noticing a $1 sweatshirt on a rack near the line. The shirt said, "Best Dad ever, hands down." Her indecisiveness about a dollar sweatshirt let me know right off that her spending was more limited than mine. She kept stepping back and forth toward it. Noticing my eyes watching her she said, "It's just perfect for my oldest son. He's the best Dad." Her eyes became thoughtful and then, "I have 2 sons, the're both good Dads...but..." I lost her for a moment as she became lost in her own thoughts. I could tell by her face that she was experiencing one of those deep feelings of gratitude that Mothers feel when they are so proud of their kids.
Her adult daughter came to the line then. The woman introduced me and began to tell me about the rest of her family, asking me about mine. I began to be thankful for a long line. I think something inside me began to realize the gift I was receiving. Someone who could stop for a chat. Someone who saw no separation caused by differing life's circumstances. Someone who noticed me and cared about my life in spite of the busy season and the fact that we didn't know each other and would probably never meet again. It sounds funny to say but I loved that woman right then and there. We said good bye and wished each other a Merry Christmas. I didn't think to hug her but now I wish I had. It wasn't until I was almost to my car that I realized how much it was like being with Mom. I loved to be with Mom when we were with others. She didn't know a stranger. She was friendly and happy and full of interest in their lives. She could bring out the best in most people. And, how many times I had been with her when she had bought a shirt for one of my brothers with that same dreamy look in her eye. Most of all it was her priorities. Always people over things. One of the last times we went shopping together she asked me to go with her to buy some silverware that was on sale at Herbergers. She bought it after lots of dilemna. And then, a few days later she told me she had given it to someone because she thought they needed it more. I shook my head, secretly wondering why I had "wasted" a day shopping with her if she didn't even need the silverware. I'd like to have that day back. And in a way, last Friday, I did, if just for a few minutes in the line at the dollar store. Merry Christmas Mom. I miss you.
Thankfully, I was not in a hurry. I had taken the afternoon for shopping, looking for stocking stuffers. There was a long line at the checkout. I was standing, wondering if I'd spent too much when she caught my attention. She didn't look like Mom at all. She was not pretty. Her grey hair was matted to her head, her eyes were watery and she stood kind of slumped. She had her cart in line but she was noticing a $1 sweatshirt on a rack near the line. The shirt said, "Best Dad ever, hands down." Her indecisiveness about a dollar sweatshirt let me know right off that her spending was more limited than mine. She kept stepping back and forth toward it. Noticing my eyes watching her she said, "It's just perfect for my oldest son. He's the best Dad." Her eyes became thoughtful and then, "I have 2 sons, the're both good Dads...but..." I lost her for a moment as she became lost in her own thoughts. I could tell by her face that she was experiencing one of those deep feelings of gratitude that Mothers feel when they are so proud of their kids.
Her adult daughter came to the line then. The woman introduced me and began to tell me about the rest of her family, asking me about mine. I began to be thankful for a long line. I think something inside me began to realize the gift I was receiving. Someone who could stop for a chat. Someone who saw no separation caused by differing life's circumstances. Someone who noticed me and cared about my life in spite of the busy season and the fact that we didn't know each other and would probably never meet again. It sounds funny to say but I loved that woman right then and there. We said good bye and wished each other a Merry Christmas. I didn't think to hug her but now I wish I had. It wasn't until I was almost to my car that I realized how much it was like being with Mom. I loved to be with Mom when we were with others. She didn't know a stranger. She was friendly and happy and full of interest in their lives. She could bring out the best in most people. And, how many times I had been with her when she had bought a shirt for one of my brothers with that same dreamy look in her eye. Most of all it was her priorities. Always people over things. One of the last times we went shopping together she asked me to go with her to buy some silverware that was on sale at Herbergers. She bought it after lots of dilemna. And then, a few days later she told me she had given it to someone because she thought they needed it more. I shook my head, secretly wondering why I had "wasted" a day shopping with her if she didn't even need the silverware. I'd like to have that day back. And in a way, last Friday, I did, if just for a few minutes in the line at the dollar store. Merry Christmas Mom. I miss you.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
christmas growing up
My first memories of Christmas were when I was very young- less than 6. We held Christmas at Grandma Sacry's house. I loved it! All I really remember about it was when Santa came - the sound of bells and then Santa. Santa was usually a neighbor or one of the hired hands. Chuck Eyster was Santa alot. He carried a big sack and handed out toys. I can't recall what was so great about Christmas at Grandmas but I do remember being really disappointed when Mom said we were having Christmas at our house the year after "Big Grandma" (Grandpa Sacry's Mom) died. I was about 6. I didn't know before that the reason we had it there was so Grandma could be part of it. She was in bed all the time so had to have Christmas brought to her. Mom was very insistant about having Christmas at our house. Now I understand those sentiments, but as a child I was sure it just wouldn't be the same. But it was! Nothing was really any different except it was in our own home. Christmas (and actually everything else) was centered around us kids. I still can feel how special I felt. I knew we were the center of our parents and grandparents universe. They thought we were the most special people in the world. Our home abounded in laughter over all the antics of the kids. I don't remember being scolded or fussed at much. It was a very happy time.
I particularly remember 2 Christmases. One was when we were still celebrating at Grandma Sacry's house. I got a doll with blond hair and Debbie Hemund got one with dark brown hair. We played together alot and we named then Snow White and Rose Red.
Another Christmas I remember well was when the concentrator in Butte was on strike. Dad was working there at the time and he explained to us that we wouldn't get any gifts that year because there was no money. He was really disturbed about it and I felt bad for him. I didn't expect any gifts and then when Christmas came we did get gifts. I don't remember what but I do remember the surprise. Dad told me since then that he borrowed the money so we could have Christmas. He really dislikes Christmas and I think it's because he never can get the things he likes for people and feels overwhelmed by it all.
Christmas growing up was pretty simple - we just had Santa come and then everyone started opening gifts. Sometimes there was wrapping paper about a foot deep all over the floor. I didn't know what others got. It was just like the moment was a burst of excitement and then it was over. Now I like to do it more quietly and pay attention to each person's gifts and reactions. I really don't even care what I get, but I like to watch others. But still... I have good memories of those early Christmas, so wild and exciting. Sometimes I wish I could go back and see those days through adult eyes. I wonder how Mom and Dad felt watching us. I wonder if they worried like I do about being sure I give equal gifts. I wonder if they realized I didn't really care about the gifts even then. I just wanted everyone to be happy. I hope they know how really happy I was being loved so much as a child.
I particularly remember 2 Christmases. One was when we were still celebrating at Grandma Sacry's house. I got a doll with blond hair and Debbie Hemund got one with dark brown hair. We played together alot and we named then Snow White and Rose Red.
Another Christmas I remember well was when the concentrator in Butte was on strike. Dad was working there at the time and he explained to us that we wouldn't get any gifts that year because there was no money. He was really disturbed about it and I felt bad for him. I didn't expect any gifts and then when Christmas came we did get gifts. I don't remember what but I do remember the surprise. Dad told me since then that he borrowed the money so we could have Christmas. He really dislikes Christmas and I think it's because he never can get the things he likes for people and feels overwhelmed by it all.
Christmas growing up was pretty simple - we just had Santa come and then everyone started opening gifts. Sometimes there was wrapping paper about a foot deep all over the floor. I didn't know what others got. It was just like the moment was a burst of excitement and then it was over. Now I like to do it more quietly and pay attention to each person's gifts and reactions. I really don't even care what I get, but I like to watch others. But still... I have good memories of those early Christmas, so wild and exciting. Sometimes I wish I could go back and see those days through adult eyes. I wonder how Mom and Dad felt watching us. I wonder if they worried like I do about being sure I give equal gifts. I wonder if they realized I didn't really care about the gifts even then. I just wanted everyone to be happy. I hope they know how really happy I was being loved so much as a child.
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