You Can Lead a Horse to Water (or Reflections on Why I May Be a Control Freak)

Certain male members of my family accuse me of being a control freak. I prefer to think of myself as organized and wanting nothing but the best for the people I love. They don’t always see it that way.

Take today. I had a great idea to attend an event that would be encouraging and uplifting, imparting wisdom and opening our minds to wonderful truths. What’s not to love about such an opportunity? When I shared my great idea, it was met with a fair amount of resistance, with words that I prefer not to post in a public forum. It was then that I realized once again an immutable truth was at work…namely that some men reject any idea, no matter how good, that comes from the mouth of their wife or mother. I know this truth; I’ve experienced it too many times to count. Why is it I never learn that the only way to entice some people to do what is good is to make them think it is their idea???

I was contemplating this question in the shower (which is where I do my best thinking) when the horse analogy occurred to me. You see, I’m a nurse (stick with me here!) Specifically, I spent the majority of my career as a critical care nurse. I save lives. Many of the lives I’ve had a part in saving have gotten into their dire situations through some choice they have made to eat too much or too little, smoke, drink too much, drive too fast, engage in careless or reckless behavior….the list is nearly endless.

Here is where the horse analogy fits….at the hospital we force the horse to drink. These people are led to the water (a hospital) where we promptly do the equivalent of anesthetizing them, sliding a tube down their throat, and pouring water into their stomachs thereby saving their sorry butts from the consequences of their actions, at least temporarily. The hope is that they are enlightened to change their choices and go on to live long and prosper. Sometimes it works; often it doesn’t and they go right back to the behavior that brought them to the water in the first place.

Upon this grand insight, I asked God why is it that some people are so closed to great ideas (mine or anyone else’s.) And He brought this scripture to mind:

He [Jesus] replied, “This one can come out only by prayer.” Mk 9:29

Jesus was telling his disciples that sometimes they will make no impact through eloquent or persuasive words, through works of their hands or mighty intellect. Sometime the only thing that will work is prayer. Which, then, begs the question “Why isn’t that where I start??”

I suspect that is the topic of another shower.

Homecoming. And an Anniversary of Sorts.

If you scroll waaaaaay back to the beginning of this blog, you will realize that I started it all two years ago this month. I blinked, and two years was gone. Two Christmases. Two Thanksgivings. Two years of birthdays and anniversaries and school events and sports seasons. And here we are again, at the beginning....

Last weekend was Homecoming. Again. I recorded the 2008 Homecoming on this blog. Somehow I missed 2009 (although there are plenty of photos.) Which underscores the importance of maintaining a consistent record of life. For some, it's a simple diary. For others, video recording. For me, it's photos and scrapbooks and this blog.

This is David's senior year. I'm not sure how he feels about that. In true 17-year-old form, David doesn't think open communication with his parents is very cool right now. As for me, David's senior year has ushered in some familiar emotions: anticipation, excitement, pride, and nervousness; and a few new ones: terror (of bad grades), angst (about his attitude at times); and awe (at how handsome he is - not sure where that came from.) Homecoming marks the first of many "lasts" for David's high school years. As is the Johnston High School tradition, it was a lavish affair.

September 11, 2010

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard the news of the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. I was teaching a group of newly hired nurses at Mercy Medical Center. It was the second day of their employment, and I had just introduced myself and outlined the plan for the next four days of classes. It was a routine I had performed many times before. According to the itinerary, I had just introduced the first speaker of the day and shortly after 9 a.m. I walked up to our IT department, where I would confer with the computer trainer who would be spending the afternoon with the group. We always reviewed the attendance roster so that she could prepare the new employee logins. As I entered the cubicle-filled room, there was loud chatter from the usually quiet group. I asked if I had missed the invitation to the party. "The World Trade Center has been bombed" someone in the group told me. Shocked, I looked to see that several people were streaming live newscasts on their computers. Looking over shoulders, I watched the smoke billow from the first tower as together we saw the second plane cross the field of vision, then disappear. It took a few moments before we realized what had happened.

At some point I remembered my room full of new employees. I returned to the room, watched as the speaker finished, and prepared to dismiss the group for the morning break. I struggled with whether to break their concentration with the news. Would the rest of the day be lost in a wave of distraction? What if the US were under some big attack? Didn't they have a right to know? I decided to give them what sketchy information I had. "You need to know that in just the past few minutes I've learned that there has been some sort of attack on the World Trade Center in New York. I don't really know any details. We have a 15 minute break and there is a television in McDonalds just down the hall." One of the women in the group cried out, "My son just finished Marine boot camp. Oh my god, we're at war!" and she ran from the room.

The rest of the day and week is a blur of images and impressions, but those few minutes are crystal clear in my memory. I asked Hannah today if she remembers anything from that day. She was 4 years old, and though we tried hard not to, apparently Al and I watched enough television and conveyed enough fear that she slept in our bed for several nights. Today, she doesn't remember any of it.

For a few years, each September 11 brought a bit of nervousness as rumors of terrorist activities circulated. Now, nine years later, it seems that things are pretty much business as usual. The BIG Iowa vs. Iowa State game was the news of the day, and the families of Hannah's fall softball team had our own tailgating party during a break, circling a generator-powered big screen TV that one of the dads provided. Aside from the flag flying at half-mast at the softball field, there was no mention of that infamous day.

These little girls are playing in the shadow of the flag pole, completely unaware of the meaning behind the flag's position. They weren't even born yet in 2001.

Most of the girls playing their games today have little or no memory of September 11, 2001. The flag was a quiet reminder to the rest of us who vividly remember that day.
















And as a reminder that fall is nearing, I caught this photo of these children playing in a freshly harvested field. Though the sun was out, the wind was cool today. It reminded me very much of this day 9 years ago.

The laughter of our children reminds us that life goes on and even the painful memories of the worst tragedies fade in our memories over time.  May God continue to pour his blessings upon America. And may America never cease to be one nation, under God.

Sometimes you just gotta make a scrapbook page....

There are some things you just have to get down on paper before life takes over and the memories are no longer fresh in your mind. This is why I am a scrapbooker.

Cacophony

ca·coph·o·ny   /kəˈkäfənē/ 
Noun: A harsh, discordant mixture of sounds; dissonance: a cacophony of hoots, cackles, and wails.

This word makes me smile just to say it. It's not a word I use every day, but it's a word that employs just the right mixture of fricatives (consonants that use F or S sounds) and plosives (consonants that produce explosive sounds, such as T, P, and in this case, K) to make it an accurate emotive description of the past 5 days. Fricatives and plosives comprise most words we label as "cuss words" because they release emotional energy. That's why words like marshmallow and watermelon just don't cut it as swear words. But I digress...

Labor Day weekend is one of two times each year that Al gathers with a motley gang of family and friends for fun, fellowship and, of course, poker. In a matter of minutes the decibel level at the Miedema house rises to near deafening levels as stories are told, retold, and embellished. From what I can observe, listening skills are suspended for the weekend. The goal is to be heard...to tell the story. Fish Stories abound, along with plenty of laughter and the occasional chastizement over an inaccuracy in story-telling ("that's not the way it went down!), a misunderstood word or a misplayed card hand. Normal schedules are tossed aside as the poker game goes on through the entire night. Anyone who quits before 4 a.m. is labeled a pansy-assed weakling.

This year was noteworthy as we celebrated the 80th birthday of Al's aunt, Marilyn. 80 years old, and this lady is as tough as ever. She can play cards with the best of them. And even though her hearing isn't what it once was, that didn't stop her from chiming in on all of the story-telling! Marilyn is very special to us, and we were thrilled she was able to celebrate in such grand style!

A birthday cake that celebrates Marilyn's love for poker and casino games!

The whole family: Kathy, Mary, Marilyn, Bobby and Danny

What a beautiful smile at any age!

Let's be clear...Marilyn is NOT a Vickings fan!

And here are the guys...Bill, Bob, Al, Dan, and Steve.

No gathering of men is complete without a substantial helping of COW! These steaks were obscene!

'Round the poker table, somewhere around midnight. Three generations enjoying an age-old game with lots of modern twists! How about a game of Up and Down the River, Viroqua, or Oh, S**t? Whatever happened to good 'ole 5 Card Stud?