Back to School

Local area schools start next week or the week after. So although it is a very old story with many variations, I am going to risk telling you my favorite school joke.

Mary: I don't want to go back to school!

Mother: Aren't you excited about wearing all your pretty new clothes?

Mary: No! I don't want to go to school

Mother: Don't you want to see all the boys and girls that are your friends?

Mary: No! I don't want to go to school!

Mother: But surely you want to see all the nice teachers again!

Mary: I told you! I don't want to go to school!

Mother: How about the janitor and the cooks who are so helpful?

Mary: No! No! I don't want to go to school!

Mother: Well, Mary, you are the principal and you have to go.

(So if you are a school employee or student, off you go.
And if you are a parent—whee!)

MaryMartha

"You're Not the Boss of Me"

An interesting dynamic exists between me and the dog that lives next door. Layla (Laela? Leila?) is one of those intense creatures who must bark at everything that catches her attention. Never mind that the cat across the street or the mail carrier who comes every day or the car that has stopped in front of my house has absolutely nothing to do with her—she must announce her notice of them loudly and incessantly. Mostly she stays inside the house, but on nice afternoons she wants to be in the yard which is, I might add, only a few feet from my window. Mostly I try just to ignore her until she goes back inside.

Now Layla's owner is a good neighbor, and I hesitate to do anything just because of a dog that would change the human dynamics of the situation. The problem has not yet escalated to the point where I feel I need to do a personal intervention. That's especially true since I have found something that is quite effective. When the continual barking is more than I can tolerate, I've learned to say to her very sternly, from my porch or back yard, "Layla!" Usually I say this just once, sometimes twice, but there are no threats or yelling. Just, "Layla!"

The dog barks twice more and then stops completely. This has happened over and over, so that I think to myself, "She's saying, 'You're not the boss of me! I wanted to quit barking just now anyway. So there!' "

Can a dog really be that clever? If so, they're not all that different from people, huh?

MaryMartha

Name That Car--and Its Driver

I'd hate to think that the names displayed on various car models describe the person who is driving. I was following a Rogue the other day, and I started to wonder, "Is that fellow really going to turn out to be a scoundrel?" (He didn't.) On the other hand, a few days later, a driver screeched across two opposing lanes of traffic to pull directly in front of me, so that I had to brake hard to avoid him. I didn't recognize the vehicle model, but it must have been a Dart, or a Tempest, or maybe even a Demon. And I should have been equipped with at least a Challenger, if not a Ram!

We've had Broncos, Mustangs, Pintos, and Impalas. Eagles, Falcons, Roadrunners, and Skylarks. Cobras and Vipers, Barracudas and Cougars, Hornets and Beetles. Do those names mean anything? Do they say anything about the person driving them?

I drive a Honda Fit. Now there's a car/driver misnomer for you!

At least it's not a Honda Life Dunk (marketed in Japan)!

MaryMartha

The Last Laugh

As I mentioned earlier, my family has recently experienced the loss of our brother in death. He was a big man--big physically, big in his heart, big in his laughter and love of life. He was an irrepressible story-teller. There is no deep philosophical meaning or spiritual truth in the following; my brother just loved a good tale, and so I'll share this one!

After the memorial service in a distant city, we were instructed to caravan to the burial grounds a couple of miles away. The car in which I was riding was just a bit delayed in getting away from the mortuary parking lot, so we were near the end of the procession rather than immediately behind the funeral car. As we drove up that street, we found parking at the curb had been marked off with orange cones stenciled "Funeral", and we fell in behind the long line of cars waiting there.

We soon turned off that street and moved away from the busier area. "They must be going around to a back way to avoid the traffic," we decided. Around curves, over hills, into valleys, around more curves--and we found ourselves in the backwoods. "Can this be right?" we began to wonder, but yes, we could still see the hearse leading the long procession.

Finally, after a number of miles, the driver said, "This is just wrong!" and pulled off at a little junction in the roadway. Immediately another family member pulled up beside us in his car. "I just got a call from my sister," he told us. " 'Where are you?' I told her about twenty cars back from the hearse, and she said, 'Oh no, you're not! We're at the cemetery and you're following the wrong procession!"

With the aid of our nephew's GPS, we found our way back--around the curves, over the hills, and through the valleys--to the appointed cemetery where everyone was waiting for us with the grace and good humor one would expect from this man's family.

"Do you want to wait?" the funeral director had asked the family when we failed to show up in the few minutes it would take to drive from the mortuary to the cemetery. "Of course! They're his sisters!" But we still didn't arrive. "How long do you want to wait?" the director asked finally. "Until they get here!"

And so, we decided, our brother had the last laugh. He would have enjoyed that immensely!

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Read related articles:
Lord, If You Had Been Here
Different--and Unchanged

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

What to Give Up for Lent

I intended to write a meditation for the beginning of Lent, but it was earlier this year than it often is. I wasn't watching the calendar very closely and it started without me! So here is what I wanted to share, a little late. (Edited: Oops! Lent does not begin until February 25. My mistake!)

My religious affiliation is not with the Catholic Church; nevertheless, for several years I have found it a helpful spiritual practice to observe the Lenten season with some small form of self-denial. It is not that I feel it is required of me, but something that reminds me specifically and regularly of the significance of the approaching Easter season has been worthwhile. One year it was chocolate; you might be surprised how many times during the forty days of Lent I was confronted with delectable offerings of chocolate! Other times, other things. One especially memorable year, the season was approaching and I was wondering, "What shall I 'sacrifice' for Lent?" I even asked God for an idea. And to my surprise, He gave me one!

"Well, how about your angry feelings?" I need to explain that a situation had developed in the preceding weeks that was very unfair to me and to several others, and there was not a single thing to be done about it. I was angry, no denying that, but I knew that what I felt was really pretty normal under the circumstances. No matter how I examined what had happened, there was just no way to call it right or fair. I was "justified." I don't often carry injustice around too long, but this was just so extreme that it was with me all the time. And so God was suggesting I give up this anger for Lent? I was not sure I could do that, or that I even wanted to!

"Yeah, just suppose I do give it up," I answered with a little heat, certain that God was tricking me. "And then when Lent is over, You know that I probably won't even get it back!"

"No, that's okay. You can have it back if you want it."

With this assurance, I was able to lay the anger down. When it bubbled up again, I would say to myself, "It's only until Easter, then I can be mad again." I quit thinking about the injustice so much, knowing that I could mull it over again later. I began to get used to the feeling of not being so agitated by the situation, and although the way things had been was the way things remained, they lost their acute power over me.

And yes, you guessed it! When Lent was over, I did not want my anger back. God and I had a good laugh! I am thankful that He is so understanding about the human need to have things put right, and I am also glad that He knows what anger--especially concealed, prolonged, unusable anger--does to the body and the spirit. He helped me put aside the "poison" that could kill me--just in time for Resurrection Day!

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

A Few Choice Words

Communication with other folks is a risky business. There is:

1. What you said.
2. What you meant.
3. What I thought I heard you say.
4. What I thought you meant.

Rarely are these all exactly the same message, and there may be as many as four varying ones! And sometimes, I may hear only what I wanted or expected to hear—different from any of the above four.

That possibility reminds me of a clever word-twisting story that one of my brothers favored and gave to me, many years ago, on a couple of purple-imprinted sheets duplicated on a Ditto Machine. (Okay, you don't know about this if you are younger than, say, forty-five!) Written nearly seventy years ago by Howard L. Chace, it demonstrates how words can say what we want them to and not what they really mean. Chace re-wrote the fairy tale, "Little Red Riding Hood," and later a whole book of stories (Anguish Languish), into plain English words--but never the correct ones, relying on speed and intonation alone to convey the meaning. In case you are interested in such "terminal silliness," there's a link (Edited: at a community college site) here to the furry tell of Ladle Rat Rotten Hut or you can skip it altogether.

"A few choice words" does not have to mean, as we so often use the phrase, that someone spouted profanities or was verbally abusive. They are the means of effective communication. The Scripture says, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." (Proverbs 25:11 KJV)

MaryMartha
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Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Politically Correct and Legal (Or Simply Right and Kind)

In the last few years, a number of prominent persons in various leadership roles have, in their reported public speeches or in conversation which found its way into the media, opened their mouths and inserted a foot. Lest some important voter group or financial supporter be alienated, their official spokespersons have hastily apologized, “He didn’t really mean it that way,“ or “What she intended to say was—”

Although by then the term had been around for nearly forty years, we soon became quite accustomed to hearing the catch-phrase, “politically correct.” This term describes language, ideas, policies, or behavior which attempt to minimize offense to groups identified by gender, race, culture, disability, age or other criteria. To the leaders who made those public blunders, it meant expressing themselves next time in language that does not offend those who may prove to be important to the speaker’s cause! Because of that evident self-serving motivation, some Christians treat political correctness as a silly joke or even as a fault to be avoided. It is neither. For all the scorn heaped upon it, it is, for the most part, still correct. It is right not to offend others by trampling on their nationality, their occupation, or their physical characteristics. It is right not to disparage others’ religious beliefs, their part of town, or the car they drive. Why would I ever hear any political incorrectness when I go, of all places, to church?

Even the air at my professional workplace is “sanitized.” I never hear off-color jokes in the staff room, I never hear disparaging remarks about women, I never hear racial slurs or religious taunts. How did I come to be so protected? My employer, concerned about avoiding the hazards of a “hostile work environment,” provides mandatory sessions on diversity awareness and on harassment. How can it be that my workplace is a haven from ethnic jokes, religious put-downs, and gender-biased remarks--and among Church folks is where I have sometimes heard them?

With the very public recognition of what is appropriate language, ignorance is no longer an excuse. Just pay attention to what is expected in secular society. There is little reason to offend by our thoughtless words those to whom we want to minister--even though our expressions may be habitual because “That’s the way I was brought up.” If the world can learn to say what is correct and legal, we too can learn to say what is right and kind.

That is not to say that there will never be offense in presenting the claims of Christ. The Apostle Paul acknowledged this as a reality, because not everyone likes being confronted with the truth of the Gospel. We must heed the Apostle Peter’s admonition, however, to take care that we are not censured for our own faults. “There's no particular virtue in accepting punishment that you well deserve. But if you're treated badly for good behavior and continue in spite of it to be a good servant, that is what counts with God.” (I Peter 2:20 The Message) With presenting the reconciling Christ as our goal, why would we risk offending for a lesser cause?

It is my observation that most often these careless verbal offenses occur when an attempt is made to be funny. Paul warned us about this. “There must be no filthiness and silly talk, or coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks. (Ephesians 5:4 NASB) I like a good joke; my family is blessed with several consummate storytellers who regale us with tales that are falling-down funny. And it is not wrong to laugh in church, either. I like the wacky photos that show up on the video screen and the humorous illustrations that the pastor gives. But we have to find something to laugh about besides people of other faiths, soccer moms and balding men, ethnic dialects, and used car dealers. What can we make jokes about? Well, let’s figure it out; to Peter and to Paul it was a serious concern. Politicians realize that their casual remarks are significant, and employers are concerned about the environment in which they place their workers. Are we to let the world be wiser than the children of light? There is no reason why the Church should be a decade or two behind.

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Scripture taken from The Message. Copyright © 2003 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. Scripture marked NASB taken from the New American Standard Bible, used with permission of http://www.lockman.org/

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

God Is Chuckling

Remember the air conditioner that quit working for me? (See entry, “Too Many Irons in the Fire.”) I purchased a new one, but I didn’t have it professionally installed so the old one was not taken away. It has just been sitting next to the garage door while I’ve been deciding what to do with it. After a few days, I called the trash hauling company, and they agreed to pick it up—for a fee—but first I would have to have it tagged by a certified AC technician indicating that the Freon had been removed. Do you know what an air conditioning company charges just to come to the house? Well, I put that off for a few more days.

So I came home this afternoon and found that someone had stolen the old air conditioner out of my driveway! (maybe for parts or the copper tubing?) Anyway, who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?

MaryMartha
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