I'm not sure how to title this, as I am ending this blog and beginning another. This has been a blog about living with my parents and surrounded by old people every day, and that has now changed.
My dad's funeral was short and very sad. There was a Marine honor guard there who blew taps and handed my mother a flag. It was very emotional. I couldn't stop crying through it all and hardly heard what the rabbi was saying. It didn't matter. My dad was in that closed coffin and I would no longer be able to talk, argue and debate with him. I would no longer hear his laughter or his scowl and it all seemed very surreal to me. I am just now coming to grips with it, but even so, it brings tears to my eyes when I think about him. He was not a great man who achieved worldly recognition - but he was MY dad and I loved him very much for all he did and did not do for me. He taught me how to be strong and without that, I would never have been able to raise three children by myself, or live the life I've lived. I wish I would have told him that before he died. I'm not good at talking to people - I'm much better at writing. Maybe he knew - maybe he just knew.
Jasper came down to Florida to help me clean out my parents' house and move me back to Madison. It was a huge undertaking. The house was full of dust and stuff all over the place. We had an estate sale for three days and sold a lot, but there was still a lot left over. Salvation Army came and took most of it away, and the lady who cleaned the house, took the rest of it away. Finally, the house was empty and when I looked around, it was a very weird feeling indeed. I wasn't raised in that house, but it was the place my children and I came to every year to visit my parents. Now it was an empty shell and even if I wanted to live in Florida and buy the house, I wouldn't. It was my dad's house, and I felt very uncomfortable in there without him.
My mom went to live in an assisted living apartment and it turns out she loves it. She's happier than I've ever seen her, in fact. And so, with my responsibility of taking care of my parents over, we packed up all that I own in a U-Haul trailer and my car, and began the long trek back to Madison. Before we left, I hugged and cried with my mom and said we loved each other, but know this is best for both of us. This was difficult, but knowing my mom is happy where she is, made it that much easier.
It took us 25 hours to get back to Madison because of hauling the trailer. Jasper put all of my stuff in a storage unit and I stayed with Jason for a few days, enjoying Donovan and Jade. On Saturday, I flew out to California to be with Micah and Jasmin, and that is where I am now. I will be spending a month here because for once in a very long time, I realized I have no responsibilities to take care of anyone anymore. After being a single parent for so many years and working at the same time, then taking on the responsibility of caring for my parents, it is an overwhelming feeling of peace. I can't describe it - you just have to feel it. It's wonderful. I love my parents, I love my children and I love my grandchildren - but to be free of daily responsibility, is a gift from God.
So this ends an era that I learned much from. Much from my parents and those around me. I treasure the time I spent with my dad and I will always be grateful that I bonded with him. I'm grateful that I had this time with my mom as well, and I'm very happy that she's finally happy. I guess it's never too late to find happiness. My mom is living proof of that.
So now I begin a new phase in my life, which I've not known before. I'm excited and looking forward to what God has in store for me. Whatever it may be, I know if I follow His plan, I can never go wrong. He is my Rock and my Redeemer and the Lover of my soul. I am ever grateful to God, who gives me strength and will to carry on. Keep on, keepin' on, and never give up. You never know what's around the next corner...
Monday, September 16, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Good Night, Dad
My dad died last night around 1:00 am. His funeral will be this Wednesday, early to accommodate the Rabbi because Rosh Hashonna begins at sunset that day. Rosh Hashonna is a high holy day and it lasts several days.
I find myself at a loss of words, which is unlike me. Writing words, anyway. My heart hurts so bad that it feels like it is going to explode. I've never experienced this kind of loss before. Those of you who have, know very well how it feels. And there's nothing anyone can do or say that will make it better.
My dad and I had a rocky relationship most of my life. I rebelled against him for who knows why, and feared him greatly. It wasn't until 2 years ago June, that we actually bonded as we were alone when my mom was in the nursing home. We actually talked together and expressed feelings, angry ones at times, but feelings nonetheless. It turns out that my dad was very sensitive inside under all the anger and meanness that he showed. Who would have known? Not me - not until the very end. He expressed fear and love and appreciation, all attributes that he had never displayed before. My dad, after all, was a good man, father and husband. He planned for my mom to be secure when he passed, and now she is. He loved his children and his grandchildren and hopefully they know that now.
I will never again hear him say, "Good night, sis" or "Good night, sweety." That is what I will miss most about my dad. Because in those words he always told me that he loved me without actually saying it.
Good night, Dad. I love you and I always will.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Waiting
It's been 3 days since my dad was brought to Hospice. We are watching him dying slowly, as pneumonia, a urinary tract infection and c-diff, an infection in the bowels, is ravaging his body. He is being given large doses of morphine and hasn't eaten or had any liquids for several days. He is not responsive to us and just lays there with his mouth wide open. We are just sitting here waiting. Waiting for his body to succumb to death. Waiting and watching and realizing that this is the reality that we all have to face eventually. When I was in the mental hospital, the staff used to cry out "face reality! Face reality!" Now I guess I know what they were talking about. It's much easier to live in a fantasy world...
I want my dad to be the strong, angry man he was when we were coming up. I want him to be the dad who sat at the kitchen table when I was out late at night, waiting for me to come home. I want him to be the man again who laughed out loud with a hearty laugh that was contagious to all around him. I want him to be with me again in the bathroom with all the hot water running because I had asthma attacks and it was thought that steam to be good for asthmatics. I want him to look at my paintings and see his pleasure as he critiqued each one. I want to talk with him again like we have these past 2 years, as he opened up about his feelings.
But that's all past now and all that is left is a frail man holding on to his last breath. And I'm having an incredibly difficult time facing this reality. I've come to really love my father and I just don't want to let him go.
But the reality is I have to....
I want my dad to be the strong, angry man he was when we were coming up. I want him to be the dad who sat at the kitchen table when I was out late at night, waiting for me to come home. I want him to be the man again who laughed out loud with a hearty laugh that was contagious to all around him. I want him to be with me again in the bathroom with all the hot water running because I had asthma attacks and it was thought that steam to be good for asthmatics. I want him to look at my paintings and see his pleasure as he critiqued each one. I want to talk with him again like we have these past 2 years, as he opened up about his feelings.
But that's all past now and all that is left is a frail man holding on to his last breath. And I'm having an incredibly difficult time facing this reality. I've come to really love my father and I just don't want to let him go.
But the reality is I have to....
Monday, August 12, 2013
My Parents
My father called today. He told me that he was scared and that he didn't think he could make it. I had to hang up the phone quickly and then I cried a good, long cry. He was never one to show emotion, much less fear. It was something I wasn't prepared for, and all I could do was cry. My father was always strong and stern, if not mean, and never wore his feelings for anyone to see, except for anger. I told him I loved him before I hung up and he actually told me that he loved me too; something that has never been easy for him to say. He has changed a great deal, not only physically, but emotionally as well.
My parents have decided to go into an assisted living facility here in Venice. My dad is getting discharged from the nursing home this Thursday, and they will both be moving into a very nice, 2 bedroom apartment at that time. My dad wants to sell the house, so I will be having an estate sale and trying to sell the things they won't be bringing to the apartment. This is a huge undertaking, since they've lived in this house for over 35 years. I plan on doing this the next several weeks, and then I will return to the Madison area to be near my grandchildren. My parents no longer need me and I'm finished with why I came here in the first place.
There are a lot of memories here and I will miss this old house. The pool has been a lifesaver in the heat of the summer and I will miss that for sure. My children came down here for weeks at a time, spending it with their grandparents. My grandparents were here at times and for awhile there, it was filled with a lot of noise, loud talking, laughing and arguing. Jews are very loud, and especially those from Chicago. If you get a bunch of us together, it just turns into a high-pitched fiasco. Quiet people can't handle it, and certainly don't understand it. I was raised in this type of environment, so it is very commonplace for me. In fact, quiet people make me a bit uncomfortable themselves, because you just don't know what they're thinking. It's unnerving really.
But now it's all quiet, except for my mom's pitter-pattering on the floor with her walker. Her old one dragged along the floor like a tractor and you could hear her coming from far away, it was so loud. I finally convinced her to get a new one that glides so it is effortless for her to push. Everything has changed and it will be a new season for my parents. One that is needful and one that creates sadness in me to have to deal with. It's very difficult to watch your parents deteriorate and become the old people you've always seen around the neighborhood, but never paid much attention to. We live our lives so quickly and self-absorbed that when it happens to our own parents, we stop and wonder "when did they get so old and how come I never noticed this before?" I hear myself telling myself that "it's just the circle of life and that's the way it is and always has been." But that's easy to say or think and much more difficult to witness. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. For people like me, who like to be in control all the time, that is very frustrating.
Life is just what it is, and the progression of age just keeps marching on, regardless of how we feel about it. One day, I'll be the one hobbling to the assisted care center and hanging out with people of the same age. And I will look back on all of these memories and hold onto them deep in my heart.
My parents have decided to go into an assisted living facility here in Venice. My dad is getting discharged from the nursing home this Thursday, and they will both be moving into a very nice, 2 bedroom apartment at that time. My dad wants to sell the house, so I will be having an estate sale and trying to sell the things they won't be bringing to the apartment. This is a huge undertaking, since they've lived in this house for over 35 years. I plan on doing this the next several weeks, and then I will return to the Madison area to be near my grandchildren. My parents no longer need me and I'm finished with why I came here in the first place.
There are a lot of memories here and I will miss this old house. The pool has been a lifesaver in the heat of the summer and I will miss that for sure. My children came down here for weeks at a time, spending it with their grandparents. My grandparents were here at times and for awhile there, it was filled with a lot of noise, loud talking, laughing and arguing. Jews are very loud, and especially those from Chicago. If you get a bunch of us together, it just turns into a high-pitched fiasco. Quiet people can't handle it, and certainly don't understand it. I was raised in this type of environment, so it is very commonplace for me. In fact, quiet people make me a bit uncomfortable themselves, because you just don't know what they're thinking. It's unnerving really.
But now it's all quiet, except for my mom's pitter-pattering on the floor with her walker. Her old one dragged along the floor like a tractor and you could hear her coming from far away, it was so loud. I finally convinced her to get a new one that glides so it is effortless for her to push. Everything has changed and it will be a new season for my parents. One that is needful and one that creates sadness in me to have to deal with. It's very difficult to watch your parents deteriorate and become the old people you've always seen around the neighborhood, but never paid much attention to. We live our lives so quickly and self-absorbed that when it happens to our own parents, we stop and wonder "when did they get so old and how come I never noticed this before?" I hear myself telling myself that "it's just the circle of life and that's the way it is and always has been." But that's easy to say or think and much more difficult to witness. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. For people like me, who like to be in control all the time, that is very frustrating.
Life is just what it is, and the progression of age just keeps marching on, regardless of how we feel about it. One day, I'll be the one hobbling to the assisted care center and hanging out with people of the same age. And I will look back on all of these memories and hold onto them deep in my heart.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Possibilities
I can't believe what I did the other night, I really can't. I was coming home from the Art Center in a torrential downpour, driving 35 mph on a 55 mph highway. I couldn't see in front of me, it was raining so hard. And when it rains here in Florida, there is absolutely no where for it to go, because this state is already on sea level, so the streets flood really quickly. On the side streets, I tried driving in the center of the road to avoid the swelling gutters. I got to the house and I sat in the car for a minute, but then my mom opened the garage door for me to run in there from the car. I grabbed my purse and made a mad dash for the garage, getting soaking wet in the meantime. I can't run, and I didn't want to slip and fall, so I kind of just waddled quickly, but it was coming down so heavy that getting soaked was unavoidable.
I talked to my mom for a bit, then I went into my room to dry off. About 45 minutes later, we ate dinner and after I cleaned up, I went into my room and got on the computer and watched some TV. My mom yelled from the kitchen about 8:00 that my car lights were on and I thought, "Oh shoot, I somehow left the lights on and my battery will be dead." I looked for my car keys and they weren't on the counter, and then I said, "OH NO" out loud, waddled out the door to my car and found it was still running. It had run for over 3 hours, as I forgot to turn it off. Half of the gas was gone because the air conditioner was still on. I couldn't believe I did that - I've never done that before, but because of the rain, I was more worried about getting WET than turning my car off. I felt like a real idiot and I'm mad at myself because now I have to fill the gas tank again. A perfect example of being distracted by the trivial, thereby ignoring the important stuff. Unfortunately, that happens a lot in life....
The thing about Florida, is that in the summer, it rains every single day. Every late afternoon, thunder rolls across the dark sky and sometimes lightening strikes and then a torrential downpour comes and goes, usually quite quickly. After the rain, the sun comes back out and acts like it never rained, and the streets dry fast under this oppressive heat. I mean, you've never felt anything like it. If the air conditioning in my car goes out, I will be doomed. In fact, I won't drive because it's so hot and humid, that I can hardly breathe. I feel terrible for people who don't have air conditioning in their cars or in their houses. I have no idea how they live like that. And as far as homeless people go, I can't even imagine their lives. It bothers me so much to think that they don't even have a fan or protection from the bugs and other nasty creatures crawling around. I just can't handle the fact that they have no where to go for shelter from the elements, storms and mosquitos as big as a Volkswagen.
I remember when I worked in downtown Madison, for a judge at the time, and there was a small, older lady who would be huddled up in a corner of the lower level. She was homeless and I don't know where she went when they closed the courthouse up, but she was there every day when I went to the cafeteria to get some coffee. She had garbage bags filled with all of her belongings and she sat, hunched up in the corner of the wall, while hundreds of people passed her every day. I always felt so bad for her and I wanted to help her, but she wouldn't talk to anyone or respond if you did talk to her. I don't know if she was mentally ill or just tired of living in a society where she was shunned and avoided. It's easier to look away and avoid people like that, and I'm sure she was used to being rejected.
But she was someone's mother, or sister or daughter. She was one or all of those things. But where were her relatives? And did they care, or was she all alone in the world? I didn't know the answers to those questions, but do I know this much: that Jesus came for her as much as He came for me, or the wealthy aristocrats living in mansions. He is no respecter of persons, so why are we?
We are so ignorant over that which we are not familiar with. We are prejudice against those who are not like us. We fear those things that could possibly happen to us too, therefore we limit ourselves from all kinds of possibilities. Help me Lord, to be the woman who You want me to be - not a by-product of our twisted and perverted society.
I talked to my mom for a bit, then I went into my room to dry off. About 45 minutes later, we ate dinner and after I cleaned up, I went into my room and got on the computer and watched some TV. My mom yelled from the kitchen about 8:00 that my car lights were on and I thought, "Oh shoot, I somehow left the lights on and my battery will be dead." I looked for my car keys and they weren't on the counter, and then I said, "OH NO" out loud, waddled out the door to my car and found it was still running. It had run for over 3 hours, as I forgot to turn it off. Half of the gas was gone because the air conditioner was still on. I couldn't believe I did that - I've never done that before, but because of the rain, I was more worried about getting WET than turning my car off. I felt like a real idiot and I'm mad at myself because now I have to fill the gas tank again. A perfect example of being distracted by the trivial, thereby ignoring the important stuff. Unfortunately, that happens a lot in life....
The thing about Florida, is that in the summer, it rains every single day. Every late afternoon, thunder rolls across the dark sky and sometimes lightening strikes and then a torrential downpour comes and goes, usually quite quickly. After the rain, the sun comes back out and acts like it never rained, and the streets dry fast under this oppressive heat. I mean, you've never felt anything like it. If the air conditioning in my car goes out, I will be doomed. In fact, I won't drive because it's so hot and humid, that I can hardly breathe. I feel terrible for people who don't have air conditioning in their cars or in their houses. I have no idea how they live like that. And as far as homeless people go, I can't even imagine their lives. It bothers me so much to think that they don't even have a fan or protection from the bugs and other nasty creatures crawling around. I just can't handle the fact that they have no where to go for shelter from the elements, storms and mosquitos as big as a Volkswagen.
I remember when I worked in downtown Madison, for a judge at the time, and there was a small, older lady who would be huddled up in a corner of the lower level. She was homeless and I don't know where she went when they closed the courthouse up, but she was there every day when I went to the cafeteria to get some coffee. She had garbage bags filled with all of her belongings and she sat, hunched up in the corner of the wall, while hundreds of people passed her every day. I always felt so bad for her and I wanted to help her, but she wouldn't talk to anyone or respond if you did talk to her. I don't know if she was mentally ill or just tired of living in a society where she was shunned and avoided. It's easier to look away and avoid people like that, and I'm sure she was used to being rejected.
But she was someone's mother, or sister or daughter. She was one or all of those things. But where were her relatives? And did they care, or was she all alone in the world? I didn't know the answers to those questions, but do I know this much: that Jesus came for her as much as He came for me, or the wealthy aristocrats living in mansions. He is no respecter of persons, so why are we?
We are so ignorant over that which we are not familiar with. We are prejudice against those who are not like us. We fear those things that could possibly happen to us too, therefore we limit ourselves from all kinds of possibilities. Help me Lord, to be the woman who You want me to be - not a by-product of our twisted and perverted society.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
The Dentist
Yesterday began with a 9:00 dental appointment; the place I never wish to go, but must out of necessity. First of all, the bed/table you lay on has been designed with arms that you can clench as you are reeling with pain. The bed gets tilted low and my head tilts almost upside down. I can feel my weight falling to my chin with the gravity of the position I am in. With that in place, and after the dental assistant x-rays the tooth in question, and makes an impression, the dentist comes in to do the task at hand. She first inserts a needle in my gums causing me to groan. She is injecting pain meds in three parts of my mouth and the needle itself causes pain. Soon, though, I can't feel the upper side of my mouth. The assistant puts a vacuum cleaner type hose on one side of my mouth, another on the other side, and squirts water in my throat the whole time. The assistant pulls my mouth one way and the dentist pulls it the other way and I probably look like Bozo the Clown, with my mouth wide open in all directions. And then, the drilling begins. And she drills, and drills and drills. She is trying to crack the crown on my old tooth, whereby she can pull it off, but the cement holding it is very stubborn. I kept swallowing the water the assistant was constantly squirting in my mouth, which makes the drill jump and squeal on another tooth and I had to keep apologizing, but laying upside down with water in my throat, I couldn't help but swallow. After one squirt, I thought I was going to drown, until the dentist told her assistant to stop with the water already, at which point I thanked God. It took her a LONG time to finally yank the crown off of my original tooth. After that, there was still more drilling and cleaning and more impressions, because I had a cavity that was behind the crown and reached into the tooth next to it. When the assistant said she was finally done, I paid the bill, took a deep breath and waddled out to my car, proud that I endured to the end. I have to go back in a month for them to cement the permanent teeth in, so I have time to recuperate and gain my courage once again.
This whole ordeal reminded me of when I was a kid and my mother would take us to my uncle, the dentist. He worked in downtown Chicago, and so we would drive and park at the Skokie Swift, a small train that stopped in Skokie and proceeded into the city. We would have to transfer to the "L" at some point, and that train was much longer. It would take us into the heart of the city, down into the subway, which was really creepy. The lights would flicker on and off and there were always weird looking people on the train. We got off in the subway and walked upstairs to the street level which was really cool to see. If you look up, you can barely see the sky because of all the skyscrapers. It was all overwhelming for a kid my age. My uncle worked in the old Marshall Fields building and we would go up the elevator to his office. Back then, when he squirted water in your mouth, you turned to your left and spit it out in a bowl swirling with water. After you endured the trauma of the dentist, you were given a little toy out of his "treasure chest," which usually broke by the time we got home. Before we left to go back to the train, we always had to go to the bathroom to"make." The toilets in this building were locked and you had to put a dime in the door lock to open it. I will always remember that, because I would wonder what if you didn't have a dime and you really needed to "go."
My children and I actually witnessed this problem one day, when we were driving on the South Side of Chicago. We all, except Micah, had to "go" and so we stopped at a Burger King off of the Dan Ryan Expressway. The bathrooms in this restaurant were locked and you had to have a key to get in, but to get the key, you had to buy something. So I bought a pop and we waited because there was a line to get into the bathroom. A woman came in very distressed and yelled that she had to go to the bathroom, but the workers told her that there was a line and besides, she would have to buy something in order to "go." Instead, she barreled out the door, and per Micah who witnessed this from the car, pulled her pants down and "made" right there in the parking lot. She walked away like nothing happened and I think it put Micah into a mild shock. My personal opinion is that bathrooms should be free and open to avoid unfortunate incidents such as this.
So be forewarned: if you are driving in Chicago, keep in mind the toilets in fast food restaurants and gas stations are all locked, so you may want to "go" before you reach the city.
This whole ordeal reminded me of when I was a kid and my mother would take us to my uncle, the dentist. He worked in downtown Chicago, and so we would drive and park at the Skokie Swift, a small train that stopped in Skokie and proceeded into the city. We would have to transfer to the "L" at some point, and that train was much longer. It would take us into the heart of the city, down into the subway, which was really creepy. The lights would flicker on and off and there were always weird looking people on the train. We got off in the subway and walked upstairs to the street level which was really cool to see. If you look up, you can barely see the sky because of all the skyscrapers. It was all overwhelming for a kid my age. My uncle worked in the old Marshall Fields building and we would go up the elevator to his office. Back then, when he squirted water in your mouth, you turned to your left and spit it out in a bowl swirling with water. After you endured the trauma of the dentist, you were given a little toy out of his "treasure chest," which usually broke by the time we got home. Before we left to go back to the train, we always had to go to the bathroom to"make." The toilets in this building were locked and you had to put a dime in the door lock to open it. I will always remember that, because I would wonder what if you didn't have a dime and you really needed to "go."
My children and I actually witnessed this problem one day, when we were driving on the South Side of Chicago. We all, except Micah, had to "go" and so we stopped at a Burger King off of the Dan Ryan Expressway. The bathrooms in this restaurant were locked and you had to have a key to get in, but to get the key, you had to buy something. So I bought a pop and we waited because there was a line to get into the bathroom. A woman came in very distressed and yelled that she had to go to the bathroom, but the workers told her that there was a line and besides, she would have to buy something in order to "go." Instead, she barreled out the door, and per Micah who witnessed this from the car, pulled her pants down and "made" right there in the parking lot. She walked away like nothing happened and I think it put Micah into a mild shock. My personal opinion is that bathrooms should be free and open to avoid unfortunate incidents such as this.
So be forewarned: if you are driving in Chicago, keep in mind the toilets in fast food restaurants and gas stations are all locked, so you may want to "go" before you reach the city.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Buckets
Sometimes I laugh at my mom because she can actually be funny. Several months ago, around 10:30 pm, my mom and I were watching the news. Suddenly, my father came hobbling in with the intention of putting my mom to bed. He didn't ask her; he just assumed she was ready for bed and he was coming to "tuck her in" and give her a goodnight kiss. So he comes in, goes over to my mother and proceeds to help her out of the wheelchair, while my mom says nothing. I watch this because it's sweet after all these years, even though my dad is telling her to, "Hurry up and get your legs into the bed; c'mon, hurry up." My mom complies, lies down and my dad covers her up and gives her a kiss. He says goodnight to both of us and retreats back to his office, at which time, my mom gets up and sits back up in the chair. Like it was a routine they do every night, except my dad doesn't know that she doesn't actually go to bed when he tucks her in. I thought that was so funny and cute. My mom let him feel like he was doing something needful and responsible, meanwhile she gets back out of the bed to continue watching the news, because she wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. She catches and understands more than I give her credit for. Ashanti would say that GiGi (for great-grandma) was filling Papa's bucket.
You can learn a lot from children if you really listen to them, either by talking directly to them or by overhearing their play. Ashanti came home from school one day and started talking about "buckets." She said that she had "filled her friend's bucket" at school that day. I asked her what she meant and this is what she told all of us at the dinner table, "Everyone has a bucket. When you do something nice or say something nice to another person, then you are 'filling' their bucket. When you do something mean or say something means, you are 'dipping' into their bucket, and taking something out of it. Wow. How simple and yet so profound. So Shanti began to ask each of us every day if we were filling or dipping into each other's bucket. It does give us cause to pause before we speak to each other. After all, who wants the reputation of a "bucket dipper?"
I was raised by saying, "please" and "thank you," and calling adults and my parents' friends by "Mr. or Mrs so-and-so," or responding with "Yes ma'am or No sir." These small yet very important types of etiquette are so essential when we deal with one another. They show respect for others, as well as for oneself. When my children's friends called on the phone for them, I always asked who it was if they didn't tell me first, and grilled them before I would let them talk to my kids. I think it's rude when you call someone's home and don't identify yourself first, and then ask to speak to so and so. My kids caught on fast and they warned their friends to do this when they called so they wouldn't get the first degree from me. I wasn't really mean - I just don't like when people, no matter who they are, call up and immediately ask for so and so. I always stop them and ask who they are first. I also taught my children that they should always have a firm handshake. I told Leah that if her boy friends shook my hand, they better have a strong handshake, so she probably warned them about that too. I just think that it shows part of a person's character if their handshake is limp and insincere. A firm handshake tells me that this person is focusing on the person whose hand they are shaking and is sincere. Petty? I think not. It's better than standing in the doorway with a shotgun waiting for the boys that would try to enter my house.
I did not like my son-in-law when I first met him. He had long braids and looked like a thug and he was in no way going to date my daughter. Of course, I had lost control over that by then and she dated him anyway. His saving grace at the time was his firm handshake. I thought - but didn't say out loud - "Hmmm. Maybe there's more to this guy than what it looks like on the outside...." I did put him through a lot of questioning and observation, but he passed with flying colors and it turns out that he is one of my favorite people in the world and I love him very much.
So please.... if you greet me, please don't give me a limp handshake. That actually creeps me out. Fill my bucket and I will fill yours with a firm handshake and love. The two go hand in hand. Better yet, give me a hug because we always need that. Everyone in the world needs and wants to feel loved, and what better way, than to give a sincere hug.
In fact, if I could, I would give you all a sincere hug right now. Nonetheless, I do so in the spirit of filling your bucket today. In Jesus' Name.
You can learn a lot from children if you really listen to them, either by talking directly to them or by overhearing their play. Ashanti came home from school one day and started talking about "buckets." She said that she had "filled her friend's bucket" at school that day. I asked her what she meant and this is what she told all of us at the dinner table, "Everyone has a bucket. When you do something nice or say something nice to another person, then you are 'filling' their bucket. When you do something mean or say something means, you are 'dipping' into their bucket, and taking something out of it. Wow. How simple and yet so profound. So Shanti began to ask each of us every day if we were filling or dipping into each other's bucket. It does give us cause to pause before we speak to each other. After all, who wants the reputation of a "bucket dipper?"
I was raised by saying, "please" and "thank you," and calling adults and my parents' friends by "Mr. or Mrs so-and-so," or responding with "Yes ma'am or No sir." These small yet very important types of etiquette are so essential when we deal with one another. They show respect for others, as well as for oneself. When my children's friends called on the phone for them, I always asked who it was if they didn't tell me first, and grilled them before I would let them talk to my kids. I think it's rude when you call someone's home and don't identify yourself first, and then ask to speak to so and so. My kids caught on fast and they warned their friends to do this when they called so they wouldn't get the first degree from me. I wasn't really mean - I just don't like when people, no matter who they are, call up and immediately ask for so and so. I always stop them and ask who they are first. I also taught my children that they should always have a firm handshake. I told Leah that if her boy friends shook my hand, they better have a strong handshake, so she probably warned them about that too. I just think that it shows part of a person's character if their handshake is limp and insincere. A firm handshake tells me that this person is focusing on the person whose hand they are shaking and is sincere. Petty? I think not. It's better than standing in the doorway with a shotgun waiting for the boys that would try to enter my house.
I did not like my son-in-law when I first met him. He had long braids and looked like a thug and he was in no way going to date my daughter. Of course, I had lost control over that by then and she dated him anyway. His saving grace at the time was his firm handshake. I thought - but didn't say out loud - "Hmmm. Maybe there's more to this guy than what it looks like on the outside...." I did put him through a lot of questioning and observation, but he passed with flying colors and it turns out that he is one of my favorite people in the world and I love him very much.
So please.... if you greet me, please don't give me a limp handshake. That actually creeps me out. Fill my bucket and I will fill yours with a firm handshake and love. The two go hand in hand. Better yet, give me a hug because we always need that. Everyone in the world needs and wants to feel loved, and what better way, than to give a sincere hug.
In fact, if I could, I would give you all a sincere hug right now. Nonetheless, I do so in the spirit of filling your bucket today. In Jesus' Name.
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