Real Life Reflections

"Those were simpler times." The comment came from my mother-in-law. We were gathered at Grandma's house and had just spent the evening entertained by younger versions of my husband and his seven siblings. We watched as eight children, dressed to the nines (as only Catholic children can be on Easter), baskets dangling from their cherubic little arms, toddled hither and yon in search of the coveted Easter eggs. Her comment came in response to my question, "how did you do it?" Grandma died in 1989. I'm not sure how long before that the above evening took place, but those words have stayed with me all these years. They play over and over in my head. She said it so matter-of-factly. She brushed it off as if raising eight children had been no big deal because "those were simpler times." This past week, Marc and I spent some time at Sam A. Baker State Park. We stayed in a cabin, which afforded us the luxury of heat, a refrigerator, stove, and running wate...

When you ask God for something - peace, patience, healing, answers to work, life, or people problems, etc. - do you stop what you're doing and turn your brain off of everything but Jesus? Do you actually look at Jesus? Or do you, like I so often do, suddenly remember something you told someone you'd pray about for them and rattle off a quick request? Maybe you find yourself in traffic when you're late or unable to find a solution to a problem at work or with your child or a friend, you're frustrated or irritated, you say a prayer something like, "God, help me!" Then you move rapidly on to the next issue at hand. This morning I read the story of Blind Bartimaeus (Mark 10: 46-52). Actually, I read it three or four times. I've read it before. It's a fairly well-known Gospel story, but this time was different. I got emotional as I read it. I wondered why Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted. Wasn't that fairly obvious? I mean, the guy was blind and Je...

I grew up watching The Andy Griffith Show and Mayberry, R.F.D. My childhood in St. Louis was a pretty far cry from the small town life of Mayberry, but my parents taught me many of the same lessons that the folks in Mayberry learned each week in those early years of my life. Somehow, though, Andy, Opie, Aunt Bea, Goober, Floyd, Howard, and Helen made the lessons much more entertaining than my parents did. There's one lesson that I can't quite get though. Remember Great-Great-Great Grandfather Seth? No? I'm not surprised. I doubt he was mentioned in any but the one episode that I recently watched. Apparently, Seth Taylor was one of the founding fathers of Mayberry, and the Mayberry of the 1960s decided to contract a stone-mason to make a statue to honor him. Aunt Bea is flustered with joy over this honor until she and Andy find out that Great-Great-Great Grandfather Seth was, in truth, a swindler. He became a wealthy man through some insider knowledge. When the day comes to ...