Words

We have learned how to communicate through acronyms and short cuts.  We text.  We tweet.  We post.  We pin.  We comment.  In our fast pace society, it’s easy to forget how powerful our words are and just write something without thinking it through.  Plus, the anonymity of some of those words can embolden us to use that power harmfully.

Proverbs 18:21a.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue…  (KJV)

Death:

She won’t ever change.

He’s always been like that.

That’s just the way they are.

She’s such a drama queen.

He’s one of those boys.

How many of us heard things like this growing up?  How many of us are saying things like this about the people around us?

Life:

She’s got what it takes to turn things around.

He can overcome those habits.

They are capable of change.

She can channel that energy into a great future.

He can turn those life experiences into something positive.

How does it make us feel when someone says these things about us?  How would it change someone else’s life if we said it about them?

Deuteronomy 30:19

Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, so that you and your descendants might live!  (NLT)

I have decided to make a conscious effort to choose life.

Talking to Myself

When I first got saved, I knew almost nothing about God.  In a way it was good because I didn’t start my walk with Him full of preconceived ideas (those came later).  One result was that I talked to God like I would you if you were sitting beside me.  Since I spent a lot of time alone, I talked out loud; through school, college and every job I've ever had.  So, it goes without saying, I have heard these statements a lot.

              1.  You know, talking to yourself is a sign of insanity.

Me:  It’s the only intelligent conversation I can get around here.

              2.  You know, it’s okay to talk to yourself as long as you don’t answer yourself.

Me:  Why would I ask myself a question and not answer it?

             

              3.  Aren't you a little old to have imaginary friends?

Me:  Who says they’re imaginary?

I’ve also gotten some very pointed looks.  Then I would really drive home the insanity idea because I would realize I was talking out loud and laugh at myself; out loud, of course.

I looked up talking to yourself online and it seems the consensus is equally split and ranges from beginning signs of Schizophrenia to it might be the highest form of intelligence.  (I put myself in the last category, thank you.)  The middle ground proponents feel like it is a good problem solving tool.  I concur.  Any time I have a problem, talking it out with God is the best problem solving tool there is. 

But sometimes, I just want to talk.  Like when I walk outside and the sky is blanketed with stars. (It takes my breath away.)  Or when my great-nephews are grinning from ear to ear and covered from head to toe with dirt because they’ve been playing in the driveway. (The sheer joy on their faces is contagious.)  Or when there is a gentle rain and I’m standing out in it with my face raised to heaven. (Contented sigh.)  How about being on the back porch on a clear spring afternoon with a cool breeze blowing?  Isn’t that worth an out loud talk with God?  I think it is.

So if you come across a lady that looks like me and it seems like she is talking to the wind or laughing at nothing (there could be some dancing, skipping or generally acting strange thrown in), don’t think a thing about it.  Join me.  There’s always room for one more. 

Woman Tough

Not too long ago, I was talking to an old family friend and he mentioned that my oldest sister, Brenda, scared him.  Seems she always has.  I laughed but I understood.  I remember one time she chased my brother, Harold Wayne, with a broom.  Not just out of the house, but out of the yard and at least a fourth of a mile down the road.  The whole neighborhood knew about it.  (Don’t feel too sorry for him.  He was definitely a practical joker.) 

It brought to mind one of my mother’s favorite stories.  She had three sisters and when they were just girls, there was a neighbor boy that would bully them as they walked home from school.  He’d hit them with sticks, throw rocks at them, knock their books out of their hands; that kind of stuff.  One of them would invariably end up crying.  It was a daily occurrence. 

Now Granny Doucette was a practical woman and tough to boot.  She got tired of it and said ‘there are four of you and you’re going to let one boy bully you? (Mom did say he was fairly large.)  Next time he does that, all four of you beat the tar out of him and he’ll leave you alone’.

So, the next day they did just that.  When he started in, they all picked up sticks and beat the tar out of him.  Crying, he ran straight to his house.  There was only one problem, Granny just happened to be visiting his momma at the time.  He ran in the house hollering about the Wilson girls beating him up. (There was no denying someone had beaten him up.)  Embarrassed (and handling it as only an adult would), she called the girls in and asked them why they had done it.  Being children, they answered truthfully ‘because you told us to’.

I would have loved to have been a fly on that wall.

I started thinking about the women I have been influenced by my whole life.  Great Granny Conroe, who came to Texas in a covered wagon.  Doucette, who was married to a come and go man who mostly went until the last time she told him not to come back.  Working two jobs and taking in wash to raise four stair step girls by herself until she met Tom Doucette.  Granny McClendon, who raised five kids while dealing with an alcoholic husband and was a car hop into her sixties.  Great aunts, aunts, sisters, cousins and friends.  They were and are tough ladies raised with the attitude of you just do what you’ve got to do.

I recently read a post that said ‘I have a sister and I’m not afraid to use her’(@rottenecards).  I do have a sister, three of them who will lock arms with me any time I need them.  And behind them will be a whole host of women who have our back.

And I’m not afraid to use them.

Perspective

Perspective:   

the state of one's ideas, 

the facts known to one, etc.

Recently, a friend and I were discussing how our perspectives shape our lives and the decisions we make.  He said ‘It’s amazing how changing our perspective changes our perspective’.

I know, on the surface it’s like ‘uh, duh’.  But stop and actually think about it.  Sometimes the slightest shift in the facts we know can change how we feel about a person, event or subject.  One of the devotions I wrote for the online website dealt with Exodus 20:12a; Honor thy father and thy mother…  Not always easy for me.  I was one of those quiet ones that everyone says you need to watch out for.  I often tell people that had it not been for God, I would have been dead, in prison or a mercenary.  People who knew me then and know me now, laugh.  I make light of it but I know it’s true.

Even after I got saved, honoring Dad was difficult.  Don’t think I didn’t love my dad.  I did.  One of the smartest men I have ever known; Jack of all Trades, master of a few.  If something was wrong with the plumbing or gas, I would have to go under the house to fix it (I was the only one that fit).  My dad had never been under that house; never.  He would tell me exactly what and where the problem was and what I would need to take with me to fix it.  He was never wrong; never.

Dad was just a kid when he became a Marine during WWII.  I don’t remember him talking about it until I was in my twenty’s.  Even then, it was just a sentence here or there.  One time we were watching a WWII movie about the fighting in the islands.  They were showing the flame throwers working the caves and Dad simply said, ‘You cannot imagine the smell of burning flesh’.  It wasn’t just a movie to him.  My dad was there.  I found out later that after the war he was stationed in occupied Japan.  He saw the destruction left in the wake of the atom bomb first hand.  Dealt with the people who were living it out.

He was just a kid.

Did learning these things change my perspective?  Oh, yeah.  It gave me a better understanding of the events that shaped my dad’s life.  Shaped his world view and the decisions he made.  Were they all good decisions?  No.  But, how many of us can say the same thing about ourselves?

It is amazing how changing our perspective changes our perspective.

A Taste of Manners

As I said last week, I am the youngest of five children born and raised in Texas.  That means I grew up with yes Ma’am, no Ma’am; yes Sir, no Sir and opening doors for my elders.  I learned to fetch at an early age (you thought that was only for dogs, ha!) which means, what no one else wanted to do fell to me.  In my family as soon as the next one down had a driver’s license, that one ran all the errands. (So guess who got to run all the errands like forever.)

I am still the youngest of my bunch (no surprise there) and that courtesy habit is deeply ingrained.  I still say Ma’am and Sir when the situation calls for it (even if the person is younger than me) and open the door for my elders.  I’m also inclined to fetch and carry when the need arises.

This is Texas.  I run into manners all the time.  But recently, I spent the afternoon with two gentlemen and it made me realize how much I am used to being the baby—translation; last one in pretty much everything (my siblings would dispute that).

It’s the little things that has me laughing at myself.  At the door of the restaurant, one opened the door and the other stood back so I could go first.  Lovely manners but what am I doing?  Also standing and waiting.  Finally, after I was waved on, it dawned on me I was supposed to go first.  I was seated first and (just now realized they waited for me) gave my drink order first.  When the waitress came to take our food order there was a definite period of silence while she looked expectantly at me.

I have never thought of myself as slow on the uptake but that day…   I blame it on the previously mentioned translation of being the baby. 

Go ahead, laugh.  I am.

The McClendon REP

I am the youngest of five children.  It was not always easy following in four sets of footsteps.  It didn’t help that my brother and sisters were not only good academically but athletically as well.  Needless to say, they set the bar high.  Having the same teachers in school meant there was always expectations about how well I would do (no, no pressure at all).

But it wasn’t just at school.  It was nothing for me to introduce myself and have a total stranger say, ‘Oh, you’re one of those McClendon girls’.  (Picture me with a head hanging, not again attitude.)  Then, add in the fact that I had 6 cousins (also named McClendon) who were all overachievers and only lived twenty minutes away and an aunt who was the high school girls’ coach…  You get the picture.

Now fast forward several years to Bible college in Missouri (where none of my family was from or to my knowledge had ever been).  I was so-o-o-o happy to leave my family rep behind.  No expectations.  No shoes to fill.  I could finally be my own person; build my own rep. (bwa-ha-ha)

I had been there for four days and the dean walks up and says ‘You’re that McClendon girl, aren’t you.  I’ve got my eye on you’. 

NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O… 

Talk about shocked!!!  Turns out there was a family of McClendons that used to go to their church and they had quite the rep. (AGAIN, picture me with a head hanging, not again attitude.) 

Just the other day an old friend said, ‘You’re a McClendon’ (this time I didn’t have that hang dog attitude) and it made me think of that story and the difference in my attitude from then and now.  

Of course, there were a lot of instances that having that McClendon rep came in handy.  There was a lot of good associated with that rep; honesty, loyalty, trust.  Still is. 

Now days, there are not many left with that name.  The last names have become Smith, Brooks, Davis, Evans and Gates to name a few.  But the rep is still there and being passed down from generation to generation.  It’s a good legacy to leave behind.  

THE MOUTH SPEAKS

Have you ever been shocked by what came out of your mouth?  I’m talking about those times when someone pushes and pushes and pushes until a truth you’re not even willing to admit to yourself just spews out. 

Sometimes it is a core belief about yourself that comes from junk that happened 5, 10 or more years ago.  Sometime it comes from experiences that you go through again and again and again.  There are as many reasons for the junk as there are people who carry it. 

Getting rid of it can be painful and messy.  Like cleaning up after a sick baby messy.  Or cleaning out the fridge after the veggies have gotten slimy messy.  Or cleaning up after you’ve gutted fish messy.  (I could go on but I think you get the picture.)

One thing is for sure, it won’t get better until you stick your hands down into it and rip it out by the roots.  But how?  Especially, when you’re not willing to admit to yourself it’s there!

That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in.

The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord, searching all the inward parts of the belly. 

Proverbs 20:27 (KJV)

            O Lord, you give me light; you dispel my darkness.

Psalm 18:28 (GNT)

Had that happen Sunday night.  No, no one else was there so they didn’t get spewed on (thank goodness).  Just a conversation between me and the Holy Spirit.  We were discussing something that had happened that day.  I was taking my usual negative drama queen stance (I know you’re shocked by my admission of drama-queenism) and He kept pushing and pushing and pushing.  Man…

Have I resolved it yet?  Honestly, no.  I am a dot-the-Is, cross-the-Ts kind of person.  I want to understand why something is the way it is so, I will study it from every angle before I make a decision.  (Yes, this does make walking in faith harder since faith, by definition, is not based on understanding.)

Will I resolve it?  Most definitely.  Now that the Holy Spirit has shined light upon it, by His help, I am dealing with it.  Not because God demands it but because I know it will make Him happy.  (It won’t hurt that I’ll become a better person in the process.)