Ten Quotes to Help You Accept Change…by ARHuelsenbeck

I hate change.

When I like something, I want it to stay the same. Forever.

J.D. Salinger, in The Catcher in the Rye, wrote: “Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.” I totally agree.

Yet, change is an inevitable part of life. To cling to the old is to die.

fearI can embrace change, as long as it’s a change I want, a change I’ve initiated. But if someone else tries to change something I think is fine the way it is, if someone tries to fix something that ain’t broke, I oppose it.

 

I resigned from two jobs when their paradigms shifted. The work I loved turned to torture; my satisfaction changed to uncertainty. As Mary Shelley wrote in Frankenstein: “Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”

Though leaving my jobs was a positive solution, I deliberated for a long time before making my move—for a year the first time, three years the second. Even in my rebellion, I resisted change.

If I can’t change, I can’t progress, I can’t grow. I’m a dinosaur, destined to die out because I can’t cope with the climate.

So I look at the kaleidoscopic world around me and try to accommodate some of the transformations, the technologies. I’ve conquered basic blogging, but I’m too stupid to use a smart phone, and frankly, I don’t want to learn. I still buy CDs, rather than subscribing to a streaming service. I’m learning how to use a DSLR camera (though I’m still using all the auto settings).

Writer with scared mask

Are my efforts enough? Probably not, but at least I’m not totally left behind.

I turned to literature for some advice on how to handle change, and found these nuggets of wisdom:

  • “You can’t stop the future
    You can’t rewind the past
    The only way to learn the secret
    …is to press play.”― Jay AsherThirteen Reasons Why (Yes, I get the irony that you have to know what a tape player is to understand this quote.)
  • “Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”― Lao Tzu, father of Taoism
  • “The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself.”CHANGEC. JoyBell C., author
  • “I have accepted fear as part of life – specifically the fear of change… I have gone ahead despite the pounding in the heart that says: turn back….”― Erica Jong, author
  • “The comfort zone is a psychological state in which one feels familiar, safe, at ease, and secure. You never change your life until you step out of your comfort zone; change begins at the end of your comfort zone.”― Roy T. Bennett, author (I follow him on Twitter. His handle is @InspiringThinkn.)
  • “Renew, release, let go. Yesterday’s gone. There’s nothing you can do to bring it back. You can’t “should’ve” done something. You can only DO something. Renew yourself. Release that attachment. Today is a new day!”― Steve MaraboliUnapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience
  • “I give you this to take with you:
    Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can
    begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting.”― Judith MintyLetters to My Daughters
  • “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”– Isaiah 43:19 NIV
  • “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”– Joshua 1:9 NIV
  • “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”– Philippians 4:6-7 NIV

What about you? Do you have trouble addressing change, or do you meet it with open arms? Do you have any advice for combating aversion to change? Share in the comments below.

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Fathers to the Rescue by Betty Mason Arthurs

 

 

Fathers to the Rescue

by

Betty Mason Arthurs

Father’s Day is here and it’s a time to pay tribute to our fathers and their positive influence in our lives. I also love the stories about fathers in the animal kingdom and their heroics in rescuing their young.

Recently I was fascinated by a story which reported about my state of Arizona and its Salt River Horses. One click on the internet and I entered a fascinating world, a cowboy era of the Wild West…taking place today.

To the east of Phoenix for 200 miles runs the Salt River through the White Mountains and Tonto National Forest. Over 100 wild horses roam along a 16 mile stretch, among the salt cedars and desert creosote. The wild herds are lead by stallions which have a harem of mares and their young which have adapted to the searing desert heat. Facebook posts and websites give us horse lovers’ updates and photos.

Recently a post shared the story of a stallion named Champ. The photos captured this dappled grey stallion and his harem crossing the river. One dark brown filly struggled to stay close to her mother. There was no sound but you could see that she screamed in fright when she was swept away. Champ chased after her, grabbed her by her mane and dragged her to shore where she once again snuggled close to her mother. See the photos here taken by the “volunteer horse protectors” who fight to preserve these wild herds.

I often find myself in tears when the animal kingdom reflects our human world.

Years ago in the 1950s when I was thirteen, my father and I were visiting our Minnesota family. They owned an old deserted lodge built in the 1920s on Moon Lake. My cousins and I begged the adults to take us for a boat ride on a balmy summer day. My dad agreed to take us and for an hour we enjoyed our time on the water, a new experience for me. Never mind that I couldn’t swim or none of us had life jackets or the ten-foot boat had no oars, the old motor puttered along just fine. Then the sky grew dark, rain started to fall and the wind whipped water into the motor and boat. I kept my eyes on my dad, who in the slashing rain, calmly took the motor apart and dried the spark plugs. Soon the motor sparked to life and a group of waterlogged cousins and I gratefully jumped ashore. Later my dad told me, “I was praying hard, Betty. I made a big mistake of not making sure we had life jackets and oars.” I don’t remember being afraid since I kept my eyes on my father and he had always kept me safe. Dad Mason

Here’s a photo taken of my father, Willard, in the 1980s:

 

A few days ago in Virginia, a gunman opened fire on a congressional delegation of amateur baseball players practicing for a charity event. It happened to be a contingent of Republicans and one congressman had his ten-year-old son with him. As the shooting started over 20 men surrounded his son in the dugout, offering a wall of protection. “My son had many fathers that day,” he said.

Whether human or animal, fathers are a precious part of our lives.

The Bible tells us about God, our Father:

As a father has compassion on his children,
    so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him (Psalm 103:13 NIV).

Do you need a father…a rescuer in your darkest hours? God longs to be that father for you.

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A Dad, a Daughter and a Butterfly by Betty Mason Arthurs

A Dad, a Daughter and a Butterfly

by

Betty Mason Arthurs

 

Father’s Day is coming and I love stories about fathers who have been involved in their children’s lives, bringing strength and loving care into every moment. My pastor, Andrew Cunningham, recently shared about a science project he worked on with his youngest daughter, Emma.

“I can’t dissect the butterfly, Dad, it’s alive!” Emma stared in horror at the insect her dad caught for a seventh grade science project. Andrew, a savvy father, had caught the yellow butterfly after a lengthy search of our Phoenix parks. Using a cheap net purchased at a dollar store, he had chased the “scientific specimen” as time and time again it fluttered away.

“Emma, don’t worry, we’ll kill it before you pull it apart.” He dropped the butterfly in a jar, “We’ll put it in the freezer and it will painlessly die, then you can dissect it.” It seemed Air Force veterans, like Pastor Andrew, are great at problem solving. A few hours later, Emma pulled the jar out, gently laid her butterfly on a paper towel and then yelled, “Dad, its legs are still wiggling!” Andrew made an “executive father decision,” and took Emma outside where they released the winged creature.

He told us during his Sunday morning sermon, “Emma has a sensitive heart. How could I demand she kill one of God’s creations? Surely there was another project she could do for her science class.”

The Bible gives fathers instruction about their children:

Fathers, don’t exasperate your children by coming down hard on them. Take them by the hand and lead them in the way of the Master. Ephesians 6:4 (MSG)

I pray God will give us more sensitive fathers like Pastor Andrew.

Do you have a happy memory to share about your father? Will you share it with me?

Don’t forget to thank your father on this Father’s Day, June 18, 2017.

Posted in children, Christian Living, Family Life, Fathers, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Aged Senses for Better…Mostly Worse by Betty Mason Arthurs

betty-a-001.jpg

For better or for worse, aged bodies and their five senses groan under the load of sensitive blood cells heading to distinction.  Like the antiques rotting in great-granny’s attic, my hearing, vision, touch, taste, and smell have gone kaput. Let’s combine those with memory loss and this old lady and her man, both retired and married over 50 years, must make daily decisions on how to connect with each other and the land of scorpions and termites in Arizona.

With my acute hearing loss, I have two marvelous high-tech hearing aides, but they don’t help much. I blame John’s hearing loss on 1960s good ol’ rock and roll with stereophonic, earth shattering sounds of lead guitars he loved to sing with. One recent morning John said, “Preston has school soccer practice.” Honest, that’s what I heard.

“Oh is soccer starting?” I asked. Preston is our teenage grandson.

“What? Soccer? I didn’t say anything about soccer.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Babe, I asked if you need your stool softener with breakfast.”

“Why would he need stool softener for soccer? You just bought him those great soccer shoes?”

“What?”

“Well maybe it would help with my constipation.”

“I’m talking about breakfast and constipation prevention.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so. Yes, I want my stool softener.”

Hearing loss becomes a plague that kills nice communication between aging couples and their offspring, like termites chewing up your attic beams and the tender floor boards of your home. But the beauty of cell phones is you can turn the volume up and never miss a word. Cell phones and texting keep us in touch with family as never before. Just ask our grown kids. For some reason they don’t want us having important conversations when on lunch dates.

My phone rang while my daughter and I were enjoying a lovely meal.

“Mom, don’t answer, let them leave a message.”

“Helloo, this is Betty,” I shouted above the din.

“Mom, shush, you’re talking too loud.”

“What?!”

“But it’s my doctor’s office.” Darling daughter heads to the restaurant bathroom.

“So glad you called. What a relief, no change? My bone loss is the same as five years ago?!”

Why was she embarrassed?  Good news should be shared. Also the exterminator eliminated our termite problem and sent me a congratulatory text, which makes me glad he didn’t call. Grown children are just too sensitive.

One very important sense of the human body is touch and for me, it’s a very jumpy subject. The reason is:  if you can’t hear chances are you will leap outta your skin when someone touches you since you didn’t hear them coming. This is a skill my husband has mastered. Last night I got up from bed to go to the bathroom being careful to avoid scorpions which crawl in the night…and our black cat. In spite of a five night lights, I didn’t see or hear John. He touched my shoulder. Eeek! The nerve endings on my wrinkled skin erupted in a panic and my fright mechanism, though old, lashed out to eliminate the threat. Jumpy indeed. It took an hour before we relaxed enough to go back to sleep. I must remember to buy a motion sensor for the bedroom or wear my hearing aids and glasses to bed.  And skip the morning stool softener.

Now we must chat about the sense of sight. We enjoy 20/20 vision thanks to eye glasses we bought on special, “Get two for the price of one.” But if you are mega near sideded like me the cost goes up by $510. Then we both must purchase computer glasses which my dear one forgot to take off as we blithely traveled to the grocery store…at night.

“Where are the white lines they’re supposed to paint in this parking lot?” Computer glasses complained.

“What are we doing here? This is Lowe’s?”

“Yes, it’s Lowe’s.”

“Yes, but the grocery store is over there. You must have thought I said Lowe’s when I said loaves.”

“Really? You’re the one with hearing aids. Why can’t you stop mumbling?”

“I give up. Since we’re here, you might as well pick up the light bulbs and paint we need. I’ll walk over and get the bread, milk and bran flakes.”

“Okay, I’ll pick up the paint while you get the bread.”

An hour later I text John, “Are you done? I can’t find the car…or you.” Even the termites see better in their dungeons than we do.

The senses of taste and smell are very closely linked as you age. I have tender ancient taste buds and a sensitive stomach so bland food is good for me. John prefers jalapenos over everything, but I think the hot peppers have cauterized his nasal passages.

“Please take out the trash, it stinks to high heaven.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“Exactly, you can’t smell anything.”

“I was a salesman and last week I sold my old Ham Radio transceiver online.”

“Not sell, smell. Never mind, I’ll empty the trash myself.”

“What are you doing? That is too heavy for you.” He grabs the bag out of my hands and says, “Hey you’re right, this does stink!”

For better and mostly worse, our aged senses are spinning out of control. But like John tells me when I’m nestled in his arms, “We’re in this together, Babe.” Someday I’ll touch his face and shout in his good ear, “I’m Betty, not Babe.”

Yes, my Love, grow old along with me, the worst is yet to be.

Posted in Aging, Christian Living, Doing Life Together, Family Stories, Greatest love ever, Humor, Life Transitions, Love, Marriage, sweethearts, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments

My Country ‘Tis of Thee…Memorial Day Tribute by Betty Mason Arthurs

My Country, ‘Tis of Thee…Memorial Day Tribute

The song, “My Country, ‘Tis of  Thee,” was written by Rev. Samuel Francis Smith in the 1800s when he was 24 years-old. This Memorial Day, May 2017, its beautiful words ring out over America even after so many years and I want to share them with you. I pray we never forget those who died for our country to preserve its freedom and our men and women who serve in our military at home and around the world. Join with me and sing these words.

  1.      My country ‘tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,

Land of the pilgrims’ pride,

From every mountainside,

Let freedom ring!

 

2.         My native country thee,

Land of the noble, free;

Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,

Thy woods and templed hills;

My heart with rapture thrills,

Like that above.

 

3.         Let music swell the breeze,

And ring from all the trees

Sweet freedom’s song;

Let mortal tongues awake;

Let all that breath partake;

Let rocks their silence break,

The sound prolong.

 

4.          Our fathers’ God, to thee,

Author of liberty,

To thee we sing.

Long may our land be bright

With freedom’s holy light;

Protect us by thy might,

Great God, our King. Amen.      By Samuel F. Smith, 1808-1895

 

 

Posted in America, Faith, God, History, Legacy, Military, Music, Remembering, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 3 Comments

How I Learned to Love Geometry…by ARHuelsenbeck

I met Deedee in Girl Scouts.

She went to public school, I went to parochial school. Our paths would never have crossed in elementary school were it not for Scouts.

What I remember most about Deedee from those early years is that she loved ballet, and often spent “down” time moving through her positions or practicing her arabesque.

Deedee’s family valued education. Her mom taught high school history; her dad was a Ph.D. who taught at a nearby college.

Her first name was really Cornelia. Her father affectionately called her Corn Doodle. (Back in the day, Corn Doodles were a snack something like Cheetos®.) From there, the nickname morphed into Doodle Deedle, Deedle, and, finally, Deedee. (One of her sisters was named Priscilla, nicknamed Lolly–but that’s another story).

We didn’t become good friends until high school, where we were in chorus together.

I hated math, mostly because I found it tedious and difficult. I had to repeat freshman algebra during the summer.

Fir0002:Flagstaffotos

Photo by Fir0002/Flagstaffotos

But the first day of sophomore year, I discovered Deedee was in my geometry class. We also had lunch together the next period. We chose a table, sat down with our food, and after the first bite, Deedee opened her geometry book to the homework assignment and said, “How will we solve the first problem?”

My reaction was Can’t it wait? Like maybe seven hours or so?

But I didn’t understand something elemental about Deedee. She loved math. To her, problems were puzzles. She couldn’t wait to take them apart and conquer them.

That day set the tone for the whole year. Frequently, we started our homework during lunch. We didn’t necessarily finish it, but talking through the first few examples with Deedee helped me learn strategies for analyzing the problems. When I was stuck, she gently helped me draw figures, or reminded me of applicable theorems.

I did very well in geometry that year. And I actually enjoyed it.

I wish I could say the same for my junior and senior year math courses. Deedee was not in my classes then.

But I still use what I learned in geometry. Sometimes you have to calculate the area of something. Geometry comes in handy for figuring out how much fabric I need to sew curtains or piece a quilt.

Deedee Holt

Rest in peace, Deedee. I miss you.

The last time I saw Deedee was in 2002. My daughter and I were visiting my parents in my childhood home before I took her off to college. Deedee and her son, John, happened to be visiting town at the same time. We met at the Fireman’s Fair in an adjoining town.

Sadly, Deedee passed away ten years ago this month. She’d recently completed her course work toward a certificate to teach music, and was serving as a substitute teacher as she searched for a permanent job. I wanted her to move from Washington state to Arizona so she could teach in my district, but her son had just one more year of high school to go, and she didn’t want to uproot him.

The world is a bleaker place without Deedee. I’ll never forget her.

Posted in Friendship, Math, Memoir, School | Tagged , | 6 Comments

Listen to Your Heart

I usually find it fairly easy to listen to my heart. But doing what it tells me sometimes comes a little harder. The last year or so has been a productive time in my life. But with productivity comes busyness, which has led to weariness. Lately, now that all the projects and transitions and changes are nearly through, my heart is whispering to me to rest.

I love hearing it, because that’s exactly what I feel like doing. But still, it rubs against what the world tries to tell me I should do. Will I be perceived as lazy? Lacking purpose? Unproductive?

Maybe. But does that even matter?

Lately, I’ve been carving out time for an afternoon rest. I may nap, play a mindless computer game, crochet, or read. If my favorite team is playing during the day, I may even watch the game on TV. I’m finding that when I give myself some rest time, I am far more productive overall. My soul needs that breather so my mind can think more clearly and I can do the things I need to with renewed energy. I don’t set a specific time limit on my rest. I just get back to work whenever I feel ready.

Obviously, not everyone has that luxury, especially if you work for someone else or have children clamoring for your attention. I understand. I’ve been there, too. But if you can find even a few minutes to clear your mind in whatever way works best for you, do it.

Listen to your heart. Do what it says. And if you can’t do it right then, take good notes so you don’t forget its whisper.

Linda

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