Breaking Obsessions and the Scent of Roses

I don't know if other families obsess about particular issues, but the three of us in our home have our pet preoccupations. And we bore each other, and others, with our hyper-interest on the topics.

So we've decided to call a truce. Ron, Andrea and I can and will talk freely about our obsessions in the normal course of conversation... but we each promise to be aware of how we bore others with it. And how we fail to notice the beauty of this wonderful life when we focus too intently on one tiny aspect of our existence.

My mania is politics. Since I write about it professionally, I must stay plugged in. And on many an evening, I rattle on and on ad naseum at the dinner table about Obama this and Hillary that. Or George Bush this and Dick Cheney that.

I care passionately about our great country, and this is my way if contributing to its welfare. But after a rant exceeds 10 minutes, their eyes glaze over. While I'm getting worked up, they're tuning out.

Ron's focus as a diabetic is his health. He takes five prescriptions daily, including a twice daily injection. And he must measure his blood sugar several times daily. Of course he focuses on his health. Disciplined focus is the key to his very survival.

But it's easy to succumb to a constant victim/patient mentality, and become over-absorbed by a chronic illness. It's easy for an illness to become an identity. And life is about more than keeping one's body alive and healthy.

Andrea is an exceptional high school student, and is being heavily recruited by many dozens of excellent universities. Unchecked, it's all she talks about. Not in an arrogant way... but in an exuberant way.

She's glimpsed the green, green pastures of college life, and she can already taste the heady freedom of dorm life without mom and dad. The vision is pure nirvana for any sixteen year old. But she talks about college choices constantly.

At dusk yesterday, she joined me outside as I was watering my roses and herb plants. And she started in on Cal Tech this and Yale that.

Running hose in hand, I turned and asked if we could talk about something else. That lately, college is the only subject we ever talk about, and I'd love to know about books, movies, music , friends she cares about. Anything but college all the time...

Puzzled, she shrugged and went inside.

I continued to water roses. Yellow, peach, whisper pink and crimson roses. And I stopped, for once, and smelled the roses...

And the scent was lovelier than I remembered.

Magic Kingdom

My earliest memory dates to the summer of 1955, when I was a few months shy of four years old. I remember my feelings and the sights as if it was yesterday, not five decades ago.

A vast, empty parking lot, with few people and almost no other cars.

Red and white striped tents gleaming under the perfect California sun. Curious carnival rides poking into the skyline. Booths selling books of entrance tickets. Planters and planters of manicured red and yellow rose bushes. And Mickey and Minnie Mouse, greeting me, my baby brother, and mom and dad.

I vividly recall staring... really staring... at the tents from the parking lot. My childish imagination sparked with the unexpected promise of a bigger, more interesting world than I knew on our suburban street lined with one-story tract homes.

Sleeping Beauty's castle. A terrifying boat ride through the African jungle. Dumbos soaring children aloft in the afternoon sky. A circus train, with monkey cages for parents.

To children today, the terms "magical kingdom" and "the happiest place on earth" are stupid marketing hype. Every major American city has multiple amusement parks. And Disneyland of 1955 pales when compared to the common technological miracles of the 21st century.

But my deep sense of wonder that sublime, youthful moment was the seed of my creative life.

Meaning and Loneliness

I'm struck by how lonely so many older folks are, particularly those who are single.

My father-in-law, who became a widower last year after 55 years of marriage, still lives in their three-bedroom, two-bathroom gated-community home with living room, formal dining room and family room and with full backyard and garden. He lives 400 miles from us.

He does well compared to most seniors. He swims at the Y weekly, plays golf several times monthly, and attends church most Sundays. He cooks for himself, and is regularly invited to family barbecues and special occasions.

But Dad watches TV for many hours each day. He waits desperately for people to call or visit him, yet he's wholly uncomfortable reaching to others. He refuses to learn the internet.

He's alone. He's lonely. And no real idea of how to be happy, or even what happiness might be, without his wife.

We have a sixty-something neighbor who spent the last ten years taking care of her recently deceased mother.

Our neighbor, a avid quilter, is not employed, and was divorced decades ago. Her son and his family live nearby. She sees them at church weekly, and they stop by at least once a week. She has a brother in the area, too.

She, too is lonely and usually alone. And she, too, seems to have little grasp of how to lead a more involved, people-friendly life, or to move beyond her small world.

I feel genuine empathy for them. But I also wonder... are they fulfilled? Do they believe they live meaningful lives?

And I think... what if I was single again? Kids grown and gone. No full-time employment responsibilities. Would I, too, spend my day watching TV, exercising and dabbling at my hobbies?

Or would I reach out to find more meaning beyond myself?

It's odd... I fear leading a meaningless life, focused on ME, more than I do being lonely or alone.

Does a person feel lonely when their life has meaning?

Loafing

I haven't posted lately for any particular reason... other than I just don't feel like writing or working. I feel like loafing.

The sky is baby blue. The sunshine is luxuriously warming.

My roses and geraniums are blooming in brilliant pink, orange, yellow and fuschia. Fragrances from my new herb garden of rosemary, lavender and sweet basil fill the air. The green, soft grass is comfortably shaggy.

All I feel like doing is sipping iced tea and dreaming over a well-written novel...

So that's what I did today instead of work. AndI feel fine about that... :)

(Photo is of the most beautiful rose garden I've ever seen: the famed Portland, Oregon public rose gardens.)

The Meaning of Luke 18: 17

While enjoying our precious two-year-old granddaughter on Easter, I was strongly reminded of the meaning of Luke 18: 17:

"I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."

Her wholehearted joy at hunting plastic Easter eggs and eating chocolate bunnies...

Her absolute, unquestioning trust in her parents and grandparents...

And... bestill my heart... her sweetness when, for the first time, she folded her little hands and joined her family in prayer before Easter dinner.

At the end of Ron's prayer, she smiled impishly and shouted at the top of her lungs, "AMEN!!!"

Yes, God, I hear you... the faith of a little child!

Hallelujah!

By the grace of God, He is risen.

By the grace of God, mankind has hope for salvation.

Hallelujah!

Of Losing and Saving

No particular reason to post this biblical passage, other than I picked up my Bible, and it fell open to this page. And the passage leapt out at me...

Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said:

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.

For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?"

--- Mark 8: 34-36