Museum Moment

Jeanita is one of my oldest and dearest friends, the kind you might not see for months and yet when you meet again, you can pick up exactly where you left off. Lately we’ve been trying to come up with a free weekend that we could get together with another couple of friends, and it seems impossible to come up with a date that will work for all the people involved. I’m not talking about a week or even an entire weekend. We’ve given up on that idea. Now we’re just trying to find a free spot for dinner! Incidentally, we live about 140 miles apart so it’s not as if she’s right around the corner. And then when you add more people into the mix, then a meeting really gets complicated!

At some point during last night’s conversation, Jeanita said something I’ve heard her say many times. It’s a thought I’ve heard expressed by many women.

“I thought things were supposed to get easier as we got older,” she said. “It seems like they’re getting more and more complicated.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m busy all the time, and I often wonder how I managed to get anything done when I was a younger mother.”

As I’ve mentioned before, the key is balance. Jeanita and I like to have fun and have taken some trips to NYC together. On one of them, we left Judy, Joan Ella, and Patty at the hotel so that we could visit the MoMA, Museum of Modern Art, where there was a Van Gogh exhibit. I was having a conniption fit to see The Starry Night, and despite the fact that we’d miss having dinner with the rest of our party before the theatre, Jeanita was up for the experience.

We rode in a bicycle drawn rickshaw to get there, and even though we only had thirty minutes to savor the exhibit once we arrived, it was well worth the time and the money. On the way, we laughed and chatted and absorbed the energy of the city. Then when we got into the museum and on the floor of the exhibit, I said something like, “Let’s just walk in calmly and amble along until we see it.” She grinned, nodding in agreement.

And that’s what we did. After looking at paintings of wheat fields and potato eaters, we rounded a corner and there it was, The Starry Night. Awed by the painting’s intense colors, swirling celestial orbs, and the cypress tree reaching toward heaven, neither of us spoke for a few moments. Standing there, we talked about the tiny town nestled beneath the sky and how the church steeple reached heavenward, just like the tree. In the sky, there was action and energy and light; below there was quiet and darkness. We talked about how puffed up and important we humans think we are, and yet when compared to the cosmos, we’re “small potatoes.”

I’d have to say that viewing the painting was pretty close to a spiritual experience. While studying scriptures, praying, meditating, attending church, reading inspirational books and magazines are all beneficial for our spiritual growth, so is visiting an art museum and appreciating the work of the great painters. So are visiting a beach, a mountain, or your own backyard. Mother Nature can be a good nurturer, and often a walk around my neighborhood turns into a moving meditation.

Jeanita and saw the rest of the exhibit and then circled back for one last look at Starry Night. I bought a poster of it in the museum gift shop, and whenever I look at it, I remember that day in Manhattan when I was both Mary and Martha. Balance is the key.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Queen Esther and her royal apparel are on my mind again today. I wish more young people would read the account in Esther of how she appeared before the king in her royal apparel. I like to think that he took one look at her and thought, “Wow!” before extending the royal scepter.


Last weekend my daughter Elizabeth and I did a wee bit of shopping for back-to-school attire. She has great taste in clothes and home décor and has kept me from making many a fashion and decorating faux pas. She has a good eye for color and design and has often encouraged me to try something a little whimsical or off beat. At the same time, there have been occasions when she’s had to rein in some of my choices. “It’s just not you, Mom,” she’ll say. She’s even been known to look at me incredulously and ask, “What is that on your body?” when I’ve donned something too dated, youthful, unbecoming, or dowdy.

Elizabeth is a middle school teacher who adheres to a dress code. As a representative of the school, she realizes the importance of a professional appearance. Too, the students, especially the girls, are looking at her and the other school employees as additional role models for what’s appropriate and what’s not. Elizabeth, her work colleagues and I all know that if we want to get, keep, and grow in careers, then we have to follow certain guidelines. While I’m on the subject of appropriate attire, I have to mention my sister-in-law Cindy, a professional whose dress and appearance are always impeccable.

A few weeks ago Melissa, a young co-worker, told me about an article she had read about personal appearance and its importance in the workplace. According to the information she read, some of the top reasons given by employers for not hiring and/or promoting people all had to do with image factors that people have control over: bad breath, unkempt looking hair, visible tattoos, and wrinkled clothing. Then last week, I read an article on NPR that advised people who weren’t getting the positions and raises they wanted to look in the mirror. That’s right. According to the article, looks still count.

Many people might argue that it’s their work ethic and their expertise that should make the difference. They don’t think it’s fair to be judged on appearance. While they might have a point, it’s a fact that employers are the ones who are calling the shots, and if they don’t want to see visible tattoos and you want the job, then cover it (or them) up. If you think employers are being too picky about ironing your clothes, fine. Then stay unemployed. Like it or not, people everywhere make assumptions based on appearance, at least until they get to know you.

We may not all be queens going before kings, but we don’t need to look like we just climbed out of the palace dungeon either. Queen Esther knew that looking her best to impress the king would make a huge difference in his perception of her. Plus, it would give her the psychological boost she needed in order to appear before him with confidence. Had she gone sashaying in looking like any other woman in the harem, the king might have opted not to extend his scepter, a sign that could signal death for her and her people.

I feel like the teacher side of me is coming out today, that I’m pontificating a little too much about this subject. And yet, I sometimes look at the beautiful young women I see around me and wonder what has happened to them. Has no one ever told them about the importance of modest and appropriate (for the position) attire? Do they think that their looks or talents are all that’s necessary for success? Don’t they realize that if they want to have the scepter extended, that they have to look the part?

Bake the Cake

Carol once jokingly asked me if my nickname had been Pollyanna as a child. No, it wasn’t. In fact, my optimistic attitude probably didn’t fully evolve until I reached midlife. It was about the time that I became familiar with psychologist Martin Seligman’s work on the importance of optimism in affecting health and longevity and a host of other things in-between.

Wait. Doesn’t the Bible say the same thing? Aren’t we admonished to be of good cheer and to have faith? Aren’t we told that all things work together for those who love the Lord? I’ve never interpreted that to mean that a person is promised wealth, fame, and health but simply that things will work out. Gordon B. Hinckley, former president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints often quipped, “Things will work out,” and while that’s not especially deep, I grabbed hold of that phrase and didn’t let go. Like a mantra, I’d say, “This will work out. Everything will work out. Things will be fine. Just keep doing what you’re supposed to be doing, and have faith.” And naturally, I’d repeat the phrase to my children too. “Don’t worry, Bud,” I’d say. “Things will work out.”

While the scriptures are replete with stories of women who persevered and had faith, the one I’m thinking of today is the widow of Zarephath. Remember her? Her story is found in the 17th chapter of 1 Kings. In summary, God instructs Elijah the Tishbite to go to Zarephath and tells him that He’s instructed a widow living there to sustain him. When Elijah sees her gathering sticks, he asks her for water, and while she’s on her way to “fetch it,” Elijah goes a step farther and asks her for a morsel of bread.

Here’s where the story really gets interesting. There’s a famine in the land, and people all around are going hungry. The widow has “handful of meal in barrel, and a little oil in a cruse” and is planning to go home and cook the last meal for her son “that we may eat it, and die” Elijah tells the widow to “fear not” and to make him a little cake first. He promises her that if she does what he asks, then she’ll have sufficient meal and oil as long as the famine lasts. She follows his instructions, and the three of them have food while all around them people are going hungry.

Time goes on, and at some point the widow’s son becomes sick, so sick that he actually dies. His grieving mother goes to Elijah and expresses her dismay and downright anger at this turn of events. Elijah prays for the son’s revival and then stretches out upon him three times, still praying that the child’s soul will come into him again. The son revives, and his grateful mother declares that she knows Elijah is a man of God.

I don’t personally know any children and their mothers who are on the brink of starvation, but I do know dozens of single mothers who aren’t able to provide the most nutritional food for their children. Cola drinks are less expensive than orange juice. Potatoes cost less than broccoli. Nor can they provide brand name clothes and shoes like some of the “richer” kids wear. It seems crazy to say, “Hey, think positive. Things will work out.” But then, is it better say, “You’re trapped in misery, Girl!”?

I work with young women whose home situations are so dire that it makes my heart hurt. In class one day, I remarked that my former mother-in-law used to tell me that what I didn’t spend at the grocery store I’d end up spending at the doctor’s office. After hearing this, one young student wrote me and said that not only did her family not have enough money to buy the “good stuff” to eat; they couldn’t afford to go to the doctor’s office either. “People in my family just die,” she said.

I don’t have all the answers to life’s conundrums. To my students, I say, “Stay in school. Education’s the ticket to a better life.” I also tell them that their lives aren’t always going to be the way they are right now. Things change, hopefully for the better. At the same time, an individual has to make the effort to improve situations. And have faith. Yep, that’s important. Without faith, why or how would a person find the motivation to even try?

Like the widow of Zarephath, bake the cake and have faith. Things will work out. It might not be this week, and it might not be the way you'd hoped, but they will work out.

Special Affinities

Hearing giggles and muffled conversation, I had to go and check things out for myself. What was going on? When I walked into the room, I spied my daughter Elizabeth carefully polishing her nieces’ tiny toenails. Excited at their fuchsia colored nails, they were sitting perfectly still while Elizabeth worked her magic. Brooke and Emma both adore their aunt, but it seems to me that there’s a special bond between Elizabeth and Emma Elizabeth. Is it because of their names? No, I don’t think so. Is it because they’re both girlie girls? No, I think it’s deeper than that, something more mystifying.


One of the topics studied by social psychologists is the mysterious attraction that exists between individuals. For reasons beyond my comprehension, there’s often an affinity between two people that not even psychology can explain. Sometimes they’re related, and sometimes they’re not. My sister-in-law Becky shares no DNA with my daughter Elizabeth, and yet the two of them seem connected in a special way. My niece Sarah Beth and I are kindred spirits. It could be our love of fashion, art, and all things a little offbeat. Then there are friends, those people who waltz into our lives and somehow connect with us in a way that the other thousands of people in our community and workplace didn’t or couldn’t.

Pondering these relationships gives me a tiny bit more insight into Mary, the mother of Christ, and her cousin Elisabeth. I’ve always been perplexed about why Mary chose to go and visit Elisabeth and spend three months with her before she even told Joseph about the baby she was carrying. I don’t even know whether she told her mother before she spoke with Elisabeth. Did she not have a friend she could confide in? The scriptures are silent on the WHY. All we know for certain is that when Elisabeth saw Mary, her son John leapt within her womb, and somehow Elisabeth knew that her young cousin was also carrying a child. Not just any child, but THE CHILD.

I’m wondering if these special affinities we have for some people exist for a reason. Perhaps we’re meant to take special care of each other, to listen without judgment, and to fill in the gap(s) that no one else can .Even the most loving of mothers can’t understand everything about their children. Sometimes their temperaments are different, and sometimes they just flat out don’t have the time.

Gifts Differing

I walked into the library and met my friend Sue coming out. She was armed with some books about sewing and quilting and was super excited about a new project she's beginning. She facilitates a “sit and sew” class at church occasionally, and although I’ve never been, I think it must be fun for the people who attend. You know who I’m talking about, the ones who are talented with a needle, thread, and fabric. Not this gal. I went through a season of it, but at the moment, I have other things on my plate.

I was a little afraid that Sue was going to encourage me to come to her class, but she didn’t. Maybe she’s given up on me, or maybe she’s added so much more to her own platter that she doesn’t have time to teach the class anymore. Whatever the reason, she didn’t bring it up. Instead we talked about writing, and I think she and her husband are going to organize some ideas they have and put them in a book. We chatted about e-publishing before parting ways.

Since my encounter with Sue, I’ve been thinking about many of the women I know and their various gifts.

• Kitty can do just about anything, but right now she’s into genealogy and regularly teaches a class about finding ancestors.
• Connie, my artistic friend, can draw and take gorgeous photographs.
• So can Christi, a young friend who has her own photography business.
• Elizabeth and Kelly are middle school teachers. My hat is off to them!
• My husband’s mother and sister are two of the best cooks in the South. Me? I’d give myself between a C and a low B.
• My husband’s daughters were star athletes when they were younger, and I couldn't hit a basketball with a softball bat, much less that tiny little ball.
• My niece Katherine can open her mouth, and music comes out. It’s incredible.
• My daughter-in-law Amanda can play the piano like nobody’s business.

What I’m getting at is that it’s okay to be who we are without having to make excuses for who or what we are not. For evidence, all we have to do is look at a few of the women in the Bible. Rachel was beautiful, and although her sister Leah wasn’t, Leah gave birth to six of Jacob’s sons. Is beauty overrated? Deborah was a judge. Good for Deborah. The world needs women who are judges. It also needs women who can sing, sew, take pictures, prepare meals, play basketball, run businesses, write, dance, grow flowers, can vegetables, and teach children of the next generation.

I can’t sing or teach small children, at least not very well. I feel inadequate when I read about the virtuous woman in Proverbs who could do everything with aplomb and apparent ease. I’m not her, and neither are you, but who we are is fine.

Egyptian Mother

According to every reputable source available, four in ten births in America are to unwed mothers. That boggles my mind! I don't profess to know all of  the many reasons behind this societal change. Sometimes couples need more time to develop their relationship and their bank account before tying the knot. Sometimes there was never an intention to marry, especially now that the era of “shotgun weddings” appears to be history. Then too, often these births occur among women in their 20’s and 30’s who are independent and resourceful enough to raise a child on their own.

I think many of these moms could use some help every now and then. Semester after semester I teach young women whose “baby daddies” have moved on, leaving them to provide food, clothing, shelter, medical care, and TLC for the little ones. That’s where the rest of us can step in. There are thousands of children who need love and guidance and maybe a few extra material things too. They need someone who can provide things that their mothers don’t have time or resources for.

Thinking about this sociological phenomenon reminds me of a woman in the Bible who raised one of the most influential men in all history, a man whom the Lord knew “face to face.” This man was Moses, and the woman who raised him was Pharaoh’s daughter. Jochebed was his biological mother, and she trusted God enough to hide the infant Moses by the river’s brink when he was three months old. Had she not done so, he would likely have been killed.

Remember the story? Pharaoh’s daughter and her maidens went down to the river so that she could bathe, and while there, she spied the baby. When she looked at him, he cried, and she had compassion for the little one. Although she knew he was a Hebrew child and that all Hebrew baby boys were to be killed, she made arrangements to “adopt” him as her own.

Months passed, and according to the story in the second chapter of Exodus, Jochebed nursed him and then brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter. “And the child grew, and she brought him unto Pharaoh’s daughter, and he became her son. And she called his name Moses: and she said, Because I drew him out of the water.” (Verse 10) Although Jochebed’s heart was probably heavy that day, she knew what had to be done to save her son’s life.

Even though she was Pharaoh’s daughter, to me it seems that she took a big chance in raising him in the palace. Would he be recognized as Hebrew and not Egyptian? Was she single? If so, would there be gossip about the child's father? If married, what sort of understanding did she and her husband reach about Moses? Would her father not notice the child and have him killed? I don’t know much about the status of women during that era, but I don’t think being a princess was quite as exalted a role as it later became. She could have lost her life too!

Because of his life in the palace, Moses had advantages that would prepare him to eventually lead his people out of Egypt. Just imagine the education he received as a member of the royal household compared to the one he would have received had he stayed with his birth family. Plus, he learned firsthand about Egyptian culture, knowledge that would surely come in handy later in his life.

While this story occurred centuries ago, it has application to today’s world. I’m not a member of a royal household, but there are things I can do for children whose mothers are stressed and whose resources are stretched to the max. I can babysit, donate money to a women’s shelter, or even buy school supplies. The mothers we help don't necessarily have to be single either. Married moms have their share of challenges, even those with financial resources. They need support too.

I’m a grandmother and too old to adopt a child, but there are younger, more energetic people who could do so. I’ve read that many people who want to adopt a child would prefer one of their same race and/or ethnicity. But Moses was a Hebrew, and his mother was an Egyptian. Look how she changed his life!

Fight in TJ Maxx

I keep reliving a scene I witnessed a few weeks ago. I was in one of my favorite retail establishments in Myrtle Beach when I heard a loud, angry voice. It was coming from a man standing in the aisle who was evidently upset with the way the young woman he was with had disciplined a child. He used the f-word a couple of times and then added the b-word to it. By this time, the small child was crying, and the woman was talking back. Actually, they seemed pretty evenly matched as far as their yelling obscenities skills were concerned. Neither seemed aware of the sobbing child, and as they walked away towards the door, both were still hurling insults and threats


Everyone around me stopped to gawk. It’s not that we wanted to. We just didn’t know what to do or if we should do anything. A woman looking at the same merchandise that I was said, “Look at my arms! There are goose bumps everywhere!” Seriously, you could have heard a pin drop.

One of my daughters was with me but had opted to stay in car. When I rejoined her, she said, “Mama, you wouldn’t believe what I just saw.” She proceeded to tell me about the fighting couple and what had happened in the parking lot. The young woman had physically attacked him and walked off with the child, and the man had stomped off in a different direction.

Where is this young woman today? Is she raising the child alone? Was the verbally abusive young man the father of the child? Are they married? Are they still together? If so, is it because she has no recourse at the moment, or is it because she genuinely loves the guy? Did my little window of into their lives reveal a rare moment of anger, or was that typical of their lives? Why didn’t either of them notice the sobbing child?

What I think is that women who are abused, neglected, hurt, cast aside, downtrodden, abandoned, or depressed have a God who loves them. I also think that sometimes emotional and psychological pain can be so horrific and overwhelming that a person can’t think straight, much less feel His spirit. All she can do is feel distress and despair, and unless someone helps her, her life could continue a downward spiral.

Several women in the Bible suffered rejection, sadness, betrayal, and heartache. For starters, there’s Hagar who, at Sarah’s request, was banished by Abraham to the desert with her son Ishmael. It’s not as though they were sent on a trip. They were sent there to die! Sure, Abraham sent them away with bread and a bottle of water, but how long was that supposed to last? Fortunately for Hagar, God saved their lives and promised to make Ishmael “a great nation.” (Genesis 21:18)

And there’s Tamar, the beautiful daughter of David who was raped by her half-brother Amnon. Using the ruse of illness, he requested that she bring food to his room, and although she begged him not to, he raped his half-sister. After the rape, Amnon “hated her exceedingly” and told her to “Arise, be gone.” (2 Samuel 13:15) Tamar is devastated by this act, and although her father David is angry about it, he apparently does nothing. Her brother Absalom takes her into his home, and two years later, he arranges for Amnon’s death (2 Samuel 13:28). I’ve often wondered whether Amnon’s murder affected Tamar’s well-being.

Fast forward to the New Testament, specifically the 8th chapter of John in which scribes and Pharisees bring Christ a woman caught in the act of adultery. As an aside, I’ve often wondered who and where her partner was. Her accusers remind Christ that according to Mosaic law, she should be stoned. He ponders for a moment, writes something in the sand, and then instructs whoever is without sin to cast the first stone. Just He and the accused woman are left, and He says, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

What all three of these instances share with that of the young woman in TJ Maxx is that they each portray a woman who is downtrodden, betrayed, shunned, ridiculed, or hurt. While I don’t profess to know how it works, I know that His love is available to all women. Neither condemning nor chastising, He is there.