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Some days are so strange I feel as if the grandkids of Candid Camera’s Alan Funt and Ashton Kutcher have combined forces. They are hiding ready to jump out at any moment, shove release forms in my face, admit they’ve been following me with hidden cameras claiming they are sure this is going to make for great footage. It’s like living out choreographed mishaps.

Honestly, I think there are times life does it’s very best to try my patience just to see how I’ll react. It may take a couple of frustrating circumstances before I finally hit myself on the forehead and recognize I’m being tested. Then the challenge is on. Who is going to come out on top; me or the exasperating debris real life throws?

Patience is a revered, coveted virtue. I don’t mean covet like 10th Commandment covet, just an extreme want. How lovely it would be to always smile and stay in control. Every morning I have the fullest intention of doing just that. But I have to get out of bed and face the world and that’s when things change. The problem with patience is you have to go through crazy aggravations to develop it. If everything was always smooth you would never know if you had any.

We were almost to the airport yesterday when we noticed a man right on our bumper. Jim was going the speed limit so when he honked we thought something might be wrong with our car. Suddenly the guy sped around us frantically waving his middle finger as if to say I REALLY MEAN THIS! Jim and I just looked at each other and laughed. I was glad to see he didn’t have a Jesus Is My Co-Pilot bumper sticker.

Ironically, he was in line behind me at the ticket counter and security check point where he had to wait again. Clearly his anger and impatience had nothing to do with Jim’s driving because he was short with everyone. I was tempted to tell him I was writing an article on impatience and ask him if he would be willing to let me interview him. I wondered if he was a disgruntled postal worker, so I decided to drop the idea of the pretend article.

So if your day gets a little dicey and you find yourself on the edge of a meltdown, remember patience has to be developed, face your trials head on with as much grace as you can, and there’s always the possibility that Ashton Kutcher or the Candid Camera crew could be hiding around the next corner.

You know how you do things without really thinking past the surface? For instance, when the server at Applebee’s brings your salad do you really think about where the produce came from, how clean the kitchen is and if the cook has a cold. If we really considered all of that we’d never eat out. Until restaurants do something to make us think otherwise, we trust them.

The other day I was on a plane and I let my mind wander as I stared out the window. I found myself thinking about things that don’t normally cross my mind. How in the world does this thing fly. It makes no sense to me. We are 30,000 feet in the air. What if the pilot has a heart attack? What if both pilots have heart attacks at the same time and we are over shark infested waters? Did the flight attendant say the seat was a flotation device? Why don’t I listen to those announcements! Oh wait, I’m flying to Virginia not the Virgin Islands so the likelihood of crashing in shark infested waters is slim. Who is the pilot? Is he a nice guy? We tell our kids to not get in cars with strangers so why is it OK to let a person I’ve never even seen take me 30,000 feet in the air?

So I got a little carried away. But at some point I snapped out of it and realized I have to trust the airline and the pilots. In reality, we all do that on some level all the time. What if I lose my job? What happens if our savings runs out? What about my health insurance? What if I lose it and get cancer? What if my kids do something embarrassing? What will people think? Maybe I’m just a bad parent. Just like cockroaches, fear silently creeps in.

There are countless extra large question marks in our lives. I think they are there to keep us humble. Just think how cocky we all would be if we knew why things happen the way they do or what was coming next. Faith is hopeful trust. There are just some things we don’t know now and may never have the answers to.

If I can trust a pilot who doesn’t even know my name to take me safely where I need to go then why shouldn’t I be able to trust God who knows me intimately to take me safely where I’m going. Faith and fear won’t fit in your heart at the same time. They’re both too big. Faith gives you peace, fear gives you heart palpitations and a headache.

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”
-Hebrews 11:1

In high school I thought it was easier to hang out with the guys than the girls. Maybe because they were just more even keeled and emotionally the very same every day. With girls it was like living in an ongoing episode of Days Of Our Lives. It wore me out.

My kids think it’s funny I was a cheerleader. I remember wishing I could play football because it was so much less dramatic. I finally got my chance when the cheerleaders and drill team had a flag football game to raise money for charity. Guess what? The drama left the sidelines and simply moved onto the field. After the game the varsity football coach told me he’d give anything if I was a boy. I suppose that was meant to be a compliment.

I think because women are plugged in to so many things at once and process in multiple arenas at the same time we get to the point of circuit overload. There’s where the drama starts. Men are very compartmentalized. When they are at work they are at work. When they are at home they are at home. When they are playing golf, they are playing golf.

I like that. It’s easy to follow but unrealistic for me. Face it, that’s not how a woman’s brain operates. My friend Fran laughs about the first business proposal she made to an all male board of directors. As she was presenting she said these thoughts fluttered across her mind: How’s my son doing on his spelling test? Did my daughter make up with her friend on the playground? Did I pack the right sandwich in the right lunch box and why on earth did I wear a white suit this time of the month? The men were at work so they were at work thinking about work.

My thoughts slosh around like a goldfish in a take home baggie. Much of the time I don’t know which direction they’re going next. More than likely in high school I thought if I would hang out with the guys I would learn how they compartmentalize like they do. I didn’t.

What I have figured out is this; neither way of thinking is better, just different. We are meant to balance each other. If we will slow down long enough, we can gain a different perspective. Women can learn from men; life really is simpler taking one compartment at a time. Men can learn from women; a little drama keeps it interesting.

“…let us encourage one another…” -Hebrews 10:25

Over the years I spent a chunk of time with kids in stadiums and gyms, on fields, and at pools, most of the time, just sitting. Jason was a swimmer. Parents of swimmers who are sprinters follow their kids all over the country to sit for two days or more to watch at race that’s over in 20 seconds. Something is just not right about that.

One year Jason had an after school schedule conflict so four mornings a week he worked out with the older kids before school. He wasn’t driving yet so I joined several other parents in the bleachers who spent the hour and a half drinking coffee, reading newspapers, or sleeping.

The coach decided to offer a senior competitive program and opened up one workout lane for interested parents. Senior didn’t mean you had to be senior citizen discount age to participate, you just had to be out of school. I was tired of sitting, so I signed up. I’ve never worked so hard in my life.

With my family’s encouragement I entered my first swim meet at 34. I had been to countless swim meets, but I’d never competed in one. I climbed on the blocks and while waiting for the start I thought I was going to hyperventilate and pass out. I don’t remember much about the race except my arms feeling like lead. I won my heat and you would have thought I had won an Olympic trial. What a sense of accomplishment!

I learned an interesting lesson competing in the senior swim program. Watching a swim meet and swimming in a swim meet are two entirely different things. Even though it may look easy, until you are in the water you have no idea what it’s like.

We are so quick to make judgements about people and circumstances. Most of the time we have no clue what it’s like to be in the middle of things we analyze from the sidelines. Just like armchair quarterbacks go on and on about the way things should have been done in a ball game we scrutinize people and situations.

So next time we’re tempted, instead of making a hasty assumption, let’s jump in and swim a while first.

The average person spends 30% of their life sleeping. Many times I feel like I spend the rest of my life waiting … on something. When I Googled I found the average person waits between 45 and 62 minutes a day. This is one area where I’m absolutely sure I’m above average. We wait at traffic lights, the doctor’s office, the Department of Motor Vehicles, in the pick up lane at school, in the lines at the bank and the post office, in airports, in the check out line and to be seated at restaurants.

My friend Darnell told me years ago she kept a book in her purse for waiting time. Now we can text or check email or balance bank accounts while we wait. Some days get so busy, waiting almost becomes a welcomed break. A break or not, the majority of us are not good waiters.

We’re impatient and admit or not, we don’t want to wait on anything. Because our lives have become so drive-through and microwave-instant when we do have to wait it’s almost shocking to our systems.

There are some things that take more than the average 45 to 62 minute bite out of our days. We have to wait on babies to be born, bodies to heal, broken hearts to mend, love to grow and children to grow up.

Our biggest test is not wishing the time away during the wait. This is especially challenging while raising kids. We’re so tempted to say, “I can’t wait until she is potty trained. I can’t wait until he can drive. I can’t wait until they graduate.” But, you can and you do. Then they’re gone.

One thing we can never have again is today. Enjoy it, take advantage of it, make the most of it. When you have to wait, and you will because of the law of averages, don’t wish away your time. Text someone you love them, make a Walmart list or clean out your purse.

It seems we Americans observe a lot of holidays and in our town we celebrate with parades. The whole community comes out to cheer, wave and catch up with people they haven’t seen since last year’s parade. The Christmas parade is famous for drawing thousands of people from surrounding states the first Sunday of December every year. Streets are blocked off and diehards begin saving their spots with blankets and lawn chairs on Saturday night. Everyone lines up along the route in freezing temperatures laughing and visiting as if they were on the lake in the middle of July. There’s something about tradition that brings the crazy out in people. Proof is in the Polar Bear plunge. I think that’s midwinter boredom out of control.

We celebrate Memorial Day, Labor Day, Veterans Day, Boss’ Day, Secretary’s Day, President’s Day, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day and the list goes on and on. Our kids even thought pay day was somewhere on that list.

Today is Ground Hog’s Day. We smile in Missouri, but in Pennsylvania it’s serious business. In Punxsutawney, on Gobbler’s Nob, Phil, the official ground hog is disturbed from hibernation to determine if winter is over or if we’ll have to endure six more weeks. If he doesn’t see his shadow warmer weather is on the away. If he does see his shadow we’re sunk. That’s a huge responsibility for a rodent.

There are ceremonies, banquets, parties, dances and even pre and post Ground Hog Day festivities in observance of a tradition that began in the late 1800s. In 1993 the movie Ground Hog Day opened staring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell. Bill Murray’s character, Phil, an arrogant weather reporter was assigned to cover the Ground Hog Day activities on Gobblers Nob. Because a snow storm hit the area and closed the roads the TV crew had to stay in the local bed and breakfast an extra night.

The next morning Phil woke up to Ground Hog Day again. He magically got stuck in February 2nd and it was relived and relived and relived. It was as if he was given chance after change to do it right. At first he fought it, but realized the best thing was to go with it and learn from it. By the end of the movie Phil had transformed into a wonderful kind of a guy.

We really are given the same kind of opportunity every day. Obviously not reliving the exact day, but we are given endless chances to get it right. Chuck Swindoll tells the story of his grandfather teaching him to drive: When he asked me to pull the car into the garage I misjudged the distance and smashed into the doorway. My granddad just smiled and said, “Back it up and try again”.

What a great lessons we can learn from Phil and Chuck’s granddad. When we smash things up, don’t fight it, go with it and learn from it, and when necessary back it up and try again.

Happy Ground Hog Day!

If ever there comes a time in my life when I get bored, I will certainly go to the grocery store. It’s one of the most entertaining places because it’s full of people, all kinds of people. For me the most interesting place to grocery shop is the Walmart Super Center. I used to feel so guilty shopping for groceries there. Our friend who owned the local grocery sold to a large chain so now I don’t feel like I’m cheating on our friendship if I go to the Super Center.

At any grocery store people are usually either in a hurry to pick up a few things or working on a long list. I have learned not to dare think it’s possible to dash in and not see anyone you know. It just won’t happen so I always try to at least brush my hair before I go in.

When I was about two weeks from giving birth to Jill, I took three year old Travis for a dash-in trip to K Mart for a loaf of bread. He was standing right beside me but when I looked down he was gone. At the same time panic grabbed my throat, a voice came over the speaker system, “Will Suzette please come to the customer service desk. Travis says you are lost.”

When I got to the service counter, which was only 20 feet away from the bread display, the clerk bragged how well Travis had given his information. “After seeing you, I now understand why he said, ‘Just like a clown,’ when we asked him what you looked like,” she laughed.

Obviously tact was not a section of the employee training handbook. Relieved to have Travis propped on my very large belly and trying to let the comment slide, I headed to the door with my bread trying to figure out how so many people I knew could be in K Mart at the same time. Naturally, they all had come to the service desk to make sure I had found the child I’d lost. I’m certain they were silently questioning my ability to take care of a third one.

Oh the experiences you have pushing a shopping cart. You learn more than you can in a library full of books. I once met a girl who became a lifelong friend by the asparagus in the produce department. I received some of the wisest counsel ever in the pasta aisle between the rigatoni and spaghetti. I learned an extremely valuable life lesson from the dairy case. And on the heels of experiencing a split second of panic, I learned my son thought I looked like Bozo on the Wonder Bread package … even with brushed hair.

Sisters are either best friends, arch rivals or bitter enemies. Actually, because they’re girls, they can be all of those things inside of one day. I don’t have a sister so it fascinates me to watch how the sister relationship works. I suppose so much of what happens within twenty-four hours is in direct proportion to the estrogen level in the house. My mom was the oldest of five sisters. I was the first grandchild. When my brother was born, my grandaddy was so thrilled to have a boy in the family he passed out cigars at a high school basketball game.

My freshman year of college I roomed with an identical twin. The girls said they had roomed together for 18 years and they were ready for a change. I’ll have to say that was one of the most fun years ever. Identical twins are almost spooky; like one brain in two bodies. Every night Linda and I would make the all important decision about what we were wearing the next day. At least a couple of times a week Wanda would come to our dorm room during the night and borrow something to wear the next day. Between the two of them they had enough clothes to stock a boutique, but it never failed … what Wanda randomly chose out of the closet was what Linda had planned to wear. The fireworks began about 8:30 but they were best friends again by noon. I waffle whether I would love it or not dealing with all the emotions that come with the sister package.

When I suddenly lost my brother to a heart attack a couple of years ago, I got a call from Rayanna. She’s married to Jim’s brother, Jerry. If there was a legal limit for laughter the two of us would be in jail for excessiveness. She declared over the phone she was becoming my unofficial biological sister because she didn’t think it would be good for me to be an only child. Besides we are both Brawners and that should count for something. She promised to always be there for me and she has been.

Relatives or not shouldn’t we all do that for each other; be there. Most of the time that’s more meaningful than anything else and it gets even better if you can laugh while you’re just being there. Is there an unofficial sister you can do that for today? And since you’re unofficial the sharing clothes requirement is null and void.

I was driving my regular route home when a giant cardboard sign made from a refrigerator box snatched my attention. Moving Sale was written in fat black magic marker. Dressers, lamps and random pieces of furniture stood lined up in a row. I wondered if somebody had divorced or maybe died.

A colonial style, harvest gold couch stuck out like an awkward freshman desperately trying to fit in. I thought of my high school best friend whose mom had the large floral print version of that very couch. I have grandkids … you do the math.

Secrets of multiple owners over several decades were likely hidden in the tattered cushions of that couch. I could almost smell the combination of cigarette smoke, popcorn, spilled soda, and cat throw-up as I drove by thinking of the years it had seen. Sometimes we keep old familiar things long after they’ve worn out because in some mysterious way they serve as comfort.

If moving on and starting fresh feels so good, why do we cling to so many things longer than we should? On the backside of our good judgment we know we’d be better off without them, but we hoard and hang on anyway. The only explanation I’ve come up with is this; familiar is comfortable, however good or awful it might be.

Oddly enough, some things the most difficult to let go of are dreadful experiences of our past. A painful childhood, an abusive first marriage, betrayal by a business partner, or shamefully poor choices and disappointments are relived every time we let our thoughts wander.

My aunt and uncle are moving out of their home of 40 years and there’s plenty of sorting and tossing out to do. Maybe all of us should take on the same thing with the emotional junk stored in the attic keeping us from moving on and starting fresh. Dig through to see what’s been stashed away, bag it up and dump it.

I’m grateful I drove past the Moving Sale sign in the parking lot of the strip mall. It caused me to take inventory of harvest gold couches I might be hanging on to that really should be put out on the curb.

Charcoal lighter fluid, chlorine, fresh cut grass. What do you automatically think of? Well, maybe it does sound like the beginnings of a drug lab, but the answer I was looking for was summer. Pencil shavings, floor polish, cafeteria. This one is easier … school. I smell the Jr. high PE locker room and popcorn at basketball games just thinking about school.

Our five sense connect us with the world. Some people are gifted with perfect eyesight. I’m sure chefs have a highly refined sense of taste whether gifted or developed. I feel like my keen sense of smell sometimes gets me in trouble. My memory automatically links events, people and places to the way they smell. Consequently I can catch a whiff of something and memories roll in like the tide.

Jill and I were shopping in the mall and she stopped at a Merle Norman cosmetics store to pick up a lipliner. While she was deciding on color, I wandered over to the tester jars and picked up the cold cream. I unscrewed the lid, stuck my nose in the jar and took a deep breath. Unbelievable! I could almost feel my mom and instantly tears streamed down my face. I could see myself sitting on her bed watching her put on makeup. Precious, tucked-away memories. I was jarred back to the present when I heard Jill stop the sales clerk who had excused herself to check on the woman in the corner who seemed distraught. Jill rolled her eyes, grinning and said, “Oh that’s just my mom. She’s fine. She does this all the time.”

Jill thanked the clerk for her help as we left the store and I apologized for causing concern. I felt like someone out on a day pass.

Memories can be stirred by our senses in a heartbeat. Just like someone leaves a vapor trail wearing too much cologne we leave an impression on people every day with our words and attitudes. Are you whiff of joy, integrity, and compassion or do you stink things up with anger, jealousy and greed? What memories are you building and how will they smell ten years from now?