I think I have a fair idea where the term “ladies in waiting” comes from. I’ve spent at least half my life waiting:
…Waiting in line to use the bathroom at a ballpark that hasn’t realized female fans exist.
…Waiting to give birth (a process that took nine months, three weeks, three days, eight hours and thirty minutes for my first-born. No one won the office pool on that gestation period!)
…Waiting for my two-year-old toddlers (or twelve-year-old teenyboppers) to out-grow their rebellious phases.
…Waiting for a quiet moment to complete the scrapbooks I started for my now grown-up daughters. The books were going to be birthday presents, then Christmas presents, then back to birthday presents…you get the idea.
I’d developed a “destination” mentality, always waiting for the end, the conclusion, the grand finale.
During the last decade or so, however, I began a new life’s passage and along the way, I learned something about living in the moment. The change came when I read an eye-opening quote by Alfred D’Souza: “For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.”
Wow! I resolved to stop waiting until everything was “right” and started living for the moment. Were it not for that uncharacteristic bit of insight, I would have missed so much: wonderfully interesting people, grand scenery, fascinating places to live, marvelous work experiences. All would have been lost on me had I remained focused on where I was going rather than where I was.
Of course, there have been a few obstacles as I’ve continue a journey that’s taken me from the Midwest to Washington’s North Olympic Peninsula – where I lived and worked for almost ten years – and then to Spokane, a little more than a year ago. I guess you could call it my “Inland Northwest Passage.”
This life-passage has required time to find the right place, to discover where I belong. I’ve packed my belongings more than once, begun and ended a business and said good-bye to family, friends and colleagues along the way. But as D’Souza said, those obstacles are my life, and here I am, living in the moment in the Inland Northwest! Let’s get acquainted.
Not long ago I spoke with a woman who related several sweet stories about children who lived near her former home and the wonderful things children say…”out of the mouths of babes” as they say.
I have my own favorite children (and now, grand children) stories.
One happened on a Holy Saturday, about 40 years ago. My then two-year old daughter had heard the Easter story of how Jesus rose from the dead and how He would someday return.
Since the Lenten Season is so busy, our parish priest had a visiting brother (i.e. a monk) helping him that evening for what is celebrated in the Catholic faith as “Easter Vigil.” As services began, the young monk came out into the sanctuary wearing his usual brown robe and leather sandals. He had shoulder-length brown hair and a short beard.
“There He is!” my daughter whisper-shouted.
“There’s who?” I whispered back, trying to shush her.
“There’s Jesus!” she exclaimed loudly, pointing to the monk at the altar, as those within earshot chuckled at her innocent belief.
After the service we explained to her that the man was a priest, not Jesus, but in thinking back over that scene so many Easters ago, I can’t help but think how wonderful it would be to have that kind of child-like faith − to look forward to Jesus’ return with such belief and expectancy that if He walked into the room, we’d be ready to believe the way my daughter did!
“Unless you turn and become like children,” the Bible says Jesus once remarked, “you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
I believe it.
According to CNN, lights have been turned off across the world Saturday, March 28, 2009, as millions of homes and businesses have gone dark for one hour in a symbolic gesture highlighting concerns over climate change.
Organizers expected more than 2,800 cities and towns worldwide to dim their lights at 8:30 p.m. local time for the third annual Earth Hour — a day-long energy-saving marathon spanning 83 countries and 24 time zones.
Major cities in Asia, the Middle East and Europe had already gone dark for the event by Saturday afternoon on the East Coast. Actor Edward Norton and organizer Carter Roberts describe the reasoning behind the event in a CNN video @ http://tinyurl.com/d42xrx
“If riding in an airplane is flying, then riding in a boat is swimming. If you want to experience the element, then get out of the vehicle.”
Here are two very touching award-winning
photos honored this year.
First Place, Todd Heisler The Rocky Mountain News:

Marines drape the coffin of a fallen soldier.
When 2nd Lt. James Cathey’s body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac.
Second Place Todd Heisler, The Rocky Mountain News:

A young widow sleeps beside her husband's casket as Marine Guard stays by her side.
The night before the burial of her husband’s body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of ”Cat”, and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. “I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it,” she said. “I think that’s what he would have wanted.”
Blue Fridays. Hopefully, very soon, you will see a great many people wearing blue every Friday. The reason? Americans who support our troops used to be called the “silent majority”. We are no longer silent, and are voicing our love for God, country and home in record-breaking numbers. We are not organized, boisterous or overbearing. Many Americans simply want to recognize that the vast majority of America supports our troops. Our idea of showing solidarity and support for our troops with dignity and respect starts this Friday—and continues each and every Friday until the troops all come home. By action, word of mouth, press, TV—let’s every Friday become a sea of blue much like a homecoming football game in the bleachers. Will you also consider sharing this with acquaintances, coworkers, friends and family? It won’t be long before the USA is covered in BLUE and it will let our troops know the once “silent” majority is on their side. The first thing a soldier says when asked, “What can we do to make things better for you?” is, “We need your support and your prayers.” Let’s get the word out and lead by example, and wear something blue every Friday.
Please note: I would give the original writer of this piece credit, but it was sent to me anonymously. I edited for brevity.
Perhaps you have someone who might appreciate it if you share it with them.
In the Crypts of Westminster Abbey, there is an Anglican Bishop’s tomb on which its inhabitant had written his own epitaph.
It states that when he was a young man, he dreamed of changing the world. As he grew older, however, he shortened his sights and tried to change only his country. This, too, proved impractical. In his twilight years, the Bishop settled for trying to change only those close to him. This also failed.
Only on his deathbed, did he realize that if he had changed himself first, then his example and inspiration might have contributed toward a better family, country or world.
Have you ever found yourself thinking, “If only my wife would stop…” or “I wish my son would change the way he…” or “when will my boss …”?
I have. After all, it’s much easier to expect changes in others than to actually change ourselves. As one tongue-in-cheek prayer puts it, “Oh, Lord, how wise are your commandments. I can think of someone each one of them refers to.”
While it’s true that it’s an imperfect world we live in, full of imperfect people, I’m the only person I can “perfect.” And I’ve got plenty of work to do, so you’re on your own!
I am reminded of a story told about Dr. William E. Barton, a former moderator of the Congregational Church in Oak Park, IL. During a party to honor Barton’s sixty-fifth birthday, an elder of the church delivered a stuffy address on “Growing Old Gracefully.” But the more he talked the more Barton bristled.



