Category Archives: inspiration

Mar24

Lost And Found

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And great rejoicing…

I usually wear a ring on my right thumb, and the ring I wear there is usually one that belonged to Mama.  More specifically, there are a couple of her old rings that I take turns wearing on that thumb.  Unfortunately, I often fidget with my ring, rolling it up and down my thumb, and sometimes it slips off entirely.  Several months ago this happened at work, and the ring got lost.

I heard it drop to the floor and roll briefly…then I heard it drop a second time.  The environment I work in has elevated floors to allow for electrical cables to pass underneath, between layers of flooring which are several inches apart.  And in a number of spots there are small access holes for those cables to plug in to the machines we use in our daily work.

When I heard my Mama’s ring drop that second time, my stomach dropped with it.  I scrounged around on the floor on my hands and knees, with a flashlight, scouring every inch of floor in that little room, hoping to find my lost ring.  I even dug into the tiny access hole as far as my hand would reach (which wasn’t very far at all), shining my flashlight into that minuscule space.  No luck.

I gave up hope that it would ever surface again.  I even bought a “replacement” for it on eBay, an ersatz ring that resembled the lost one.  But I knew it was just a poor substitute for the original.  The thing is, it was not a valuable ring in terms of money, really.  Its real value was that it was Mama’s.

We’ve all had similar experiences, haven’t we?  We’ve somehow managed to lose something that we treasured, whether it had any real monetary value or not.  And even if we were able to find another item that looked like the lost one, it was never the same.

Fortunately, my story has a happy ending.  The area in which I lost that ring is currently under demolition/construction as part of a major rebuild happening in my department.  When I learned that the area was going to be demolished I spoke with my managers and told them I had lost a ring in that room, and asked them to alert the construction crew in case it turned up.  One day last week as I ate lunch, one of the construction fellows found me and asked if I was the lady who lost a ring in that room, and I responded that I was.  He held up a slim gold band and asked, “Is this it?”

And my heart soared!  What was lost had been found, and with tears in my eyes I said, “Yes, that’s it!  Thank you so much!  It’s not really worth much, but it was my Mama’s and I am so glad to have it back.”

It reminds me of the Bible stories where something, or someone, is lost for a time and then found and restored to its/his/her right place.  In each story there is great rejoicing when what was lost is found.  I’m grateful to have Mama’s ring back…and it seems fitting that it should be restored to me during Lent, a time when I contemplate Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, a love that restores me to God, no matter how lost I feel.

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Mar9

Forward

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It’s the only direction God gave us…

My car wreck in January brought with it a number of inconveniences and issues.  The biggest of these was, of course, my car being totaled and the urgent need to find a replacement/successor for my DivaMobile.  Compounding the search was my insistence on purchasing another stick shift.  I am relieved to report that we found a worthy successor for Veronica.  Her name is Patsy Cline Clairmont Cutshaw; Cline for the obvious person, and Clairmont for Patsy Clairmont, a favorite author of mine.  The car is a 2011 Subaru Forester wagon/SUV with a 5-speed manual transmission, and with fewer than 40,000 miles.  So basically, she is just starting to get broken-in.  Lord willing and knock wood, we will have a long, happy and SAFE relationship.

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In the car replacement process there were also several conversations with our insurance company.  I am grateful that everyone we dealt with did all they could to make a traumatic situation as stress-free as it could be, from ascertaining the total loss to simplifying the paperwork and getting the settlement check to us as quickly as possible.  Between those funds, our income tax refund and a little bit of savings, we were able to make a decent down payment on Patsy and begin the process of moving forward.

When I wrecked Veronica, lots of stuff got broken, including the watch I was wearing that morning.  It’s not an expensive timepiece by any means, but it has been a favorite of mine for probably 20 years, an easy go-to choice most days.  The actual mechanism of the watch was fine and it continued to run after the accident.  Just the crystal was broken and needed to be replaced.  Getting it fixed was not at the top of the list of priorities in the aftermath so I didn’t get it done right away.

Finally one day a couple of weeks ago, after several calls around town, I found a jeweler with a watchmaker who could fix it for me.  So I went by the jewelry store, got an estimate on the repair, and left it to be fixed.  It didn’t cost much, but it was still probably more than the monetary value of the watch.

I was able to pick up my little watch this past Monday.  What a simple joy to have something back that I had missed so much!  The last tangible thing damaged by the wreck is now made right.

It is not lost on me that replacing a car and fixing a damaged watch both speak of forward movement…the movement of traveling on the road, the forward movement of time.  Sometimes I think what I would be willing to give to make time move the other way…backward to before I wrecked my car, before the people I love started dying, before I learned that the world is not always a fair or beautiful place.  But that is not how it works.

Even when I put my car into reverse, it is for just long enough to get into a position which will allow me to move forward, on to the next place I need to be.  My watch only runs one way and that is forward.  Forward…it’s the only direction God gave us.

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Feb3

R.I.P DivaMobile

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She was more than just a car…

Most people have probably seen the insurance commercial in which a cute girl speaks to the camera, saying “You owned your car for 4 years.  You named it Brad.  You LOVED Brad.  And then you totaled him…”  The script goes on to describe the relationship between the car and its owner.  I can relate to this scenario more strongly since, after nearly 12 years of driving her, I wrecked my beloved DivaMobile.

The sadness of watching her getting towed away was overwhelming.  I cried and then I threw up.  No kidding.  (I think the throwing up had to do partly with my taking antibiotics at the time…but only partly.)

In order to explain my attachment to her, I need to give a bit of backstory.  I found myself in February 2004 needing a replacement for my previous car, which had been rear-ended and totaled in that wreck (which was not nearly as traumatic as this one). Jeff and I looked around and test drove a few, and decided that it made the most sense for us to go ahead and purchase something brand new.  So we bought a new 2004 Honda C-RV.  I named her Veronica, nicknamed The DivaMobile.  She had 153 miles on February 20, 2004 when I took delivery, and the only reason those miles were on her was because the dealership did not have a stick shift in my desired color on the lot.  So mine was driven over from North Carolina.  She was not fancy, but she was silver, shiny, new and all mine, and I loved her from the start.

The DivaMobile carried us on many vacation adventures, including, I believe, our first trip to St. Simons Island.  We took her on several trips there and to Destin, our other favorite vacation spot.  She was my companion on my work commute, to music and volunteer activities, taking our dogs to the vet, and she always had more than enough room for all the gear I carried around with me.  (It is difficult for me to travel light, whether literally or metaphorically.)  She saw the transition when Ernie The Wonder Beagle died and then Our Boy Roy became part of our family, hauling them both when they needed to go to the vet or anywhere else.  Roy always gets excited when I ask, “Do you want to go for a ride?”

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From February 20, 2004 until January 20, 2016, The DivaMobile carried me safely everyplace I needed to go. I spent all of my 40’s with her, and then some.  And with God’s help, she kept me safe in the worst wreck I’ve ever been involved in as either a passenger or a driver.  I walked away from this nightmare with only some bumps, bruises and scratches.  Physically, I am OK.  And I am grateful.

For years  I had a tiny angel on a leather cord hanging from my rear view mirror.  I liked the thought of an angel riding along with me.  I still do.

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Jeff and I don’t trade cars often.  We tend to make long-term commitments, driving them until they die…or in this case, until they are killed.  The DivaMobile and I traveled 154,408 miles together…minus her first 153, that is.  I’m praying my next car relationship is as long and satisfying, just with a happier ending.

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Jan26

Fragile

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When normal stops…

Last Wednesday, January 20, 2016, Knoxville experienced the first real snow of the season.  The prospect of snowfall still brings excitement to the childlike part of me.  The white blanket that shrouds everything, the quiet, the glory of winter’s beauty fills my heart with wonder.

As an adult, however, my excitement is tempered by the fact that, snow or not, I still have to get to work.  Most of us do.  It is a reality I have dealt with for a long time working in the media.  Our world doesn’t stop for snow or for anything else.

I have also long prided myself on being a careful, and fairly competent, snow driver, preaching the principles of safe speeds, proper following distances and plenty of extra time to get where we need to go.  I still believe in all those principles.  Being careful is just common sense.

But despite my best efforts, last Wednesday, I wrecked my beloved DivaMobile anyway.

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It seemed to happen both in accelerated time and in slow motion, all at once.  I was driving through downtown. The interstate did not look like it had been treated with either sand or brine, and lane lines were not clearly visible.  A small pickup truck veered in front of me, too close for my comfort, and in trying to avoid crashing into it, I applied my brakes, slid, spun several times and crashed into a guardrail.  I came to rest on an interstate on-ramp facing the wrong direction.  Had the guardrail not been there to stop me, I would have most likely gone down an embankment and landed on 5th Avenue.

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I am OK, physically.  A few scratches, bumps and bruises, but I’m OK.  And by some miracle, in all this madness, no other vehicles were involved.  I didn’t hit anybody, and nobody hit me, and I never lost consciousness.  After I realized what had actually happened, I found my phone, called 911, then called work and Jeff to tell them I’d had an accident.

Here’s the thing.  Seeing the damage that happened to my car, I realized once more just how fragile life is, how quickly an event can change everything.  I took the day of the wreck and the day after off from work, and on Friday I returned.  In more snow.  And yes, I drove myself, although I had to drive the SweetPeaMobile.  Was I scared?  Absolutely.  Will I be scared for a while?  Most likely.  But for all the fragility of life and how scary things can be, I can’t let fear keep me from doing what I need to do.  I’ll just have to do it afraid for a while, praying and trusting God to protect me and those I love, being as safe as I know how to be and getting on with the business of living and working, finding a new car to try to replace my beloved DivaMobile and looking forward to feeling, eventually, a little less Fragile.

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Jan9

The Year Of The Soul Date

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My one resolution for 2016…

I am one of those fossils who still uses a paper calendar/planner in my attempts to keep track of my life.  Years ago I developed a primitive yet effective system of color-coding my calendar in order to see at a glance what events are coming up.  Pink is for family and friend birthdays and anniversaries, orange for appointments like haircuts, doctor visits and the like, yellow for musical events such as concerts with my chorus and chorale, as well as events my college students are presenting.  And I chose purple for vacations and time off…things that feed my soul.

This year I was a few days late in purchasing my calendar, and while filling in my dates and color coding them, I had to backtrack a few days to a dinner date I had with my friend Marc earlier in the week.  I don’t know why I never color coded things like this, impromptu or planned-in-advance get-togethers with friends and kinfolks, but I have decided to make a more deliberate effort this year to document these moments as well, in purple, because they feed my soul as much as vacations do.  I have decided that 2016 is going to be The Year Of The Soul Date.

My Soul Date with Marc consisted of dinner at a local Asian restaurant, and wonderful conversation.  The dinner we enjoyed was delicious and healthy…and then, dessert happened!  We thought we would be sharing a simple piece of chocolate cake…and then this behemoth slab of fudge-rich decadence as big as a human head appeared at our table.

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We were unable to finish it, and neither of us dared take it home for fear of the damage it might do if we ate more!  This cake is big enough for several people to share…as a meal!

What was my point…?  Oh yeah, The Soul Date.  My hope/goal/resolution for this year is to have a weekly Soul Date.  I need time and space to connect with the people in my life who matter…as well as time to be alone and replenish my emotional and spiritual resources.  My lifelong friend Mary K went on a retreat at a convent this past week, and I am eager to find out what benefits that time will have for her.  I was a little envious of the quiet I knew she would experience there!

I think a Soul Date can happen anywhere…over dinner, in a bookstore, with friends or in solitude.  While my primary focus is to spend time with people who bring me joy, I also hope to do some solitary activities that will recharge my batteries.  Maybe a spa visit, or an afternoon in a park listening to my favorite music, or walking a labyrinth (I’ve never done that before but I’ve always been intrigued by the idea).  A lot of my friends are enjoying the new “adult coloring books”, either the paper kind or the online variety.  Jeff and I have not taken a weekend cabin trip in a long time, and we should make an escape sooner rather than later!

Here’s the thing.  I figure that if I take the time to recharge my emotional batteries and feed my soul, I will have more to offer to the world around me.  And my prayer for these Soul Dates is that, as I get my own soul fed, I am also able to feed the souls of the people with whom I share the time.

 

Jan1

Closing Time

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Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end…(and yes, I stole that line from a song)…

There have been too many goodbyes for me in 2015, too many moments when a door I took for granted slammed shut with no warning.  For that reason, I am sort of glad to see the year come to a close, and I pray that 2016 will be, Lord willing and knock wood, a healthy, happy and peaceful year for me and for all the people I love.  I pray for this…but only God knows what’s coming.

With each friend I’ve had to say goodbye to, a relationship has ended on Earth…but a place is being held for me in Heaven as they await my arrival.  I can see myself, once I’ve settled into Heaven for a bit, sitting with my friend Dave on his front porch, talking about our shared friends in the world of radio and television.  He will have birds as pets there too, creatures he loved so much while he was here.  From there I might stroll over to see Bill, and we’ll sit at his piano,singing together once more, his voice strong and clear, his body healthy and whole in a way we can’t begin to imagine down here.  And sweet Ron, who I knew the longest of the three, will  greet me with a big cup of coffee in his hand, open arms and a smile.  He is the Scarecrow to my Dorothy, sharing with me the most years of my journey here before he left to start his journey There.

Because, as I’ve stated before, just because someone dies, doesn’t mean the love stops, or the relationship ends.  It changes by necessity, but it’s not over.  The ones I have loved are just in a place where I can’t see them right now.

So I bid farewell to 2015, grateful that it is Closing Time. A new year, a few frontier, begins, swinging open a portal of fresh starts. Gracious God, grant peace, good health and happiness to everyone I love.  Draw us closer to each other and closer to You. Amen.

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Dec16

Unnoticed

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What am I missing?…

I like to think of myself as a fairly observant person, most of the time anyway.  Photography is a hobby of mine, and I write this blog in part as a way to share what I observe about the world around me.  But today I was startled—and delighted—by a tiny fragment in a picture that had, until now, gone unnoticed.

I was scrolling through all the photos stored on this little computer (technology continues to amaze me as I can not only take pictures with this device, but also store, organize and edit them!) and I came upon the collection from my nephew Aaron’s wedding in November.  There was a tiny piece of a rainbow visible before the ceremony that I captured (although their professional photographer caught a much more beautiful shot of it).  Among the many pictures I took of the glorious flower arrangements, I took several shots of some floating arrangements in a reflecting pool.

Obviously, when I took the picture I was focusing on the flowers.  Looking at the image today, I realized that that tiny piece of rainbow was reflected in the corner of the pool…until now, unnoticed.  It made me wonder about all the other beautiful things in my life that escape my attention while I’m focusing on one particular thing.

The weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day bring so much activity, busy-ness and even stress sometimes.  In focusing on those things, what beautiful gifts am I missing?  The names of the holidays themselves should remind me what really matters.  Giving Thanks.  Christ.  A New Year.

Lord, thank You for letting me finally see that tiny reflected rainbow.  Thank You for the beauty of my life.  Help me never to let Your gifts go Unnoticed.image

(See it?  It’s in the very tippy-top left hand corner.  No wonder I missed it for so long!)

Nov12

Flight

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There are many ways to fly…

Last week Jeff and I were in Orlando for our nephew’s wedding.  Usually when we take trips we drive, but since Orlando is a longer distance than we often travel, we opted to fly this time.  We are not the most seasoned travelers, and the process of flying in a plane is still something of an adventure, to me at least.  An adventure…and a mystery.

Our whole week there became for me a metaphor about the ways we travel through life, and the ways life travels around us.  Time really does fly.  The nephew who got married, Aaron, was about 3 years old when Jeff and I got married, and now he is a grown man, a doctor, marrying a wife of his own and well-established in his chosen field.

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His older brother and best man, Clark, is Nephew Number One, older by about 3 and 1/2 years than Aaron, successful in his career and life, with a beautiful wife and 2 adorable little boys of his own.  When Jeff and I got married, Clark was told that he could go on our honeymoon with us.  He was a little peeved when he found out he was not going to the beach after all!

How is it possible that these little squirts are all grown up?!  But they are.  And next June, Lord willing and knock wood, Jeff and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary.  Time flies.

While we were in Orlando, we took a little drive over to see Kennedy Space Center.  Talk about the mystery and wonders of flight!  Jeff and I marveled at the sights, exhibits and history there.  He said it may be his favorite day ever as a grown-up.  It was awe-inspiring to see and learn about the history of space travel, and humbling to imagine the courage of the pioneers who took those first brave flights into the unknown reaches of space.

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Back down to Earth, we enjoyed lovely views of lake and sky from our resort condo balcony.  It struck me every day, sometimes from hour to hour, how big and puffy the clouds were there.  I suppose it has something to do with the location and proximity to water, but the cloud formations were unusually beautiful, varying throughout the day.  I spent a good deal of time on our balcony reading one of my favorite little books, “Intra Muros” by Rebecca Ruter Springer.  It describes the author’s vision of Heaven during an extended illness.  The fluffy clouds and Springer’s words made me think of Heaven and the reunions we will enjoy there, in the presence of God and those we love who have gone before us.

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Anyone who knows me (or follows this blog!) knows that I collect feathers.  On our way into the visitor complex at Kennedy Space Center, I found one and tucked it safely inside my purse.  What a treat to remember our trip by.  On our way out of the complex, I found a second one, white and fluffy, much like the clouds I so enjoyed watching during our time away.  How poignant that, after flying on a jet to Aaron’s wedding where he and his new wife will take wing into the future, on our way to see the history of mankind’s efforts to fly into space, God should send me feathers to remind me that He created the birds of the air, giving them the ability to fly, before He ever created Man in His own image.

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Gracious Lord, thank You for your many gifts of Flight—flight of birds and humans to places far away, the flight of time, our flight through life and into the future, and eventually into Heaven.

Oct28

Eulogy

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Radio, roses, rat-tails and River Phoenix…

The year was 1993 and I had taken a short-term job at an AM/FM in Morristown, TN, about an hour up the road from where I live in Knoxville.  I did a live mid-day shift on the country AM, and then production and voice-tracks for the night shift on the FM.  The job lasted 3 months.  The friendship with Ron that began there lasted 22 years.

When I met Ron he had a rat-tail, which, for those unfamiliar with 90’s hair trends, was a long, thin strand of hair hanging down the neckline of an otherwise short haircut.  It could be considered a cousin of the mullet, I suppose.  I’d never had a friend with a rat-tail before, but Ron didn’t hold that against me.  In fact, he never held anything against me, ever.  Oh, he’d call me on the carpet if I wasn’t being honest with myself, but he never made me feel judged.  He was one of my “easy” people…easy to like, easy to talk to, easy to be with.

It was just about this time in 1993 that the young actor River Phoenix died outside a nightclub from a drug overdose.  When I returned to work the following Monday, as Ron and I were talking about the story we looked at each other and, at the same time, said, “Poor dumb b@$&@%d!”   I think this might have been the moment when I realized that, yes, we are going to be friends.

My last day of work at the station, he sent me 3 red roses, one for each month I had worked there.  I still have them, dried, in a wreath with other flowers from years gone by.  We promised to keep in touch.  And we did.  And in those days, keeping in touch meant actually writing letters, since there was no e-mail yet, (certainly no Facebook!) and phone calls between us were long-distance.  For years after I left the station he continued to call me by my middle name, Diane, which I had used on the air, even addressing letters to Diane.

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Later on, when he was working Friday overnights at the big Knoxville country station and I was working early Saturday mornings on the big adult contemporary station across town, he would visit me in my studio before heading home.  He knew the layout of our building about as well as I did, especially the location of the coffee pot and the men’s room.  And I visited him at his place several times on nights when I was free.  All this was before security cameras were everyplace and “unauthorized visitors” were so strictly forbidden.

He gave me so many gifts.  When something was disagreeable, he would often say, “This sucks pondwater!”  This expression comes from me often to this day.  And his favorite line was, “Lord help us on the broadcast!”  For me, “the broadcast” has become a metaphor for my life, and anytime I am facing some important event, good or bad, I catch myself whispering, “Lord help us on the broadcast.”  When I went into the funeral home the night we received friends when Mama died…the day I stepped onstage to sing with my chorus at Carnegie Hall…when I’ve interviewed for jobs or auditioned for solos…”Lord help us on the broadcast.”

I had the chance to visit with Ron in the hospital the night before he died.  He was in a lot of pain, but we still had a good visit together, talking about my husband and dog, and his children and both our workplaces, as well as the old days we shared in radio when we first got acquainted.  He was flat on his back and unable to move, so when his supper arrived, I said, “If you feel like you’d like to try to eat, I’m happy to help you with your supper so you don’t have to hurt yourself moving around.”  He said that would be good and I joked, “It ain’t nothing for me to cut up a man’s meat for him.  I won’t tell anybody, but you can tell people this cute brunette with big hair and big boobs hand-fed you your supper!”  And we laughed.  He ate decently considering the pain he was experiencing, and after he ate I asked, “Now that your belly has something in it, do you think you could sleep if I went on home?”  He said yes, so I got ready to leave.  But not before we had the chance to exchange “I-love-you’s”.  At that point there was no indication that less than 24 hours later he would be gone.

Now as I face the grief process for yet another treasured friend who died too soon, I feel many emotions.  I am sad, of course.  But I’m also grateful, for more than 2 decades of friendship and memories, for the clock he sent me as a housewarming present with a note saying he’d try to get by the studio that weekend for a visit, for the t-shirt from his station that he gave me and that I treasure (and can now fit into).  And I am especially grateful for our last “supper date” when I was able to offer him some nourishment for both his body and, I hope, his heart.

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And once again I find myself walking into a daunting place, whispering, shouting, praying…

Lord help us on the broadcast.

Oct1

Stoplights And Sticky Notes

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Encounters with God…

Scripture tells us in 1 Thessalonians 5:17, “Pray without ceasing”.  It sounds simple enough…but who among us has ceaseless hours to spend in prayer?  While I do try to spend meaningful chunks of time with God, more often than not, my prayers come in smaller pieces throughout the day.

I believe that God honors whatever time we offer back to Him, wherever we are.  Oftentimes I’ll read a prayer request on social media, and I take a quick moment right then to lift that person and the need up in prayer, and acknowledge that “One just went up,”.  And anytime I think of it, another one will go up.  The social media prayer army is a powerful tool we have to reach a lot of prayer warriors at one time, and I’ve seen many people join together to intercede on a friend’s behalf in this way.  This is technology at its very best.

Sticky notes live in my Bible, reminders of someone I have promised to pray for, situations needing God’s attention and intervention.  It’s not pretty, but it’s a handy way to remember a request until I can write it down someplace more permanent.  For a while, Jeff and I kept a list of prayer needs on the fridge door, because we knew that was the one place where we’d both see them regularly!  I need to reinstate that routine, especially now, when I am praying for so many needs and situations.

Then there are the “stoplight” prayers.  After I began my extended unit of CPE several years ago, I realized in a whole new way how a blaring siren and flashing lights can signal a life being changed, or ended, often in the blink of an eye.  Anytime I see or hear an emergency vehicle, I say a quick prayer for everyone involved in whatever that crisis or situation is, including the chaplain who is likely to catch that call and help in tending to wounds both seen and unseen.

All of these are little ways I can care for the people around me, the ones I know and love, and the ones I will never even meet.  Ways I can love my neighbor.  Ways I can encounter God and pray without ceasing.

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