Let All the Earth Be Silent

The LORD is in his holy temple.  Let all the earth be silent before him.  Habakkuk 2:20 

This is a powerful Bible verse.  At its reading just now an inexplicable peace came over me — no explanation other than the mystery of God.  As the kingdom of Judah totters on the brink of destruction by the Babylonians, the prophet Habakkuk asks God questions everyone may wonder from time to time:  Why does God tolerate injustice and wrongdoing?  Why do evil people prosper?  Why does God allow evil to appear to overtake good?  God’s answer is that in the long run evil will reap what it has sown.  “The cup from the LORD’s right hand is coming around to you….”  Maybe God’s answer isn’t as in depth as I might like, but it provides assurance to me that God is in control.  He has the answers and I will be given answers as needed (not wanted).  My heart can be quiet before his glory, omnipotence and omniscience.

Paperwork, Lost and Found

Whew!  What a week!  I determined to get all my procrastinated, paperwork-intense business done this week.  In the process, I spent what seemed like hours hunting, losing and finding stuff.
    1)  Signed up for Medicare Part B.  Because I was still working when I turned 65, I could delay Part B signup without penalty until up to 8 months after retirement.  This required an application form and an employer-completed form saying when I retired and confirming whether I had retained other medical insurance upon retirement.  I had also (after retirement) received a letter from Medicare saying I could just fill out an application & submit before March 31 to sign up.  This seemed simpler than the two-form method, but my first visit to the Social Security office confirmed that the two-document method got me coverage without penalty; but the one-document method meant paying a penalty.  So, I was able to kill two birds with one stone and get the employer-completed form done with the visit to AEDC for a retired civilian ID (#2 below) .  After getting both documents completed, I set out to return them to the Social Security Office, only to find that I could NOT FIND the two documents anywhere I thought they should be.  Turned the house and car upside down & finally admitted defeat & sent up a pitiful little prayer request.  Then I remembered I had been rifling through a box of moving papers the night before.  Sure enough, the Medicare documents were buried in the moving paper box!  Thank you, Lord!
    2)  Got a “Retired Civilian” ID card from AEDC.  After striking out twice, I successfully obtained this sucker!  First try, I turned in my AEDC badge and DoD CAC & got scolded for not having turned these in immediately upon retirement, despite the fact that I was 2,000 miles away from the AEDC Pass & ID office.  (Okay, I could have mailed them -- long, even more boring story as to why I didn't do that.)  Bottom line, my CAC had expired and could not be used as one of the two required IDs to support getting the retired ID.  Strike one!  Second time, I came early for a retirement reception & stopped in to get the ID.  After about 15 minutes I found that additional wait time was about 45 minutes.  Oops!  Didn’t get there early enough to wait an hour!  Strike two!  After also striking out on locating my birth certificate, I realized I could use my passport and tracked that document down without too much trouble, since I had had sense enough to bring that item from California in my luggage. So, third time was charm!
    3)  Got my Tennessee driver’s license reinstated.  Initial review of requirements for this told me I needed my still-buried-in-moving-boxes (I hope) birth certificate to get this done.  Upon closer review, I confirmed my passport would work for this & got this task knocked out!.  Also had to have two proofs of residence - used a utility bill for one and car registration for the other.
    4)  Filed my Federal & State tax returns.  Hunted down all the backup for this.  Some was in the “moving-papers” box & others had to be downloaded from online. 
    5)  Located my car registration documents.  After pulling these documents from my car glove compartment for use in getting a driver’s license, I distinctly remembered returning them to their proper home.  However, when I went to find my last California registration for use in #6 below, I found NONE of the registration documents in the glove box!  Although I remembered putting them up, I searched the glove box, house and my purse high and low —went through the paper recycling, as well as the garbage, to no avail.  I wondered whether the documents could have somehow slipped behind the glove compartment & stuck my fingers in behind as far as I could, but felt nothing.  After determining to go get a duplicate from the county clerk, I googled how to remove my glove box & after a few minutes, had pulled the contraption out & sure enough, there lay my Tennessee registration papers nestled up to some colorful wiring.  The California ones are not to be found, apparently — perhaps they weren’t returned to me when I handed them over to get my car registered in Tennessee or perhaps the mouse whose droppings I noticed in my glove box carried this paper off to make a mouse nest!
    6)  Notified California DMV I had moved states.  This could have been done online, had I been able to find my latest California car registration, but totally beat from stuff/paper hunting, I gave up on that one.  Located the box my printer was in, unpacked & set it up, then printed out a CA DMV form 14 & mailed that to one DMV address.  Mailed the CA registration form with note that I had moved to another DMV address and mailed the recently-received notice of “shutting your registration down due to not receiving insurance verification” to a third address!

Though I continue to wonder whether I want to live long term where I am now, part of me NEVER wants to move again!  Unless circumstances or outlook change significantly, I’m 99.9% sure I will NEVER retire again!

Walking: Often as Good for the Soul as for the Heart!

I am often amazed
at the interesting things I
encounter even in seemingly
nondescript places as I try to get in
a couple of miles of cardio.  Probably,
the stops along the way don’t do my heart as
much good as they do my soul, since they interrupt 
the elevated heart rate.  

Anyway, here are some things that caught my eye today:

 

 

~ A fading little petunia bush
trying to dress up an unkempt section of sidewalk, screaming, “Bloom where you’re planted!”

~ A bunch of chirping, crowing caged birdies perched in front of a nearby garage.    As I took a photo op, a man pointed to a tree and said look at that one.    His English wasn’t so good and neither is my hearing, it took a second for me to realize there was a bird in the tree.   As I walked up, the bird clearly enunciated, “Hi,” and something else which I’ve forgotten.   Unfortunately, after I started to video, the bird refused to converse further.

~ A group of tall, beautifully-barked

eucalyptus trees in a sweet little park.

~ A lovely corner house, with colorful, resplendent roses.
* A sweet faux Arts and Crafts neighborhood, 
          its newness not much detracting from its charm.

~ A sad abandoned toy castle, 

placed on the sidewalk for anyone to claim.

 

~ A reminder that storm drains flow to the Bay, so please, no pollutants dumped.

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Mission Bells and La Musica Mexicana

Driving up highway 101 today through the fertile Salinas Valley, I scanned through the available radio stations and settled on a traditional Mexican music station.  I don't know much about Mexican music and understand only a miniscule amount of Spanish, but somehow driving between expansive vineyards and wide green fields of who-knows-what kind of vegetables, traditionally tended by Mexican immigrants, it felt appropriate to be listening to "la musica mexicana," three words I understood from the announcer.  Signs along the roadside contain more Spanish proper nouns than English ones, a reflection of the centuries-old Spanish influence here.  Early in the last century, a womens' group placed mission bells all along El Camino Real (now Highway 101), or The King's Highway, in honor of Spanish missionaries who traveled this way to bring the Gospel to the indigenous people, as well as to claim territory for Spain.  As I listened to the the music I thought of how California and Mexico were both Spanish colonies at one time and how the border between the two is a relatively recent phenomenon.  My rational mind understands why our country must have immigration laws, but my foolish heart senses we wouldn't have a United States of America if these laws had been in place when my ancestors immigrated.
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The Wind and the Spirit - John 3:8

The wind.  Who doesn’t love a nice gentle breeze?  So refreshing, relaxing, and comforting.  One of the loveliest facets of weather, I think.  This morning I was sitting at a table outside our church fellowship hall where we were discussing John Chapter 5.  A little breeze was stirring.  The left page in my Bible kept blowing over, covering the page we were studying, and I kept flipping it back in place.  Finally, after the page had blown over for the umpteenth time, I looked down to see this note related to John 3:8, “The same Greek word means both wind and spirit.”  My eyes moved up to verse 8 which said, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.  It was like God had nudged me and said, “ I have a little nugget for you.  Enjoy.”

Cousins and Red Dirt Butts



I am blessed to have come from parents with two large families, resulting in lots of first cousins (& 2^nd & further) whom I love dearly and with whom I had lots of adventures growing up.  One of my cousins, Jan McKay Hall, left this earth yesterday to roam in more pleasant pastures.  Sweetness defined Jan and she will be missed very much. 

On a lighter note, I wrote this poem for Jan and her sister, Connie, about one of our childhood adventures.



Red Dirt Cousins

Three girl cousins ramblin around
South Second Street in a Mississippi town. 
Hot summer day, lookin for some fun,
Red clay gullies, let's scoot down em.

Butts of shorts full of thick red dirt
Ridin down crevices in hot southern earth.
Not lookin pretty, but what do we care
If it lifts us out of this stifling thick air?

The dirtier we got,
The more our delight!
So intent were we,
Too late did we see….

Hey Uncle Gene, are you home for the day?
Time for dinner, is that what you say?
What? You’re not happy with the fruit of our play?
Uh oh, us, looks like trouble to pay!

Get over here girls and hose yourselves off!
Tear up your butts is what I really ought!
Good Lord, now!  What a mess you’ve made!
Believe you were caught in a dirt grenade!

Downcast, downtrodden, clean ourselves up,
Now we’re fresh as triple buttercups!
But what can revive our newly gloomy bent?
Peas, corn & taters to a large extent!

Girls, now I’ve got to go back to work.
See if you can manage to stay out of that dirt.
Cause if you don’t you can count on this:
Tails so blistered you won’t soon want to sit!

Daddy's Yellow Roses

As I have done many times before, I thought of my dad when I passed by the yellow roses that greeted me as I entered the grocery store.  They were his favorite flower.  They were the flowers that draped over his casket soon to be 43 years ago.  Now I have lived more years without my dad than with him, as he was only 42 when he died.  Though he died of incurable sadness, the yellow roses always make me smile, as I think of how he loved to laugh in happier times, as well as how he loved people.  I remember his helping us write poems for homework assignments.  Here is one in his memory:

Yellow roses, reminding me of you,

Yellow roses, packaged or in dew.

Lovely flowers tie me to the past,

Bring to mind questions to ask.

How much would you have loved

Grandchildren’s sweet smiles?

Laughed over baby’s births,

Cried at family’s trials?

Lives of service, music, animals, travels,

You so would you have enjoyed; no denial.

A father forty three years ago

You were to sister, brother, and me.

But at forty two years, you sought release.

Life was too hard, hope to scarce,

Troubles doubled up, heart too pierced.

Yellow roses trailed you, atop your grave,

Leaving dear ones’ hearts broken

At not being able to save

A father whose laughter sometimes

Brought yellow rose sunshine

In too brief measure

To lives he treasured.