Opinions

This past week we attended the memorial for my husband Peter’s oldest sister, Shelley. Shelley went through a long battle with cancer, and Peter lost his second sister in two years. The pandemic had just started, her husband had just died, and Shelley moved 900 miles across the country to live near her kids. Then, almost immediately, she discovered she was gravely ill. She moved in with her son, Joel, and daughter-in-law, Dani, and never left.

Hindsight being 20-20, the decision by city leaders to purchase the property of the former Safeway grocery store and parking lot looks wiser each passing year.

“We have a 7:45 opening,” she said in our phone conversation, and all I could think about was how cold that machine would be at 7:45 a.m.

Amazing, isn’t it. While many of the best things in life are free, one very popular feature in downtown Ennis, the Hay Maze at the North Plaza, made a visual change and it quickly prompted thoughts the City had slapped an entry fee on the autumn fun.

My husband, Peter, and I are spending time “up north” with my parents at their cabin by the lake. Fall is late this year. I mentioned this to Peter on the drive north. “Aren’t the leaves supposed to change color at the same time every year?” I asked. “I thought they changed when the days were shorter.”

If you live long enough, you will become a burden to your children. I think I have crossed that threshold. Recently, I fretted over a doctor’s appointment at Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville—not so much the appointment, but the trip there and back. The husband was always my driver and we usually made the trip an event.

The answer to the occasional faulty toilet is not to replace them all with outhouses. Similarly, anytime a bad cop rears his head should not launch a national disbanding of all law enforcement personnel.

It’s not always easy living with me. But my husband, Peter, has to. I know it is not easy, because I live with myself every day, and I feel the bits of anxiety and nervousness and occasional emotional overload escape out of me and flood the house that Peter has to live in. Sometimes, I feel bad for him.

I attempt to keep my eyes and ears open to learn about the Holy Spirit and human behavior. In my spiritual journey, the situations I’ve encountered through counseling and teaching have graciously allowed me to see the importance of walking in humility through the awareness of God’s presence. I’m not implying that I’ve arrived at a spiritual plateau where God and I float through the clouds together, but I do believe we can be as close to Him as we desire to be. To be honest, the more I discover about His written and specific will, the more I realize I have hardly scratched the surface of pleasing Him. I’ve learned that our rebellious human nature loves being independent while God is constantly trying to reveal to us how the meaning of life is doing His will. He desires that we snap out of our defiant trance and allow Him to transform our thinking so that He can use us to accomplish His desires.

Most are familiar with the safest modes of travel. When making judgements, the numbers determine that airplanes are easily the best choice. But not for me. Placing gear in the overhead bin and then strapping in, and the clouds - while appearing cottony soft, have no appeal to this commuter. Is it a fair assessment?