The Daddy Bear Hug

Written three years ago, but it seems like yesterday...

 I sit on the bench, a lot, and I have a bird's eye view of people.  They don't know that I'm observing them, and sometimes I'm not even aware of it myself.  But, this particular instance gripped my heart and still pulls on my heart strings, and I feel compelled to share it with you.

Saturday morning's dress rehearsal called in the entire cast:  orchestra, choir, drama team, media team, and even the children's choir.  We all felt the excitement of the next day's performances.  Christmas music filled the sanctuary as it flowed through our fingers, through our voices, and from our hearts, and I felt extremely good about the music because this year I was prepared.  Or, so I thought.

Rehearsed and ready to go, I listened as our director called for the opening orchestral prelude.  Oh, my gosh... I had forgotten all about that one!!!  I had all the choir's music on my agenda, but had totally forgotten about anything and everything else, including the prelude.  When I looked at the score, I knew I was in big trouble, and that this was not a piece I could jump in and successfully sight read.  Even with a week's rehearsal, my fingers still might not be able to move as quickly as the tempo required, so I swallowed hard and tried not to panic or fall off the bench as the director began the downbeat.

It's a sinking feeling when you realize you are about to be exposed... when your mistakes are made public, and all those around you see your inadequacies and your faults.  No one likes to stumble-fumble, especially in front of an audience, and it surely hurts our pride when we do.  But, that's what happened to me.


The orchestra played through it once, then our director gave the call to play it again.  So, I fell flat on my face twice. I was so embarrassed, and extremely mad at myself for my blunder, and I couldn't blame anyone else for this mistake, ah, these mistakes.  This was my fault.  It was one of those moments where you feel like a little kid again, a kid at school who hasn't done her homework.  You know that feeling of when your head droops, and your shoulders drag the ground, and you wish you could crawl under the bed with a bag of cookies.  I felt terribly low and needed a hug or a good cry!  But, instead, I promised my "patient" musical director that I would know it by "tomorrow", and he smiled.  Thank heavens he's a trusting soul!

Things improved from then on, I'm so glad to say, and there were no outstanding glitches in the music.  My feelings of "rattledness" and low self-esteem began to fade away as the music flowed and lifted us all to a "higher" place.  The choir in the loft sang boldly and beautifully, and the celebration of our Lord's birth was proclaimed through the many talents present in the room.  All was well, once again.  

When it was time for the children to come onstage, they enthusiastically jumped up and scrambled up the stairs to their proper places.  One of our pretty girls tripped on the last two steps and did sort of a butterfly flittering with her arms & legs:  quite graceful, actually, for a stumble.  It wasn't that noticeable until she began her giggling and landed with a sort of unexpected "thud".  She handled it very well.  She landed upright, and nothing was injured, thank goodness.  Everything was intact; nothing hurt, except her pride.

Ah, I knew that feeling all too well for I, also, had landed upright, but with wounded pride.  She and I were now kindred spirits, and my heart ached for her.  I knew exactly how she felt, and I wanted to tell her "there, there now... it's okay", but I didn't need to because someone else thought of it before I did; someone even more appropriate than I.  Her daddy was in the orchestra, and he saw it all unfold.  That man didn't miss a beat!  As her giggling continued, he jumped up from his chair and hurried  over to her and gave her one huge bear hug!  He patted her lovingly on the shoulders and whispered something secretly in her ear. Then her daddy walked back to his assigned place in the orchestra and resumed his playing, while she joined in with her choir as if nothing had ever happened.

But something had happened.  Something magical had just occurred, and I witnessed it firsthand.  Her smile told more than she realized, and I breathed a sigh of relief for her. With that one unselfish act of kindness, love had filled the room, and there was so much of it that even I, way over on the piano bench, felt loved.   Wow... it was a powerful experience!  It was precious to watch, and it was a perfect picture of why we were there and of what we were all celebrating.

It's all about a father's love:  the Christmas season.  Isn't it?  We all need it so desperately, and God our Father gives it abundantly to all who receive Him.  We all stumble in our own ways... our pretty young lady, me, you, all of us... and there's nothing sweeter than love picking us back up and wrapping its arms around us and hearing it lovingly say, "there, there now... I love you, baby.  It's okay, and everything's gonna be alright".
 
Mmmm... that's a mighty good feeling, and one I wish for all of us, whether we deserve it, or not. They say that love isn't love until we give it away.  So, since this is the Christmas Season, let's find someone who needs a good ol' bear hug, and let's go out there together and share the Good News. There is a world out there who is hungry for someone to love them, and there is a Someone who does.  His name is Jesus.

Christ is born, and He shall reign forever, and ever!
 
May God bless us, one and all today... and because we stumble, may we all keep a firm grip on our loving Father's hand.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou

 ³⁰And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God.
 ³¹And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS.
 ³²He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David:
 ³³And he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end.
                                    ----Luke 1:30-33  New International Version Bible

                                                

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Iddy, Biddy Diddy

Ever feel like you're trying "too hard"?  Is this truly a possibility or is it just a scam people use as a tactic to get you to stop doing what you're doing?

If someone tells me I'm trying too hard, then it has to be "the scam".  Yea, it's a scam, alright.  However, if I decide that I really am trying too hard, like if I'm black & blue from hitting my head against a wall, then maybe it is time to back off... unless, of course, it is for my family, or for my loved ones, or my friends, or my so-so friends, or my list of people that make me crazy, or my hobbies, or my job, or my latest project, or my next project, or my "I should do this" list, or my "I have to do this" list, or, and by all means... my beloved bucket list.

Hmmm... guess that just about covers it.

No sense in beating my head against the wall to get this point across.  After all, I have to save my energy for daunting projects.  So, let me close with this delightful little, iddy, biddy diddy...

Passionate souls are stubborn souls.
Stubborn souls are hard to sway.
So, if ye be a soul like me,
pray "stubborn" goes away.

Ah, I feel better now.  Let the day begin!

Just call me:  your friend, your want-to-be friend, your so-so friend, or...
"She makes a' me crazy" friend,

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


p.s. #1  I'm practicing for the Mean Old Lady Olympics.

p.s. #2  I hear they have a competition called Quick Wit.

p.s. #3  I'm sharpening my skills... uh, tongue.

p.s. #4  There is a scripture in Proverbs or somewhere in the Bible about not being stubborn.  I should look it up.

p.s. #5  Can't... I'm too stubborn.

p.s. #6  Yikes!  Feeling convicted.

I Samuel 15:23, Holy Bible, King James Version
"For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry..."

p.s. #7  Uh, oh...  

I John 1:9, Holy Bible, King James Version
"If we CONFESS OUR SINS, he is faithful and just to FORGIVE OUR SINS, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 

p.s. #8  Sweet... Thank you, Jesus!


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

The Clothesline

I enjoy my living room with its gold, amber & crimson colors.  The visual warmth surrounds me and welcomes me onto its cushions and beckons me to stay awhile.  Except for this morning!

He told me that he had washed a load of laundry and spread it out for it to finish drying, and that it was in the living room on the love seat.  (That's our modern day clothesline around here, that, and the sofa.)   This is normal at my house because I have a husband who knows how to do laundry and doesn't seem to mind doing it.  Fortunate am I.  Entertained, also.  The laundry load was "whites":  his underwear & our socks.  I know you're already thinking that he mixed colors in with the whites, but that's not so.  He is very good at the job, and today's story takes a different direction, so just sit back and let me continue.

In my morning stupor, I rambled through the house waking up, and my mind drifted back to my real clothesline days in Duncan, Oklahoma.  My parents, brother and I lived on the northern edge of town on five acres with a big front yard.  Tall oak and blackjack trees dotted the fence line and a few peach trees stood between the oaks and the big, long clothesline. Even with the trees, the view of the clothesline was quite public and anything on display there was like a giant checkered flag waving at all passersby calling, "Look at me.  Look at me!"

I thought nothing of it until I became a "developing" young woman.  Now, I am certain that I didn't do my fair share of laundry or other household chores, but it when it came time to hang out the clothes, I just nearly died when I had to hang out my brother's & daddy's  underwear and mama's & my  panties and  bras.  I always saved them for the last, and I always did my best to hide them, pinning them on the middle of the three wire lines with the towels, sheets & such hanging on the outer lines.  I even tried double & triple layering items, but they took forever to dry.  When I was out there, I worked as fast as I could, hoping no one would see me or notice the "underwear" flapping in the breeze.

You need to understand that this was before we had a real clothes dryer, and we weren't the only family who used nature to dry our clothes.  But, it seems to me that we had the longest clothesline in town, and this girl wanted to be like my uptown girlfriends who finished their laundry inside.  I remember when the city changed our street name from North 10th to Country Club Road, how excited I was about now being a "city girl".  But when I had to hang out clothes, my embarrassment quadrupled!  How could we be so "country" when we lived on a city street called "Country Club Road"???  "Why couldn't we get a dryer like normal people???"  "Why? Why? Why?"  Mama & Daddy paid no attention to my whining.  They just smiled when they handed me a laundry basket of wet, clean clothes and pushed me out the door.

Just so you'll know I'm not completely dumb, I finally did realize that I could hang the lady garments inside over the bathtub.  That was a small victory for pride, and such an easy solution.  It just took me several years to figure it out, though... some of us folks are just kind of slow at progress, and I guess I'm one of them. 

Golly, that was about forty years ago.  And, now, I'm back to the present time.  I thought what a neat story I could write about my husband's string of white undies spread all over the living room love seat.  But, when I walked in with my camera to capture the vision, he had already removed half of the proof.  When he realized what I was doing, he blocked my camera shot, and then he shamed me for making fun of his efforts to help with the laundry.  We laughed, and I teased him about putting it all back so I could show you how funny it all looked, but he didn't seem to think it was too funny.  Now, that's funny! 

So here I sit, telling it all, and this may be the last time he washes my socks.  It may take me a few years to figure out why, since some of us folks are just kind of  slow at progress, and I guess I'm one of them... but, oh... what fun!

Since I have no picture to show you, just use your imagination.  Stark white men's underwear (drawers, as we used to say) and white socks of all shapes & sizes strewn across the Mediterranean love seat.  A vision of oxymorons, or let me say... oxipowders!

Pardon me while I continue...
You may pick one of the following as my closing line:

Cheers to the clotheslines of now & then!
Hip-hip hoorays to those who get my Dreft!

May the Tide of change be easy for All!

Blessed are those who are Downy and hung out to dry.

Wisking you easy stain removal as you Shout your colors loud & strong.

May Gain restrain your Arm & Hammer.

Resolve to Bounce back to days of Ivory Snow.

May clean laundry be yours as you Spray & Wash, Purex & Clorox.

and my favorite...

Snuggles  to you!

Laughing and looking feverishly for my clean, white socks...

Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

My Flag

Triumphant it stood.
Boldly it waved.
Courage and strength it told.
I watched it furl in jet streamed sky
and wondered how am I
so fortunate to sit beneath this flag,
on freedom's common ground.

What price was paid I cannot grasp,
can't fathom freedom's cost,
but as I view Old Glory's flight
I pray we shall:
not faint,
give hope to night,
turn wrong to right,
and be worthy of the name...
America...
America...
America.

                  --Cindy Lou Hodges


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

Fire, Fire... Hair on Fire!

It was the month of December in a quiet neighborhood in central Texas.  It was your typical Sunday morning worship service in this Southern Baptist Church.  Traditional Christmas carols and festive decorations filled the room, but there was nothing typical about things when her hair caught on fire!  I guess you could say, "That's when all hell broke loose!"

I was the pianist, and she, Miss M, was the keyboardist.  We were just about four feet apart from each other.  What separated us was a short banister wall, about "hip high", and of course, the votive candles were lit for the morning's service.  All was well, and the congregation seemed to be singing better than usual.  They actually were in tune with our choir, and our minister of music was giving it his all as he lead the joyful sounds of praise and worship.  Our pastor was deep in thought, or prayer, or something, but by the look on his face one could tell that he, too, was enjoying the service.  It was a packed house and joy filled the sanctuary.  Everyone was in their proper place, and as they say, there was peace in the valley.

Then, it happened.  We were in the middle of one of our favorite Christmas carols:  congregation singing, piano playing, keyboard roaring.  And then, she leaned forward with her head tilted down somewhat... ka-whooooosh!  The top of her hair caught on fire! 

Out of my peripheral vision I saw this instant flash of bright, white light.  There seemed to be some very pale yellow, kind of lemon yellow, and a very delicate shade of lavender mixed with some blue in it, too.  I thought it was very pretty, until I realized what it really was!  "Oh, my gosh... it's a fire!  Dear, God... her hair's on fire!!!" 

Now, you have to understand, that at this exact time in space, everything was in slow motion:  very, very slow motion... even though we're talking about just a matter of seconds.  As my fingers kept playing the Christmas call to worship, my eyes saw three or four deacons rushing towards the piano and keyboard.  They looked like linebackers from a football team, but they had this horrid look of fear on their faces.  They seemed to do some sort of shuffle run, then they would halfway halt, then start moving forward again.  It was a strange sight, I tell you.  Frightening, too, because they were running straight towards us...  Miss M and me. 

I don't know what finally clicked in my mind, but thank goodness it did.  I jumped up and started hitting Miss M on the head, patting out the fire.  Wisps of singed hair floated all around us, kind of like tiny dark feathers sifting through the air.  It was as if we were on film, and that the film's shutter speed was slowly clicking from frame to frame.., or in this case, from "flame to flame".  The very distinguishable odor of singed hair overpowered everything:  the scented cinnamon spice candles, the holiday fragrance of the evergreens, and even my gently applied Channel #5.

It all happened unbelievably fast, and then, in a flash, it was over.  Done.  Gone.  Fire out.  Oh, the candles kept burning, and the congregation kept singing. Well, mostly.  The singing did sort of die down, but I'm not sure the folks on the back rows ever knew why or that a ruckus had occurred right there on Sunday morning, in their peaceful little church. 

Our minister of music recounts that everything in that service was going great until he looked over and saw his pianist beating the keyboardist on the head.  Guess he missed the vision of the flames, but he sure as heck saw his two musicians decking it out with each other, and that's what he remembers to this day!

As for the deacons, the men that rushed to the front, they weren't needed after all.  My speed and position allowed me to take care of the "situation", and so, they fumbled back to their pews, shaking their heads wondering what on earth had happened. 

Musically, the song survived.  Only a few measures were without accompaniment, and once the flames were smothered, I went back to the piano bench and started playing again.  Miraculously my hands were not burned.  Miraculously, Miss M was not injured.  Her pride was somewhat assaulted, and her hair needed a few weeks to recover, but she had no burns whatsoever, and what could have been a catastrophe became a miracle and a marvelous, unforgettable memory.

I have to tell you, that this was a highlight of my career.  I have played for church services off and on for decades now, and many stories can be told.  But, this one is tops.  Whoever said being a church pianist is boring, has never sat where I sit, and they have never seen things from my perspective.  I love what I do, and it is never, ever boring... at least not for this gal, and certainly not here in Texas!  I truly consider it a privilege, and I count it all joy to be a "bench warmer".  And just for the record, the Christmas season is definitely my favorite time of the year!

So, here I sit.  I'm watching and waiting for more miracles...  pardon the pun, but they do warm the heart!

Joyfully serving... and, joyfully playing,
this church pianist,

Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

The Daydream

I was so involved with my daydream that I missed my mouth with my coffee cup.  Surprising?  Not at all.

The imagery was spectacular, and the band was in the grove, uh groove.  There I stood with the microphone, not one ounce of fear piercing through my body.  All eyes were glued to this magical moment:  all ears tuned to the soft nuances that would soon flow from my soul.  No one knew this was the moment I had longed for.  No one knew the expense of this adventure.  No one knew.  No one cared.  No one, but I.

Spotlight intact.  Curtain up.  Applause filled the air with the echo of triumph.  Taking in one last breath, I opened my mouth to sing, and right there, in the middle of my daydream... was the sound of fire alarms and clanging bells!  Uh... no:  it was the telephone.  The audacious, stupid phone was screeching right in the middle of my once in a lifetime "moment".

So, there went the coffee all down my shirt.  There went the daydream:  there went the diva.  I felt like Ralphie, the little kid in the movie, The Christmas Story.  Spectacular were his daydreams that spinned with unbridled enthusiasm!  They out shined the grandest of schemes, and in this world of doubt, they kept his fragile, creative spirit alive.  No one knew about his secret scenarios.  No one knew about them at all, and no one cared.  Or, so he thought.

I guess, inside all of us dwells either a diva or a Ralphie, and somewhere along the way we picked up the notion that the child in us should grow up and throw aside our childish ways replacing them with grown-up thoughts and grown-up behavior.   (Oh, that's in the Bible.  Isn't it?  It's in I Corinthians 13:11.)  That's what is required of us as responsible adults, but I can see a meltdown coming if the child within is forgotten and never released to play, to create, or to daydream.

I don't know about you, but I am planning on longevity here in my life.  My long awaited first grandchild will soon be born, and I want to be around to see her coo & giggle, to see her take her first tiny steps, and to see her twist and turn as she masters her first pair of high heel shoes.  I would love to be around for her wedding day as she lovingly takes those solemn steps of marriage.  And when I arrive at those later stages of my life, I don't want to be a dried-up, old prude who doesn't know how to laugh, or sing, play, or daydream.  I want to be young at heart, and laugh at the days ahead... the days present. 

That sounds like quite a challenge, because aging can be terribly cruel.  Injuries and insults assault us, and time marches on without our permission.   As my Aunt Polly used to say, and now my mother says, "Aging ain't for sissies!"  Yes, I have to agree, it isn't.  Neither is daydreaming.  It takes a lot of courage for grown-ups to dream like a child, and even more courage, I think, to admit that we do.

They say that confession is good for the soul, so here you have it:  I confess.   I daydreamed, and it didn't cost me anything other than the time to wash my coffee-stained blouse.  That was just a few, well spent minutes, and I think that little snippet of time added new wonderment to my child-like faith.

What about you?  Have you daydreamed lately?  It isn't painful, and the child in you just might thank you for the freedom.  Dance, sing, build bridges, climb mountain cliffs, paint like Rembrandt, design fashions, write a best-seller novel, discover a cure for cancer, find a forgotten city, go to the zoo, go watch a baseball game, or imagine your flower beds a botanical wonder.  Be creative... there are no limitations when we daydream, and without our permission, no one can take our dreams away from us.

Because they are precious, we must protect our dreams, and we are instructed to guard them continually.  They can be a gift or a burden, so we are to use them wisely.  We should even pray about them, asking God what they should be and asking God to direct our thoughts and take them where He wants us to be.   Can't say that I remembered to do that before my "diva dream", but I should have.  For I have found that heavenly daydreams are the sweetest of all and the longest lasting.

Take heart, my friends.  There is hope for all of us!  With my grown up knowledge and my child-like faith, I face the future; and you can face it with me.  We may be fortunate enough to daydream a brighter future, and we may even be fortunate enough to find ourselves basking in the spotlight as we stand in front of cheering crowds.  Or, we may find ourselves flat on our backs facing the frightening sounds of emergency sirens.  No one can accurately predict what awaits us, but I do know that we don't have to face those times alone.  There is Someone who cares.... Someone who knows.  And, I would like to know Him better.

Think I'll grab my Bible, turn off the telephone, and ask God to fill me with His love and even more child-like faith.  It can happen, you know... and that doesn't have to be a daydream!

Blessings to you as you rediscover the child within you.  Guard it.  Protect it.  Nurture it.  And, then, give it a friend by the name of Jesus.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou



"For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he..."
--Proverbs 23:7  King James Version, Holy Bible

"I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."
--Luke 18:17, New International Version, Holy Bible

"...there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."
--Proverbs 18:24, New International Version, Holy Bible



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Scrambled Eggs

Which shall it be?

"Life is too short for fussing and fighting, my friends."
OR...
"Never go to bed mad.  Stay up and fight!"

Guess it depends on the situation, but I see that most arguments revolve around proving who is right and who is wrong.  We all want to be right.  We want to be the smart one, the superior one, the winner;  but, most of the time, the winning comes at great expense.  Why can't we accept that there is more than one way to do a task, and more than one way to view the situation?  It's all a matter of perspective.

I speak from experience.   Being married to an engineer, and myself being an artist... I know for a fact there is more than one way to get the job done.  For instance:  breakfast eggs.  He likes his fried, squashed, squished and hard as a rock with crispy, crinkled, bacon greased brown edges.  I like mine scrambled with butter, ever so soft, light and fluffy.  It's just eggs, but two distinctly different ideas of how to cook them:  two different preferences, two different perspectives.

Two different people living together:  successfully!  Yes, in this household now, around the cook top, there is peace.  He has his bacon grease and spatula, and I have my butter with olive oil.  'Tis so amicable here.  'Tis so sweet.  And then, out of the blue, holding it high in the air, I hear myself say, "step aside, dear... I have the skillet, and I know how to use it!"

Hungry, grumpy,
and not feeling very patient this morning,

Cindy Lou

p.s.  Even the sweetest rose has its thorns!  (chuckle!)

Another Day

Another day, my soul awakes,
'Tis listening to the dawn.
What power, oh, ye morning has
to bid the evening gone.

Oh, daybreak, if you only knew
the might your light does cast.
It calls to me.  It beckons me,
for darkness now is past.

Rejoice my soul!  Awaken sleep!
The slumber now is done.
Glad tidings tell.  The light prevails.
The Son the vict'ry won!
                       --Cindy Lou Hodges

Sounds like an old hymn, doesn't it, with the "'tis's" and the "ye's"?  Guess so, and rightly so because today my body feels very, very old.  Actually, today this earthly body feels quite ancient, kind of like an old rusty farm tractor:  one which is missing a few cylinders, a lot of paint, and has been put out to pasture.  (I know of what I speak, because I learned to drive and operate a standard gear shift on one of those old, faded farm tractors.... about two hundred years ago!)

But, the good news is my soul is alive and feels young.  And that's a bea-u-ti-ful feeling:  one that can be shared and given away to everyone regardless of age, race, gender, or economic status!  So, join with me in this transformation as my soul encourages the body to rise & shine.  For indeed, there is a reason to do so... there is a Savior and He has conquered the night!  Arise!  Shine!  For the light has come!

As the little old farm tractor used to say...
"I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...."

Sincerely clutching to the truth (pardon my pun),
Cindy Lou


"When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, 'I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'"  John 8:12, Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

Baby Girl Pink

"Yesterday I dug in the freezer. Today I think I'll dig in the dirt. Seems to me that planting spring bulbs would be a most fitting way to celebrate the new life that's coming to our family in December..."
                                    ---posted on Face Book, October 21, 2010


In my mind I envisioned pink!  Pure, pretty, "pop your eyes out" pink flowers strewn all across my back yard's flower bed.  I wasn't thinking a muddy pink, or a lavender pink, or a peachy pink.  I wanted "sweet baby girl pink", and I wanted lots & lots of them... a wheelbarrow full of blossoms.

The first garden center I visited had two displays of bulbs which included tulips, hyacinths, daffodils and the girliest, frilliest irises I've ever seen.  By golly, that was the flower I wanted, and there was no reason to drive elsewhere to shop;  except that, there was only one package.  And it contained only two bulbs:  so much for my idea of a wheelbarrow full.  I drove to the other garden store, hoping I could find other choices, but, that was a waste of time since they had no flower bulbs at all.  Theirs are shipped in the spring.

Not to be defeated about my idea of planting today, I drove back to that solitary package of two bulbs, and I purchased it.  Took a picture of the cover on the package, so I can remember what it's supposed to look like, then grabbed the garden spade and started digging.  In no time at all, those two scrawny iris bulbs were planted deeply in the warm earth, safe and secure in my back yard. 

Have to say that I feel good about the day.  I got my mission accomplished.  Got lots of mosquito bites, too, but it's all worth the effort because I believe those puny, palm-size bulbs will produce exactly what the picture claims.  When they do and the pink frilly blossoms are a'bloom, my grand baby will be three or four months old.  I will lovingly carry her out to the back flower bed and show her what her Grammy planted in honor of her arrival.  I believe that year after year, these irises will continue to grow in numbers and beauty and continue the cycle of life.  As my grand daughter grows, I shall remind her how much she is loved and how much she was wanted, even before she was born.  Then as she matures, and becomes a young flower herself,  I can use the story of the iris to teach her about love, and the sanctity of marriage, and how with every cycle of life there is a rhyme and a reason for its time and its season.

That's a lot to expect from my plantings today:  those two pitiful looking bulbs.  But, when one has faith, nothing is impossible.... not even a wheelbarrow full of pretty, frilly, "pop your eyes out" pink blossoms!

Here's hoping.  Here's believing.  And here's thanks to all the women who have walked before me... bouquets to you, my lovelies!  And for those of you who are still walking, we might as well walk together, joined arm in arm... in faith.  It's more fun that way, and besides, I'd love some company!

Sincerely looking forward to the future,
Cindy Lou

p.s.  I'm thinking pink!

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.  And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.  Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another... and all the more as you see the Day approaching."
          --Hebrews 10:23-25 Holy Bible, New International Version



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

The Sugar Attack

"Oh, please, something be in the pantry."  Slam went the door.  "Oh, please... maybe in this cupboard?"  Slam-bang went that door.  "Gosh, there better be something in here...  Somethinggg!"  Groceries toppled off the shelves as I ransacked the freezer.  Frozen layers of forgotten possibilities tumbled to my feet, but even amidst all that jumble of food, there was nothing sweet to eat!

No cookies.  No cake.  No ice cream.  No pie.
Nothin' that's sweet.  Oh, no.  Oh, my!
Off to the bakery.  Off to the store.
Off to the drive-through.  Off through the door.

Out in a flurry, a scurry to find
the thrill for these taste buds, the gooey kind.
My gut is a cravin' something that's sweet.
Can't stop til I find it, can't stop til I eat...

Cookies or cake, ice cream or pie.
Out of my way.  I have pop tarts to buy!
Sugar Pops, donuts, things on a stick,
lemon drops, fudge plops.  Show me them, quick!

Attack, I tell ya... Call the armed guards.
I'm being attacked by my own petard.
T'was just a simple d'sire for dessert,
but that one little desire drove me berserk!

Now, my kitchen's a wreck.  The doors are askew.
The floor is piled high with frozen miscue's
And still there are...
No cookies.  No cake.  No ice cream.  No pie.
And nothin' that's sweet.  Oh, no.  Oh, my!
               --- Cindy Lou Hodges, Copyright 2010

And that's the truth!  Well, sort of...
At the end of my plundering, I did find something nice in my pantry:  a can of cream cheese flavored cake frosting.  Oh, yeh... it was a delicious experience!



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Sand, Stone

"Write your sorrows in sand...
Write your blessings in stone."

The above message hangs on the store's wall, and I saw it just this morning.  It's a small plaque that isn't for sale.  It's there for decoration and inspiration to the clients that pass through.  The more I thought about it the more profound it became to me, and I knew I should share it with you.

If I were to actually do this, I would need a world of stone and just a tiny, tiny seashore.  For one of the many results of prayer to God Almighty, is that He eases our sorrows.  Just like messages written in the sand, as we pray our sorrows become less visible, and our blessings become more apparent.    While we lose sight of one, we gain sight of the other.  One is softened:  eventually erased... the other revealed.

Looking at my blessings right now, I'd say they are like grains of sand on the seashore.  There are too many to number, and it would take more than a lifetime to do so.  But, I shall say the very first entry on my "blessings" list, because it is the most amazing blessing of all, is the fact that I am loved.  I may not carve it in stone, and I may never again make it to the seashore, but I am here right now, and I shall take this opportunity to write it and to tell you.... I am loved, and so are you!

Counting my blessings,
Cindy Lou



"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this:  While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."  --Romans 5:8, Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV)

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."  John 15:13, Holy Bible, NIV

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

Hark!

Bark.  Bark.
Bark, bark, bark.
Hark!  I hear a bark.

Harp.  Harp.
Harp, harp, harp.
Hark!  I hear a harp.

Wouldn't it be nice someday,
since there are barks and harps,
if we could train our ears to hear
the harps instead of barks?
              -- Cindy Lou Hodges, Copyright 1988

Twenty-two years later:  the second verse...

Yak, yak.
Yak, yak, yak.
Yak, I did just yak.

Attack, Attack.
Atack, tack, tack.
Attack, my yak slapped back.  Ouch!

Some lessons take a lifetime to learn, huh? 
Laughing at myself,
Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

I Am a Tree

"I am a tree.
My roots grow deep.
I'm planted by The River... The River of Life.
Hosanna's in the wind.
Hosanna's in the rain.
Hosanna's in the air I breathe.
My life He does sustain."
                                   --Cindy Lou Hodges


For months this song was my mantra:  not a happy tune, but a mournful confirmation that I could weather the storm that raged around me.  I sang it to myself while she lay in the hospital flat on her back.  I murmured it as she vacillated from one surgery to the next, from critical condition to serious condition, then agonizingly back to critical.  I remembered it as she lingered near death from staff infections, and it was one of the songs I sang as I crossed the state line commuting back & forth from my home to her multiple care facilities.  It was on my lips as my own personal lullaby at three o'clock in the mornings, and at times it boomed out of me as a defense against the enemy of hopelessness.  As she was fighting for life:  I was fighting for hope... enough for both of us.

That seems like just yesterday, and that yesterday seemed like an eternity.  Only God knows how distraught we all were, and how close we were to quitting.  On the inside I struggled for sanity, while on the outside I struggled for courage.  Taking each step required stepping out in faith and numerous reminders to myself that I could do it... one step at a time.

Whenever setbacks & disappointments knocked the wind out of me, the vision of a mighty tree came to mind, and I imagined my feet sinking deeper and deeper into the solid ground.  I imagined my care giving as an oasis such as the top of a tree is sanctuary for living creatures.  When I felt the world dumping on me, as certain animals seek out trees to mark their territory, I realized that that was just part of being alive... part of being a tree. It would not destroy me, and it might even make me stronger. Time & time again, I would once more try to rise to the task awaiting me.  One more time to encourage myself.  One more time to believe... "I am a tree... my roots go deep.  I'm planted by The River".

Only God knows how... but, here we are, one year after the fall & initial broken hip.  We are home at her house... together, and life is different now.  It is sweeter, and it is easier than it has been. The infections are suppressed.  The surgeries are over.  The hospital bed no longer cradles her immobile, tortured body, and the parade of caregivers has calmed down to a slow, steady pace of two a week.  Sleep has returned once again, and this "welcomed back" friend allows me to sleep through the earlier known three o'clock awakenings.  I even dream again, and instead of fear and darkness, my dreams take me to happy places.

Yes, life is more precious to me now.  Today I saw bluebirds out the kitchen window, and I called Mama to come look.  She struggled to get out of her wheelchair so that she could see the birds flying from the oak tree to the blue bird houses.  Those beautiful blue feathered friends were scouting out the perfect place for their autumn nests:  the perfect place to lay their tiny blue eggs.  That made her smile.  Made us both smile.

Then later, as I finished showering, I heard talking coming from somewhere in the house.  I couldn't distinguish who or what it was, so I opened the bathroom door to better hear.  "Who was she talking to?  Was she watching TV?"  Then I heard... it was singing:  one of the lovliest sounds I have ever heard.  With a voice as clear as a songbird, and with the steadiness of a flowing river, my Mama, Ms. Dimple was singing once again.  It wasn't a song of mourning.  It wasn't a cry for help.  It was a simple song of joy, unintended for my ears to hear.  But, I did, and I'm so glad.  I'm not sure who enjoyed it more:  her, God, or me.  But, it was one of those heavenly moments when all nature is in perfect harmony, and everything in the world seems all right.  It was music to my ears... sweet, wonderful music!

Like I said... life is sweeter now... for her, for me... for all of us!
"I am a tree... my roots grow deep."
God is my strength.
Of that, I am sure.

Cindy Lou


"Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.  But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.  And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper."  ---Psalm 1:1-3  Holy Bible, King James Version

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Fluff, Fluff!

"Two feather pillows sittin' on the bed.
One turned to the other, and it said:
'Do you ever tire, when the folks retire
and flatten your fluff with their big, fat heads?'"
                                     --Cindy Lou

Ah, the weariness of diligence is my challenge today.  Didn't I do all this yesterday?  The showering, the grooming, the hair, the makeup, the cleaning up after myself?  (Well, okay... I didn't do the cleaning yesterday, but I intended to!)  And, today... it starts all over again.  And, that's just all about ME!  Now it's time to get to the important tasks of devotional time, people time, and responsibility time.  Many issues need to be dealt with today, and many miles need to be traveled.  Loved ones need my assistance. Job duties demand attention, and all the while, distractions lurk in every corner and every shopping center. 

So, I'm wondering, "what makes today different from yesterday?"  Is it:  the people I will encounter? the traffic I must contend with?  the clothes that I wear?  the tasks demanded of me?  the opportunities that await me?  or the surprises that will grip me?  Hmmm... I believe it is all of the above and something more.  It is my attitude, more than anything else:  plain & simple.  It's up to me.

In last night's rehearsal our orchestra director spoke of "excellence", and how we musicians should strive for it in every song we play.  We should not settle for mediocrity, nor should we be satisfied with status quo.  He's right, about many things, and lately I have found myself being grateful for "status quo" & "normalcy".  In this crazy world, familiarity is welcomed.  But, something about his insight slides beyond the boundaries of music and intertwines with everyday living and everyday attitudes. 

Excellence is what we all need today.  It's especially what I need, and what I desire.  I'm tired of compromising quality for quantity and weary of settling for less than my best.  The level of standards that I'm seeking surpasses status quo and causes this worker to aim higher, work harder, and to stay very, very focused.

Now that's a challenge, but, a good choice, don't you think?  If I apply myself, maybe today won't be so ho-hum after all, and maybe my daily tasks will take on new life.  Maybe the people I encounter today will be smarter & brighter than they would have been with my old attitude.  Maybe I can learn something from them, also.  And maybe, when I look into the "new attitude" mirror to freshen my face or comb my hair, I will see beyond the reflection and see something that wasn't there yesterday.  Perhaps I shall see a heart for excellence and the determination to make it happen.  Perhaps I will see even more.  Perhaps I will see another reflection, one of excellence... one that looks just like you!

Guess it's time to get at it again, or as they say, "fluff the pillows", but this time I think I"ll do it right.  I will do it with vim & vigor, zest & gusto... lots & lots of it!  Here goes.... fluff, fluff... fluff, fluff.......FLUFF!!!

Claiming victory with my every "fluff",
Cindy Lou



"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.  It is the Lord Christ you are serving."  --Colossians 3:23-24  Holy Bible, New International Version


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Boot Camp

Today he leaves for boot camp.  Yesterday he played the acoustic bass in church.  Tomorrow... who knows?  That's yet to be revealed.

I've known him for just about two years now.  Our paths crossed at church where we both play in the orchestra, and for most of that time he has been the only string player in the band.  He has been faithful to be there Wednesday nights for rehearsals and Sunday mornings for worship services.  What surprises me about his steadiness is that he is a single young man who could find many other ways to spend his time and many other places to be.  However, he chooses to be at church.

But now, he won't be, and we will miss him.  Will miss his smile, his music, his gentle presence, and his testimony.  We shall continue to think about him and lift him up in prayer, his mama, too.  It must be hard seeing your child choose to walk away from the security of home, family, and friends into the vices of the military.  I don't know first hand what that's like, but I do remember how hard it was just to leave my son on his own at college.  It is so hard turning loose.  We moms & dads tend to panic and ask ourselves, "Did we do our jobs as parents?  Did we do it right, and did we do it well?  Did we love them enough, and did we teach them all that they need to know to survive out there?"

I personally don't know his parents & family very well, but just by association with this young man, I'd say they did a fine job raising their son, and he will make a fine soldier.  It seems to me his feet are firmly planted on the Solid Rock, and that's exactly what it takes to make it out there.  A firm foundation can weather the storm: be it military, civil, or private.

We will miss him: our light-haired, soft-spoken young friend.  While there will be a gap in the flow of music, there will be new steps in the marching corps.  When there will be murmurs in the congregational prayers for his safety, there will be shouts of command in the corporal ranks.  Where there is war, there will be prayers for peace.  He, our friend the soldier, is doing his part to make men free.  It is now our turn as a church and community to voice our petitions to heaven.  Pray for others.  Pray for our leaders.  Pray for peace, and pray for William.   

Blessings to you, my friend Private William... may God protect and keep you. Thank you for serving our country!  We will miss you until you come back and join us once again in the band.  You can wear your military uniform or your civilian clothes as you play... doesn't matter to us.  We just want you to hurry back home, today, tomorrow or several tomorrows from now.  Yes, hurry home, please... your music and your chair await you.

Sincerely your friend,
Cindy Lou



"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.  The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.  But eveyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand.  The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash."
                  ---Matthew 7:24-27   Holy Bible, New International Version

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."
                              ---John 3:16  Holy Bible, New International Version


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Too Tired to Eat Ice Cream

"Too tired to eat my ice cream"... now, THAT'S tired!

Full days filled with fun and friends have my head spinning and my feet running.  The last three days have been a marathon of musical activities, rehearsals, and programs, and it isn't even Christmas time which is my busiest time of the year.  It's October which means the oppressive summer heat has lifted its veil and revitalized us living creatures.  We are invigorated with a nonstop zest for living, and we are doing it before the cold winter comes.  What a glorious time to make music!  And what a wonderful way to enjoy the fall days.

But, I think I overdid it this time.  After last night's last rehearsal, I drove to my favorite ice cream parlor and ordered my latest favorite:  a strawberry shortcake Mix.  I couldn't go home without something for my husband, so I told the clerk to add a hot fudge sundae.  "Make that a double, two scoops!"   It sounded so soothing and "just right" and justly earned after an exhausting three days.

Driving home the vision of my ice cream made me smile, and drool a little, too.   The Mix was in a clear plastic cup.  It looked like a pink cloud with lumpy bumps of strawberries & pound cake.  Ooooh, it looked good!  I felt like a great hunter going home with her trophy.  Make that "trophies" because the gooey hot fudge sundae sat right beside my pink drink that had to be eaten with a spoon, and the two together sparkled under the street lights.

Smiles & hugs awaited me at home, as well as pajamas, and I could feel my body exhaling as I washed my face and got out of my binding clothes.   It took longer than usual to do the ordinary night time routine, I guess because I was so weary.  And by the time I made it to the kitchen to reward myself with the pink concoction, it just didn't look as enticing as it had previously.  I looked at that beautiful trophy, and thought, "I don't think I can shovel it in... my arms just can't do another thing."  Sigh.  "I guess it will have to wait, and so can I."

But then, I saw that hot fudge sundae... my husband's treat.  Uh-oh.  It had melted quite a bit, and it was all soft & squishy, and lavishly swirled with a thick chocolate ribbon .  Before I knew it, these arms of mine... the weary ones, had grabbed a straw and stuck it in that melted milky confection; and this old, bone-tired body leaned over and inhaled almost half of that which wasn't hers to eat.  Alas, I did it again.  I was Miss Piggy!  Argh... Oink, Oink!

Can't say I'm proud of what I did:  eating my husband's ice cream.  Can't say I won't do it again.  Bless his heart.  But, I can say that even though I am exhausted from my last three days, I am so glad that my life is filled with friends, family, and music.  I was busy, perhaps too busy.  But, what a joy to join earth's chorus of praise, laughter, and life!  And then, to top it off with ice cream... Wow... how truly blessed I am!

Thank you for being my friends.  Thank you for making music with me, and thank you for surrounding me with your smiles, encouragement and love.  You bring out the best in me, and you accept me at my worst.  What more could a girl ask for?  You're wonderful friends, and I thank God for you.

Well, it's time to get ready for a new day.  Time to put back on the day's "face" and the binding clothes.  Time to prepare for the next rehearsal.  So, in closing I will say... "I love you, dear friends.  You are the best, and if we ever go out for ice cream together, hmmm... can I have a taste of yours?"

Sincerely smiling,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

No Time to Play

No time to play today.
No time to stay
ling'ring on the Internet.
Efficiency today!

Can't check my emails
forty times today.
Can't glob on blog spot.
Can't say what I want to say.

Cause there's...
No time to play today.
No time to stay
ling'ring on the Internet...

What a wicked, wicked day!


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Naptime

"Today I made the bed up before the clock said ten.
But now it's so inviting, I think I'll crawl back in!"   ...Cindy Lou
                                       --posted on Facebook, 9-24-2010

Ah, yes, on this dreary day the sound of rain lullabies me to sleep.  Even with two cups of coffee downed and a good night's rest, I feel the urge to curl up and take a nap.  "Who cares if you do?" you might ask, and my reply would be, "no one, but me, I guess."

It would be easy to take that nap, but hard to deal with myself if I do.  You see, I feel like Rip Van Winkle.  I feel as if I just woke up from a long, deep sleep, and the world has changed around me; and I, too, have changed without my knowledge or my permission.  I see myself in the mirror, and I think "that can't be me", and I see my house and think "what on earth happened?', and I look at the calendar and I protest "it's already the end of September, 2010?  What happened to 2009?"  What happened, indeed?

Life happened, and we as a family dealt with it as best we could.  We united around my mother as she battled a broken hip and life threatening complications that followed... for eleven months now.  Mother is better and is back at her house learning how to live without a hip joint and with a leg that is three inches shorter than it used to be. The staff infection is currently suppressed, and we all are adjusting to her new, challenging lifestyle.

Dimple is her name, and she is my hero, and so is my family.  So is God.  I know without a doubt that God carried us through this long-distant, long agonizing journey, and that my Mama is still with us because of God's mercy and the strong support teams he sent our way:  medical professionals, friends, and prayer warriors.  Thank you all for all you've done for us:  we would not be where we are today without you.  Your love made an incredible difference!  Your prayers we depended upon when we were too weary to whisper our own, and your patience with our absence (mental & physical) made us feel welcomed & accepted even though we were not 100% involved.

We never asked for this accident to happen, we only asked for it to pass.  What has passed is "time", and what is revealed is "life".  Put those two words together, and you have a "lifetime".  It's up to us to decide what we fill that lifetime with, and I'm grateful that I've filled the last eleven months with family & friends.  The messy house can wait, as it has.  The stress lines on my face and the extra pounds I've gained can be dealt with, one way or another.  And, as for the calendar, I will try to believe that it is what it says.

As for that snooze I wanted to take, the desire has passed without my realizing it.  What a parallel to the last eleven months.  They too, have passed without my being aware of it... almost a year now.  When I look back, I see that the impossible was made possible.  I see that some good things have developed from bad things.  And, I see that I was not alone, nor did I sleep the entire time like Rip Van Winkle.  I just put one foot in front of the other and did the best I could.  I lived life, and I hung on, as we all did:  as we all do.

So, there will be no nap for me today, and no scoops of ice cream, either.  I believe I will play the piano and maybe even clean my kitchen.  I will reflect upon God's goodness to me, and humbly say, "Thank you, Lord for your mercies and grace, and thank you for carrying me through this last year."   I may even say, "Thank you, Lord, that I can smile again, even on a rainy day.  It feels so good!"

Isn't it all amazing?  Amazing grace, yes... indeed!
Thank you, God... and thank you, friends.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

"Izzy" Was Her Name

 "Met the cutest new friend at dinner last night!  She stopped at our table & just had to tell us a joke, but when the punchline came... it didn't!   She couldn't remember it!  lol  She is 88 years old and just darling..."         --posted on Facebook, 9-23-2010

Her red top splashed with pink & purple jewelry first caught my eye, but her radiant glow is what captured... and held my attention!  "I just have to tell you a joke, " she announced to my friends at the end of the table.  As I leaned forward to listen, assuming she knew someone seated there with me, she proceeded telling her joke about race horses.  I couldn't hear her words, but I could hear & see her enthusiasm.  It was contagious.

My girlfriends were laughing & responding with great delight, as was I, and then we waited for the punchline.  Well, good golly Miss Molly, it didn't happen!  Our delightful visitor could not remember it, and that was funnier than any well thought out punchline could have possibly been!  I think we laughed for five minutes.  It was hysterically funny!

I wish you could have seen her, our lady in red, and I wish you could have been there with us.  It was one of those rare magical moments that makes everything "all right", and everyone, everywhere needs those "all right" moments.  How sweet it was to laugh with friends.  How sweet it was to be together.  And how sweet it was to see that life can sparkle at the rich young age of 88.  That's her age, Izzybelle from Roswell, my new friend... our new friend.  Life's her stage, and she plays it very, very well.

I'm grateful to have been her audience.  I'm grateful she stopped and shared:  grateful for her life and for those priceless, precious moments she gave us.   What a joy and what a treasure she is just by being herself. I witnessed beauty, style & grace in action, and that, my friends is exactly what I want to be when I grow up.  Bravo, Izzy!  Bravo, my darling... Bravo!  Please, do it again.  Encore, encore... please!

Applause, love & admiration to you, Izzybelle from Roswell!

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou 



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

She Said... He Said!

"I'd talk to the cat, if I had one.
I'd talk to the doggie, too.
I'd talk to the fish in the fishbowl.
I'd talk to the monkey in the zoo.
I'd squawk to the squirrel on the tree limb.
I'd squawk to the turkeys, it's true.
But, why should I squawk and tell them my talk,
when I... can talk... to you?"

"Because my dear,
You hurt my ear.
You babble what you say.
You think too much.
You speak too much.
You jabber everyday.
I'll buy the cat.
I'll buy the dog.
Or take you to the zoo.
To stop your squawk,
To stop your talk,
I'll do anything for you!"

"You will?"
"I will."
"Ahhh... 'Nough said."


Do you identify with either side of the above conversation?  If so, then you most likely have been in a long-term relationship or you currently are in one.  You probably don't speak with this sing-song type of language, but surely you do converse in some form or fashion.  The above couple worked out their differences in, shall we say... an amicable sort of way?  Well, maybe...

In his book, The Five Love Languages, author Dr.Gary Chapman explains different ways people express their love and different ways they want others to express their love to them.  It's a most helpful book about relationships of all kind:  husbands, wives, children, etc., and I highly recommend reading it.  It certainly opened my eyes about communication!  Dr. Chapman states that the five love languages are:

Love Language #1:  Words of Affirmation
Love Language #2:  Quality Time
Love Language #3:  Receiving Gifts
Love Language #4:  Acts of Service
Love Language #5:  Physical Touch

So, in your busy schedule, take time to read this book.  You can discover which language you speak, and if anyone around you speaks like you do.  Can you handle learning something new about yourself?  Is it time for us to learn an additional language, a new style of communicating, a new way of expressing love?  I think so, and I think the woman in the above illustration should go first... and she will, just as soon as she finishes, excuse me... just as soon as I finish.... squawking!


"Dear Lord, I am so focused on doing things my way.  Forgive me for my selfishness, and show me new ways to love the people I love.  Help me understand them.  Help me appreciate them.  And help me show them, in ways that they understand, that I love them .  Thank you, Jesus.  Amen."



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All rights reserved.

Dire Consequences

"Out of coffee creamer this morning... Ugh! Have to be tough this morning and drink it black... Yuck! It's tough being a grown-up, tougher acting like one! :)"       ---posted on Face Book 9-18-2010

How do you envision yourself?  Do you see yourself as a competent adult?  Do you think of yourself as a kid in a grown up body?  Do you think of yourself as a team player?  Do you consider yourself a loner?  Do you consider yourself unique and a contribution to society?  How do you perceive yourself?  Really?

After posting today's comment on Face Book, I realized that I unconsciously exposed the real me!  Scary thought!  Wish I could retrieve my comment not just from Face Book, but from my mind and replace it with something more...... hmmmm, think I'll say, "grown-up".

It would thrill me if I could philosophically convince others that I am an intellect, and that I am consistently so, but a greater thrill would be if I could convince myself.  Even though, even I have a few "light bulb" moments, I don't see myself as a "thinker".  But I guess I am, at least right now.  The proof is here in front of me.

As I searched for some kind of coffee creamer this morning, my mind wandered back to some of my very first coffee experiences.  Grandma & Papa allowed me to use a cup & saucer, sometimes the LuRay yellow set, which was my very favorite.  But at our house we used mugs:  durable, sturdy, utility type mugs.  They were green, a light colored green with a few rough edges here & there.  When I complained about the roughness on the handle, Daddy just looked at me and said with a wink, that those rough edges would make me tough.  He also said something that I still laugh about.  He said that drinking coffee black would make black hairs grow on my chest!  Really, now!!!   Really?  For real???

So, here I sit, drinking my morning brew, pondering what to say:  pondering what to think.  I'm philosophizing and trying to convince myself and you, that I'm a smart person... that I am a smart woman.  But I can see that today I won't win that debate, because when it came right down to it, I just couldn't drink my coffee black.  No way...Yuck.  Not only does it taste bad that way, but it could have dire consequences if I do.  Really.  Really?  Really.  And, after all... I am a smart woman!

Really.

Cheers to all those folks who give us good memories and good things to smile about!  Raise your cups. Raise your mugs.  Raise your praise high.  Bravo, my friends, Bravo... and thank you!

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All rights reserved.

The Shoestrings

This was my fifth try... "I'm looking for those elastic, curly shoestring things... the ones that stretch and then spring back into place?  Do you have any here in your store?" 

A look of recognition brightened his face as he announced, "No, not yet, but I'm getting some in soon. I've had many customers asking about those, and for the longest time I couldn't find them.  But, just this week I found them in a new catalogue, and I couldn't believe it!"  With added exuberance he continued, "I've been searching & searching for them, and there they were advertised in a Christmas catalogue, of all places!  So, I ordered me a bunch of them, and they should be here by the end of this week."

Then he eagerly volunteered this information which really surprised me, "Someone said that Sports Academy has them in stock, and that they are on the front counter by the checkout register.  But, if you can't make it there, or if you don't find them there, I should have them here this Thursday or Friday."  Then he flashed that gregarious smile once again and said, "I just couldn't believe that I found them in a Christmas catalogue!"

So, I left the small store heading to its big competitor because I needed those specific shoestrings, and I needed them that day.  I didn't leave with my mission accomplished.  Nor did I leave with a purchase in a paper sack or a plastic bag.  But, I did leave with something new, and it wasn't even purchased.  It was something given to me, and I'm still enjoying it.  I hadn't even asked for it.

Oh, I definitely will go back to that store, and I will buy some of his stretchy shoestrings even if I don't need anymore of the twisty things.  That may sound silly, but it seems right to me.  I want to pay him back for his kindness, and I want to see him prosper.  A purchase of shoestrings won't make much difference on the books, but it's the principle of the thing.  I want him to know that his generosity of shared information, even if it meant losing a sale, was great customer service.  I want him to know that he made a friend even if he didn't make a sale.  I want him to know that someone noticed his zest for life, and I want him to know he made a big difference in my attitude and in my day.

He's good at what he does.  He is a shoe cobbler.  He is a business man.  He is a salesman, and he is an encourager.  I want to be like him with my exuberance for life, and I want to live unabashedly and be myself whether I'm with new friends or whether I'm with friends that are not so new.   He reminded me to be genuine, sincere, and unselfish with others, and that's a great lesson.  It's one that can't be purchased, bartered or even traded.  It's something that must be given, and it should be gently placed in my bag of memories and taken home with me.  That I shall do.

Let's not tell him that I wrote about him.  Shall we?  Let's just keep that our little secret.  But, if you happen to need some of those cute curly, twisty shoestring things... now you know where to find them, but be sure to wait until this Thursday or Friday.  And oh, yes... tell him "hello" for me!



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All rights reserved.

The Yellow Hibiscus

It was absolutely beautiful, and to think I almost missed it!  That yellow hibiscus was not visible from the regular sidewalk, the one I almost chose to take.  It was visible only to those who ventured onto the longer pathway, the one I did choose.  The flower was a glorious blossom nestled into a mossy bed of violet, fuchsia and cherry colored verbena, and it was the only yellow glow in the entire flower bed.

I stopped to take a closer look.  It was so low to the ground that I didn't dare try to bend over to "smell the roses", so to speak, but I did bend over enough that I could take a picture of it.  I wanted its essence frozen in time, and hindsight tells me that was a good idea. The petals were soft & delicate with uneven edges.  Yet the center was bold and solid looking with its crimson colored core.  What a statement it made!  Had it been neighbored by other hibiscus blooms, I doubt I would have stopped to appreciate its beauty, but something about its solitude attracted me and made it even more beautiful.  I don't know  how long I stood there looking at the flowers, but it was a great way to end a long, exhausting day.

Now when I look at that picture, I remember that blossom, and I recognize the value of that one little detour.  I'm reminded that going the "extra mile" for some cause or for someone, and that taking those extra footsteps even when we think we can't go on, is worth the effort.  I'm reminded that being "alone" can be beautiful.  And, I'm reminded that today, like everyday, is a good day to take a walk.  Don't know which pathway I'll choose to take, guess I won't know until I get there.  But, one thing I do know... it will be worth the effort, and I think I'll take my camera. 

As they say...
"Keep on bloomin'.... regardless!!!

Love,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010 Cindy Lou Hodges... All rights reserved.

Sit by Me...

"Cindy, I haven't seen you in such a long time," she said.  I replied, "I feel the same about you!  Where have you been?"  So there we stood talking, trying to catch up on each other's news, that is until the lights dimmed.  It was time for the concert to begin, and time to be seated.  If it had not been for my friend's encounter,  I probably would have left before the program began.  I would have left without hearing the music, and I would have left with a heart heavier than it was when I arrived.

For many reasons, it was hard to be there and even harder to stay; but since protocol requested my presence, there I stood.  Then, as the room grew silent, my friend and I looked at each other.  To my surprise out from my mouth came these words, "Where are you going to sit?"  She motioned "over there", and we both started walking in that direction.  Then some of the sweetest words I have ever heard were spoken just at the right time, from her to me, just for me, in a room that was so hushed I could hear every word... "Sit by me, won't you?"  So, I did, for the entire concert.  I enjoyed the evening... immensely, and I'm so glad I stayed.

Thinking back on the evening, I'm reminded of the scripture that tells us that God goes before us and prepares a place for us.  I believe that.  I believe because I saw that.  I saw it happen to me, just tonight, through a dear friend, in a mighty big way, in a mighty little sentence.

And, I also believe, that when I close the world around me, and all becomes hushed... I will hear it once again, this time spoken by another friend, my friend Jesus... "Cindy, I have much to tell you.  Come, sit by me, won't you?"  I hope I do.  I hope I will sit still, very, very still... and I hope I will listen.

Thank you, Lord, for your mercies, for your love, and for the friends you send my way.

Love,
Cindy

p.s.  Thank you for saving me a seat!



@Copyright, 2010 Cindy Lou Hodges, All rights reserved.

All This Stuff

Posted on Facebook September 11, 2010

 Ah, yes...Ms Betty Boop strikes again with a sassy blow of reality. From the looks of my overstuffed "stuff"...my motto has been the same... well, almost. I, too, have far too much. I, however, am the one who brought it in. So, take away the pretenses & take away the stuff, and I see that I'm guilty, just as bad as Betty Boop... only worse! Yikes! It's time to clean out the closets!!!!


Yards & yards of fabric bolted to the floor... literally!  As I swung open the armoire door the bolts of unused fabric fell to my feet, on my feet and almost toppled me over.  I'm talking full bolts of  fabric that I had collected for my house decorating projects.  Most of the fabric came from the $1 yard table, which is just almost unheard of any more, so you can understand why I purchased the full bolts.  What a bargain, and if I didn't buy it, someone else would!  That is a painful thought, indeed.  After all, I might need it someday. Yes, might.  Might not.  Might yet, but haven't yet.  And, that was five to ten years ago. 

Now the raw truth lay piled around me, and there was no denying that I have a problem, and the problem is much deeper than the spoilage at my feet.  I am a shopaholic.

There I said it, not out loud, but with a whisper.  It doesn't sound so badly that way, and it doesn't hurt my feelings quite so much.  But, the truth is that I'm good at what I do!  I recognize good buys.  I love pretty things.  And I see possibilities in most everything.  Bargains jump at me and beg to go home with me, and I can't resist.  It is a weakness of mine, and for the longest time (most of my life, actually) I considered it a strength that showed how creative I am.  But, today, I see that it's my downfall... pardon the pun.

All this "stuff" has to be dealt with.  It is time to clean out the closets, time to glean the fields, and time to start a new season.  And I believe I can do it.  I believe I can do it with as much gusto as I had while bringing it all in.  It's time to put on my big girl panties and grab the bags & boxes for all my treasures.  Just like there once was a time to buy, there is now a time to say bye-bye.  It's time to share the wealth and let someone else own the pretties.

"I want, I want, I want..." is in the back of my mind, yours too, I'm sure.  But, for me today the rest of that sentence is... "to be uncluttered, in my mind, in my house & in my soul".  I want a new start.  I do.  What about you?  What's in your way, and how would you finish the sentence, "I want, I want, I want...."?  Now it's your turn to fill in the blank.  You can say it out loud or you can just whisper it in my ear...


"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
                       ---Ecclesiastes 3:1



Scriptures from Holy Bible, King James Version
Devotional @Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges, All rights reserved!

Just Dance

I reached for my fav coffee mug: "Dance as though no one is watching...", so I did. I danced a little jig. The kid in me loved it, then left it there. The adult in me just shook her head. The critic in me said that wasn't good enough. The artist in me suggested to add bkgrnd music, colored lights, and costume. Then the Spirit in me said, "Pay no attention to them, Honey... just do it.  Just dance!"  --posted on Facebook, Sept 7, 2010

Funny how much fun dancing can be if I can just "get over" my inhibitions.  I'm not a good dancer, at all, and no one has to point that out to me.  But, if I'm by myself I can pretend that I'm the bell of the ball, all poised & postured quite capable of gliding the waltz  and even doing the curtsy afterwards.  I can even imagine that I might be the vixen swaying to the bosa nova, and that I can't stop until this hot mama does the dubious tango dip.   I can imagine conquering the cha-cha step and the mambo rumba, as well as swan diving into my partner's awaiting arms.  Ah, yes... I can imagine, but that's about all that I can do.

Once upon a time, though, tap shoes were on my feet.  It was only for a short season when I was in kindergarten, and I can remember the sound of my taps on the plywood board.  Daddy cut the board just for me, and Mama allowed it to be set up in the living room (the only room with a TV).  The sound was muffled compared to the bright tapping sound of dancing on the concrete garage floor, and then there was this funny odor that I stirred up every time I danced on that unfinished piece of pine lumber.

Sometime in that same foggy memory, someone slipped a pair of scruffy silver ballet shoes with their black elastic straps onto my feet.  It embarrassed me.  Can't remember why, but my guess is that I knew, even back then, that I was not a dancer.  And, besides, when I walked in those ballet slippers they made scrunchy noises, and when I tried standing on my tip-toes... it hurt, big time!

Don't know who wore out first:  Mama & Daddy who gave up their living room, the dancing shoes with their elastic & ribbons ties, or me with my short attention span.  But, something happened to the dancing lessons.  They stopped when I started something else. 

So, now when I see my coffee cup that encourages me to dance as if no one is looking, I can't help but wonder if Mrs. Dye, my kindergarten teacher isn't behind the marketing of the slogan.  She saw me dance, and either she saw potential, or she saw disaster...  disaster, most likely.  No one will ever know because that was a very, very long time ago, and unfortunately she is no longer living.  But, either way, I like the saying, and I think I'll do just as it says.... dance as though no one is watching.  And if they are watching, and they don't like what they see, then they can just turn their heads and look the other way because, my friend, it's time to dance, and I can hear the music.  Join me, won't you?  I won't look if you won't!  Promise!



@Copyright, 2010 Cindy Lou Hodges, All rights reserved.