Life Is Like A Zip-Line - Fast and Furious

Last August my husband Jim and I went to Alaska. While there we did a zipline over the Alaskan Rainforest. Heights are not my thing but out of a sense of pride and andventure, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and go for the gusto.

What an adventure.

Actually that's how my life is today - one zipline aftr another. Since the publication of "Generationg G - Advice for Savvy Grandmothers Who Will Never Go Gray," I have had no idea what to expect from one day to the next. I, therefore, decided to enter the world of blogging, a true zipline adventure of the 21st century. Right now I've just stepped off the platform, am in mid-air racing toward the first station. You might say I have just gotten my feet wet!

Just like the zipline, my journey has taken me to many stations from Texas to Colorado to California. The best part of the adventure is that I am reconnecting with so many friends from the past from high school to college - to all seasons of my life.

I am also meeting so many amazing women who are doing so many amazing things. Women with grandmother names like Grandma Purple, CC, Nellie, and Lovey. Each has a story. I am fascinatied by the histories of women and am hoping to gather these stories to one day and put them down on paper. We are all a product of our past - that's what makes us unique and wonderful.

God has an amazing way of bringing things around full circle. Sometimes I feel like a blind man stepping into situations that are unknown and unseen, learning as I go. Radio interviews are a bit like that. Sitting in the silence, a voice comes over the telephone lines. You didn't see them coming, didn't know when they were there, but a beginning of an adventure.

It is all very fast and furious and I have no idea where it is going but it has begun. I hope to enter posts a couple of times a week. I'm on the platform and am ready for the adventure.

Hope you all have a blessed day. I am blessed indeed!

Sacricial Giving - Africa Remembered

On the continent it is known as the “warm heart of Africa.” Internationally, it is known as the third poorest nation on earth. In the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth, it is known as a companion diocese. To me, it is my family – brothers and sisters - dearly loved, in need of my help.

Malawi, a country poor by material standards, is rich in heart. As a people of generosity, they bless my day and grace my life. Last year this tiny country suffered a famine of biblical proportions. It is estimated that between 4 and 5 million people in Malawi (population 11 million) were in danger of starvation. Yet not much was seen in the press regarding this famine. Thanks to international relief efforts and existing infrastructure, emergency aid was able to save many lives, but so much more could have been done. And Malawi is not alone in its need. This scenario is played out over and over in third world countries. One can’t help but wonder how such a thing could happen in this day and time. Everyday in America we discard countless amounts of food. We spend thousands on Halloween candy, millions on football tickets, and billions on Christmas presents while people around the world are dying of hunger? How can this be?

When I reflect on the monumental task of feeding the hungry in Malawi and ministering to other third world countries, I become over-whelmed. After all, what can one grandmother do? Yet, that is the answer – one person, one grandmother - the power of one, the hope of the world. America is a land of abundance, so materially wealthy that most households have a car for every driver. Why then are we not able to transport food and support to these third world countries in their time of need? In a land where there are telephones in every home, cell phones in every hand, how can it be that we did not hear their cries for help? In a country where every household has a TV, why do we not see their pain and suffering? It is a mystery.

I think the answer lies in sacrificial giving. As the wealthiest nation on earth, we are often the most generous. As a people and as individuals, we have poured out upon the victims of 9/11, the tsunami, Katrina, Ike. But we have poured out from our abundance not our poverty. We have supported numerous causes, individually as well as corporately, locally as well as inter-nationally. But to whom much has been given, much is expected. We need to give more – more as individuals, families, grandmothers, more to make the world a better place for the least of these. We need to teach our children and grandchildren to give. We need to learn to give sacrificially.

That's where grandmothers come in. My goal is to learn how to give sacrificially as I address this need in Malawi and in other parts of Africa. It is not part of my make up, but I can make it so. My hope is that as a grandmother I will exercise the power of one to exhort my family and friends. I am not a well- known voice. I have no platform, no forum or support group. I am only a lone voice crying out to those who have ears to hear, a voice that has the potential to exhort others to act in the power of one. I pray that from my abundance, I will open my heart and give more. But more than that, I pray that I will begin to give at some cost to myself. It is estimated that $12 will feed a family in Malawi for two weeks. Think what a gift of $120 would do. Perhaps I can give up my weekly latte or cancel a standing lunch date. Maybe canceling the newspaper and sending that money to Africa would help.

There are more nations in Africa than one can count on one hand that exist in extreme poverty. Their ears need to hear our compassion, their eyes need to see our love. Their hearts need to know we care. But even more than that. We need to know we care. Only if we give at some cost to ourselves will we truly experience a generous heart. Can we not do for the least of these? I think not only we can, but we can do so exceedingly abundantly.

My prayer is that this year, as individuals, wives, mothers and grandmothers, we will give generously, sacrificially as a thank offering for our own blessings. May we give generously and then go a step beyond. May we as grandmothers go the extra mile and give sacrificially to those whom God has placed in our path. May we model and teach our grandchildren to do the same. This year I am exploring new ways that I might give to Malawi and am encouraging my family to do the same. What better way to demonstrate love than to offer hope to a world in crisis.

Grandmothers Are The Queen of Do-Overs

All of my life I have wanted to have a second chance – to undo or redo that which is broken, that which I messed up. Now for the first time in my life, I have that chance.

Being a grandmother gives me a chance for do-overs, for healing the regrets of the past.Now don’t get me wrong. I can’t go back and literally redo that which I regret. But now I have the opportunity to try again without the hassle of rules and regulations. And I am loving it! Here are some of the do-overs I am currently experiencing.

-No longer do I have to keep my house clean when the baby comes to visit. I drop everything to snuggle, kiss, play, sing, and hold him. The house can go to the dogs. Dinner can burn on the stove for all I care.No longer do I worry about nutritious dinners and snacks. If the grand kids want pizza, pizza it is. If they want to go to Luby’s, I’m on board. If the golden arches are calling, I respond.

- No longer do I have to worry about how I look when I go to the park. This is a good thing, for with three grand kids under the same roof, I hardly have time to brush my teeth anyway.

-No longer do I have to worry about bathing suits. In my book, whaling is in. Eight years ago you couldn’t have convinced me that I would ever put on a bathing suit in public again. But for my grandkids, the sky’s the limit. The good news is that there are some boundaries. Jumping off the diving board is no longer an option. But that’s a minor impediment.

-No longer do I mind sitting at the park or the indoor mall until the children are finished playing. Watching them laugh and squeal as they climb make believe trains and mountains is better than reading John Grishom or seeing a Julia Roberts movie.

-No longer do I have to hammer in table manners and repeat myself ad nauseum. That’s their parents’ job. Besides, it’s a miracle, I hardly notice anyway. I am too busy talking and enjoying them to take notice. But should the need arise, one word from me or my husband and it’s like magic. They pretty much turn in mid course. Or maybe we turn it mid course. Either way it gets the job done.

-No longer do I have to worry about singing on key. I can sing to my heart’s content, as loud and as long as I want. My grandkids think I am the American Idol every time, the winner that is, and they continually request “She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain” and “If You’re Happy And You Know It” again and again.

-No longer do I have to dread bath time. It has become one of the most fun times of the day. Turning the water red or blue with a small tablet is a mystery. Watering invisible plants with a watering can a challenge; searching for boats underneath mountains of bubbles a game.

-No longer do I have to spend wake less nights worrying about their well being. I can spend my time praying on their behalf. I can also use my time wisely to support their parents, encouraging and loving them, offering wisdom or suggestions only when asked.

-No longer do I have to worry about showering them with love. I can't control it anyway. It just pours out of me like a flood, covering everything in its path, washing all tears dry, soothing every cut, healing every boo boo. Now I can laugh often, give more, and generally be present to any situation.If that isn’t a perfect do-over, I don’t know what is.