Lost Lessons from Life on the Farm

Posted by teresak on January 26, 2012 Leave a Comment

If my brother heard you say I’m a farm girl, he would laugh and there’s a good reason. I never really worked on the farm and my brother did.  I was a mama’s girl and I didn’t like hot weather or manual labor. Yes, I was spoiled…rotten.

Just because I didn’t work on the farm doesn’t mean I didn’t love it, or grow to love it.  I loved it so much that when I read about an opportunity to contribute to a book about farms called Lost Lessons From Life on the Farm, I couldn’t wait to submit a story. I did, the book was published and my story is included!

You can purchase the book online at Barnes and Nobles or for the same amount plus postage you can have a signed copy. Just email me and we will work out the details.

I’ve read all the stories and if you have a soft spot in your heart for family farms, I promise you are going to love this book.

 

 

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Don’t Make This Nana Mad!

Posted by teresak on January 25, 2012 1 Comment

I ran across a story I just had to share with you. I don’t know if Dorothea Taylor is a nana, but she’s old enough to be one. Taylor is 85 years old, weighs 95 pounds and is only 5 feet tall, but she’s no light weight.

She and her husband, George, live in Alaska. George went outside to walk the dogs (it was only 30 below zero outside….good grief!) I guess waiting for it to warm up was out of the question, but it makes me feel wimpy for not wanting to walk outside today and it was 43 degrees here (I am proud to say I walked anyway).

The difference in my walk and George’s was that while he was walking he was attacked by a moose. The only thing dangerous on my walk was some dog poop in the middle of the drive way, which I easily avoided with a deft left to right move equal to any NBA guard. Anyway, Dorothea looks outside, sees a moose attacking what she thought was her dog, but turns out it was her husband.

She runs out, grabs a shovel and hits the moose on the head and the back side. The moose runs back into the woods. George is taken to the hospital with seven broken ribs and a six inch cut on his head.

I’m guessing the next time George walks the dogs he’ll take Dorothea with him, or the shovel, or both.

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The Things We Nanas Do

Posted by teresak on January 24, 2012 5 Comments

A few weeks ago I visited cousin Martha in Florida. While I was there I got to spend quality time with her granddaughter Madi. If you remember Madi was featured last week holding her doll “Lula Bob.” Madi is a precocious little girl who is unbelievably adorable. She has a dusting of freckles over her nose and giggles that make you want to giggle right along with her.

She has Nana Martha wrapped around her little finger. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when we got in the car and Madi said, “Nana, I want to drive,” and Martha let her. We only went a couple of blocks and we didn’t meet any cars on the road, but it was an interesting ride!

And yes we all wore seatbelts!

Link up you guys! Happy Word Filled Wednesday!

 

 

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The Ten Commandments of Health

Posted by teresak on January 24, 2012 Leave a Comment

I received two things in the mail this week that caught my interest long enough to keep them from going into file 13. One was an email from someone wanting to advertise compression hose on NanaHood. Ugh, did that make me feel old! My grandmother wore them, but she was in her 80s. I’m only in my 50s!

I thought about writing him back and telling him that I hate the words “compression” and “hose”, when you put those two words together, I really hate them. When I was younger I loved having a tan and never wore hose because I didn’t need too. Over the years I developed a strong aversion to hose. They felt like they were suffocating me. The only time I wore them was when I absolutely had to (weddings and funerals) and even then I sometimes wore pants to avoid the misery of panty hose.

The word “compression” is even worse. When my daughter married I decided my mid-section needed some compression. I remembered the girdles my mother wore and went in search of something similar. I learned that they were no longer called girdles, but now they are refered to as “shapewear.”

They also come in varying degrees of intensity. The first pair I bought didn’t do much so I bought a second pair. This one worked. It mashed my innards into at least a 5 pound difference! Yes! I exclaimed as I pumped my fist like a quarterback who had just kicked the winning field goal! I’m skinnier!

Of course there was a down side. I couldn’t bend over. If I dropped anything it would have to stay on the ground. Sitting wasn’t easy either. It sort of took my breath away, but if anyone noticed the fact that my face was red and I was short of breath they thought it was because of the emotion of the moment. It wasn’t. I couldn’t breathe.

After the wedding I put the “sucker upper” as I called it, in my drawer and forgot about it. Fast forward three years and ten additional pounds. We are invited to a Christmas party and I want to look thinner. I remember the torture devise in my underwear drawer and go and get it. After 30 minutes and lots of grunting, I get the thing on. We go to the Christmas party and I enjoyed the food but I felt like I might explode (literally) at any minute. As soon as the dinner is over we go out to the car. I tell my husband to wait just a minute. It’s dark outside and there’s no one around. I peel the painful “sucker up” off of me with great difficulty-it was super-glued to my skin, but I do it.

My huband is laughing hysterically. “Drive” I order. He knows better than to argue with me when I’m sweating in December. He does and I roll the window down. “Bye-bye evil girdle,” I say and throw it out the window.

If you find it (somewhere on Natcher Parkway in Kentucky) and you weigh over 150 pounds, don’t bother trying it on. The thing is miserable!

Back to my orginal story and the other piece of interesting mail I mentioned. I get an AARPbulletin. It’s always full of interesting stories and no, it doesn’t bother me to get it in the mail. The mail man and I went to school together. He knows how old I am. Anyway, in the bulletin the editor talks about George W. Calver who developed the 10 Commandments of Health. Calver was the first appointed doctor for Congress. The year was 1928 and at that time senators and representatives were dying at the rate of 20 a year.

To help lower that number and improve their health Calver wrote the commandments on cards and gave one to each member of Congress.  Here are the commandments;

Eat wisely

Drink plentifully (water)

Eliminate thoroughly

Bathe cleanly

Exercise rationally

Accept inevitables (don’t worry)

Play enthusiastically

Relax completely

Sleep sufficiently

Check up occasionally. (Give 5% of your time to keeping well. You won’t have to give 100% getting over being sick.)

Seems like common sense, doesn’t it? But think about it. The editor of AARP says, “four diseases associated with obesity and smoking-diabetes, hypertension, heart disease and stroke-today coast $238 billion a year. Seventy percent of the nation is regarded as overweight.” He goes on to quote the Urban Institute who predicts that the rapid increase of these conditions will add another $466 billion to the toal coast by 2030 (without inflation!)

There are health problems that I may face that I have no control over, but the ones that I do, (like the extra ten pounds I have gained the last few years) I need to do something about and I REFUSE to buy another girdle!

Yesterday I walked to the end of the road (about one mile) and back. I’m going to do it again today and the next and the next. I am not going to use the exuse that it’s cold or raining or snowing. I am going to walk.

What are you doing for your 5% of time to keep well? Do you walk? Do you exercise? Whatever it is that you need to do or stop doing, Do It.

My Grandmother was fond of saying, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

She was right.

 

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The Privilege of Growing Old

Posted by teresak on January 23, 2012 Leave a Comment

I talk about my mom a lot. She was an awesome woman, a great mother and my best friend. When she was diagnosed with colon cancer we were told she had about a year to live. One day she was riding with a friend somewhere and they passed an elderly couple walking down the street. The couple was holding hands and strolling along laughing. My mother looked at her friend and said, “I’m going to miss doing that…growing old, that is.”

She was only 51 when she died.

I am 55 years old. If the Lord wills I will be 56 in August. Sometimes it feels strange to know that I outlived my mother. I sure do miss her and I live every day trying to make her proud.

 

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Helping Those Who Hurt

Posted by teresak on January 21, 2012 4 Comments

How do we Biblically respond to suffering?

I decided to do some research and here is what I found.

Remember David? Surely there is no suffering greater than losing a child. When David was told he was going to lose his son he prayed and fasted and pleaded with God over his child’s life. But to no avail.

Before my mother died I did the same thing David did. I prayed. I begged God to spare her life. To no avail.

It took me longer than David, but eventually I realized that the next step is surrendering to God’s will.

2 Samuel 18.20

When David found out that his child was dead he rose washed put on clean clothes asked for some food and went to worship God.

It is often too easy to separate ourselves from God and the family of God when we hurt, but that isn’t what God would want us to do.  After my mother’s death a good friend reminded me to give thanks for my blessings. I had known my mother’s love for 33 years and we had enjoyed a closeness that many mothers and daughters never have. I was focusing on my loss, not my blessings. It’s easy to do, but when the grieving subsides a little, we need to remember to praise God for all the wonderful gifts he does bless us with.

How do we Biblically respond to those who are suffering?

First, by knowing how NOT to respond.

1) When in doubt about what to say, don’t say anything! Here’s my rule: When in doubt, open your arms and shut your mouth.

I remember after my mother died a lady asking me why the casket was closed. It was closed because it was my mother’s wish, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead I had to stifle the urge to tell her it was none of her business.

Remember Job? If anyone was suffering, it was Job. He’d lost everything. His friends came to visit and what was the first thing they did? They sat with him in silence for seven days. That’s right. Total silence for seven days. Now that’s what I call being a good listener!

Here are some things you can do.

1) Offer your presence to the person who is grieving.

Be there. Just spend time with the person(s) hurting and listen. It’s amazing how few people really understand the art of listening. Be still, focus on the other person and let them do all the talking. Nod from time to time. Cry with them. Hold their hand but don’t compare them others or offer cliches like, “It will get better with time.” No one wants to hear that.

2) Offer your practical help.

Clean their house, wash their car, pick up their groceries, cook them a meal. If they have children, offer to sit with them and let them go out for a drive. In short, do whatever they need you to do.

3) Offer your prayers

Really pray for them. Stop and pray the moment you see them. Pray for them when they cross your mind. Be specific ask for healing of their heart. Ask for Jesus to make His presence real in their life.

Finally, remember it takes a broken heart a long time to even begin to heal. Be patient. Be an encourager and keep praying.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a 1,000 winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die.
Anonymous

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