Friday Tidings

Until my kids were old enough to compare me to their friend’s moms, they thought I was normal. But it became more evident that I was kind of a freak when they’d return from play dates and question my rigid, military style mothering—especially since I'd never been in the military. In my defense, I fixed healthy meals, read them lots of children’s stories, played games, purchased educational toys, all while reading tons of parenting advice books. But I couldn’t seem to prevent myself from using my parent’s tactics. My Early Years I learned how to be a freakish parent from my own parents—who were both freaks. Good freaks, but freaks, none-the-less. My Air Force dad was a clean freak. Saturday mornings were relegated to laundry and housecleaning. Throughout the week chores were done according to a schedule. Doesn’t everybody make his/her bed before breakfast?  My mom was the book freak—she was a librarian after all. I was the little kid who routinely took a boo...

Pulling up her hood, she shivered in the cold. Her hand felt the coins in her pocket. Eighty-five cents wouldn’t buy much, but at least she could be warm inside the store.  She walked in behind a busily distracted woman clutching a long list. The woman grabbed a shopping cart and methodically paced the store aisles, crossing off each item as she went. She didn’t notice the hooded girl standing near the bakery. Steering her cart into the checkout line, the cashier joked about the veritable feast within the woman’s mounded grocery cart. A curt nod met the cashier’s cheerfulness, so the clerk silently checked the rest of the items, before asking, “Would you like to donate to the food bank?” “Not today.”   The woman snipped, as she ran her credit card through the machine. Making a call on her cell phone, she ignored the “Happy Thanksgiving” greeting from the cashier and briskly pushed her cart towards the exit. The hooded girl approached the cashie...

While scanning old family photos, my husband found a newspaper advertisement from our farm days. We grew the largest, juiciest, sweetest strawberries around. Lots of hard work and tasty rewards, but never enough money. Even though we eventually lost the farm, we found a new career in marketing. Sometimes in life we have to lose something in order to find something better. We lose our childhood, but find adult independence. We lose our school days, but find satisfaction in our careers. We can even lose a few friends, before we find the ones that remain. But sometimes the losses are hard~ A friend’s wife has lost her good health to cancer, but they’ve found encouragement and prayers coming from friendships built over a lifetime. Another friend lost his job and wondered how he’d be able to support his family. Then he volunteered at a clinic for recovering addicts—and within a few months they hired him. He lost his old job but found a more gratifying purpose ...

Dear President Obama, I watched your news conference and heard you say that you’re optimistic about America. Let’s hope your optimism is contagious in Congress. Serious issues can’t wait.  Our economy needs to grow—I live in a community that desperately needs that growth. Unemployment and underemployment breed problems. You probably know the statistics—every full time job creates $12,000 in tax revenue. Jobs help both of us. As a small business owner, my biggest expense is health insurance. Revising the Affordable Care Act is essential. Yet even with added insurance costs, I’ve always balanced my budget by cutting other expenses. So, let’s balance our nation’s budget. Let’s cut non-essential spending since we’re trillions in debt. Seriously, did we need to study synchronized swimming for sea monkeys? And five million dollars for a collaborative zombie game to propel climate change activists? Enough. But helping the poor is essential. As ...

Nadine loves horror flicks and just so she doesn’t have to wait for Halloween, she bought her favorites to watch when she’s in the mood— Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream , or how about this one: House of 1000 Corpses . To me, being scared senseless isn’t fun, but Nadine shrugs it all off and smiles afterwards. She jokes that if she can face these fears she can face anything. We were chatting recently and I asked if ISIS scared her. She shrugged. I suppose she’s seen worse on the big screen. I asked her what she thought about North Korea’s new miniaturized nuclear warhead, enabling their crazy dictator to make good on his threat to turn Seoul and Washington into “seas of fire”.   Nadine shrugged again. Okay. How about terrorist lone wolf attacks here in America? Ebola? Nadine snorted in response. I could tell she wasn’t fazed. I wondered how she managed to shelve her fears? Today’s news isn’t Hollywood horror; it’s real. Christians ...

My friend’s email subject line caught my attention: You Won’t Believe What Happened Now . Janice has two school age kids and like many families she juggles her work schedule to get everyone out the door on time each morning. It isn’t easy. But it’s gotten a whole lot harder since—wait for it—the school lunch revolution. She used to go online, put money in her kid’s lunch account and not think twice about it. They never complained. Well, sometimes they didn’t like the food, but it wasn’t often. Until this school year. Now her son (who weighs more than Janice) is parceled out a paltry 500 calories for his high school noon meal. By the time mid-afternoon football practice rolls around he’s hungry and doesn’t have access to food until he gets home. By then he’s a hungry teenager (read: cranky and incorrigible). Her elementary-aged daughter gets a slightly smaller ration and here’s the kicker—kids can’t share their food. Under the watchful eyes of the lunchroom mon...

It was a long drive from our dusty farm to Grandma’s lakeside cabin. Each mile brought memories of my idyllic childhood, but the peaceful thoughts quickly evaporated remembering our eminent financial demise.  My husband and I were nearly broke. Taking this trip had been cost-foolish, but it was too late to save what we were losing. Now I was grasping for anything leftover to believe in. Grandma had always been pragmatic and ambitious. She’d worked full time while putting herself through nursing school. Having two small daughters to care for in the midst Great Depression, she and her husband knew about sacrifice. She believed in God and marriage—and holding onto both when life got hard. Who better to bring my financial lament? I sat in the kitchen with Grandma. My expression told the story, but as I explained how bad things were, Grandma went to work. I watched her take a large mixing bowl and scoop in cups of white flour.   She deftly...