Dates:
Chester Arnold Lansing 7/23/1942 - 4/10/2015Ruth Etta Lansing 11/18/1945 - 1/9/2019
Austin Wyatt Rollins 7/12/2000 - 3/20/2018
Sue Anne Bullen 7/16/1941 - 10/16/2007
Orba Etta Carey 10/6/1913 - 4/5/1990
Lorin Travis Lansing 7/22/1965 -
Jenifer Lee Lansing 5/24/1964 -
Lorin Travis Lansing
Car accident 5/28/1980Anniversary 2/19/1994
Heart Attack 7/30/2015
Burn 6/17/2017
Rhonda Rose: Here are some of my favorite memories of dad
Seeing the beauty in ordinary objects was a lesson that dad taught us from a very early age. When I was in college my professor encouraged me to enter a photograph in a juried show. As we discussed the composition, focal point and the sharp contrasts of the black and white images, he asked about the subject matter. I told him it was garbage. “No, no,” he said, “It’s quite good.” I laughed and explained that it was actually garbage, trash, junk from my dad’s barn. My dad’s 100 year old, two story, wooden barn was crammed full of all kinds of odds and ends he would collect from all over. He looked at each object as a treasure. My mom saw a lot of junk and every few years she would organize a “clean out the barn” day. The first few “clean out the barn” days we filled 10-12 Hefty bags and dragged them down the long, gravel drive to the curb. Eventually, she learned that my dad, being a city employee, could rent a large dump truck for only a few dollars. Late Friday night the truck would rumble down our drive and stop in front of the double door of the barn. We would work the entire weekend cleaning out the junk and organizing the tools. Late Sunday night we would emerge, filthy and exhausted, the truck piled high with broken lumber, rusted tools, aged appliances, and bags and bags of trash. My mom would sigh heavily, smile and head into the house. My dad would stand staring into the cavernous barn, tools hanging on the wall, floors freshly swept. With a devilish grin on his face he would turn to me and say, “Now I have room for more stuff.”
There were a few items in the barn that even my mom knew were off limits. Sitting on a dusty wooden shelf was an assortment of vintage glass bottles. These were reminders of our bottle collecting days. I only have vague memories of these special Saturdays because I was quite young. But I remember the cool of the woods, the rancid smell of decaying leaves, and the babbling of tiny creeks. We trudged through mud and muck, using sticks to turn over cans, old newspapers and leaves in search of glass bottles. Most of our trips were fruitless, but once in a blue moon one of us would get lucky. The fortunate child would run to dad with the treasure and hand it over, eager to learn of its history and value. The most beautiful bottles were blue or green with faded labels or raised print, hinting at their origins. Dad would hold it up to the shafts of sun streaming through the branches, and we would stare in wonder as it glowed like a precious gem. We learned to appreciate beautiful things. We learned that damaged items were even more precious because they showed the signs of living a full life.
As the years passed, dad traded bottle collecting for shell collecting. Each trip to the beach was another opportunity for discovery. In the early mornings you could find him out on the beach with his net scooping up the sand, searching for that perfect shell. Even at 72 he still saw the world full of wonder, as if through a child’s eyes.
Years ago when my children were young we had made a table runner for Thanksgiving dinner. Kevin and Elizabeth had used their finger prints to paint the turkeys and I had brought markers for everyone to write what they were thankful for. Grumblings could be heard as we gathered around the table. “I don’t know what to write. I’m not creative. This is corny.” But mom coerced everyone into doing it anyway. A few days later I was home unpacking from our trip, and found our holiday craft. I sat down and read what everyone had written. I came to dad’s name and thought, “Oh, this will be short.” My dad was not big on public displays of emotions, or even private displays of emotions. I figured he wrote something like, “I am thankful for family.” Or, “I am thankful for my children.” Or, if he was in an ornery mood, “I am thankful for beer.” What he wrote surprised me and made me smile. He had written, “I am thankful for a world full of wonder and adventure.” I am thankful that I had a dad that taught me to appreciate a world full of wonder and adventure.
William Penn
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.Right is right, even if everyone is against it, and wrong is wrong, even if everyone is for it.
Taps
Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
Fading light, dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar, drawing nigh, falls the night.
Thanks and praise, for our days,
'Neath the sun, 'neath the stars, neath the sky;
As we go, this we know, God is nigh.
Sun has set, shadows come,
Time has fled, Scouts must go to their beds
Always true to the promise that they made.
While the light fades from sight,
And the stars gleaming rays softly send,
To thy hands we our souls, Lord, commend.
© Pennsylvania Military College
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
Fading light, dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar, drawing nigh, falls the night.
Thanks and praise, for our days,
'Neath the sun, 'neath the stars, neath the sky;
As we go, this we know, God is nigh.
Sun has set, shadows come,
Time has fled, Scouts must go to their beds
Always true to the promise that they made.
While the light fades from sight,
And the stars gleaming rays softly send,
To thy hands we our souls, Lord, commend.
© Pennsylvania Military College
Train of Life
At birth, we boarded the train of life and met our parents, and we believed that they would always travel by our side. However, at some station, our parents would step down from the train, leaving us on life's journey alone.
As time goes by, some significant people will board the train: siblings, other children, friends, and even the love of our life.
Many will step down and leave a permanent vacuum. Others will go so unnoticed that we won't realize that they vacated their seats! This train ride has been a mixture of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells.
A successful journey consists of having a good relationship with all passengers, requiring that we give the best of ourselves. The mystery that prevails is that we do not know at which station we ourselves will step down. Thus, we must try to travel along the track of life in the best possible way -- loving, forgiving, giving, and sharing.
When the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty -- we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who continue to travel on the train of life.
Let’s remember to thank our Creator for giving us life to participate in this journey.
I close by thanking you for being one of the passengers on my train!
I received this via email from a friend today. Its' author is unknown to me. I thought this was worth sharing. - Kathleen Botka
Epitaph By Merrit Malloy
When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old me that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away.
Age
I asked one of my friends who has crossed 70 & is heading to 80 what sort of changes he is feeling in himself? He sent me the following very interesting lines, which I would like to share with you ....
#1 After loving my parents, my siblings, my spouse, my children, my friends, now I have started loving myself.
#2 I just realized that I am not “Atlas”. The world does not rest on my shoulders.
#3 I now stopped bargaining with vegetables & fruits vendors. A few pennies more is not going to burn a hole in my pocket but it might help the poor fellow save for his daughter’s school fees.
#4 I pay my waitress a big tip. The extra money might bring a smile to her face. She is toiling much harder for a living than me
#5 I stopped telling the elderly that they've already narrated that story many times. The story makes them walk down the memory lane & relive the past.
#6 I have learned not to correct people even when I know they are wrong. The onus of making everyone perfect is not on me. Peace is more precious than perfection.
#7 I give compliments freely & generously. Compliments are a mood enhancer not only for the recipient, but also for me. And a small tip for the recipient of a compliment, never, NEVER turn it down, just say "Thank You"
#8 I have learned not to bother about a crease or a spot on my shirt. Personality speaks louder than appearances.
#9 I walk away from people who don't value me. They might not know my worth, but I do.
#10 I remain cool when someone plays dirty to outrun me in the rat race. I am not a rat & neither am I in any race.
#11 I am learning not to be embarrassed by my emotions. It’s my emotions that make me human.
#12 I have learned that it's better to drop the ego than to break a relationship. My ego will keep me aloof, whereas with relationships I will never be alone.
#13 I have learned to live each day as if it's the last. After all, it might be the last.
#14 I am doing what makes me happy. I am responsible for my happiness, and I owe it to myself. Happiness is a choice. You can be happy at any time, just choose to be!
Choose what you fight for wisely
I started succeeding when I started leaving small fights for small fighters.
I stopped fighting those who gossiped about me...
I stopped fighting with my in laws...
I stopped fighting for attention...
I stopped fighting to meet peoples expectation of me...
I stopped fighting for my rights with inconsiderate people..
I stopped fighting to please everyone...
I stopped fighting to prove they were wrong about me....
I left such fights for those who have nothing else to fight...
And I started fighting for
my vision,
my dreams,
my ideas and
my destiny.
The day I gave up on small fights is the day I started becoming successful & so much more content.
Some fights are not worth your time..... Choose what you fight for wisely.
Rules to teach your kids
1. Never shake a man’s hand sitting down.
2. Learn how to cook a signature dish.
3. Spend 30 min a day reading up on current events.
4. In a negotiation, never make the first offer.
5. Request the late check-out.
6. When entrusted with a secret, keep it.
7. Hold your heroes to a higher standard.
8. Return a borrowed car with a full tank of gas.
9. Play with passion or don’t play at all…
10. When shaking hands, grip firmly and look them in the eye.
11. Don’t let a wishbone grow where a backbone should be
12. Whoever you choose to marry...., you marry his/her family / children
13. Be like a duck. Remain calm on the surface and paddle like crazy underneath.
14. Experience the serenity of traveling alone.
15. Never be afraid to talk to the best looking person in the room.
16. Never turn down a breath mint.
17. A classic outfit is worth 1000 words.
18. Try writing your own eulogy. Never stop revising.
19. Thank a veteran.
20. After writing an angry email, read it carefully. Then delete it.
21. Ask your mom to play. She won’t let you win.
22. Manners make the woman/man.
23. Give credit. Take the blame.
24. Stand up to Bullies. Protect those bullied.
25. Write down your dreams.
26. Add value everywhere you go.
27. Be confident and humble at the same time.
29. Change the world, don't let it change you.
30. Always be you! Hold your head up high, Be confident whenever you walk into a room and stay strong.
31. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you are less of a person. They have the problem, not you.
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Grief
I don't know what grief will look like tomorrow.
Bit I'ss face it.
I'll feel it.
As your memory washes over me.
One day at a time.
One wave at a time.
For such a love, grief is the price of admission.
The cost of the human condition.
So, I'll pay it over and over again until I see you again.
The love was worth it.
-Liz Newman
I Heard Your Voice in the Wind
I heard your voice in the wind today
and I turned to see your face.
The warmth of the wind caressed me
as I silently stood in place.
I felt your touch in the sun today
as its warmth filled the sky.
I closed my eyes for your embrace
and my spirit soared high.
I saw your eyes in the window pane
as I watched the falling rain.
It seemed that, as each raindrop fell,
it quietly said your name.
I held you close in my heart today.
It made me feel complete.
Yes, you have died, but you are not gone.
You’re always a part of me.
As long as the sun keeps shining,
the rains fall, the winds blow,
you will live in me forever.
This is what my heart knows.
TAKE THEM WITH YOU
If someone you love
did not make it on that trip
you can take it
for them
with them.
If someone you love
did not witness that milestone
you can show them
anytime you like.
If someone you love
did not get to do their living
you can finish those dreams
on their behalf.
The beautiful thing about love
you see
is that death
need not stop life.
If you carry someone
in your heart
you can take them with you
anywhere you like.
Donna Ashworth
When I go
When I go, don’t learn to live without me, just learn to live with my love, in a different way.
And if you need to see me, close your eyes, or look in your shadow, when the sun shines, I’m there.
Sit with me in the quiet and you will know, that I did not leave.
There is no leaving when a soul is blended with another.
When I go, don’t learn to live without me, just learn to look for me in the moments.
I will be there.
Donna Ashworth
Drinking from My Saucer
I’ve never made a fortune and it’s probably too late now.
But I don’t worry about that much, I’m happy anyhow.
And as I go along life’s way, I’m reaping better than I sowed.
I’m drinking from my saucer, 'cause my cup has overflowed.
I don’t have a lot of riches, and sometimes the going’s tough.
But I’ve got loved ones around me, and that makes me rich enough.
I thank God for his blessings and the mercies He’s bestowed.
I’m drinking from my saucer, ’cause my cup has overflowed.
I remember times when things went wrong, my faith wore somewhat thin.
But all at once the dark clouds broke, and the sun peeped through again.
So God, help me not to gripe about the tough rows that I’ve hoed.
I’m drinking from my saucer, 'cause my cup has overflowed.
If God gives me strength and courage when the way grows steep and rough.
I’ll not ask for other blessings, I’m already blessed enough.
And may I never be too busy, to help others bear their loads.
Then I’ll keep drinking from my saucer, 'cause my cup has overflowed
John Paul Moore
Simplicity
"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."
Light of the World
Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Matt.5.14,Matt.5.16
Start each Morning
1. Life is short and can end at any moment. How would you like to spend your last moments?
2. Today will be a good day no matter what happens, because you can control your reactions. You can turn negative moments into learning opportunities.
3. One of the greatest human desires is to be relevant and connected. How can you help make someone feel relevant, connected, needed, and understood today?
Do your best
Do the best you can until you know better.
Then when you know better, do better
Maya Angelou
Keanu Reeves
Once Keanu Reeves left a post on his Facebook page addressing all his followers and fans.
The message spread online at great speed, already counting hundreds of thousands of likes and shares.
"Can you see the people behind me? Everybody running to work, not paying attention to anything.
Sometimes we get so absorbed in our daily routine that we forget to pause for a moment to enjoy the beauty of life.
We are turning into real life zombies. Lift your eyes, look directly in front of you and remove your earphones.
Say hello to someone passing by or hug someone who feels unwell. Lend a helping hand to someone. Live everyday as if it were your last.
Not many people know that I suffered from severe depression several years ago. I have never told anyone this.
I had to find a way to get past her. And I realized the bitter truth: The person who did not let me be happy was myself!
Every day we live is priceless. So let's live by it. Tomorrow is not guaranteed, so start living today! "
Keanu Reeves
You Don’t Just Lose Someone Once
I didn't write this, but I love it.
You Don’t Just Lose Someone Once —
You lose them over and over, sometimes many times a day.
When the loss, momentarily forgotten, creeps up, and attacks you from behind.
Fresh waves of grief as the realization hits home, they are gone. Again.
You don’t just lose someone once,
you lose them every time you open your eyes to a new dawn,
and as you awaken,
so does your memory,
so does the jolting bolt of lightning that rips into your heart,
they are gone.
Again.
Losing someone is a journey,
not a one-off.
There is no end to the loss,
there is only a learned skill on how to stay afloat,
when it washes over.
Be kind to those who are sailing this stormy sea,
they have a journey ahead of them,
and a daily shock to the system each time they realise,
they are gone,
Again.
You don’t just lose someone once,
you lose them every day,
for a lifetime.
Kansas Senate Prayer
This interesting prayer was given in Kansas at the opening session of their Senate.
It seems prayer still upsets some people.
When Minister Joe Wright was asked to open the new session of the Kansas Senate, everyone was expecting the usual generalities,
but this is what they heard:
"Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says: "Woe to those who call evil good", but that is exactly what we have done.
* We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
* We have ridiculed the absolute truth of Your Word and called it Pluralism.
* We have worshipped other gods and called it multiculturalism.
* We have endorsed perversion and called it alternative lifestyle.
* We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
* We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
* We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
* We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
* We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem.
* We have abused power and called it politics.
* We have embezzled public funds and called it essential expenses.
* We have institutionalized bribery and called it sweets of office.
* We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
*We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
* We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.
Search us, Oh GOD, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Amen!"
The response was immediate. A number of legislators walked out during the prayer in protest.
In 6 short weeks, Central Christian Church, where Rev. Wright is pastor, logged more than 5,000 phone calls with only 47 of those calls
responding negatively.
The church is now receiving international requests for copies of
this prayer from India, Africa and Korea.
With the LORD'S help, may this prayer sweep over our nation and WHOLEHEARTEDLY become our desire so that we again can be
called "ONE NATION UNDER GOD."
Dementia
If I get dementia, I want my friends and family to embrace my reality. If I think my spouse is still alive, or if I think we’re visiting my parents for dinner, let me believe those things. I’ll be much happier for it.
If I get dementia, don’t argue with me about what is true for me versus what is true for you.
If I get dementia, and I am not sure who you are, do not take it personally. My timeline is confusing to me.
If I get dementia, and can no longer use utensils, do not start feeding me. Instead, switch me to a finger-food diet, and see if I can still feed myself.
If I get dementia, and I am sad or anxious, hold my hand and listen. Do not tell me that my feelings are unfounded.
If I get dementia, I don’t want to be treated like a child. Talk to me like the adult that I am.
If I get dementia, I still want to enjoy the things that I’ve always enjoyed. Help me find a way to exercise, read, and visit with friends.
If I get dementia, ask me to tell you a story from my past.
If I get dementia, and I become agitated, take the time to figure out what is bothering me.
If I get dementia, treat me the way that you would want to be treated.
If I get dementia, make sure that there are plenty of snacks for me in the house. Even now if I don’t eat I get angry, and if I have dementia, I may have trouble explaining what I need.
If I get dementia, don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.
If I get dementia, don’t feel guilty if you cannot care for me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s not your fault, and you’ve done your best. Find someone who can help you, or choose a great new place for me to live.
If I get dementia, and I live in a dementia care community, please visit me often.
If I get dementia, don’t act frustrated if I mix up names, events, or places. Take a deep breath. It’s not my fault.
If I get dementia, make sure I always have my favorite music playing within earshot.
If I get dementia, and I like to pick up items and carry them around, help me return those items to their original place.
If I get dementia, don’t exclude me from parties and family gatherings.
If I get dementia, know that I still like receiving hugs or handshakes.
If I get dementia, remember that I am still the person you know and love.”
After 21 years of marriage
After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, “I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you.”
The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who had been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my 3 children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.
That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.
“What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.
“I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded. “Just the two of us.”
She thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I would like that very much.”
That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date.
She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary.
She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an Angel’s. “I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,” she said, as she got into the car.
“They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.” We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy.
My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print.
Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.
“It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said. “Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded.
During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation — nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other’s life.
We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.
“How was your dinner date?” Asked my wife when I got home.
“Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.
A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her.
Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place where mother and I had dined.
An attached note said: “I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I could be there; but nevertheless I paid for two plates — one for you and the other for your wife.
You will never know what that night meant for me.”
“I love you, son.”
At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: “I love you,” and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.
Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till “some other time.”
Don't widen the plate
Over twenty years ago, in Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opryland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA's convention.
While I waited in line to register with the hotel staff, I heard other more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend.
One name kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment — “John Scolinos is here? Oh, man, worth every penny of my airfare.”
Who is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter; I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948.
He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing dark polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung — a full-sized, stark-white home plate.
Seriously, I wondered, who is this guy? After speaking for twenty-five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice the snickering among some of the coaches.
Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder exactly where he was going with this, or if he had simply forgotten about home plate since he’d gotten on stage.
Then, finally …
“You’re probably all wondering why I’m wearing home plate around my neck,” he said, his voice growing irascible.
I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility.
“I may be old, but I’m not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I’ve learned in my life, … what I’ve learned about home plate in my 78 years.”
Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. “Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?”
After a pause, someone offered, “Seventeen inches?”, more of a question than answer.
“That’s right,” he said. “How about in Babe Ruth’s day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?” Another long pause.
“Seventeen inches?” a guess from another reluctant coach. “That’s right,” said Scolinos. “Now, how many high school coaches do we have in the room?”
Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear. “How wide is home plate in high school baseball?”
“Seventeen inches,” they said, sounding more confident.
“You’re right!” Scolinos barked. “And you college coaches, how wide is home plate in college?” “Seventeen inches!” we said, in unison.
“Any Minor League coaches here? How wide is home plate in pro ball?”............“Seventeen inches!”
“RIGHT! And in the Major Leagues, how wide home plate is in the Major Leagues? “Seventeen inches!”
“SEV-EN-TEEN INCHES!” he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. “And what do they do with a Big League pitcher who can’t throw the ball over seventeen inches?”
Pause. “They send him to Pocatello !” he hollered, drawing raucous laughter. “What they don’t do is this: they don’t say, ‘Ah, that’s okay, Jimmy.
If you can’t hit a seventeen-inch target? We’ll make it eighteen inches or nineteen inches. We’ll make it twenty inches so you have a better chance of hitting it.
If you can’t hit that, let us know so we can make it wider still, … say twenty-five inches.'”
Pause. “Coaches… what do we do when your best player shows up late to practice? or when our team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven?
What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him? Do we widen home plate? "
The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach’s message began to unfold.
He turned the plate toward himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something.
When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows.
“This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline.
We don’t teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We just widen the plate!”
Pause. Then, to the point at the top of the house he added a small American flag. “This is the problem in our schools today.
The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people.
We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?” Silence. He replaced the flag with a Cross.
“And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years.
Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it.”
“And the same is true with our government. Our so-called representatives make rules for us that don’t apply to themselves.
They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. And we allow them to widen home plate!
We see our country falling into a dark abyss while we just watch.” I was amazed.
At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curve balls and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable.
From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses and about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.
“If I am lucky,” Coach Scolinos concluded, “you will remember one thing from this old coach today.
It is this: "If we fail to hold ourselves to a higher standard, a standard of what we know to be right;
if we fail to hold our spouses and our children to the same standards, if we are unwilling or unable to provide a consequence when they do not meet the standard;
and if our schools & churches & our government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve, there is but one thing to look forward to …”
With that, he held home plate in front of his chest, turned it around, and revealed its dark black backside, “…We have dark days ahead!”
Note: Coach Scolinos died in 2009 at the age of 91, but not before touching the lives of hundreds of players and coaches.
"Don't widen the plate."
Have you ever thought about this?
In 100 years like in 2123 we will all be buried with our relatives and friends.
Strangers will live in our homes we fought so hard to build, and they will own everything we have today.
All our possessions will be unknown and unborn, including the car we spent a fortune on, and will probably be scrap, preferably in the hands of an unknown collector.
Our descendants will hardly or hardly know who we were, nor will they remember us. How many of us know our grandfather's father?
After we die, we will be remembered for a few more years, then we are just a portrait on someone's bookshelf, and a few years later our history, photos and deeds disappear in history's oblivion.
We won't even be memories.
If we paused one day to analyse these questions, perhaps we would understand how ignorant and weak the dream to achieve it all was.
If we could only think about this, surely our approaches, our thoughts would change, we would be different people.
Always having more, no time for what's really valuable in this life.
I'd change all this to live and enjoy the walks I've never taken, these hugs I didn't give, these kisses for our children and our loved ones, these jokes we didn't have time for.
Those would certainly be the most beautiful moments to remember, after all they would fill our lives with joy.
And some of us waste it day after day with greed, selfishness and intolerance.
Every minute of life is priceless and will never be repeated, so take time to enjoy, be grateful for, and celebrate your existence.
6 Laws Of Maturity
1) Stop telling people everything
a. Most people don't care, and some secretly want you to fail
2) Choose your friends wisely
a. The fastest way to become better is to surround yourself with better people
3) Expect nothing, appreciate everything
a. Be grateful for the little things in your life to find inner piece
4) Do your best and trust the process
a. The harder you work, the luckier you will get
5) Control yourself, not others
a. Controlling others is strength. Controlling yourself is true power
6) Learn to react less
When you control your reaction, nobody can manipulate you
Always Pray
It’s the most powerful tool against worry, doubt and fear
The Legend of the Deathwalker
Drenai Saga Book 7 by David Gemmell -
"Any good that I may do, let me do it now, for I may not pass this way again."
"Any good that I may do, let me do it now, for I may not pass this way again."
10 Things About You That Change When You Lose Your Parents
Although death is a natural and inevitable part of life, for those of us left behind in the wake of a loved one’s passing, it can be extremely difficult. It is especially difficult when that loved one happens to be a parent. No matter what your relationship is with them, losing a parent is always a life-changing event.
For those reading this who have already experienced parental loss, we send our sincerest sympathies. There is also a list of helpful resources at the end for anyone who needs support with grief and coping.
1. You Become More Anxious
Stressful situations become harder to deal with, as well as ordinary responsibilities seem overwhelming. It becomes clear that you’re worrying more. And research shows that people who’ve experienced grief from losing a parent are more likely to struggle with anxiety, depression, and substance abuse.
2. You Can’t Deal With People Complaining About Their Parents\
Normally people complaining about their parents wouldn’t faze you, but suddenly you’re finding yourself annoyed by their negative remarks. It’s natural to wish you could give anything for those long-winded voicemails, family recipes, and embarrassing nicknames. It’s part of the healing process.
3. You Feel the Grief in Your Body
It is as if every cell in your body is dealing with the trauma of losing your parent. And in a way it is, because a person can actually get physically sick from grief. Men are at a higher risk experiencing a dip in their wellbeing after losing a parent. While you grief don’t forget to take care of yourself. The healing process isn’t just an emotional or spiritual one, it’s also a physical one.
4. You Learn to Live with Sadness
Grief has many different stages. You will be on a journey as you come to realize that you’ll never stop missing your parent, but you’ll one day learn to embrace their absence. However, there will still be good days and bad days along the way. But eventually you’ll be able to move forward. However, if you experience severe grief that doesn’t seem to let up after some time, then it may be a good idea to seek medical help.
5. Holidays Have Changed
For most of us, we learned how to celebrate the joy of holidays from our parents. When they are no longer around, the holidays and special occasions suddenly feel lonely. But as time passes, you will learn how to create new meaningful ways of celebrating the holidays without your parents.
6. You Learn to Accept Their Flaws
When you were young, your parents were your heroes, and flawless. But as you aged, you realized that they were regular people, just like you. After they’re gone you’ll find yourself coming to terms with their flaws and mistakes, and eventually you’ll be able to forgive them and see them in a new light.
7. Your Emotions Become Complicated
Grief is comes in many stages, you can find yourself experiencing sadness, guilt, anger, fear, relief, and numbness all within the space of a couple minutes. Don’t shy away from negative emotions, they’re a part of the healing process.
8. Your Relationship with Your Siblings Changes
Every family unit has its own dynamic, usually held in place by the parents. For some families, when they experience the loss of a parent the grief can sometimes cause conflict between siblings. Sometimes it can also lead to healing broken relationships. Either way, it’ll be a healing process within the family and if you can, rely on each other to support one another through the loss.
9. You Catch Yourself Trying to Call Them
One of the most heartbreaking experiences following the loss of a parent is picking up a phone to call your parent regarding either some good news or needing advice, only to realize that they won’t be on the other end.
10. You Learn How Strong Love Is
It is bittersweet when you realize that the love you have for your parent really goes on. It’s a comfort in your sadness, and as you reflect on the times you shared with your parents, you’ll come to appreciate the love you shared with them. And this will help you get through the tough days.
If you need any support, see the following resources resources:
Grief.com (USA) www.grief.com
My Grief Angels (USA, Canada) www.mygriefangels.com
Brian Andreas
“There are things you do because they feel right and they may make no sense and they may make no money and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other’s cooking and say it was good.”
I heard your voice in the wind today
I heard your voice in the wind today
and I turned to see your face.
The warmth of the wind caressed me
as I silently stood in place.
I felt your touch in the sun today
as its warmth filled the sky.
I closed my eyes for your embrace
and my spirit soared high.
I saw your eyes in the window pane
as I watched the falling rain.
It seemed that, as each raindrop fell,
it quietly said your name.
I held you close in my heart today.
It made me feel complete.
Yes, you have died, but you are not gone.
You’re always a part of me.
As long as the sun keeps shining,
the rains fall, the winds blow,
you will live in me forever.
This is what my heart knows.
Take Them With You
January 25, 2024Author: Donna Ashworth
If someone you love
did not make it on that trip
you can take it
for them
with them.
If someone you love
did not witness that milestone
you can show them
anytime you like.
If someone you love
did not get to do their living
you can finish those dreams
on their behalf.
The beautiful thing about love
you see
is that death
need not stop life.
If you carry someone
in your heart
you can take them with you
anywhere you like.
This poem was written by Sunday Times Bestselling Author Donna Ashworth and has been reprinted with the author’s permission. You can view more of her writings at DonnaAshworth.com
My mother's death isn't something I survived. It's something I'm still living through.
My mother's death isn't something I survived. It's something I'm still living through. (nbcnews.com)
Dec. 27, 2020, 4:30 AM EST
By Jenni Miller, pop culture connoisseur
For years, I’d assumed I would be completely incapable of functioning after my mom died. I had no idea what my life would or even could look like after that. I couldn’t imagine it, just like I couldn’t imagine, when I was a kid, what it would be like to drive a car or go to college or even just be a grown up; it felt like I would just have to cease to exist when she did.
And yet, here I am, two and a half years after my mom’s death on May 15, 2018. I don’t know if I’m thriving, or even “surthriving,” a term that makes me think of a preternaturally peppy Molly Shannon character on “Saturday Night Live.” But at least I’m no longer sleeping with the lights on while the Mel and Sue years of “The Great British Baking Show” drone on at the edges of my consciousness … most of the time, anyway.
I didn’t do anything in particular to survive her death except continue to stay alive. I certainly haven’t processed the pain, and I doubt I ever fully will; it’s all simmering just beneath my skin, ready to escape at the next Instagram story from The Dodo about interspecies friendship.
Immediately after her death, there were things that had to be done — writing an obituary, canceling her credit cards and hiring an estate attorney. And I did them; they filled some time. I had help — a lawyer, friends, family, the health aide who became a second daughter to her and a sister to me. Plus Mom had been very organized; she’d even prepared a list of all of her logins for me. Logistically, it was as easy as a death could be.
The most important thing I learned about grief is that it isn’t linear, and it isn’t logical.
But at the end of the day, I was her only child. And she was my only mom. And she was gone. Just gone.
So I let her answering machine fill up with messages, because I couldn’t cope. No one sat shivah for her in Texas; I didn’t even know where to begin to organize that. I had a panic attack in the housewares section of Target.
In the months after that, I declined a lot of social invitations; I whiffed deadlines; I stayed up all night playing video games and listening to true crime podcasts by myself. In short, whatever remaining concerns I had about meeting most societal norms went out the window.
It wasn’t all terrible; there were small mercies that I’ll never forget. Even when I was at my worst, my loved ones did what they could to soothe the unbearable. My friends came and sat shivah with me in New York City when I arrived home, filling my apartment with carbohydrates and flowers. They flew to me when I needed them but couldn’t say. They took me into their homes when I showed up; or they took me hiking along the Pacific Ocean or to karaoke.
Still, my grief cruelly took away my ability to concentrate on books, movies or even any TV shows that required more than the bare minimum of intellectual processing. I had nothing left to invest emotionally or intellectually in anything I normally loved — or even anything I was once pleasantly distracted by. I struggled to pitch my editors. I flubbed an interview with a celebrity so disastrously I still think about it late at night.
Eventually, I allowed myself the luxury of going to therapy twice a week instead of just once.
If this all sounds awfully familiar to you, it’s because we’re all grieving in some way.
The most important thing I learned about grief is that it isn’t linear, and it isn’t logical. You have to be very careful with yourself and with who you’re around, and you have to make sure they’re extra tender to you, too. Even the most big-hearted people will do or say the wrong thing; I still do it myself. Most of their missteps are forgivable, but you’ll decide which ones aren’t, and that’s important, too.
Special bonds were formed in the last two years between me and the friends who’ve also experienced the loss of their mothers; it’s a very particular, complicated sort of loss that can feel extra messy and ugly. And, let’s face it, not many people can tolerate hearing about the disgusting indignities of aging and death unless they get paid by the hour — nor should they. There is also a kind of relief that you feel after a death like that, and the relief feels shameful, but even the shame feels like a relief, sort of like popping a pimple.
I’m no longer scared when the phone rings (mostly). When a famous person dies, I no longer calculate how much older or younger they were than my mom, as if that somehow affected her odds of survival. Dead parents, it turns out, are great ice breakers on first dates and at cocktail parties. I’m thankfully off the hook for airport travel over the winter holidays. When certain dates roll around — like the anniversary of my parents’ respective deaths — I’m not sad so much as simply disassociated.
If this all sounds awfully familiar to you, it’s because we’re all grieving in some way. We’ve collectively experienced wave after wave of loss in the past nine months, and it scares me to think of how shattering it will be once the constant flow of news and tragedy relents just a little.
I didn’t do anything in particular to survive her death except continue to stay alive.
This sounds horrible but, without the death of my mom — and specifically the experience of grieving her death — I wouldn’t have emotionally or mentally survived the pandemic. While I’m still no expert at tolerating discomfort, I’m better at it than I used to be; there’s not much else to do when you’re laying sideways across your bed at 4 a.m. staring at your cat and feeling desperately, bitterly lonely, except to feel desperately, bitterly lonely.
Plus, now I don’t have to worry about her during the pandemic; she had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and an increasingly knotty conflagration of disorders that would have made her an over-the-top risk for Covid-19, and she lived in Texas. She worried about me all the time anyway, even when there wasn’t an airborne virus ravaging us, and I’d have felt guilty for worrying her, and she’d want me to move back to Dallas, and, well, we’ve all seen “Grey Gardens,” right?
In the before-times, when I was on a subway stopped between stations, I’d try to sense the millisecond it began to lurch back into motion, until I could no longer tell the difference between standing still and moving. Grief is like that, but with fury and fear and sadness and a terrifying blankness that nothing can soothe. You can’t tell when the subway will start moving again; you can’t magic it into motion. You can only wait and see what happens, and make sure you’re holding on when it starts moving again.
