Most of them use puns to get their main idea across to the drivers and passengers as they drive by.  My all-time favorite so far read, “Board broken, message inside”.  It is simple, to the point and the message is well taken.  Another favorite  was “God answers all kneel mail” a timely message with a modern twist.   One week, one board said “We’re not Dairy Queen, but we have cool Sundays.”

These seemingly insignificant moments have made an impact on me and hopefully, on others.  They don’t make me want to join their church, but they do make you think about attending and the message inside.  However, they have additional messages at some of the churches including ones for turkey shoots which involve neither turkeys or shooting them.  It is target shooting which which provides a time of fellowship and good fun for the membership.  Another offers dinner and a movie while yet another offers yoga.

Churches have always provided a variety of social occasions to keep members busy with fellow parishoners for centuries.  I remember attending all types of events as soon as I was old enough all of which were totally fun.  It’s good to provide something for young people and adults to do in an environment that is healthy and in their best interest.  There are thousands of negative influences for people today all of which glitter and bedazzle which are for the benefit of those who provide the influences.  Why not have one that benefits the attendees.

Edward Harper, LCSW, with Senior Services for a local hospital, went on to explain that people born in the 1930′s and 1940′s learned patience as a part of growing up but today’s kids won’t learn the same thing since everything is readily available in seconds.  Instead of writing a letter as our generation once would with the reply coming in weeks, now, young people text and expect to get a reply seconds later.  A good analogy is the common potato.   My parents, children of the 1920′s and 1930′s, would grow their potatoes or get them at a local store expecting to wash, peel, dice or otherwise prepare those potatoes for the meal.  Their expectations were that within a half hour or longer the potatoes would be ready to eat.

Today, we buy the boxed or frozen potatoes which will be ready per the package’s promise in ten minutes.  If the ten minutes pass and those potatoes aren’t ready, our expectations aren’t met and impatience ensues.  If it takes another ten minutes, we become intolerant of the delay promising never to buy them again because of the extra time it takes.  In the big picture, this delay is minimal and total time is much less than dealing with a raw potato.  The difference is our expectations and our level of intolerance for the delay.

This attitude leads us today to situations like road rage as well as other rages that brings about harm to the family either directly or indirectly.  Our expectations need to be at a level that is not only realistic but also attainable.  undesirable expectations lead to anxiety and unhealthy attitudes when a little patience would get us a lot further.  In other posts, I have written that life is not about the destination but rather the journey.  The quality of our journey is determined by our self-imposed expectations.

If we practice patience and are attentive to the now, life can be a more pleasant journey.  It will never be perfect, but it can be good, it can be pleasant, it can be wonderful, it can be sad or scary.  We need to experience all that life offers and allow ourselves the time to experience everything as it comes our way.   Brian Adams, an author, wrote, “Learn the art of patience. Apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. Impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. Patience creates confidence, decisiveness, and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success.”

It is our individual decision as to how we lead our life.  Jokingly, during tough times, I have said that I just wanted to handle the situation with grace and beauty.  To me that meant giving the moment my attention and patiently working through the situation to reach a positive resolution.  Patience is a virtue worth developing.

I knew that I had felt overwhelmingly tired for a couple of days prior to the attack itself which turned out to be a sign.  Had I known, I wonder if I would have gone to the doctor only to tell him I was so very tired.  I wonder what the doctor would have done.  Possibly passed it over, as I did, as a sign of someone who was doing too much.   The weariness had been coming on for months, but I was too busy to notice.  Then, there were those times when for less than a minute I would have to pant to get my breath.  It’s a classic symptom of which I was unaware. 

In May, 2010, I went to my local doctor for stomach pains combined with nausea for which he gave me a prescription which resolved the problem.   My cardiologist and I speculated as to whether or not that was the first sign.  We’ll never know.   Most people associate chest pains along with pain down the left arm with heart attacks, but some, life me, have no pain at all.  Others will have pain in their neck, jaw or shoulders.  The symptoms of an actual heart attack vary between men and women and may be different for older people.  Knowing what the most common symptoms are can help.   Here is a site that can help acquaint you with the most common ones,  http://health.yahoo.net/articles/heart/photos/heart-attack-symptoms-you-are-most-likely-ignore#0.  Empower yourself with knowledge and live a long healthy life.

In this case, there were limited options and it soon became apparent that the only thing to do was call 911.  The operator quickly caught on that I was having a heart attack and contacted the local fire department and an ambulance service.  They arrived and quickly took matters into their own hands.  Before long I was strapped in an ambulance eating aspirin followed by nitroglycerin melting under my tongue.  The EKG electrodes and clips were attached to my torso with the machine itself wirelessly spitting information to the hospital as we clipped along the two lane country road with sirens wailing.

Before too long we pulled into the local hospital ER area and I saw in the hall a group of people who looked as though they were waiting on me.  This group of five or six were the cardiac team on call that night.  The hospital after seeing the readings on the EKG notified them and their response was quick.  The ER was calm and quiet until I was put in a room, then, as if by some silent signal, each and every person went into motion.  It was a blur of activity and with in a minute I was in the cath lab having three stints inserted in the blood vessels of my heart.  The doctor told me it was a night that once trouble started everything went right.

I called 911 instead of driving to the hospital, the ambulance was equipped for patients having heart attacks, the team was quick and efficient completing the three stints within 25 minutes of my arrival at the hospital.  It was a night meant for living not dying and I was very lucky that it all went so well. Four or five years ago I had a clean echocardiogram; this month, I had an acute myocardial infarction.  I have worked so hard to eat right and be healthy, but you can’t escape a family history or a history of smoking.  This medical “event” will forever be a part of my life, but it won’t rule my life, shape it maybe, but not rule it.

My pantry and fridge are always packed so the kitchen was primed for my January resolution.  But I have spent more time in the kitchen this past week than I care to reveal.  Today, it was veggie lasagna, black-eyed peas, sweet potatoes, and lamb for gyros for the coming week.  Last week it was chicken salad with grapes,  pasta fagioli soup, and eggs.

Leftovers are frozen for future meals and the variety is more to my liking.  Normally, I will eat out at least once a week varying between home cooked restaurants to a McD’s Big Mac. That too is off the list for this month and I miss it most of all.  Sometimes it is nice to have someone else cook for you and not have to clean the dishes.  Truth to tell, it’s probably cheaper for me to eat out than not, but it isn’t healthy so it’s off the table for now.

As I sit here with my feet up, relaxing with the laundry almost finished, it’s easy to admit that I’m worn out but the fruits of my labor will be enjoyed all week.  It makes me think of all those women/mothers/wives out there who do this every day week in and week out three times a day.  I did it once, but I couldn’t do it now.   Hopefully, I won’t go back to the few bad eating habits acquired last year, but for the rest of this year if I want to eat veggie lasagna, I’ll buy it.

The Fire comes loaded with all sorts of goodies including a game called Angry Birds which  is addictive, hard, and fun.  Hours have steadily piled up trying to learn this game.  The game contains a variety of birds, small blue ones who when tapped in flight will split into three birds.  There are the red and yellow ones who have more heft than the little blue ones.  The aim of the game is to sling these birds into a fort made of wood and glass and maim the snotty, grinning fat pigs who have stolen the birds babies.  Sounds so easy and all you need is a good strategy  as well as hand and eye coordination. 

Starting play in early December, I managed the first few stages of level one with only minor difficulty one would associate with learning a new game.  Before I knew it Christmas had arrived and I was with my five-year old grandson.  He has the same game loaded on his iPod and played it with wild abandon.  To my chagrin he and I are on the same level, but he leaves it refreshed and happy.   Meanwhile, my play is way, way too intense and laced with constant frustration and aggravation.  Strategy is easy enough but hand and eye coordination are severely lacking.  This game brings out all my bad sides which are normally hidden and I just want to personally strangle those pigs.  With that in mind, rules were established.  Now, my play time is limited to about 15 minutes per day.  This will be slow going, but I will prevail and learn all the levels of this game.  I just hope the dental bill isn’t too painful.

This year I have added an extra job for myself.  I am dedicating myself to eating only healthy foods for the month of January.  The idea comes from a fellow I worked with who each January never drank any alcohol.  The rest of the year he could drink whenever or wherever, but the month of January was spent in total sobriety.  The idea spurred me to try it with healthy food.  I veered away from healthy eating and am finding it hard to get back on track.  Oddly enough, my eating habits aren’t unhealthy necessarily if you don’t count the apple fritters, bags of chocolate, and other assorted sweets consumed over the past few months.  My daughter-in-law, Michele, is joining me on this venture.  We are our own support group.  Early February should bring some interesting results for both of us.  Already, I am debating whether or not excluding chocolate includes hot chocolate.  That doesn’t seem quite fair and, yet, cheating is cheating.

If I were smart I would add in requiring exercise a couple of times each week, but there is only so far I can push myself.  Maybe that should be a goal for February.  If I were really good, I would try to do something good for me each month.  But, no, that just seems too demanding.  I’ll just try to get through January.

Like any parent, this is one request I couldn’t deny him.  Cliff has grown into a fine young man who handles a home, family (wife and two children aged five and 18 months), job and a business he and his wife run.  Along with that, he is involved in multiple volunteer jobs.  To say that his responsibilities are overwhelming is to make an understatement.  One of his volunteer positions is through his church which sponsors a group that travels to a small town, Ndjemane, in Senegal.  There they provide crucial medical assistance along with other needs while sharing the gospel to this primarily Muslim town.

Cliff has, and still could, worked as an EMT which is important in his current job as a firefighter for the Charlotte Fire Department.  He uses his personal leave to go on these mission trips where he handles basic medical care prior to the Senegalese seeing a doctor.  His wife supports him going on these trips because she understands how important it is to him, to the church, and to the friends he’s made in Senegal.  Currently, the group is planning a mission trip February, 2nd – 11.  He asks for support from his friends and family asking me to help spread the word among my circle of friends to assist with the upcoming trip.  I didn’t ask why he needed the support, but knew he wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.

All funds provided go directly to pay for supplies the group takes with them since each person is responsible for providing the funds needed for their trip.  If you would like further information, he has provided two resources for your use.  They are my son’s blog,  http://goalepignosis.com as well as the site where updates for each trip are provided at http://charlottetosenegal.com/.  If you can’t make a donation, please spread the word about the work that this group does and ask others to help.  Little bits when combined can become big donations.  Cliff and his wife, Michele, thank each of you for whatever you can do even if it is just keeping them in your prayers.

Cliff asked me to say that posts such as his and mine aren’t meant as fundraisers but rather to let everyone know what they are doing and the importance of the job at hand.  I was never impressed with the idea of “it takes a village” preferring that we each shoulder our own responsibilities to make the wheel we know as life to keep turning.   But everyday I realize more and more that the world is compressing thanks to all the technology and we strive to make available to everyone in the world all the wonderful things we have and which are often taken for granted.

Driving attitudes vary so much that it is a wonder there aren’t more accidents.  Long ago when my friends and I were all in our early thirties. one espoused a theory that the “older” drivers of our time went along slower than everyone else because driving wasn’t second nature to them.  There were no cars when they were young and driving was often acquired when they were adults.  My friend made a good point and I’ve never forgotten what she said.

My daughter and I often disagree on our driving capabilities.  I have always loved speed and driven fast.  I feel more in control with speed fidgeting and fussing when sitting in traffic.  Alicia used to drive fast, or at least the speed limit, but after years of living in Alaska with their road conditions and probable moose crossing the highway at any point, she drives in a more sedate manner.  While traveling together in Texas, she was driving 60 on a 70 speed limit highway.  She was still wary of moose and not understanding her point of view, I nagged asking her to increase her speed.  Finally on learning the reason she moved so slowly, I assured her there were no moose in Texas.

This visit, she took over my vehicle which tells me she is not at all comfortable with my driving.  At least this time, she drove the speed limit which is all I ask.  That trip, there was no nagging or sniping from either of us making it much more pleasant.  Truth to tell, I don’t mind that she commandeered my car.  I rarely get the opportunity to ride with someone and find it a joy when I do get the chance.

Hopefully, our generation of  “older” drivers will do a better job of driving as the limitations of age fall upon us.  Driving is a privilege no matter what the age and for many of us it is still a pleasure.  Drive on America and pray the Gods of gasoline keep the cost reasonable.

“Joe,” she replied patiently, “You’ve asked me that every five minutes for the last three hours. I am nine months pregnant and there is no way for me to be comfortable, but I am just as fine as I was five minutes ago.”

They traveled from the mountain area of Georgia and finally neared the small town of Bethlehem.  Mar was glad to be near home, but even more she was glad that the six-hour trip was nearly over.  It would feel so good to stretch out for a while and let her body and baby truly rest.  Even now, the child’s backbone felt as though it were directly scraping her’s, as though it were scratching an itch, while it kicked a steady beat on her bladder.

Joe breathed a sign of relief as he saw the sign welcoming them to Bethlehem knowing that they were within ten miles from their destination.  Glancing over at Mar, he saw that she was finally relaxing with her head laid back on the headrest and her eyes closed.  Her even breaths told him she was napping.  He looked up at a sky so filled with stars that it was dazzling and he could only stare at it until the light turned green.  The day before had brought a blizzard and he was thankful that the roads and streets were cleared.    Piles of snow lay along side the streets leaving Joe with just a view of the tops of the one-story buildings with their Christmas lights gaily lighting the night.  It was quite a welcome for the two weary travelers.

Joe eased the car into the Gateway Bed and Breakfast driving past the parking lot and front of the three-story building Mar’s folks owned past the filled parking lot around to the back yard where he parked.  The B&B was decorated front and back with candles glowing from the downstairs windows illuminating the wreaths that hung above each candle.  He could see the Christmas tree in the front hall that he knew held ornaments from all the years that Beth, Mar’s mom, had collected them.  He knocked on the back door hoping that someone was still up.  Before long, he heard quick, scuffling steps coming closer before the door opened and Joe was engulfed in a long, hard hug.

“Boy, I thought you would never get here.  Everything is so messed up from the weather that you getting here is quite simply a miracle,”  shouted Zack.  He was a big, burly man his six-foot five frame towering over Joe enveloping him in the warmth Zack found as he sat by the fireplace before answering the door.

“A little lower, Zack, you’ll wake Mar and I want her to sleep until I get us settled.  Which room is ours?” asked Joe.

Pulling at his lip, Zack almost blushed staring out at the mounds of snow covering the back yard.  “Well, there’s a little problem.  When the storm hit, people started getting off the interstate and every room in town is filled to capacity.  Some of the local folks even rented out rooms in their house.  Joe, we only have one space and it’s not what I wanted for you or Mar, especially with Mar so close to delivery.  It’s a room built inside the barn.  It has heat and water and you’ll be fine but it’s pretty bare. ”

“Zack, I really don’t care right now.  Mar needs a place to lie down and rest.  Show me the way.  This snow has me all confused as to directions.”  So it was that this young couple found themselves in a stable room at the inn where she gave birth to their first-born son.  They could hear the nervous shuffling of the horses and sheep nearby with the occasional baaing of the lambs.  The stars, one in particular, shone brightly that night.  They were blessed by this birth and the child was adored.