Having regaled you with tales of how my English class tormented our somewhat-ready-for-retirement English teacher I thought perhaps I’d share another little tidbit. Once again, just for the record, what we did to her was terrible, and for any teachers out there in readership land, please know that I did not share those stories because I was proud of them.
Having said that, I’d like to return to my years of high school and share with you a smidgen of hindsight.
I graduated in 1971 and in those days, high school was strictly 10th, 11th, and 12th grade. The school was pretty big, both population and size wise. There were some innovative thinkers within the faculty, school board and others who had a vote.
There were several elective classes available; some of which included attending pop concerts, art shows, theater productions, and even architectural walks ... all during school hours. That was really cool.
In those days the pop concerts weren’t costly at all ... and they were also rather innocuous. Today, of course, the admittance costs are expensive and attendees must ignore smoking, drugs and alcohol activities. Not so back then.
I attended concerts by the Beach Boys, Sonny and Cher, Blood, Sweat and Tears, the Doors, and a myriad of others. Tickets were reasonable and a critique of the concert earned me an ‘A’. Those were the days.
We would take walking tours of the historical areas of Norfolk, VA ... taking notes on the architecture, and again writing a critique on what we observed. I learned more about architecture through those walking tours than through any other class in high school or college.
There were some wonderful theatrical performances we attended. The College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, VA had a very talented group and showed us a wide range of performances ... even some very funny improvisations.
Yes indeedy. That high school had a set of philosophies that were before it’s time.
There was one other thing that was introduced during the beginning of my senior year that changed the way I perceived my last year in high school. Even back then students had IDs ... but that year the administration went just a little bit further.
Only seniors were given the opportunity to show some responsibility, some wisdom, some maturity. A Senior Card was introduced that allowed seniors to come and go from campus requiring only the presentation of their card and their signature.
This was the first time anything like that had been tried there, and I am sure the administration truly believed the seniors would be responsible and mature in the using of their card.
The problem was, there was no system to hold seniors accountable. We drove to school, we drove away from school. We could arrive and leave whenever we chose.
As you have probably guessed, and based on my previous behaviors, I was a senior who was not prepared for that freedom. Along with many others, I came and went as I pleased. Some weeks I only attended on Fridays. That was when I made up big tests and even turned in some work ... just enough to stay on the graduation roles. Yes, I did graduate ... tho probably not in the top ten per-cent of my class.
Can you imagine students having those freedoms today? We did not handle that responsibility well then -- and, we didn’t have the drugs and violence to deal with that today’s students must cope with. I can only speculate on the trouble that today’s students would tangle with.
I am sure there would be some students who would appreciate the freedoms that went along with a Senior Card such as we had. Those who had jobs, doctor appointments, or family emergencies would only have to show their Card, and no questions would be asked.
Just as I am sure there are those who would use it appropriately, I am equally sure there would be students who would view the Senior Card as their ticket to party.
Even though it’s been 31 years since my experience, today’s students are not that much different. Temptations abound today just as they did back then. If they can’t say no after school hours, there would be nothing to encourage them to say no during school hours.
Back then the Senior Card was a ticket to trouble, and it would be the same today. Teenagers need some freedoms ... they have to learn how to monitor their behaviors, how to say no to things that are difficult for them, but giving them a carte blanche pass out the door would not teach them life skills. Those lessons are best learned with a safety net.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Karma & High School ...
Do you ever wonder if your bad deeds come back to haunt you? Now I’m not talking about things that you really never want anyone to know about. Rather, I’m talking about things you did that were just plain stupid and teenagery and supposedly had no real consequences.
I bring this up because I substitute part-time in the Amarillo school district. Most of the time the students are terrific and the problems that I do have with a few students have more to do with disrespect and uncooperation rather than anger or aggression.
Every once in awhile I get a kid who tries everything s/he can do to push my buttons, and while I manage to keep my pushed buttons to myself, sometimes I just can’t help it. Sometimes my choice is to get a little loud (I know, who’d have thought), and let myself be understood a couple of decibels higher than I intended.
It is then that I wonder about my past deeds and if I am reaping the harvest that I sowed when I was in high school. Back when I was a teenager, the biggest problem we had was smoking in the rest rooms or behind the school. Drugs were almost nonexistent. Teenage pregnancy was a condition that was quickly sent away, and school violence just didn’t happen.
So what was it I could have done back then that could possibly be coming back to haunt me now? Well, as I tell you a little about that, keep in mind that it was 30+ years ago, and I’ve grown up just a little bit since then.
Her name was Mrs. Hall and she was overdue for retirement. Her hearing was bad, her eyes were covered with thick lenses, her support hose sagged around her knees, and her short brown hair was curled just a wee bit too tight. Probably, she would have been a great grandma, but she was our literature teacher, and her favorite author was Shakespeare.
As so many classes today do, our lit class was divided by lunch, and the door to the classroom was locked to presumably keep our items safe. There was a window about a foot each way that sat just about nose level for most of her students. That becomes important later on.
It was during lunch that my class would conspire and develop the plans for the second half of lit class and poor Mrs. Hall. Spools of thread would be brought from home ec; green peas and tomatoes or ketchup packets would make their way from the cafeteria, and gum was the starting ingredient.
Remember the window that was nose level? That became very handy for the janitors because their arms could sometimes reach through the hole in the door when the window was removed, and ... if they were lucky ... they could unlock the door from the inside. You see, the gum was chewed, and mixed with just a little bit of paper, and the key hole was deftly filled with the substance. Poor Mrs. Hall would try to unlock the door only to find the key couldn’t get through the gum and paper combination.
The janitors would then be called and they would either have to remove the window from the door or take the door off it’s hinges. I cannot begin to tell you how funny we thought that was. And of course, we always managed to cut about 20+ minutes from class by our antic. It did no good for the principal to threaten us. Detention wasn’t so popular then, and AEP had not been thought of. Sure, we’d back off for a few days and then return to the torment of this poor woman.
While I do not in any way shape or form think Mrs. Hall was in any way responsible for our bad behavior, she fanned the fires of our delight by telling us about her friends ... her little friends ... her little green friends. These were not friends that anyone else saw, but were friendly little green people from Mars who inhabited her classroom.
That was the purpose of the peas. As she railed at us for jamming the door lock, we would spread the peas on the floor and pretend to step on her little green friends. I don’t know if she ever figured out the green gunk was just peas. I do remember how upset she used to get when she thought her friends had been hurt.
The thread from home ec was wound around the legs of the chairs and desks, forcing us to pick our feet up high to walk down a row. Because her eyes were so bad, she couldn’t see the thread. The howling of laughter as students sometimes tripped and fell was lost on her. We, however, were entertained.
We emptied the ketchup packets and smashed the tomatoes on the walls, telling her the walls were bleeding. From little green men to bleeding walls, we tormented that poor woman with every conceivable trick.
Poor Mrs. Hall didn’t even finish the first semester, but took an early retirement and relocated to a rest home. I never knew what became of her.
We were bad. No, we were very bad, and we should have gotten into some really big trouble. I’m confident that if students tried these same things today there would be no patience and no discussion regarding punishment. And that is as it should be. Times were different then, but bad behavior is bad behavior.
Mrs. Hall, if you’re out there somewhere, somehow, please know how sorry I am for all those days of jammed key holes, all those smashed little green peas, and all those tomatoes and ketchup packets smeared on the walls. Please accept my apology ... and please, have a talk with the students I will be facing tomorrow. As attractive as an early retirement might be to me, I don’t think any rest home would let me bring my son.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
I bring this up because I substitute part-time in the Amarillo school district. Most of the time the students are terrific and the problems that I do have with a few students have more to do with disrespect and uncooperation rather than anger or aggression.
Every once in awhile I get a kid who tries everything s/he can do to push my buttons, and while I manage to keep my pushed buttons to myself, sometimes I just can’t help it. Sometimes my choice is to get a little loud (I know, who’d have thought), and let myself be understood a couple of decibels higher than I intended.
It is then that I wonder about my past deeds and if I am reaping the harvest that I sowed when I was in high school. Back when I was a teenager, the biggest problem we had was smoking in the rest rooms or behind the school. Drugs were almost nonexistent. Teenage pregnancy was a condition that was quickly sent away, and school violence just didn’t happen.
So what was it I could have done back then that could possibly be coming back to haunt me now? Well, as I tell you a little about that, keep in mind that it was 30+ years ago, and I’ve grown up just a little bit since then.
Her name was Mrs. Hall and she was overdue for retirement. Her hearing was bad, her eyes were covered with thick lenses, her support hose sagged around her knees, and her short brown hair was curled just a wee bit too tight. Probably, she would have been a great grandma, but she was our literature teacher, and her favorite author was Shakespeare.
As so many classes today do, our lit class was divided by lunch, and the door to the classroom was locked to presumably keep our items safe. There was a window about a foot each way that sat just about nose level for most of her students. That becomes important later on.
It was during lunch that my class would conspire and develop the plans for the second half of lit class and poor Mrs. Hall. Spools of thread would be brought from home ec; green peas and tomatoes or ketchup packets would make their way from the cafeteria, and gum was the starting ingredient.
Remember the window that was nose level? That became very handy for the janitors because their arms could sometimes reach through the hole in the door when the window was removed, and ... if they were lucky ... they could unlock the door from the inside. You see, the gum was chewed, and mixed with just a little bit of paper, and the key hole was deftly filled with the substance. Poor Mrs. Hall would try to unlock the door only to find the key couldn’t get through the gum and paper combination.
The janitors would then be called and they would either have to remove the window from the door or take the door off it’s hinges. I cannot begin to tell you how funny we thought that was. And of course, we always managed to cut about 20+ minutes from class by our antic. It did no good for the principal to threaten us. Detention wasn’t so popular then, and AEP had not been thought of. Sure, we’d back off for a few days and then return to the torment of this poor woman.
While I do not in any way shape or form think Mrs. Hall was in any way responsible for our bad behavior, she fanned the fires of our delight by telling us about her friends ... her little friends ... her little green friends. These were not friends that anyone else saw, but were friendly little green people from Mars who inhabited her classroom.
That was the purpose of the peas. As she railed at us for jamming the door lock, we would spread the peas on the floor and pretend to step on her little green friends. I don’t know if she ever figured out the green gunk was just peas. I do remember how upset she used to get when she thought her friends had been hurt.
The thread from home ec was wound around the legs of the chairs and desks, forcing us to pick our feet up high to walk down a row. Because her eyes were so bad, she couldn’t see the thread. The howling of laughter as students sometimes tripped and fell was lost on her. We, however, were entertained.
We emptied the ketchup packets and smashed the tomatoes on the walls, telling her the walls were bleeding. From little green men to bleeding walls, we tormented that poor woman with every conceivable trick.
Poor Mrs. Hall didn’t even finish the first semester, but took an early retirement and relocated to a rest home. I never knew what became of her.
We were bad. No, we were very bad, and we should have gotten into some really big trouble. I’m confident that if students tried these same things today there would be no patience and no discussion regarding punishment. And that is as it should be. Times were different then, but bad behavior is bad behavior.
Mrs. Hall, if you’re out there somewhere, somehow, please know how sorry I am for all those days of jammed key holes, all those smashed little green peas, and all those tomatoes and ketchup packets smeared on the walls. Please accept my apology ... and please, have a talk with the students I will be facing tomorrow. As attractive as an early retirement might be to me, I don’t think any rest home would let me bring my son.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Animals Take Head of Food Chain
When I began thinking about this week’s column, I was seriously considering a different topic. However, I read two articles that stirred me up.
Cats and dogs have been a part of my life since I was five years old. My first kitten was my best friend, and lived for almost 16 years. Throughout my 40 plus years, I have had an assortment of pets. No one has greater affection for animals than I.
I understand that many people’s lives are empty and they find companionship in their pets and I understand that animals love unconditionally. There has been research to support the benefits of pet ownership. Just petting a dog can bring a person’s blood pressure down. But that isn’t the point. An animal, regardless of its value and function, is still an animal. Their lives have value, but they should not be valued over that of a human life.
On the front page of a Sunday Amarillo newspaper, was an item under the “Check This Out” heading. This particular column dealt with a couple that had more money than sense. They had paid a research team to find a way to clone their 14-year-old dog.
Regardless of where you stand on the subject of cloning, spending $3.7 million to clone a dog is ludicrous. A dog, no matter how precious it may seem, is still just a dog. It cannot replace the value of a human life.
That $3.7 million bequest could have been used to do research for a cure of any number of human diseases. It could have gone a long way to bring relief to suffering.
Under the same heading, another artic le described the efforts off the coast of Massachusetts, to save a 50-ton whale from certain death due to an infection. I am sure this is a beautiful animal and haw sad that its life might be cut short. Who knows how many of these whales are left in the world? They might be, or could soon be, on the endangered species list. But consider how much money is being spent on this project already having involved five attempts.
And who knows how many more will be necessary before the whale might be saved.
When the day comes, and frankly, I think it could already be here, than an animal’s life has more value, more worth, than that of a human, then we all need to reassess our priorities
That $3.7 million I wrote of earlier is a lot of money. It could do an immense amount of good benefiting humanity, both ill and healthy. Food banks, homeless shelters, basic needs for the elderly, fans, heaters; the list could go on and on. I’m sure each of us must know at least one person who is so burdened by a lack of basic needs that just a small investment could improve their quality of life.
How many hungry families in Massachusetts could have benefited by a weeks worth of groceries provided by the funds used to attempt to save the whale?
How many children with juvenile diabetes went without insulin because their parents couldn’t afford if?
My intent is not to retract all funds that are available to help suffering animals, but rather to help us put these projects, and others like them, into perspective. Animals were put on this plant for us to have dominion over.
Human life seems to have little if any value these days. But I feel human life does have value and worth. For me it comes back to the topic of abortion. This ultimate form of child abuse takes the lives of more than a million babies each year. A million babies.
Abortions are performed on girls and women because they can’t afford to keep their child. How many could be saved by the funds spent on these two projects? If a child’s life could be saved with a $1,000, that $3.7 million bequest to clone a dog could potentially save 3,700 babies. One of those children might be the scientist who discovers a cure for AIDS, or Alzheimer’s or juvenile diabetes, or … well, you think of a disease.
The bottom line is this … if funds are available to save an animal’s life, then there should be matching funds to save the life of a human. Anything less is not acceptable.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Cats and dogs have been a part of my life since I was five years old. My first kitten was my best friend, and lived for almost 16 years. Throughout my 40 plus years, I have had an assortment of pets. No one has greater affection for animals than I.
I understand that many people’s lives are empty and they find companionship in their pets and I understand that animals love unconditionally. There has been research to support the benefits of pet ownership. Just petting a dog can bring a person’s blood pressure down. But that isn’t the point. An animal, regardless of its value and function, is still an animal. Their lives have value, but they should not be valued over that of a human life.
On the front page of a Sunday Amarillo newspaper, was an item under the “Check This Out” heading. This particular column dealt with a couple that had more money than sense. They had paid a research team to find a way to clone their 14-year-old dog.
Regardless of where you stand on the subject of cloning, spending $3.7 million to clone a dog is ludicrous. A dog, no matter how precious it may seem, is still just a dog. It cannot replace the value of a human life.
That $3.7 million bequest could have been used to do research for a cure of any number of human diseases. It could have gone a long way to bring relief to suffering.
Under the same heading, another artic le described the efforts off the coast of Massachusetts, to save a 50-ton whale from certain death due to an infection. I am sure this is a beautiful animal and haw sad that its life might be cut short. Who knows how many of these whales are left in the world? They might be, or could soon be, on the endangered species list. But consider how much money is being spent on this project already having involved five attempts.
And who knows how many more will be necessary before the whale might be saved.
When the day comes, and frankly, I think it could already be here, than an animal’s life has more value, more worth, than that of a human, then we all need to reassess our priorities
That $3.7 million I wrote of earlier is a lot of money. It could do an immense amount of good benefiting humanity, both ill and healthy. Food banks, homeless shelters, basic needs for the elderly, fans, heaters; the list could go on and on. I’m sure each of us must know at least one person who is so burdened by a lack of basic needs that just a small investment could improve their quality of life.
How many hungry families in Massachusetts could have benefited by a weeks worth of groceries provided by the funds used to attempt to save the whale?
How many children with juvenile diabetes went without insulin because their parents couldn’t afford if?
My intent is not to retract all funds that are available to help suffering animals, but rather to help us put these projects, and others like them, into perspective. Animals were put on this plant for us to have dominion over.
Human life seems to have little if any value these days. But I feel human life does have value and worth. For me it comes back to the topic of abortion. This ultimate form of child abuse takes the lives of more than a million babies each year. A million babies.
Abortions are performed on girls and women because they can’t afford to keep their child. How many could be saved by the funds spent on these two projects? If a child’s life could be saved with a $1,000, that $3.7 million bequest to clone a dog could potentially save 3,700 babies. One of those children might be the scientist who discovers a cure for AIDS, or Alzheimer’s or juvenile diabetes, or … well, you think of a disease.
The bottom line is this … if funds are available to save an animal’s life, then there should be matching funds to save the life of a human. Anything less is not acceptable.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Computers Are For All Ages
At the not-so-tender age of 35 I was jumping into new experiences on a daily basis. There were some days I was sure I could not go on. I had lived my life in a cocoon of sorts, and as great as desire was to escape, old habits died hard.
My source of torture was WTSU … for those of you who don’t know, in those day A&M had not yet been attached to WTSU, forever changing its name.
I had decided to go to college. As a freshman at WTSU, there were several classes I was required to take, one of which was a speech class.
The prospect of standing in front of my classmates simply terrified me. However, I quickly learned that speaking to a group was great fun.
One of my fellow students gave a speech on the $250.00 charge to her mother’s Niemann Marcus credit card. I could not understand how a recipe for chocolate chip cookies could possibly be worth $250.00, but I accepted that story as fact and vowed never to order cookies from Niemann Marcus. Now, of course, I know that story is nothing but myth and has the Internet to thank for its continued spread.
There was another class that I was terrified of, but, had no choice. The class was CIS 101. In layman’s terms, that is Computer Information Systems, the 101 simply meaning that it was basic.
My instructor was more concerned that her students learned the operating basic of the computer more than anything else. I was appreciative, because I was sure the computer was smarter than I, and learning the operating basics was all that I could possibly handle.
That was 13 years ago. In that span of time I have become so computer literate that I could confidently build my own computer, install upgrades, and learn just about any software. However, I would never consider myself a techie, and could not troubleshoot.
I love working on the computer and the expansive areas that are made available through the Internet. I would be content to work at the computer all day and night never running out of projects to do, software to get more familiar with, and games to play.
One of the things that I have greatly appreciated about the computer is my ability to transfer my graphic design skills to desktop publishing. In the old days, a graphic designer either used black and white clip art or drew their own. Since I needed a ruler to draw a straight line, graphic programs were a blessing.
There were other freshmen classes that I was required to take, but none made such an impact on me as the computer class. It taught me, among other things, that computers are still nothing but machines, and while their potential grows exponentially, the same machine could be well used by a gamer, a programmer, or someone who just wants to print up a grocery list.
Having said that, I’d like to share with a little bit about my son, Michael’s youth. At the tender age of three, he too, was introduced to computers. However, his success was a little different from mine. He has an accomplishment that I have not been able to claim, and hopefully never will.
My dear sweet son, quite innocently and using nothing but the keyboard, successfully crashed a computer.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
My source of torture was WTSU … for those of you who don’t know, in those day A&M had not yet been attached to WTSU, forever changing its name.
I had decided to go to college. As a freshman at WTSU, there were several classes I was required to take, one of which was a speech class.
The prospect of standing in front of my classmates simply terrified me. However, I quickly learned that speaking to a group was great fun.
One of my fellow students gave a speech on the $250.00 charge to her mother’s Niemann Marcus credit card. I could not understand how a recipe for chocolate chip cookies could possibly be worth $250.00, but I accepted that story as fact and vowed never to order cookies from Niemann Marcus. Now, of course, I know that story is nothing but myth and has the Internet to thank for its continued spread.
There was another class that I was terrified of, but, had no choice. The class was CIS 101. In layman’s terms, that is Computer Information Systems, the 101 simply meaning that it was basic.
My instructor was more concerned that her students learned the operating basic of the computer more than anything else. I was appreciative, because I was sure the computer was smarter than I, and learning the operating basics was all that I could possibly handle.
That was 13 years ago. In that span of time I have become so computer literate that I could confidently build my own computer, install upgrades, and learn just about any software. However, I would never consider myself a techie, and could not troubleshoot.
I love working on the computer and the expansive areas that are made available through the Internet. I would be content to work at the computer all day and night never running out of projects to do, software to get more familiar with, and games to play.
One of the things that I have greatly appreciated about the computer is my ability to transfer my graphic design skills to desktop publishing. In the old days, a graphic designer either used black and white clip art or drew their own. Since I needed a ruler to draw a straight line, graphic programs were a blessing.
There were other freshmen classes that I was required to take, but none made such an impact on me as the computer class. It taught me, among other things, that computers are still nothing but machines, and while their potential grows exponentially, the same machine could be well used by a gamer, a programmer, or someone who just wants to print up a grocery list.
Having said that, I’d like to share with a little bit about my son, Michael’s youth. At the tender age of three, he too, was introduced to computers. However, his success was a little different from mine. He has an accomplishment that I have not been able to claim, and hopefully never will.
My dear sweet son, quite innocently and using nothing but the keyboard, successfully crashed a computer.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
A Social Life -- Or Not
"Mommy is going out for awhile. No, you can't come with me." Just a couple of hours are all I wanted. Two short hours in the company of a man. "Just coffee, that's all. Well, some conversation, too." The day had come that I had been both looking forward to and dreading, simultaneously. Dating. Not an activity that I found particularly enjoyable, but was perhaps redeeming because it spoke to the hunger inside of me.
Hunger for adult companionship, hunger for adult conversation, and hunger for an adult face. And yes, hunger for some quality time with a man. Those are invitations to trouble when you're a single parent trying to create a social life for yourself. As any single parent knows, those hungers can take a sabbatical, attack one right after the other, or even worse, join forces, demanding to be satisfied all at once.
As a single parent, I have experienced each one of those hungers and the questions that arise in trying to feed them. How do I explain to my children, my need to establish a relationship with a man, to spend time with that man apart from them? How do I protect my children from possibly false expectations? Positive or negative. How do I -- or do I even try -- to keep my dating life separate from my life with my children?
The prime consideration though, had to be my children, and dispelling any fears they might have as a result of this new activity of mine. Understandably, my children would be somewhat anxious about my dating. They would have to be gently led.
Should I have the man come to our home? Should I introduce him to my children? To that end, not having the man come to our home was the right choice for me. I would not risk confusing my children on a possible relationship with a man. If and when the relationship developed into a serious one, I would reconsider. Until then, meeting at an appointed place was a logical solution. Without knowing much more about this man, I couldn't possibly know if I even wanted him around my children.
Dispelling any fears regarding this man's treatment of me was also something I had to deal with. The fear of the unknown can be powerful. My children could not be allowed to fear for my well being.
They would need additional affirmation from me so they would not fear for our relationship. It would mean spending extra quality time -- and maybe a little extra quantity time -- with them. I could not allow them to feel as if they were in competition for my time or love.
Beyond a doubt, mixing children with dating can create a myriad of complications when you're a single parent considering a social life for yourself. Avoiding the complications should be your target.
Before the dating process even begins, it would be wise to discuss with your children your desire to date and explain to them that the time away would not interfere in your relationship with them. Mind you, you're not asking your children permission to date. That is strictly an adult decision, your decision. But you want to include them as much as possible.
For small children, tell them when you get home you'll read them a story, or play a quick game of Chutes and Ladders. Give them a suggestion of how long you will be gone. For example, "Jonny Quest lasts for 30 minutes. I'll be gone for four Jonny Quest shows." Then remember to be prompt.
Middle age children might appear to handle it better on the outside, but on the inside their fears and concerns are just as real as a younger child's. Remind them that you need friends your age, friends to go places with. Reassure them that you will be just fine. If possible, leave the phone number of where you will be. Encourage them to call if they need you.
The one thing you always want to do is to be on time for your children. If you're going to be later than expected, call home and let them know. This is nothing but consideration, and your children deserve your consideration.
It's a shame that the world we live in is so replete with strange people, but we never know by looking at the outside, where another's heart is. Protecting our children must remain our primary consideration. By remembering to use common sense and understanding the fears your children may experience, you can greatly reduce any anxiety your dating may bring to your family.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Hunger for adult companionship, hunger for adult conversation, and hunger for an adult face. And yes, hunger for some quality time with a man. Those are invitations to trouble when you're a single parent trying to create a social life for yourself. As any single parent knows, those hungers can take a sabbatical, attack one right after the other, or even worse, join forces, demanding to be satisfied all at once.
As a single parent, I have experienced each one of those hungers and the questions that arise in trying to feed them. How do I explain to my children, my need to establish a relationship with a man, to spend time with that man apart from them? How do I protect my children from possibly false expectations? Positive or negative. How do I -- or do I even try -- to keep my dating life separate from my life with my children?
The prime consideration though, had to be my children, and dispelling any fears they might have as a result of this new activity of mine. Understandably, my children would be somewhat anxious about my dating. They would have to be gently led.
Should I have the man come to our home? Should I introduce him to my children? To that end, not having the man come to our home was the right choice for me. I would not risk confusing my children on a possible relationship with a man. If and when the relationship developed into a serious one, I would reconsider. Until then, meeting at an appointed place was a logical solution. Without knowing much more about this man, I couldn't possibly know if I even wanted him around my children.
Dispelling any fears regarding this man's treatment of me was also something I had to deal with. The fear of the unknown can be powerful. My children could not be allowed to fear for my well being.
They would need additional affirmation from me so they would not fear for our relationship. It would mean spending extra quality time -- and maybe a little extra quantity time -- with them. I could not allow them to feel as if they were in competition for my time or love.
Beyond a doubt, mixing children with dating can create a myriad of complications when you're a single parent considering a social life for yourself. Avoiding the complications should be your target.
Before the dating process even begins, it would be wise to discuss with your children your desire to date and explain to them that the time away would not interfere in your relationship with them. Mind you, you're not asking your children permission to date. That is strictly an adult decision, your decision. But you want to include them as much as possible.
For small children, tell them when you get home you'll read them a story, or play a quick game of Chutes and Ladders. Give them a suggestion of how long you will be gone. For example, "Jonny Quest lasts for 30 minutes. I'll be gone for four Jonny Quest shows." Then remember to be prompt.
Middle age children might appear to handle it better on the outside, but on the inside their fears and concerns are just as real as a younger child's. Remind them that you need friends your age, friends to go places with. Reassure them that you will be just fine. If possible, leave the phone number of where you will be. Encourage them to call if they need you.
The one thing you always want to do is to be on time for your children. If you're going to be later than expected, call home and let them know. This is nothing but consideration, and your children deserve your consideration.
It's a shame that the world we live in is so replete with strange people, but we never know by looking at the outside, where another's heart is. Protecting our children must remain our primary consideration. By remembering to use common sense and understanding the fears your children may experience, you can greatly reduce any anxiety your dating may bring to your family.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
NOT JUST ANOTHER ICY ROAD
I am one of those winter drivers your insurance agents warn you about. Just the thought of driving in the snow fills me with dread and somewhere around the corner from that is a panic attack waiting to happen.
For many years I lived in Virginia and suffered through many snowy winters. There was also more than one incident when I either missed work completely or was very late because of my fear of driving on snow or ice covered roads. As a single parent, the burden of providing for me and my child fell on my shoulders alone. Thus increasing the pressure.
Since living in Texas, the winters have been milder (for the most part) and the snow and ice has not lasted very long. On the few occasions when the roads were impassable, at least in my mind, my children and I stayed home and reveled in the timely break from the routine.
A few winters ago, however, we were hit by a large amount of snow and naturally, there was ice under the snow. For some strange reason, this time I was determined to not be crippled by the bad roads.
As a college student, the pressure to attend wasn’t as great, yet I didn’t dare miss reviews, tests, exams, or project deadlines. On this day, I drove to college, and later drove to my son's junior high school to pick him up. It was on the way home from his school that I learned a lesson that has stuck with me for many years.
The road home was narrow. Just two lanes. And there were more than one hill. On either side of the road were ditches, deep ditches. Normally, this drive from my son's school to home was all of ten minutes. This day, that drive would take me 45 minutes.
There were cars behind me, and there were cars coming in the opposite direction. I was driving very slow and the other drivers were, no doubt, anxious to get around me. Every time a car drove past me I slowed down to a crawl - and in the pit of my stomach, a knot was growing to dismal proportions.
I couldn't get past the knowledge that one unexpected, unprepared for bump in the ice could send us over the edge into the ditch. Or that a misjudged tap to the brakes - or the accelerator - would send us in a spin getting hit by cars from both directions. Yes, the cars. That line of cars in back of us was growing longer.
My knuckles were turning white. I could feel my hair graying, and I was going to be sick.
All of a sudden, I could "hear" the Lord speaking to me. Words of comfort, words of peace, "Keep your eyes on the road, straight ahead of you. Don't worry about the cars behind you. Don't worry about the cars coming at you. Don't think about the ditch. Just drive the car and keep your eyes on the road, straight ahead of you."
All at once, I realized that we were indeed going to make it home -- and in one piece!
Then, the most curious thing happened as I started to heed the advice I had been given. The Lord began to show me how life is like that -- the icy roads, the ditches and the unending traffic; and how much easier life is when we keep our eyes on Him instead of the obstacles in our path.
Now, this was not a new concept for me. I had read it more than once in the Bible, but I had not experienced it in such a crystal way.
If I kept my eyes on the road, and didn't worry about the conditions around me, we would make it. Likewise, if I kept my eyes on the Lord and didn't worry about the problems around me, I would make it.
Needless to say, I was very glad to get home, but I was also very glad to have risked driving that afternoon and to have been given that lesson in trust. That warm fuzzy is still with me today and I know all I have to do is remember that icy road and God's message will renew itself to me.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
For many years I lived in Virginia and suffered through many snowy winters. There was also more than one incident when I either missed work completely or was very late because of my fear of driving on snow or ice covered roads. As a single parent, the burden of providing for me and my child fell on my shoulders alone. Thus increasing the pressure.
Since living in Texas, the winters have been milder (for the most part) and the snow and ice has not lasted very long. On the few occasions when the roads were impassable, at least in my mind, my children and I stayed home and reveled in the timely break from the routine.
A few winters ago, however, we were hit by a large amount of snow and naturally, there was ice under the snow. For some strange reason, this time I was determined to not be crippled by the bad roads.
As a college student, the pressure to attend wasn’t as great, yet I didn’t dare miss reviews, tests, exams, or project deadlines. On this day, I drove to college, and later drove to my son's junior high school to pick him up. It was on the way home from his school that I learned a lesson that has stuck with me for many years.
The road home was narrow. Just two lanes. And there were more than one hill. On either side of the road were ditches, deep ditches. Normally, this drive from my son's school to home was all of ten minutes. This day, that drive would take me 45 minutes.
There were cars behind me, and there were cars coming in the opposite direction. I was driving very slow and the other drivers were, no doubt, anxious to get around me. Every time a car drove past me I slowed down to a crawl - and in the pit of my stomach, a knot was growing to dismal proportions.
I couldn't get past the knowledge that one unexpected, unprepared for bump in the ice could send us over the edge into the ditch. Or that a misjudged tap to the brakes - or the accelerator - would send us in a spin getting hit by cars from both directions. Yes, the cars. That line of cars in back of us was growing longer.
My knuckles were turning white. I could feel my hair graying, and I was going to be sick.
All of a sudden, I could "hear" the Lord speaking to me. Words of comfort, words of peace, "Keep your eyes on the road, straight ahead of you. Don't worry about the cars behind you. Don't worry about the cars coming at you. Don't think about the ditch. Just drive the car and keep your eyes on the road, straight ahead of you."
All at once, I realized that we were indeed going to make it home -- and in one piece!
Then, the most curious thing happened as I started to heed the advice I had been given. The Lord began to show me how life is like that -- the icy roads, the ditches and the unending traffic; and how much easier life is when we keep our eyes on Him instead of the obstacles in our path.
Now, this was not a new concept for me. I had read it more than once in the Bible, but I had not experienced it in such a crystal way.
If I kept my eyes on the road, and didn't worry about the conditions around me, we would make it. Likewise, if I kept my eyes on the Lord and didn't worry about the problems around me, I would make it.
Needless to say, I was very glad to get home, but I was also very glad to have risked driving that afternoon and to have been given that lesson in trust. That warm fuzzy is still with me today and I know all I have to do is remember that icy road and God's message will renew itself to me.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
LOOK A LITTLE DEEPER – TO RELATIVE IMPORTANCE
Webster's Collegiate Dictionary defines perspective as, "the capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance; to view your own task in a larger framework." Relative importance. What an interesting concept.
Examine the thing -- or things -- that irritates you the most today, and ask yourself this question. One year from now, will it still be so important? Five years from now, ten years from now? Or even six months from now? How much energy do you spend on something with little relative importance?
Now look at what brings you the most joy and pleasure. This could be relationships, activities, achievements -- the list has many possibilities and is particular to only you. How does it rate on your personal relative importance scale? Do you savor the moments? Do you look beyond the immediate to see the now?
We make choices everyday that define our relative importance scale. What does your scale say about you? When life takes a wrong turn -- as it will inevitably do -- do you desire to make the best of it, or do you moan over "what could have been"?
On a daily basis, we all have the opportunity to make lemonade. Only we decide whether the lemonade will leave a bitter taste in our mouths, or whether we mix in a little of life's sweetness.
Take for example a young comatose woman who was hospitalized in New York. One of the attendants assigned to care for her, took advantage of her helpless state and violated her. He raped her. The end result was not only an unplanned pregnancy, but a pregnancy that involved a mother who would never know the joy of those prenatal kicks, who would never hear her baby's heart beat, whose arms would never hold her precious child.
The parents of the comatose mother had some difficult, and painful decisions to make. Just to name a few -- Would the pregnancy greater endanger the fragile life of their daughter? If they allowed the baby to be born, what would become of him or her? Could they possibly love this child?
The most popular option available to them was to destroy the life that was growing in their daughter. Yes, abortion. If there had ever been a case that could draw sympathy from even the most conservative, it would have been this one.
Adoption was a consideration that no one could have found fault with. Better to spare the innocent baby's life, and make the choice to give the baby a chance for a future with a family whose love was not shadowed by the attack.
Raising the child themselves was a choice that would invoke joy and pain. The joy of course because they would see their daughter in every facial expression, every mannerism. The memories of their daughter's adolescence would flood back and be a poignant reminder. The pain because their daughter's attacker would also be reflected in their grandchild.
Such choices. In the end, no one could make the decision for them. No one else would live so intimately with the consequences of their choice.
What would you choose? There would be no easy out. There would be no one who could magically reverse your decision if you later regretted your choice.
Now, I am in no way suggesting that your child will walk the same path their daughter did. But I am suggesting that each one of us needs to examine our personal relative importance scales and make every effort to attend to the things that have the exclusive places in our lives and our hearts.
When you next start your day, give thought to your relative importance scale -- your perspective. Will you devote attention to the things that are really important in your life? Will the valued relationships receive the attention and care they need? Or, will you waste time and energy on things that have no enduring importance?
Examine your relative importance scale. Keeping your perspective in line with what is truly significant goes a long way towards decreasing the stress in your life and increasing your joy. We can all benefit from that.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Examine the thing -- or things -- that irritates you the most today, and ask yourself this question. One year from now, will it still be so important? Five years from now, ten years from now? Or even six months from now? How much energy do you spend on something with little relative importance?
Now look at what brings you the most joy and pleasure. This could be relationships, activities, achievements -- the list has many possibilities and is particular to only you. How does it rate on your personal relative importance scale? Do you savor the moments? Do you look beyond the immediate to see the now?
We make choices everyday that define our relative importance scale. What does your scale say about you? When life takes a wrong turn -- as it will inevitably do -- do you desire to make the best of it, or do you moan over "what could have been"?
On a daily basis, we all have the opportunity to make lemonade. Only we decide whether the lemonade will leave a bitter taste in our mouths, or whether we mix in a little of life's sweetness.
Take for example a young comatose woman who was hospitalized in New York. One of the attendants assigned to care for her, took advantage of her helpless state and violated her. He raped her. The end result was not only an unplanned pregnancy, but a pregnancy that involved a mother who would never know the joy of those prenatal kicks, who would never hear her baby's heart beat, whose arms would never hold her precious child.
The parents of the comatose mother had some difficult, and painful decisions to make. Just to name a few -- Would the pregnancy greater endanger the fragile life of their daughter? If they allowed the baby to be born, what would become of him or her? Could they possibly love this child?
The most popular option available to them was to destroy the life that was growing in their daughter. Yes, abortion. If there had ever been a case that could draw sympathy from even the most conservative, it would have been this one.
Adoption was a consideration that no one could have found fault with. Better to spare the innocent baby's life, and make the choice to give the baby a chance for a future with a family whose love was not shadowed by the attack.
Raising the child themselves was a choice that would invoke joy and pain. The joy of course because they would see their daughter in every facial expression, every mannerism. The memories of their daughter's adolescence would flood back and be a poignant reminder. The pain because their daughter's attacker would also be reflected in their grandchild.
Such choices. In the end, no one could make the decision for them. No one else would live so intimately with the consequences of their choice.
What would you choose? There would be no easy out. There would be no one who could magically reverse your decision if you later regretted your choice.
Now, I am in no way suggesting that your child will walk the same path their daughter did. But I am suggesting that each one of us needs to examine our personal relative importance scales and make every effort to attend to the things that have the exclusive places in our lives and our hearts.
When you next start your day, give thought to your relative importance scale -- your perspective. Will you devote attention to the things that are really important in your life? Will the valued relationships receive the attention and care they need? Or, will you waste time and energy on things that have no enduring importance?
Examine your relative importance scale. Keeping your perspective in line with what is truly significant goes a long way towards decreasing the stress in your life and increasing your joy. We can all benefit from that.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
A Sex Offender by Any Other Name is Still a Predator
Do you know who your neighbors are? Better still, do you know who your children’s friends are?
Would it even occur to you to consider that a playmate of your child’s could be a registered sex offender? It never occurred to me, and I could be the poster parent for caution. But that is exactly what happened to my family.
Several years ago I allowed a 12-year-old young man to become my 12-year-old son’s friend. I encouraged my son to maintain that friendship even welcomed that child into my home to spend the night and, to feel comfortable enough as if my home was his second.
I trusted this child so much I introduced him to my friend’s young daughters so they could correspond online. I told my youngest child that this was someone he could trust, someone he could go to in an emergency, someone he could feel safe with.
Now several years later I discovered this young man was a registered sex offender since the tender age of 11. Countless times he and his father came to our home for dinner. Think it was ever mentioned? Not at any time. There were many opportunities over the years, yet no one stepped up to tell me. He spent seven years on probation ... and yet I never knew.
This young man was a member of our church’s youth group -- having access to any number of young girls. Think it was ever mentioned? No.
I can’t help but wonder how many of those young girls might have been approached by this predator. There were parties and other social functions, and mission trips. Should the parents of the girls have been forewarned that a registered sex offender was within their daughter’s midst?
If I had a daughter, I would have wanted to know. I would have wanted the knowledge so I would be the one making the decisions regarding my child’s safety and well being. It would seem that no one thought the other parents, or me, had the right to this information.
‘This young boy was a registered sex offender.’ The words struggle to leave my mouth. ‘That’s for people who have raped and sodomize their victims.’ Suddenly I was faced with a myriad of questions. A boy of 11 had become a registered sex offender.
‘How had that happened?' 'What had he done to fall into that category of predators and perverts?' 'Who had been his victim?' His victim, as it turns out, was his eight-year old sister.
The abuser had been protected. Now, I discover, at the risk of my son’s well being. ‘Who was there to protect either of my sons?’ It would seem those who knew, were too busy protecting the predator.
What about those young girls I introduced this young man to so they could correspond online? Well, he continued to be a predator. The older of the two girls was 13, and he began a graphic discussion with her of what his intimate intentions were for her. His language was crude, his lies were frequent, he made threats to show up on her doorstep, and his words to her mother were equally crude and very disrespectful.
Clearly, there has been no change in his behavior. His years spent on probation taught him nothing, except how to hide his behaviors. So, what does the future hold for this adult predator?
[This article was originally written more than 8 years ago. Today, this offender is now married and has two children - one son, and one daughter.]
According to the authorities, sex offenders must re-register every year on their birthdays, must provide information on their current vehicle, and must provide a change of address, even if the move was only in town, and any other information required on a local level.
When an adult is convicted of a felony sex-related offense against a child, typically while they are on probation, they are prohibited from having contact with children under the age of 17. When a child is convicted of a felony sex-related offense against another child, limiting their contact with other children is not so easy.
For a juvenile offender, their contact with other children is restricted from children who are under the offender’s current age. Additionally, contact with younger children is allowed as long as appropriate adult supervision is in evidence.
In a classroom, on the playground, at soccer games, basketball games, Sunday school, church activities, friends homes. The availability of potential victims is almost limitless. It is up to you, to me ... to all of us, to protect our children from predators, regardless of their age or assumed innocence. We cannot blindly accept that children are safe simply because of their age.
The courts have the final word on probation conditions, which can include counseling, submission to DNA evidence data bank, neighborhood alert to the presence of a juvenile registered sex offender, and polygraph testing.
If an offender is a juvenile at the time of probation, that is younger than 17, then when the day of the 18th birthday is reached, probation stops. Also, after ten years of registering the juvenile offender is no longer required to register.
Each state has a web site that lists all the registered sex offenders, juvenile or adult. In Texas, the site is http://records.txdps.state.tx.us. The search will work with as little as a zip code entered. In most cases you can even click on the little magnifying glass to see their picture.
Once you know who the registered sex offenders in your area are, you can make intelligent and wise decisions regarding your children, and your family. As a parent, I encourage all other parents to check out the web site as it relates to your area. Don’t think that simply because a child appears to be polite and
well-behaved that they are suitable friends for your children.
Knowledge is power – it is my intent to empower parents with this knowledge.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Would it even occur to you to consider that a playmate of your child’s could be a registered sex offender? It never occurred to me, and I could be the poster parent for caution. But that is exactly what happened to my family.
Several years ago I allowed a 12-year-old young man to become my 12-year-old son’s friend. I encouraged my son to maintain that friendship even welcomed that child into my home to spend the night and, to feel comfortable enough as if my home was his second.
I trusted this child so much I introduced him to my friend’s young daughters so they could correspond online. I told my youngest child that this was someone he could trust, someone he could go to in an emergency, someone he could feel safe with.
Now several years later I discovered this young man was a registered sex offender since the tender age of 11. Countless times he and his father came to our home for dinner. Think it was ever mentioned? Not at any time. There were many opportunities over the years, yet no one stepped up to tell me. He spent seven years on probation ... and yet I never knew.
This young man was a member of our church’s youth group -- having access to any number of young girls. Think it was ever mentioned? No.
I can’t help but wonder how many of those young girls might have been approached by this predator. There were parties and other social functions, and mission trips. Should the parents of the girls have been forewarned that a registered sex offender was within their daughter’s midst?
If I had a daughter, I would have wanted to know. I would have wanted the knowledge so I would be the one making the decisions regarding my child’s safety and well being. It would seem that no one thought the other parents, or me, had the right to this information.
‘This young boy was a registered sex offender.’ The words struggle to leave my mouth. ‘That’s for people who have raped and sodomize their victims.’ Suddenly I was faced with a myriad of questions. A boy of 11 had become a registered sex offender.
‘How had that happened?' 'What had he done to fall into that category of predators and perverts?' 'Who had been his victim?' His victim, as it turns out, was his eight-year old sister.
The abuser had been protected. Now, I discover, at the risk of my son’s well being. ‘Who was there to protect either of my sons?’ It would seem those who knew, were too busy protecting the predator.
What about those young girls I introduced this young man to so they could correspond online? Well, he continued to be a predator. The older of the two girls was 13, and he began a graphic discussion with her of what his intimate intentions were for her. His language was crude, his lies were frequent, he made threats to show up on her doorstep, and his words to her mother were equally crude and very disrespectful.
Clearly, there has been no change in his behavior. His years spent on probation taught him nothing, except how to hide his behaviors. So, what does the future hold for this adult predator?
[This article was originally written more than 8 years ago. Today, this offender is now married and has two children - one son, and one daughter.]
According to the authorities, sex offenders must re-register every year on their birthdays, must provide information on their current vehicle, and must provide a change of address, even if the move was only in town, and any other information required on a local level.
When an adult is convicted of a felony sex-related offense against a child, typically while they are on probation, they are prohibited from having contact with children under the age of 17. When a child is convicted of a felony sex-related offense against another child, limiting their contact with other children is not so easy.
For a juvenile offender, their contact with other children is restricted from children who are under the offender’s current age. Additionally, contact with younger children is allowed as long as appropriate adult supervision is in evidence.
In a classroom, on the playground, at soccer games, basketball games, Sunday school, church activities, friends homes. The availability of potential victims is almost limitless. It is up to you, to me ... to all of us, to protect our children from predators, regardless of their age or assumed innocence. We cannot blindly accept that children are safe simply because of their age.
The courts have the final word on probation conditions, which can include counseling, submission to DNA evidence data bank, neighborhood alert to the presence of a juvenile registered sex offender, and polygraph testing.
If an offender is a juvenile at the time of probation, that is younger than 17, then when the day of the 18th birthday is reached, probation stops. Also, after ten years of registering the juvenile offender is no longer required to register.
Each state has a web site that lists all the registered sex offenders, juvenile or adult. In Texas, the site is http://records.txdps.state.tx.us. The search will work with as little as a zip code entered. In most cases you can even click on the little magnifying glass to see their picture.
Once you know who the registered sex offenders in your area are, you can make intelligent and wise decisions regarding your children, and your family. As a parent, I encourage all other parents to check out the web site as it relates to your area. Don’t think that simply because a child appears to be polite and
well-behaved that they are suitable friends for your children.
Knowledge is power – it is my intent to empower parents with this knowledge.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
The Elixir Called Yoga
Do you want to quit smoking? Lose weight? Reduce your blood pressure? Improve your concentration? Or, maybe you just want to sleep better at night. The answer for these concerns and a plethora of others, is Yoga.
Most experts agree that practicing yoga regularly will increase your flexibility, your strength, and your balance, and will teach you the principle of mind/body unity. Though yoga is considered to be generally safe, you should consult your doctor before starting any new exercise program.
Getting started in yoga is fairly simple. You need loose fitting clothing and a “non-slip” mat for the floor, and you are ready to begin. This is not a workout that requires expensive equipment or shoes, as these exercises are usually performed in bare feet. Some studios may even provide balance bars or straps to facilitate leg stretches.
Called treatments, yoga consists of three basic disciplines: breathing exercises, meditation, and body postures. Classes are available at most health clubs and YMCA’s, and are fairly reasonably priced.
When your class starts, the instructor will being by asking you to do a few simple warm-up exercises, and then direct you through some breathing exercises that are designed to help you focus on your breathing. The next step is the yoga postures which are really a series of poses that are usually held for different periods of time, typically from a few seconds to several minutes.
Some of these postures may appear to be difficult and require some pre-disposition to perform contortions. However, the point of these postures is not to contort, but to stretch all your muscle groups while gently squeezing your internal organs. A specific order is followed that ensures a balance in the muscle groups. Through the course of the session, you should be comfortable and your mind and body should feel relaxed.
There are actually several types of yoga: Hatha, Lyengar, Integral and Astanga. Though Lyengar is recommended for beginners, as it focuses on proper body alignment, which helps prevent injury.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Most experts agree that practicing yoga regularly will increase your flexibility, your strength, and your balance, and will teach you the principle of mind/body unity. Though yoga is considered to be generally safe, you should consult your doctor before starting any new exercise program.
Getting started in yoga is fairly simple. You need loose fitting clothing and a “non-slip” mat for the floor, and you are ready to begin. This is not a workout that requires expensive equipment or shoes, as these exercises are usually performed in bare feet. Some studios may even provide balance bars or straps to facilitate leg stretches.
Called treatments, yoga consists of three basic disciplines: breathing exercises, meditation, and body postures. Classes are available at most health clubs and YMCA’s, and are fairly reasonably priced.
When your class starts, the instructor will being by asking you to do a few simple warm-up exercises, and then direct you through some breathing exercises that are designed to help you focus on your breathing. The next step is the yoga postures which are really a series of poses that are usually held for different periods of time, typically from a few seconds to several minutes.
Some of these postures may appear to be difficult and require some pre-disposition to perform contortions. However, the point of these postures is not to contort, but to stretch all your muscle groups while gently squeezing your internal organs. A specific order is followed that ensures a balance in the muscle groups. Through the course of the session, you should be comfortable and your mind and body should feel relaxed.
There are actually several types of yoga: Hatha, Lyengar, Integral and Astanga. Though Lyengar is recommended for beginners, as it focuses on proper body alignment, which helps prevent injury.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
A Lonely Christmas
" . . . His Christmas will be a lonely one." Mr. Z -- anonymity for his protection or ours? -- who attends church regularly and suffers from poor health, will be spending his Christmas alone.
How is that a man who attends church regularly will be spending Christmas alone? The Empty Stocking story said he is in need of a refrigerator. It seems to me this Mr. Z is in need of compassion from his church family.
Yes, the refrigerator should be provided, but that is a material need. His heart and his spirit need to be touched by the gift of companionship. I have not a clue what church this man attends, so I encourage every church in the area to see if you have any Mr. Z's attending your church. While you are at it, see if you have any Mrs. Y's, and Miss X's, or anyone else who will probably be spending their Christmas alone.
It is an indictment against each of us who claim to love the Lord Jesus, when one in our midst suffers from loneliness and we have the power to change that. Jesus wants us to reach out to those around us who are in need and to be a blessing.
Mr. Z. His anonymity is surely for his protection, but doesn't that anonymity also serve to protect us? For when we don't know just exactly who he is, it is impossible for any of us to call him up and invite him to Christmas with us.
Calling him Mr. Z does indeed protect him -- but at the same time, we are also protected by our ignorance.
This coming Sunday when you go to church, look around you, observe those who are sitting alone. Go over to them. Speak with them. Ask them questions. If they are going to be alone at Christmas, invite them to your home to share your family and home. If that is not possible encourage your church to host a Christmas celebration for all those who will be alone -- whether they are one or more.
Then, when Christmas is a sweet memory of blessings shared, remember these same people at New Year's, Valentine's, Easter, 4th of July, Thanksgiving, birthday parties, Sunday dinner, picnics, and others. There are so many opportunities to reach out, to include those who would otherwise be alone.
Would an extra plate or two at your table really be an imposition to your family? If it would, perhaps some soul-searching is in order for you. If it would not, then please seek these folks out. Invite them to your home. Invite them to be a part of your life. Let's not say we love our neighbor and then close our doors because we want to include only our families at Christmas or other times.
I have examined myself and discovered that there have been times when I could have reached out to include those who are lonely around me. As a single parent, there have been many times when it would have been a blessing to have been included in the plans of others. But we are three. We have room at our table, in our home, so why should I not also include others in our plans? We will no longer hope to be included, but shall reach out to include others.
What about you? Do you have room at your table, in your home for one or two others? Would you not be blessed to share your joy with those who would otherwise be alone? Would you not choose to teach your children that real joy in life comes from sharing and giving?
Think carefully, and you will discover many occasions when your family can share their joy with those who are lonely for companionship. If we pay attention, we could eliminate those words from future articles -- " . . . his Christmas will be a lonely one."
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
How is that a man who attends church regularly will be spending Christmas alone? The Empty Stocking story said he is in need of a refrigerator. It seems to me this Mr. Z is in need of compassion from his church family.
Yes, the refrigerator should be provided, but that is a material need. His heart and his spirit need to be touched by the gift of companionship. I have not a clue what church this man attends, so I encourage every church in the area to see if you have any Mr. Z's attending your church. While you are at it, see if you have any Mrs. Y's, and Miss X's, or anyone else who will probably be spending their Christmas alone.
It is an indictment against each of us who claim to love the Lord Jesus, when one in our midst suffers from loneliness and we have the power to change that. Jesus wants us to reach out to those around us who are in need and to be a blessing.
Mr. Z. His anonymity is surely for his protection, but doesn't that anonymity also serve to protect us? For when we don't know just exactly who he is, it is impossible for any of us to call him up and invite him to Christmas with us.
Calling him Mr. Z does indeed protect him -- but at the same time, we are also protected by our ignorance.
This coming Sunday when you go to church, look around you, observe those who are sitting alone. Go over to them. Speak with them. Ask them questions. If they are going to be alone at Christmas, invite them to your home to share your family and home. If that is not possible encourage your church to host a Christmas celebration for all those who will be alone -- whether they are one or more.
Then, when Christmas is a sweet memory of blessings shared, remember these same people at New Year's, Valentine's, Easter, 4th of July, Thanksgiving, birthday parties, Sunday dinner, picnics, and others. There are so many opportunities to reach out, to include those who would otherwise be alone.
Would an extra plate or two at your table really be an imposition to your family? If it would, perhaps some soul-searching is in order for you. If it would not, then please seek these folks out. Invite them to your home. Invite them to be a part of your life. Let's not say we love our neighbor and then close our doors because we want to include only our families at Christmas or other times.
I have examined myself and discovered that there have been times when I could have reached out to include those who are lonely around me. As a single parent, there have been many times when it would have been a blessing to have been included in the plans of others. But we are three. We have room at our table, in our home, so why should I not also include others in our plans? We will no longer hope to be included, but shall reach out to include others.
What about you? Do you have room at your table, in your home for one or two others? Would you not be blessed to share your joy with those who would otherwise be alone? Would you not choose to teach your children that real joy in life comes from sharing and giving?
Think carefully, and you will discover many occasions when your family can share their joy with those who are lonely for companionship. If we pay attention, we could eliminate those words from future articles -- " . . . his Christmas will be a lonely one."
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
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