BABYSITTING BETSY THE BALLET BOA

         SNAKES!! The way I see it, there are no "good" snakes. I'm sorry. My husband always told me that the black king snake is a good one, but I have the same disgusting fear - no matter the name and no matter the job description!

         God put enmity, a mutual, positive hatred, between the woman and the snake back in Genesis 3:15 and I know that this woman positively hates them still. But then I came face to face with one of the most challenging tasks ever requested of me - me, the people pleaser! 

         My daughter's professional ballet company was slated to dance two hours south of our home, but I didn't plan to attend the production because my husband was flying home that day.

         He had just completed a six week business project and his arrival conflicted with the time of the production. But he so loved watching her dance that he actually caught an earlier flight so he could attend the show. This meant that we'd go directly from the airport to the venue.

         So I called my daughter to ask her the location of the venue. When her director heard that we were coming, he asked her to call me back because he had a favor to ask of me.

         Now I love to serve people, but this request was hard to swallow!

         "Could you please stop by my house and pick up my boa, Betsy, and bring her to the show?" (The ballet was depicting Moses and it was set in Pharaoh's palace, hence Betsy was a very live prop to bring more authenticity to the show.)

         Whaaat? Why me, God? So because I feeling a great deal of pressure, I, VERY reluctantly, agreed to the errand. He assured me that his son would have her safely secured in her box. Yikes!

         I had no idea just how long it would take me to pick her up and arrive at the airport on time for Mac's flight, so I left a bit early.

         I foolishly expected a metal box with a padlock on it, but instead, his son greeted me holding a taped cardboard box! He put "Betsy" in my van and sent me on my way with a warning - to make sure that she didn't escape under my feet while driving! (His teasing raised the intensity of my fear to an extreme!)

         Well, as it turned out, the picking up of said boa went quicker than I had first expected and I had about forty-five minutes to kill. But wait! I was NOT willing to sit in my van for those forty-five minutes with that volatile package! What if she really could escape like the young man said?

         So I strained my brain for a legitimate excuse to exit my van during the wait. "I'll read at a coffee shop," I told myself. Sure, that'll do. So as I exited for the coffee shop, I peered through the back window of my van and the box was still closed.

         After thirty minutes, I once again, peered through the back window before entering my van. Still closed. But then I noticed that my gas gauge was low and that I would need to fill up prior to our journey south to the show.

         So after filling my tank, I, once again, peered through the back window to find the box still shut tight. Phew! But to be honest, babysitting Betsy, made for a VERY long afternoon!

         So it was finally time to head to the airport to retrieve my husband. Once he got into the van, I felt safe again.... creepy, but safe, for I knew that my knight in shining armor would protect me from this "strangest package" ever!

         We still faced a two hour ride, which seemed MUCH longer as all I could think of was Betsy crawling up under my seat! I really considered even asking Mac for a new van because this one had ... a snake in it! Yuk!

         The GPS proved successful and we arrived at the venue five minutes before curtain time. So Mac quickly got a hold of Betsy in her box and delivered her to the stage crew just in time for her scene! Phew!

         I must admit that even the PRESENCE of a snake filled me with fear. It drove my mind to think of various scenarios of which NONE came to pass. Thank goodness!

         God had, in fact, protected me once again, but I surely didn't feel like an "over comer." I needed to replace my fear with the truth of Psalm 27:1.

         So as I sat in the theatre, trying to enjoy the show, I realized that I had allowed fear to still my joy. What I needed was to take all of my thoughts captive to the truth of God's Word.

        

Lesson Learned:

Ps 27:1 - "Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the defense of my life. Whom (or what) shall I dread?"

2 Cor 10:5  - "We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up ... and taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ."

FEAR = "False Evidence Appears Real" (author unknown)

"ARE YOUR EYES OPEN?"

         It was a beautiful Sunday and inside the church, the pews were full to standing room only. When the services ended, the congregation enjoyed gathering together and catching up on the news of their week. As soon as the children were released from their classrooms, they were all about our feet and, at times, even under them.

         It was fall which I sometimes liken to a feeling of "hope which springs eternal." The weight and heaviness of summer had recently been replaced with the refreshing feel and smell of fall. One could even shut their eyes and yet still know that it was fall simply by the crispness in the air.

         As I looked around, I saw the leaves trickling down and proudly showing off their colorful wardrobe, and yet others were swirling around in circles, before making a safe landing.

         As the children poured into the sanctuary, they scattered throughout the crowd, anxiously hunting down their respective parents. Then, a bit impatiently at times, the waiting would begin for a break in the adult conversation. We mothers all knew the usual request which would be coming forth because we had all heard it last Sunday, and the Sunday before, and the Sunday before that.

         I was persistent in teaching my children the mannerly art of waiting and not interrupting a conversation. If they failed to do so, the answer to their question would be a definitive "Negatory."

         On this particular Sunday, the requests I heard came, not only from my two sons, but also from their four year old sister, who had weekly stood by watching how her brothers made their approach.

         "May we please have a friend over for the afternoon?"

         This request most assuredly would guarantee that they would be trading in their Sunday afternoon naps for more playtime with friends who they didn't regularly see at school. And Sunday, after church, was the perfect opportunity to spend the day with a friend, as we would be returning to the 6:00 service and we could easily return said visitor to their parents.

         I was pleased to watch them being semi-patient, and not interrupting the mom and dad conversations. (We, adults, actually have friends, too!) And because they followed "Mom's Rule of Orders," I agreed to give up my afternoon of peace and quiet, by saying "yes" to the whole kit and caboodle.

         So they quickly darted off to their chosen friend and extended the invitation which then sent the chosen ones darting off to their moms and dads for permission. If the answer was a "yes," they would all run back to me, while somehow jumping up and down, with their good news of approval.

         Just watching their antics was amazing, because how exactly does one run AND jump up and down simultaneously without losing ones' balance? Maybe this could be a sport for the Children's Olympics because the skill exerted always surprised me. And mine, for sure, would make the cut for the team.

         So, as the excitement rose, my three, and two of their peers, were loaded into the minivan. They all buckled in and then we began our trek home which was only a twenty minute drive on the Interstate 85.

         There was some traffic, which is usual in Atlanta, but we were in no hurry to get home. Ten minutes into the ride, I heard the sounds of an emergency vehicle getting louder and louder as it gained on us from behind.

         Now my "go-to" reaction whenever I heard a siren, was to pray for the safety of the driver, as he weaves around and through traffic, wisdom for the medical helpers inside, and healing for the patients. So without thinking about it, I started praying and I did so, out loud, as a lesson to my children. 

         Unbeknownst to me, one of our young visitors in the backseat was experiencing major stress. He probably felt panicky and when he finally could no longer contain his anxiety, he interrupted my prayer, with a very nervous request. "Uh ... Miss Linda, are your eyes open?"

         Well at first, I thought it a rather odd question and I wondered what could possibly be so distressing about my prayer? But as I processed the situation, I realized his dilemma.

         I'm sure that he had heard his parents pray before and they most likely did so, with their eyes shut. So I assume he was picturing me driving on I-85 with my eyes closed!

         I  tried to comfort him by reassuring him that although I was praying out loud, I did, in fact, most definitely have my eyes open!

         "Poor little darling!" or as we'd say in the south, "Bless his little heart!"

        

Lesson Learned:

Mt 26:41 - " keep watching and praying." So now, whenever I hear a siren and start to pray, I am reminded of this little story and I check myself to make sure that I keep my eyes open.... especially when driving!

        

Lk 24:31 - " And their eyes were opened and they recognized Him..."

Only a Bucket Will Do

"ONLY A BUCKET WILL DO"

         My sweet, and very helpful, husband offered to grill shish kabobs, skewers of steak and veggies, for a late lunch before he left for his shift at the nuclear plant. His appliance of choice was our small hibachi. This was a tiny grill which was wildly popular in the '70's and '80's, thereby making it one of our favorite "wish list" wedding gifts. (Back in the day, we did not have the luxury of registering for gifts, as a bride and groom do today.)

         We were scheduled to move within the week, so I was extra diligent regarding the cleaning of said grill in preparation for the move. So once it was totally cooled off, I carefully swept the ashes, wrapped them in newspaper, and foolishly stuffed them into my apartment trashcan. This was NOT smart!

         Pat, a wife of my husband's co-worker, had offered to teach me to cross stitch, which was such a rave in the '80's. So I gathered my canvas, needle and yarn, and headed across the courtyard to apartment 301.

         Since our husbands worked the three to eleven shift, we visited for a while and then did our needlework together until about 11:30 pm, which was just before Mac was due to come home. 

         Let me state upfront that during the two months we were living there, I had never seen anyone, coming or going, in the halls of our building. Not meaning to put the North and the South into stereotyped boxes, but I just chalked this fact up to the fact that in the South, people loved to hang out together. Because of this, I found it quite odd when I arrived on my hallway and noticed that the door across from mine was ajar. It was just an observation which slipped quickly into my sub conscience and remained there till needed.

         As I fumbled with my key in the lock, I was almost overwhelmed by a strong burning scent. But who would be cooking this late at night?

         Upon entrance into my kitchen, the reality of the scene threw me into shock. What I saw were flames roaring counter-high in MY kitchen trashcan! What to do? What to do? My brain rushed to and fro, searching for an answer - a quick answer - to this dangerous dilemma!

         I must have been experiencing true shock because my first instinct was to start blowing on the fire! But this was much, much bigger than any birthday cake, so I quickly ditched this effort.

         Then I turned and scanned the kitchen looking for a better solution. My mind said, "Surely a bucket would work. But I don't have a bucket!" 
          Playing "Monday morning quarterback" would have helped me solve the problem successfully. I'm still not sure why my brain didn't approve
of the strong, plastic, rectangle bin sitting quietly in my kitchen sink! (I had used this to transform my single sink into a double sink.) It would've
allowed me to toss the much needed water on the fire, but somehow that bin was for washing dishes. And what I needed was a bucket!

         My next thought was to run for help, so I headed out to the hallway and literally, pushed my way into the unlocked apartment across from mine, yelling for help.

         "Coincidentally," I learned, that the guy dating the girl who lived in that apartment, used to fight fires on submarines in the Navy! He came ... he saw ... and he ran ... down to his apartment for an extinguisher. (He lived in the same building and the same floor!!) He thereby saved the entire building and possibly many lives! (And I don't know who he was, even to this day!)

         I'd love to say that everything worked out just fine, but then my husband came home. When I explained it all to him, he kindly comforted me. Good thing too because I could not have handled any more stress that night!

         Although it might have seemed a bit dangerous to sleep with an open sliding door, the smoke called for drastic measures. So we dragged the bed covers into the living room and slept on the floor in front of the opened door for clearer breathing.

         Now one might think that the worst was over, but NO, because at 4 am, someone smelled smoke, and alerted the fire department. Well, let me say that when a fireman, in all of his protective regalia, enters your home, his presence more than fills the room! Two of the firemen used their axes to chop down my kitchen counter as they checked the wires for safety.

         But it did not end here either! Because we were in a very small town, the news of my burnt blundering barbecue made the headlines in the local newspaper. Yep! Now everyone knew about my foolish inexperience with fire!

         As I look back on that entire scenario now, I can see that, once again, God protected me, especially with my foolish, or lack of, common sense! I'm so grateful that He encompasses all of the wisdom in the world - enough to cover any, and all, of us if only we would ask Him.

Lesson Learned:

One CANNOT blow out a kitchen fire.

One CAN utilize a receptacle other than a bucket to distinguish a fire.

        

James 1:5 - "But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men generously and without reproach and it will be given to him."

THE LYING CACTUS

         Do not be fooled by the name OR by the looks of something which we all know is as prickly. Of course, I'm speaking of cactuses or cactii - which
are both correct as the plural form. I checked.

         Long ago, in my much younger years, my younger years of foolishness, or my younger years of clue-less-ness, I learned a lesson the HARD way!

         My husband and I were recently transferred to Morris, Illinois outside of Joliette, which is outside of Chicago, It was a cute little "Mayberry" town.

         But I knew no one, as usual. This was because his career moves took us to many places, but we never stayed long enough to put down real roots. And without real roots, it was difficult to feel connected and to make friends.

         So my coping mechanism was to live as though I was "temporarily permanent" instead of "permanently temporary!" It's a real thing, you know!

         The setting of this important lesson brings us to a little plant nursery, of which I had a natural propensity towards. The fact that I owned 74 plants easily substantiated the fact that I loved to go plant shopping, I mean browsing. The fact that my sweet husband was willing to transport 74 said plants to and fro, across the country, was amazing in and of itself!

         I "chased a rabbit," so lets get back to the nursery. As I walked along, through the foliage-stuffed aisles, I spotted the most beautiful cactus that I had ever seen. (Now, being from New Orleans, this did not necessarily give me a great deal of history with cactii, but this plant was very "good on the eye.")

         To say that I couldn't help myself is an understatement here. But I really couldn't! It was as if that precious little green, velvety plant with the soft-looking red spines, was calling out to me to, not only touch it, but to rub my fingertips up and down it's flat surface.

         So I succumbed and I did it! It did feel very velvety, just like it looked, but ... what I was left with caused me to meet a new neighbor. I know that sounds strange, but it really happened.

         Footnote here: I am right handed and now my right thumb and pointer finger were COVERED with easily hundreds of little short, red splintery spines. Whoops! Now what do I do? I asked myself.

         I was able to drive myself back to the apartment, but then my dilemma rose to expounded heights.    

         After considering my limited options, (My honey was at work,) I decided upon a kind-enough-looking lady whom I had seen strolling her baby, but had never really met. She looked nice enough; after all, she was a mom!

         So I timidly made my way down the seemingly forever-long hall from my apartment to hers. During my arduous walk, I had plenty enough time to rehearse my lines.

         "Knock, knock, knock," I knocked on her door. As I waited, I swallowed a large piece of "humble pie" before making my MAJOR request of this innocent stranger.

         When she answered said door, I introduced myself and then I hit her with the reason for my unexpected visit.

         As I held up a pair of tweezers, I let the request roll right off my tongue and into her ears. I asked, "Would you be willing to remove the hundreds of tiny, red spines from my fingertip and thumb?"

         How embarrassing! But she actually agreed to take on my unusual request. Good thing for me, the baby was asleep.

         So that is how I met Barbara P of Morris, Illinois. (So thank you again, Barbara, if you are reading this. I have gained a little more wisdom about life by now.)

Lesson Learned:

Even if a cactus looks soft and velvety, do NOT touch OR rub it!!

But if you HAVE to touch it, do not do so with your predominant hand.

There could possibly be more interesting ways to meet a neighbor, but this is definitely a unique way to do so.

Meet and Greet

         
                               MEET AND GREET

      It seems rather appropriate that I introduce myself before I step into the vulnerable zone of "heart revealing blogdom." 

      As a girl growing up in the 50's, somehow the options for girl names were basically limited to Debbie, Kathy, Linda, Mary, or Susan. I came away with Linda - it's pretty plain but I guess it suits me. (I recently read that the name Linda is returning to popularity, but I'll have to wait and see before I believe that.)

      I was born and raised in New Orleans as the oldest of five children. Large families and a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) were typical of all of the families I knew. This was easy to understand because families only had one car anyway. So the family had a lot of bonding time together.

      My hometown is a city steeped in rich history complete with a mix-match of French and Spanish cultures, as well as others. The personality of its people is quite colorful, and family-oriented ("How's ya mama an dem?" is a typical question which means, How's the family?) 

      With the Cajun and Creole spices and cuisines being so prevalent, you can guess that somebody's cooking up some red beans and rice or boiling some crab, crawfish, or shrimp. (Just thinking about, and typing these words, makes my mouth water and stimulates my olfactory nerve to go into "crave" mode.) New Orleans is, hands down, the most memorable place to eat!  

      My honey and I met in sophomore year of high school. I went to an all-girl school and he, an all-boy school, and we met at a basketball game. Sport arenas, no matter how small, were a great place to "mix it up." We dated for 7.5 years before cementing our lives together with our "I Do's" at a June wedding. (You can do the math.)

      From the "get go," I never intended to go to college, but since my honey was heading off to LSU, ... need I say more. We never had a lot of money, so my daddy worked two jobs, and then three at Christmas, to support the five of us through private school. So asking to go to college took a lot of finesse on my part. I clearly remember begging my daddy to let me go. I told him, it was (no kidding) only $468 a semester! So somehow, I was off to LSU.

      I majored in Early Childhood Development, although I never once aspired to use my degree. But I always knew that I wanted to have children, so I figured this major would help me prepare for that. 

      I was married to my high school sweetheart for forty-two years and during that time, his job required twenty moves!  (Yes ... I did say twenty moves!) When people hear that I've moved twenty times and lived in six states during my first pregnancy, they can't help but ask which branch of the service my husband served with. And I always had to say, nuclear service as he was a nuclear engineer.

      I birthed five children - raised four and one was lifted away to heavenly places. As they grew, I sensed the call to begin home schooling them. So after much prayer, and with my husband in agreement, I did just that for seventeen years. (And yes you can, too, if God calls you to it.) What a joy!

       I have done a lot of different things in my life, but I have rarely gotten paid for anything I have ever done. So I guess I am considered a full time "volunteer extraordinaire" at heart. I love people and I love helping them. So when I'm not writing, my calendar fills up with opportunities to help others including foreigners, women transitioning from prison, and widows.

     Each of these commitments is fueled by God who, strangely enough, trusts me enough to pour Himself out through me. (Now that's a privilege I don't take lightly.) 

      Whenever I have said "yes" to Him, I have reaped bountiful benefits of seeing HIM in action. And that never ceases to amaze me.

       My faith story will unfold throughout my writings as I document the amazing work I see Him doing all around me. So be prepared to see the great I AM revealed through these pages. The Scriptures ring true saying, "without Him ... I can do nothing."

       As women, our lives progress through many stages of life and relationships have their way of defining us.

      Our tiny beginnings as a baby progress to girl, to sister, to teenager, to girlfriend, to fiance, to bride, to wife, to mother, to mother-BY-love, to Nana, and many times, it culminates with widowhood. I have "achieved" each of these levels, with the last one being the most challenging. 

       So wherever you are on the female spectrum, you can honestly rest because God's plan encompasses all of it. Nothing takes Him by surprise. He is the Master Weaver and He weaves the joys and the pains of our lives as threads ultimately used for His glory. 

     Hopefully, my precious, and VERY patient, "blog teacher" is ready to launch me from the coziness of once a week/month lessons, into the great unknown blog world!

     I am beginning to believe that maybe I am a writer because the notepad on my phone is overflowing with ideas. Then there's the "I can't wait until I get some time to write about that" feeling. This must be a sign, right? 

     I actually started this project writing by hand on loose leaf paper which, not surprisingly, landed me in the middle of a plethora of "loose" leaves of paper. But as of late, I have morphed from paper to my laptop. (Boy, that delete key is definitely quicker than my best eraser.)

     My writing style is pretty easy to explain because I write just like I would talk to you if you and I were on my back porch ... plain and a lot! I wonder if you can hear my THICK Noo Awlins' accent coming through the typed print? I know, for sure, that my Southern-isms will make their way to the surface throughout my writings. 

      My plan is to compartmentalize my writing into a variety of topical blogs - running the gamete from my spiritual walk, with serious truths as well as the almost ridiculous, to more somber musings on grief and beyond. So be sure to look for the topic which most appeals to you.

     The desire of my heart is to encourage and inspire you, and hoping not to ruffle too many feathers ... unless they're inspiring feathers, that is. 

     Honestly, I would enjoy your feedback if it's positive, or even requests for new topics, which may inspire me to tickle the keyboard keys with further musings. (Is it even possible for one to "tickle the keys" on something other than those on a piano?)

     I may break all the rules of "blogdom" but I'm not afraid! So here we go! 

           © Linda Hurstell and lindahurstell.blogspot.com, 2018. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Linda Hurstell and lindahurstell.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

      
      

art

Destined to Write

      This is the wild attempt to do something I knew I was destined to do .... WRITE!

      I have always believed that everyone has a book inside them but I knew, for SURE, that I have had one inside of me for a very long time.

       The thought of doing such a thing was sparked by numerous - and I do mean numerous - friends, relatives, and even strangers, and (most importantly) my husband - all telling me that I should write a book! 

       So here I am writing a BLOG, the very word of which wasn't even invented when I started this project. The dictionary says "BLOG" originated from the word "weblog" and dates somewhere between 1995 and 2000.

      For a very long time, the idea of writing just sat quietly in a secret spot in my private heart of hearts. The root of the reality of it festered deep within me. It was combined and tightly wrapped, with a very real fear of ever allowing it to surface.

      Years ago, I began encapsulating our lives in the form of a Christmas letter to family and friends. Because we have always lived out of town, and away from family, the need to keep in touch with them made this essential.
      I call it essential because to us, family is very, very important. And as the years relentlessly marched on, more of our extended family have scattered across the country.

       My annual Christmas letter began in 1981 and has, thus far, continued through 2017. Now, it never seemed like a very significant thing to do, much less to even call it a project. And I must admit that I never dreamed of it becoming "a thing." But when I look back through that rubber-banded stack of annual letters, I see that it has morphed into a family history book!

      Of course, when I finally sat down to formally begin the work of writing, it meant no turning back. But still, it was not a reality until I began to admit to people that I was, in fact, writing. Now, it's "out there!" Wow!

      Once I started to honestly set aside time to write, it became "a thing" ... took on an entity of itself.. a work in progress.. a fulfillment within my heart that has kick-started me forward in this somewhat scary endeavor.
      I say scary because one has to climb up on the altar of vulnerability to be willing to let people see inside your soul.
        This adventure may, or may not, be very enlightening or even entertaining to you, but still, all I can do is follow through and do my part. I do this task by faith, with a deep-down knowing that I'm supposed to pursue this course of action.

      So because you are even reading this, you must be, at least, a little curious - curious enough to tag along into the unknown spaces of the real me. 

      I do promise you that each of these musings is TRUE, although I may have to change some names - just to "protect the innocent." (This is possibly a reference to an old tv show called "Dragnet.")

      Through my writings, I may divulge a serious lesson I had to learn or just reveal unbelievable silliness, which I find too good to let fall away into the great abyss of the forgotten moments of my life.

       So, whether serious heaviness or silly lightheartedness, I persevere to follow in obedience to "that still small voice" within me who urges me to press on.

      Only HE will decide when and where to use these warnings, lessons, and encouraging words. What you "do" with this is up to you, but I welcome you on this maiden journey of mine.

      My hope is that, at the least, someone will be inspired to join me in overcoming the scary unknown and begin to write their very own book. 
      So onward I type ... in faith! To Him be the glory for the great, and sometimes amusing, things He has done!