No matter what others may say, Houston has become a mighty romantic place to hang out, if you like art and ethnic food.
Check in and stay for a long romantic weekend at the Hotel ZaZa, smack dab in the center of the Museum District and only a few blocks from all things medical in Houston. Newly renovated, I recommend shopping online for one of the ZaZa’s spacious suites overlooking their sparkling Mediterranean-inspired swimming pool. Check for deals on any ZaSpa packages.
Besides the obvious, like Houston’s Museum of Fine Arts directly across the street from the ZaZa, this international city also has an often-overlooked sampling of art created and collected with a spiritual perspective.
For instance, there’s the Byzantine Fresco Chapel, which was created to rescue a set of stolen and ransomed frescoes. By 1992, the city of Houston and the Menil Foundation had teamed up to become the stewards of the frescoes, which forever belong to the Church of Cyprus. The church is reclaiming them, so they will be going home soon.
Don’t miss the Rothko Chapel, an internationally known draw, with its focus on human rights. If you are traveling with traditionalists, prepare them for the minimalist flavor of the chapel, so they can experience quiet with a meditative heart.
“It has become a pilgrimage for thousands of visitors who are drawn by its importance both as an artistic masterpiece and as a gathering place for people of all religious beliefs,” according to Rothko literature.
I recommend a visit to the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Cathedral, only a few blocks from Hotel ZaZa and the Rothko Chapel. If you are there on a Sunday, visitors are welcome to join worship. On other days of the week, priests are gracious and hospitable about informing respectful visitors about the significance of icons in Greek Orthodox tradition.
If you are a bibliophile, stop by the book store while you are at the church for a thorough selection of all things related to icons and icon painting, along with great choices in Greek heritage and the history of Greek immigration to America.
As long as Greek is on the art tour, why not take in cultural cuisine, too?
Choosing one or two items off the extensive menu at Byzantio Café and Bar is impossible. So, meet friends and order a huge spread to try it all.
Every bite is delicious, from the lamb souvlaki to the hummus to the gyros, and especially the tzatziki sauce.
With neighbors and regulars laughing and greeting each other across the restaurant, Byzantio feels like a great big Greek American family reunion.
And since you are having an art holiday, don’t miss the photography on the walls. Personal and expressive, we especially enjoyed the depictions of the local belly dancers who perform at the restaurant every Thursday night.
Belly dancing; a perfect excuse to start a romantic weekend in Houston early.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Showing posts with label spiritual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Empty Suitcases
We only keep what we give away.
When a young mom gave birth to her first son, she received lots of presents from friends who knew she didn’t have anything for a boy.
One gift stood out, though. Rather than buy a gift, this friend, the mother of two older boys, went to her own sentimental box and gift-wrapped a Baby’s First Christmas bib and a beautiful piece of art from her own nursery.
A few months later, at the crack of dawn, the young mother received a phone call. The friend’s house had burned down in the night.
In the days that followed, it became clear that the only mementos her friend would be able to retrieve, like pictures of her children, were going to be the ones she had given away to grandparents and friends, including a bib and a piece of art from her own nursery.
I know this is a true story because my friend gave me the bib and the art when my son was born.
Recently, a lady told me a story about her husband, which illustrates the truth about hilarious giving.
This family makes regular trips to a beloved third world country, but on their first trip, they were overwhelmed by all the physical needs that go unmet daily in that place.
As they were packing to return home that first time, her husband suddenly flipped over his suitcase and dumped all the contents on the bed.
“We are giving this all away,” he announced with excitement.
Knowing how Americans travel, I can easily imagine a suitcase stuffed with blue jeans, t-shirts, button-downs, and several pairs of shoes, all things of extreme value in a country where people often go hungry and barefoot.
Having made many friends in the weeks they were there, they immediately found folks who received the goods joyously.
“Who wants this shirt? Who needs flip flops?”
Imagine the excitement as they tossed each item across a room crowded with folks who had gathered to see them off.
Her husband left with empty suitcases, but I bet his heart was full.
And imagine how he blessed his own wife and kiddoes.
We only keep what we give away.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
When a young mom gave birth to her first son, she received lots of presents from friends who knew she didn’t have anything for a boy.
One gift stood out, though. Rather than buy a gift, this friend, the mother of two older boys, went to her own sentimental box and gift-wrapped a Baby’s First Christmas bib and a beautiful piece of art from her own nursery.
A few months later, at the crack of dawn, the young mother received a phone call. The friend’s house had burned down in the night.
In the days that followed, it became clear that the only mementos her friend would be able to retrieve, like pictures of her children, were going to be the ones she had given away to grandparents and friends, including a bib and a piece of art from her own nursery.
I know this is a true story because my friend gave me the bib and the art when my son was born.
Recently, a lady told me a story about her husband, which illustrates the truth about hilarious giving.
This family makes regular trips to a beloved third world country, but on their first trip, they were overwhelmed by all the physical needs that go unmet daily in that place.
As they were packing to return home that first time, her husband suddenly flipped over his suitcase and dumped all the contents on the bed.
“We are giving this all away,” he announced with excitement.
Knowing how Americans travel, I can easily imagine a suitcase stuffed with blue jeans, t-shirts, button-downs, and several pairs of shoes, all things of extreme value in a country where people often go hungry and barefoot.
Having made many friends in the weeks they were there, they immediately found folks who received the goods joyously.
“Who wants this shirt? Who needs flip flops?”
Imagine the excitement as they tossed each item across a room crowded with folks who had gathered to see them off.
Her husband left with empty suitcases, but I bet his heart was full.
And imagine how he blessed his own wife and kiddoes.
We only keep what we give away.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Premarital Sex? Not really.
There is no such thing as premarital sex.
“How does God define marriage?” asked a wise friend one day.
I never would have thought of asking such a thing. I was too busy accepting the status quo.
“Isn’t it somewhere in the Old Testament?” I asked, even though I couldn’t think of a place. “Leviticus maybe?”
I figure if I don’t remember it, it’s probably in Leviticus.
Think of how important the answer to that question is.
For instance, if we got our doctrine straight on this issue, the issue of same sex marriage would not have ever come up in American politics.
Oh sure, folks who think of themselves as gay would still need legal protection from rude people.
But, marriage is not defined by a legal document. The state actually has very little authority in this arena.
In fact, the laws in place are only necessary because humans tend to be exceptionally rude to each other, including sometime being exceptionally rude to the people they love.
The church has no authority over the arena of marriage either, although most Christians wouldn’t dream of having a wedding without a preacher.
So who defines marriage and when does it take place?
Can you think of a place in the Old Testament where the Bible offers us a format for wedding ceremonies?
What about a place anywhere in the New Testament where the government’s legal responsibilities are described.
I’m just saying.
So, what did my friend say when I guessed Leviticus?
“Cathy, think about it. What did Jesus say about marriage?” This friend is always the epitome of patience and compassion for me in my ignorance.
“The two shall become one flesh?” I guessed again.
Bingo!
Okay, then I had to think about it a whole year before I admitted that she was correct.
Some things are just too obvious to be true, right?
By the way, there is no such thing as premarital sex.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Heroic Mothers
You won’t read about her in history books.
In fact, you almost wouldn’t read about her at all, except for one small thing; her son mentioned her. I was interviewing her son and daughter-in-law about their experiences growing up in segregated East Texas for a series I am doing on African American high schools in our region.
It turns out his mom sowed the seeds of justice in his heart in the 1950s when he was just a young kid.
What she did was simple.
She loaded up a pickup truck with every brave soul she could find who would participate in her well-intentioned misadventure.
She was the mother of eleven children; I admire her courage for that alone.
The pickup was loaded with a cargo of humans who were mostly her offspring and a few close friends who didn’t have the heart to say no to this determined woman. The stakes were high for her, based on who was in the back of that truck.
Their small band of parents and children, not much of an army, stormed the Brownsboro school district’s administration building in broad day light, walked right into the Superintendent’s office, and demanded enrollment with the white students of Brownsboro Independent School District.
David and Goliath. No odds maker in his right mind would take that bet.
In fact, nothing much changed.
Some of her neighbors thought she was crazy for stirring up trouble and they didn’t mind telling her so, but that was about it.
Nothing changed, except for the seeds planted in the hearts of her kids.
She didn’t know she was heroic.
Gertrude Cofer Evans of Moore Station, Texas.
Remember that name.
Not because she would want the attention. Not because you’ll ever see it in a history book.
But because she stood up for what was right.
And she taught her kids do so.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
In fact, you almost wouldn’t read about her at all, except for one small thing; her son mentioned her. I was interviewing her son and daughter-in-law about their experiences growing up in segregated East Texas for a series I am doing on African American high schools in our region.
It turns out his mom sowed the seeds of justice in his heart in the 1950s when he was just a young kid.
What she did was simple.
She loaded up a pickup truck with every brave soul she could find who would participate in her well-intentioned misadventure.
She was the mother of eleven children; I admire her courage for that alone.
The pickup was loaded with a cargo of humans who were mostly her offspring and a few close friends who didn’t have the heart to say no to this determined woman. The stakes were high for her, based on who was in the back of that truck.
Their small band of parents and children, not much of an army, stormed the Brownsboro school district’s administration building in broad day light, walked right into the Superintendent’s office, and demanded enrollment with the white students of Brownsboro Independent School District.
David and Goliath. No odds maker in his right mind would take that bet.
In fact, nothing much changed.
Some of her neighbors thought she was crazy for stirring up trouble and they didn’t mind telling her so, but that was about it.
Nothing changed, except for the seeds planted in the hearts of her kids.
She didn’t know she was heroic.
Gertrude Cofer Evans of Moore Station, Texas.
Remember that name.
Not because she would want the attention. Not because you’ll ever see it in a history book.
But because she stood up for what was right.
And she taught her kids do so.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Easter gloves and hats
I am old enough to remember when no one went to Easter Sunday service without gloves and a hat.
Say what you want to about the 60s, but the fashion was historic.
There is something so spiritual for a tiny girl about having to keep beautiful white gloves clean.
No easy assignment.
However, as if to compensate for the responsibility of gloves, there was the incentive of the perfect new straw hat, haloed in ribbon and silk flowers, delicious enough to buzz with tiny, felt bumblebees and butterflies made of silk.
Nothing took the stress out of keeping gloves clean like a perfect Easter bonnet.
Over forty years later, I can’t say that I remember a single Easter Sermon.
In the days before air-conditioning, I do remember concentrating to sit perfectly still as the preacher droned on. And I remember the relief of getting to pop up and sing resurrection’s joyful and thankfully loud choruses.
Even kneeling was a relief on hot, spring Sundays because a breeze might catch you as you prayed.
In fact, the sermons were probably a waste on little ears burdened with the dignity of the proper head attire.
On the other hand, bouncing alive to glorious music accompanied by trumpets was probably the perfect metaphor for the resurrection.
Anyway, that’s the way I remember it.
May your Easter celebration include joyful music, trumpets, short sermons, and lots of children in perfect bonnets.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Say what you want to about the 60s, but the fashion was historic.
There is something so spiritual for a tiny girl about having to keep beautiful white gloves clean.
No easy assignment.
However, as if to compensate for the responsibility of gloves, there was the incentive of the perfect new straw hat, haloed in ribbon and silk flowers, delicious enough to buzz with tiny, felt bumblebees and butterflies made of silk.
Nothing took the stress out of keeping gloves clean like a perfect Easter bonnet.
Over forty years later, I can’t say that I remember a single Easter Sermon.
In the days before air-conditioning, I do remember concentrating to sit perfectly still as the preacher droned on. And I remember the relief of getting to pop up and sing resurrection’s joyful and thankfully loud choruses.
Even kneeling was a relief on hot, spring Sundays because a breeze might catch you as you prayed.
In fact, the sermons were probably a waste on little ears burdened with the dignity of the proper head attire.
On the other hand, bouncing alive to glorious music accompanied by trumpets was probably the perfect metaphor for the resurrection.
Anyway, that’s the way I remember it.
May your Easter celebration include joyful music, trumpets, short sermons, and lots of children in perfect bonnets.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Living with Autism
Learning about the Autism Spectrum will be a process for me, but one thing has struck me as I listen; the variety and beauty of God’s design for humans is about as vivid, and, yes, as challenging as any human can imagine.
The following was sent in for you because I asked for help finding ways to let people know about living with Autism.
A day in the life of caring for a 25-year-old son with Autism
By Cynthia Matlock
Having an adult son with Autism is challenging and entertaining.
From a distance my son looks like a typical 6’, 220 lb young man about to cross your path until you question his sudden laughter, song, or repeating a phrase over and over again.
Each day requires thinking, predicting, and planning for behavior triggers that may cause a scene, especially when you go out in the public.
One day I drove to my local grocery store and told him to get out of the car.
He said he would stay in the car.
That’s good, I thought. If I hurry I will not have to worry about losing him in the store.
He loves to just walk around or put a bag of “hot fries” in my buggy.
So I went in, picked up a few things, checked out, and headed back to the car quickly.
When I got to the car he was gone. Imagine the panic.
My hope was he stayed in his routine, which is pacing the store or going to the restroom in the store.
“Routine” is important for those who live with Autism Spectrum. Changing their routine can be a major alteration or frustration to their day and your day.
Luckily he can read and goes in the correct facility, the men’s.
Being a lady, I asked the manager to check if my son was in the men’s restroom. The manager walked in the restroom briefly, came out, and informed me that he was still in there.
I waited outside the door about three or four minutes.
My son has an obsession of admiring himself in a mirror and smiling again and again. Impatiently, I cracked the door and shouted for him to hurry!
I then started walking toward the front of the store. Out the corner of my eye I saw the man, not my son, come out the bathroom.
Then, straight ahead I saw that my son was already going out the front door ahead of me to the car. Realizing my mix up, I made my escape quickly, hoping my flushed face didn’t show.
Oh boy, another day in the life of an adult with Autism.
Some days you just shake your head and smile.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
The following was sent in for you because I asked for help finding ways to let people know about living with Autism.
A day in the life of caring for a 25-year-old son with Autism
By Cynthia Matlock
Having an adult son with Autism is challenging and entertaining.
From a distance my son looks like a typical 6’, 220 lb young man about to cross your path until you question his sudden laughter, song, or repeating a phrase over and over again.
Each day requires thinking, predicting, and planning for behavior triggers that may cause a scene, especially when you go out in the public.
One day I drove to my local grocery store and told him to get out of the car.
He said he would stay in the car.
That’s good, I thought. If I hurry I will not have to worry about losing him in the store.
He loves to just walk around or put a bag of “hot fries” in my buggy.
So I went in, picked up a few things, checked out, and headed back to the car quickly.
When I got to the car he was gone. Imagine the panic.
My hope was he stayed in his routine, which is pacing the store or going to the restroom in the store.
“Routine” is important for those who live with Autism Spectrum. Changing their routine can be a major alteration or frustration to their day and your day.
Luckily he can read and goes in the correct facility, the men’s.
Being a lady, I asked the manager to check if my son was in the men’s restroom. The manager walked in the restroom briefly, came out, and informed me that he was still in there.
I waited outside the door about three or four minutes.
My son has an obsession of admiring himself in a mirror and smiling again and again. Impatiently, I cracked the door and shouted for him to hurry!
I then started walking toward the front of the store. Out the corner of my eye I saw the man, not my son, come out the bathroom.
Then, straight ahead I saw that my son was already going out the front door ahead of me to the car. Realizing my mix up, I made my escape quickly, hoping my flushed face didn’t show.
Oh boy, another day in the life of an adult with Autism.
Some days you just shake your head and smile.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Truth, Justice, and the American Way
Justice is something Americans take for granted.
Like last week’s newspaper, we don’t think about it at all unless we need it for some reason.
But when we suffer an injustice, we suddenly crave justice, we search it out, and we complain if we can’t get it. And we keep complaining. Sometimes for years. For as long as it takes.
Last year, I got to be useful in a small way that mattered to me personally; I was part of a team that accomplished a little moment of historic justice. My part was a small thing. I just wrote a story that needed to be told.
It was printed in a little weekly paper that people tend to take for granted by an editor who, like all editors, happens to be underpaid.
The real hero was the man who was chosen, along with the only other three African Americans involved, to fill the draft quota for Henderson County out of a pool of 22 young men during the Vietnam era. Only four men were needed to fill the quota. The only four men chosen were the four black guys out of the twenty-two possible men. All the white guys went home to their mamas that day.
Coincidence that those four names were randomly drawn? Dumb luck? Not likely.
You almost had to live through the civil rights era to get how pernicious racism can be.
If you missed the story, my friend lived through the war and developed an attitude that reminds me of Joseph, “What you intended for evil, God intended for good.” He is a true American hero.
Justice is something we take for granted.
We read our newspaper and we don’t even think about how the stories affect our culture. How they make us all aware of injustices and provide an opportunity for communities to come together and address problems, to right wrongs.
Our forefathers made the FIRST amendment Freedom of Speech simply because a free culture depends on truth. Our local press – unencumbered by government jurisdiction - gives us an avenue to express our love of a vibrant community conversation.
Sometimes, justice is accomplished like a sigh of relief – without courts or law enforcement – simply because someone finally spoke up and said what we all knew to be true.
Our local newspaper is a place to declare what we believe to be true and self-evident.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Blame Now; Credit Later
“I’ll take the blame now because it will be credit later,” said the father of my children, amidst the protests of an unhappy family including me.
Now we quote him on a regular basis when decisions require a backbone.
My own dad has some gem-dandy ways of making us think.
“Will it matter in two years?” was his favorite response whenever I worried about the trials teenagers face in high school.
When folks are unkind to us now, I quote my dad to my kids as we walk away. “They probably have hemorrhoids,” was his way of telling us as kids to be patient because you never know what personal stuff might be going on in someone’s life to make ‘em cranky.
Since college students often get bogged down in choosing what they believe to be their life-long career, my dad also gave my kiddoes some sage advice when they started college, “Set a goal and change it if you change your mind.” He told them that in the long run they would get farther by moving ahead, rather than wavering in uncertainty.
What are some other favorite words from dads?
"I love you and I'm proud of you!" answered a friend of mine who is well respected in newspaper circles, is an ex-coach, and happens to be a nurturing person himself.
Another well-known and well-loved friend wrote this: "There are many... but first comes to mind the very last words he spoke to me. The day before he died, I was sitting on his hospital bed. He leaned over, hugged me, and said, "I'm proud of you, sugar.""
It seems there is a correlation between nurturing dads and success, doesn’t there?
Speaking of success and wise perspectives, one friend added this: "After dropping by yesterday and getting up to leave (his dad said)- "No need to hurry, why don't you stay a little longer?""
“Are you okay?” is the first question that my husband remembers clearly when as a teenager he called his dad to report that he had just wrecked the car.
Which brings me back to my husband’s comment about blame and credit.
Dads who are willing to take a hit - out of conviction about what is best for their kids - get kudos at the finish line.
Happy Father’s Day to all, especially my own dad.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
How to Raise Faithful Kids
Our family adopted a beautiful, smart black and white Border Collie from a rescue shelter for our son when his big sisters left for college a few years ago.
We brainstormed and came up with a list of fifty or so names, including terrific choices like “Scout” from To Kill a Mockingbird.
“Lucy. I want to name my dog after my wife,” demanded the 8-year-old, proud new owner of man’s best friend.
I’m not sure how that’s going to work out, but the dog’s name is Lucy. Up until that moment, it had also been his prayer nickname for his future spouse.
So, how do you teach a child to care about someone they haven’t met yet?
-Teach your kids the true answers to the question, “How does God define marriage?” This includes answers to questions like, “When is a marriage official in God’s sight?” and “What are God’s purposes for marriage?”
-Don’t wait until they are teenagers to think and talk about their future spouses. Begin today.
-Be reasonable and consistent about dating. All kids need some social interaction, but do they really need to be alone as a couple in a car? Group activities are so much healthier and more practical than pairing up.
-Set a high standard for yourself as a parent. Be strict with yourself about how you interact with your co-workers and friends of the opposite sex.
-Say encouraging things to your kids, like “Your future spouse is out there right this minute” or “Your school friends may be the ones to introduce you to your future spouse” or my personal favorite, “Would you really want your friends telling her that you crushed on every girl in middle school?”
-Have fun as a family. Welcome your children into the social aspects of your life when they are small and they’ll be more likely to include you in their lives when they are teens. Make life fun.
I can’t wait to meet my future daughter-in-law. I just hope her name isn’t really Lucy. It could be awkward.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Resolutions. Really?
I just hate resolutions. They sound so political. As if we are proposing some government agreement that is personally binding. Ick. As appealing as taxes.
“I set 8 goals last year and I’ve only got one left,” said a twenty-something friend about November of last year.
I was impressed; my resolutions never make it into February. Plus, eight is less than one accomplishment a month. Definitely do-able.
And it was cool stuff, too, like a bucket list.
“I’m sending you the abridged version,” laughed my friend when I asked him for his 2010 list. Before I could wonder what he left off, he added, “It’s going to include swimming in the Krafve’s pool once a week.”
In 2009, this young man managed to run a half marathon in under two hours, open a Roth IRA, save money for retirement, begin saving money for a down payment on a house, buy a serious piece of fun sports equipment, build his website, come close to running a six-minute mile, pull together one of his projects and submit it for a state-wide award.
He’s not even 25-years-old yet. Wow!
Notice how measurable and practical his ideas are. And there’s fun in the mix.
So, what’s he got on the agenda for 2010?
-Run a half-mile in under 1:50.
-Run a 6-minute mile.
-Learn to play harmonica
-Read the bible every day; no matter how short the passage. At least crack it open.
-Win a work-related award.
-Open a money market account and invest.
-Become conversational in Spanish.
-Do a 100-mile bike race.
-Choose a three-course meal and perfect cooking it.
Yeah, I like his list so much, I’m having trouble making my own set of goals for 2010.
Let’s just tell the truth; a fifty-something mom-type is not going to run a six-minute mile. However, but I am thinking of putting at least one of his ideas on my own list.
Yeah, if you change swimming, to laying out by the pool and working on my tan once a week, I’ll have the beginning of a list I can relate to.
Goals. I like the sound of that. And I still have eleven months to go.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Monday, December 7, 2009
People-Watching to the Sound of a Bell
I saw two fragile little gals with walkers, the fancy kind with a seat and four wheels, who braved the crowds to be with loved ones.
I saw grandmothers with daughters and granddaughters, three generations of women reflecting strong genetic similarities, mutually committed to the afternoon’s purpose.
I heard patient husbands sound the familiar honk that signaled where they were waiting in the parking lot.
I saw infants in strollers, sleeping soundly through the hubbub all around them.
I saw teenage boys with their arm around mom, giving her their most convincing, charming arguments of persuasion.
I saw giggly teenage girls walking past in craft-inspired flip flops.
I saw a glamorous middle-aged lady with lots of bling in zebra print leggings.
I saw brothers and cousins in overalls carrying heavy packages for the ladies to the pick-up truck.
I saw elementary school children, too many to count, give their parents a significant look as they walked past me.
I heard laughter and joking.
I saw newly-weds reach deep in the pockets of their sweat pants for change to share.
I saw genteel, kindly grandfathers, many of whom had hosted lunch for the whole family, open leather wallets stuffed full of crisp bills.
I heard one young man ask his mom, “What about the change left over from Dairy Queen, Mom?”
I saw toddlers too small to see the top of the kettle stretch to put their first pennies and nickels in.
I saw young mothers begin the process of teaching their kiddoes that there are people in our community that don’t have what they need and that sharing is a good thing.
When I called out the familiar “God bless you,” one lady respond that she certainly needed God’s blessing.
I saw and heard all of this in two short hours on the day I rang the bell for the very first time in my life.
When my relief crew came, it was a spritely, sweet grandmother who claimed that the two teenage granddaughters she brought with her “came all the way from Arizona to ring the bell.”
I hear the Salvation Army still has some places left for those willing to volunteer a few hours of their time. Contact Cindy Bell with The Salvation Army, 903.592.4361.
So much to see and hear in only a few short hours.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Friday, November 20, 2009
A Community Full of Reason to Give Thanks
There’s a chill in the air and we are alive to enjoy it.
Two reason to give thanks.
Each year at this time I make out a short list of reasons I am thankful and I send them all a small gift, before I start cooking for Thanksgiving or shopping for Christmas.
Why? Because I like to remember what really matters to me, right before the holiday rush competes to short circuit my soul.
So, who is on my Thanksgiving list this year?
-Bethesda Health Clinic. Serving the working, uninsured of Smith County, this group brings together volunteers from all walks of life, including hundreds of doctors, dentists, and nurses. Bethesda also unites churches of all denominations to provide affordable, top-notch health care and they do it all without one penny from our government. Pretty impressive. 409 W. Ferguson, Tyler TX, 903.596.8353.
-Bullard Education Foundation. With our government dictating how we have to spend our own tax dollars, local foundations put local control back in the hands of community leaders whose heart beat is the education of our own kiddoes. PO Box 928, Bullard, TX 75757, 903.894.6639.
-Discovery Science Place. East Texas children can grow up running through the bat cave and vibrating on the earthquake without ever realizing that it was a form of education. 308 N. Broadway, Tyler TX 75702, 903.533.8011.
-East Texas Rescue Mission of Tyler. Being a journalist takes me into new territory every day, but this year the thing that touched my heart most was to learn how many people we have sleeping on the streets in East Texas. I like this group’s approach because they make a long term commitment to those willing to take personal responsibility and apply spiritual solutions. 1023 N Glenwood Blvd, Tyler, TX 75702-5058, 903.592.9400.
-Pine Cove Christian Camps. I love the way Pine Cove ministers to families and kiddoes, soldiers’ families, young and old people, near and far, the privileged and the underprivileged. But my favorite thing is the way they train young men to be servant leaders. PO Box 9055, Tyler TX 75711, 903.561.0231.
Is East Texas unique in the way people are so committed to helping others? Or maybe its just part of a bigger American way of thinking that is built into our heritage and identity. Who knows?
All I know is I am thankful.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Ur Bst Golf
Golf is the only sport I know of where talented, athletic types brag about how bad their game is. For this reason, bookish, klutzy folks like me are totally endeared to the game; a sport that tends to convert perfectly normal people to instant looniness almost immediately.
I don’t usually do book reviews in this column, but today I’m going to make an exception for Ur Bst Golf, local author Ken Dance’s new book.
Don’t let the easy-to-read, informal tone, or the pocket size fool you. It is packed with helpful tips, humor, and wisdom, making it fun and informative at the same time. And it’s soooo local; here’s a sample:
“Sometimes the mere mention of a certain hole on a certain course can cause our palms to sweat. I know number nine at Hollytree in Tyler, Texas has ruined many a round for many golfers.” He goes on to explain that, instead of thinking yourself into a bad game, “The goal of confidence is to intentionally transform a positive thought into a present reality.”
He includes practical hints for winning the game of acquiring confidence in golf- and in life.
Ken dissects the elements of golf in a way that even newbies to the sport can understand.
In his section subtitled “Precision: a Combination of Distance and Direction,” Ken emphasizes that they are interdependent.
“I once played with a guy who achieved a world record for distance traveled. The first hole on the course was parallel to a very busy street in Dallas. When he hooked his drive, the ball took two bounces on the street and landed inside the raised door of a moving van just as it passed by. I’m not sure where that ball eventually went, but I know it went further than any ball I’ve ever hit. Distance isn’t everything.”
Ur Bst Golf is the perfect stocking stuffer. Or, because it is so local and personal, it is a great gift to send to friends in other places when we brag about how wonderful Texas is. (I can’t be the only person sending obnoxiously Texas stuff to all my friends, right?) Contact Ken at kendance@suddenlink.net or go to Amazon.com or BARNESandNOBLE.com.
Ken wouldn’t want me to write about his book without mentioning that the Chick-Fil-A Bethesda Golf Classic is coming up Oct 2 at Oakhurst. He often plays this tournament with his grandkids; it’s a friendly, relaxed opportunity to include newly addicted golf fans, young or old.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
I don’t usually do book reviews in this column, but today I’m going to make an exception for Ur Bst Golf, local author Ken Dance’s new book.
Don’t let the easy-to-read, informal tone, or the pocket size fool you. It is packed with helpful tips, humor, and wisdom, making it fun and informative at the same time. And it’s soooo local; here’s a sample:
“Sometimes the mere mention of a certain hole on a certain course can cause our palms to sweat. I know number nine at Hollytree in Tyler, Texas has ruined many a round for many golfers.” He goes on to explain that, instead of thinking yourself into a bad game, “The goal of confidence is to intentionally transform a positive thought into a present reality.”
He includes practical hints for winning the game of acquiring confidence in golf- and in life.
Ken dissects the elements of golf in a way that even newbies to the sport can understand.
In his section subtitled “Precision: a Combination of Distance and Direction,” Ken emphasizes that they are interdependent.
“I once played with a guy who achieved a world record for distance traveled. The first hole on the course was parallel to a very busy street in Dallas. When he hooked his drive, the ball took two bounces on the street and landed inside the raised door of a moving van just as it passed by. I’m not sure where that ball eventually went, but I know it went further than any ball I’ve ever hit. Distance isn’t everything.”
Ur Bst Golf is the perfect stocking stuffer. Or, because it is so local and personal, it is a great gift to send to friends in other places when we brag about how wonderful Texas is. (I can’t be the only person sending obnoxiously Texas stuff to all my friends, right?) Contact Ken at kendance@suddenlink.net or go to Amazon.com or BARNESandNOBLE.com.
Ken wouldn’t want me to write about his book without mentioning that the Chick-Fil-A Bethesda Golf Classic is coming up Oct 2 at Oakhurst. He often plays this tournament with his grandkids; it’s a friendly, relaxed opportunity to include newly addicted golf fans, young or old.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
You Only Keep What You Give Away
You only keep what you give away.
I was reminded of this principle again recently when I experienced the computer glitch of a writer’s worst nightmares and all my files were lost.
Bummer.
So now I am searching my gmail files for attachments and discovering that I’m glad I always share my stuff.
This week’s events reminded me of an experience that happened right after my son was born almost thirteen years ago.
My friend showed up one day with a one-of-a-kind baby gift.
Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and discovered that she had given me two tiny items from the store of things she was saving for her own grandchildren someday.
It was one of my all time favorite gifts because I understood that she was giving me something very personal, a gift of herself; a “Baby’s First Christmas” bib and an antique plaque with a dimpled cherub from the wall of the nursery her own sons had out-grown. I hung the plaque next to William’s crib and, being a Christmas baby himself, he spit up on the bib immediately.
Within months after Christmas, I received a call from a mutual friend one morning.
“Cathy, there was a fire at Joyce’s house last night. Everyone is safe.”
The scene was surreal. Her two-story home overlooking the lake, designed by an architect who was a colleague of Frank Lloyd Wright, had been a masterpiece of contemporary architecture. Now it was a charred, blackened slab.
The insurance company made an initial payment immediately and within days Joyce’s family was settled in a rent house with a convenient storage barn out back.
Where there had been family heirloom furniture, now there were practical, simple pieces like desks for the boys from Walmart.
She explained to me that the process was actually freeing somehow.
Fortunately, over the years, she had given copies of all family portraits to family members, so her pictures were already coming home.
Then we went to the barn where there was a row of plastic tubs holding the few indestructible items they had managed to salvage. We spent the day scrubbing thick, black goo off of china and the few pieces of silver that didn’t melt.
And I returned her bib and her plaque.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
I was reminded of this principle again recently when I experienced the computer glitch of a writer’s worst nightmares and all my files were lost.
Bummer.
So now I am searching my gmail files for attachments and discovering that I’m glad I always share my stuff.
This week’s events reminded me of an experience that happened right after my son was born almost thirteen years ago.
My friend showed up one day with a one-of-a-kind baby gift.
Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and discovered that she had given me two tiny items from the store of things she was saving for her own grandchildren someday.
It was one of my all time favorite gifts because I understood that she was giving me something very personal, a gift of herself; a “Baby’s First Christmas” bib and an antique plaque with a dimpled cherub from the wall of the nursery her own sons had out-grown. I hung the plaque next to William’s crib and, being a Christmas baby himself, he spit up on the bib immediately.
Within months after Christmas, I received a call from a mutual friend one morning.
“Cathy, there was a fire at Joyce’s house last night. Everyone is safe.”
The scene was surreal. Her two-story home overlooking the lake, designed by an architect who was a colleague of Frank Lloyd Wright, had been a masterpiece of contemporary architecture. Now it was a charred, blackened slab.
The insurance company made an initial payment immediately and within days Joyce’s family was settled in a rent house with a convenient storage barn out back.
Where there had been family heirloom furniture, now there were practical, simple pieces like desks for the boys from Walmart.
She explained to me that the process was actually freeing somehow.
Fortunately, over the years, she had given copies of all family portraits to family members, so her pictures were already coming home.
Then we went to the barn where there was a row of plastic tubs holding the few indestructible items they had managed to salvage. We spent the day scrubbing thick, black goo off of china and the few pieces of silver that didn’t melt.
And I returned her bib and her plaque.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Water-cooler Talk about Divorce
“Divorce was not an option, but homicide was,” laughed my friend who had chalked up sixty years of wedded bliss with her husband.
Unfortunately, the plain truth is that divorce is frequently an option.
Not just around the water cooler at work, but with anyone willing to listen, guys want to talk about their marriage when they get hurt, frustrated, and angry.
Unfortunately, there’s a pattern:
First, they blame their spouse. The guy thinking of bailing on his marriage always has a crazy wife, have you noticed? She isn’t taking her meds. His life is hell.
Next, they complain that they haven’t had sex in a long time. This is when the other guys suggest it might be time to consider divorce because who in the world could go without sex, right?
As a woman, I’d like to respond to those two ideas.
First, heads up, fellas! Desperation may look a lot like crazy, but it’s not the same thing. A woman who recognizes that her marriage is failing is going to feel desperate.
You could take her desperation as a compliment. It probably means that she still loves you. So quit blaming her and take responsibility because as a husband, you are the head of your home.
Now, about sex, here’s a news flash, fellas. Women are designed by God to like sex just as much as men. It’s a primal thing. So, if your wife is not responding to your overtures, there is probably something else working against you.
There are a lot of things it could be and I’m not a therapist. But don’t miss a chance to gently initiate conversation and changes on this issue. Your leadership could pay off in the long run in many ways, including with really great sex.
Next time you are standing at the water-cooler with a friend who is struggling, please don’t say divorce is not an option.
Instead, remind him that victory always comes with a high price. Encourage him to put on his game face and get off the bench. Please tell him that you’re on his team.
Then, the water-cooler conversation can get back to talking about your favorite teams.
We all have our favorite hero athletes, but these days the real hero is the one working to make his marriage function well. And the friends who encourage him to stay in the game.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:checklischarlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve.gmail.com.
Unfortunately, the plain truth is that divorce is frequently an option.
Not just around the water cooler at work, but with anyone willing to listen, guys want to talk about their marriage when they get hurt, frustrated, and angry.
Unfortunately, there’s a pattern:
First, they blame their spouse. The guy thinking of bailing on his marriage always has a crazy wife, have you noticed? She isn’t taking her meds. His life is hell.
Next, they complain that they haven’t had sex in a long time. This is when the other guys suggest it might be time to consider divorce because who in the world could go without sex, right?
As a woman, I’d like to respond to those two ideas.
First, heads up, fellas! Desperation may look a lot like crazy, but it’s not the same thing. A woman who recognizes that her marriage is failing is going to feel desperate.
You could take her desperation as a compliment. It probably means that she still loves you. So quit blaming her and take responsibility because as a husband, you are the head of your home.
Now, about sex, here’s a news flash, fellas. Women are designed by God to like sex just as much as men. It’s a primal thing. So, if your wife is not responding to your overtures, there is probably something else working against you.
There are a lot of things it could be and I’m not a therapist. But don’t miss a chance to gently initiate conversation and changes on this issue. Your leadership could pay off in the long run in many ways, including with really great sex.
Next time you are standing at the water-cooler with a friend who is struggling, please don’t say divorce is not an option.
Instead, remind him that victory always comes with a high price. Encourage him to put on his game face and get off the bench. Please tell him that you’re on his team.
Then, the water-cooler conversation can get back to talking about your favorite teams.
We all have our favorite hero athletes, but these days the real hero is the one working to make his marriage function well. And the friends who encourage him to stay in the game.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:checklischarlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve.gmail.com.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Pledge to the Moms of Girls
Here’s my pledge to girls’ moms: “I promise to teach my son that breaking your daughter’s heart is a big no-no.”
Having raised two girls I have some pretty strong feelings on the subject.
So does my husband and all his friends with daughters. Their ideas usually involve starting to polish their guns on the day that first baby daughter was born.
“Well, how do you expect them to find a husband if they don’t date?” asked countless parents surprised when they learned that we didn’t see the point of dating.
“How does dating a thousand Mr. Wrongs get them any closer to Mr. Right?” I always asked, but apparently that is a trick question because no one ever bothered answering.
Now the shoe is on the other foot, and I am trying hard to teach my son to be faithful to a wife he doesn’t know yet.
Apparently, I’m not the only mom that has noticed that girls can be aggressive, even in middle school.
If you have a daughter that age, she may be interested in what moms like me are telling our sons:
-Yes, son, many of the girls are annoying because they are so boy-crazy. Please be kind to them as you ignore them.
-When a girl hangs around and acts silly, please say something clear, but gentle like, “I am hanging out with the guys. Please find some girls to talk to.”
-Girls act boy-crazy because they are needy. They are needy because they are not getting enough attention at home.
-Yes, I know that girls dress in new and creative ways, calling attention to the fact that they are female. Hmm…let’s hope their parents aren’t aware of that particular outfit because that would mean that they don’t care about her enough to say no.
-No matter what happens, you are responsible not only for your actions but also for your thoughts. Girls make the decisions they make. You are the boss of your decisions and thoughts.
-If you choose to honor a girl with your attention, you don’t get to reject her later. So choose your friends carefully.
-It’s silly to date in middle school. In fact, it’s silly to date unless you are prepared to explore the commitment of marriage. Period.
That’s just the beginning. The foundational ideas. The ones I can put into print without embarrassing my son.
And this is only middle school. I hate to think how complicated high school will be.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Having raised two girls I have some pretty strong feelings on the subject.
So does my husband and all his friends with daughters. Their ideas usually involve starting to polish their guns on the day that first baby daughter was born.
“Well, how do you expect them to find a husband if they don’t date?” asked countless parents surprised when they learned that we didn’t see the point of dating.
“How does dating a thousand Mr. Wrongs get them any closer to Mr. Right?” I always asked, but apparently that is a trick question because no one ever bothered answering.
Now the shoe is on the other foot, and I am trying hard to teach my son to be faithful to a wife he doesn’t know yet.
Apparently, I’m not the only mom that has noticed that girls can be aggressive, even in middle school.
If you have a daughter that age, she may be interested in what moms like me are telling our sons:
-Yes, son, many of the girls are annoying because they are so boy-crazy. Please be kind to them as you ignore them.
-When a girl hangs around and acts silly, please say something clear, but gentle like, “I am hanging out with the guys. Please find some girls to talk to.”
-Girls act boy-crazy because they are needy. They are needy because they are not getting enough attention at home.
-Yes, I know that girls dress in new and creative ways, calling attention to the fact that they are female. Hmm…let’s hope their parents aren’t aware of that particular outfit because that would mean that they don’t care about her enough to say no.
-No matter what happens, you are responsible not only for your actions but also for your thoughts. Girls make the decisions they make. You are the boss of your decisions and thoughts.
-If you choose to honor a girl with your attention, you don’t get to reject her later. So choose your friends carefully.
-It’s silly to date in middle school. In fact, it’s silly to date unless you are prepared to explore the commitment of marriage. Period.
That’s just the beginning. The foundational ideas. The ones I can put into print without embarrassing my son.
And this is only middle school. I hate to think how complicated high school will be.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Father’s Day: A True Apology is an Act of Courage.
A true apology is an act of courage.
I was so fortunate to grow up in a home where apologies were modeled at intervals, when appropriate, by a dad who took his parenting responsibilities seriously.
I only appreciated this phenomenon, when, as an adult, I began to recognize how many of my friends had NEVER heard an apology from their dad. EVER.
Sure, my dad lost his patience with three rowdy kids from time to time. But, I never remember a time when he didn’t follow a cross word with a heartfelt apology.
For instance, in typically generous fashion, my parents decided that the thing to do was drive all three kids to Disney World. Yeah, they were habitually naive about how well-behaved their kiddoes would be in the car.
Having patiently ignored and endured two days of bickering, interrupted by complaining, my parents nerves were beginning to fray about the time we reached the freeway in California during rush hour. Finally, my dad turned around and chewed us out.
All was silent in the car.
Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the flashing lights and siren behind us that can mean only one thing; my dad was fixing to get a ticket.
As kids, it seemed like an act of God.
Amazingly, after the officer pulled away, my dad did the truly miraculous, no, heroic thing and apologized to us kids for losing his temper.
On a side note, I don’t think any one of us kids apologized for our attitudes. Personally, I remember gloating inwardly, just demonstrating again that children want justice for everyone but themselves.
There are plenty of ways to apologize which are cowardly. We’ve all experienced the kind of apology that only dodges responsibility.
So, what makes a true apology?
-Take responsibility for what you did or said. Simply and clearly, “I am sorry that I….”
-Don’t point out the other person’s faults. Period.
- Saying the words “Will you forgive me?” gives the person the chance to decide.
-Accept their answer. That’s it. If they need more time, then that’s their responsibility. You are free.
The reason the three rowdy backseat siblings like to laugh now about the time our dad got pulled over, instead of say, complaining to a psychologist, is because Dad had the guts and integrity to apologize to us. Wow.
Just a quick acknowledgement that he lost his patience with us. That’s all it took to convey a world of good mental health to his kids.
This Father’s Day, if your kids have never heard you apologize, please change the ebb and flow of your relationship by acknowledging the things that weigh on your conscience.
Give your kiddoes a heart to laugh.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
I was so fortunate to grow up in a home where apologies were modeled at intervals, when appropriate, by a dad who took his parenting responsibilities seriously.
I only appreciated this phenomenon, when, as an adult, I began to recognize how many of my friends had NEVER heard an apology from their dad. EVER.
Sure, my dad lost his patience with three rowdy kids from time to time. But, I never remember a time when he didn’t follow a cross word with a heartfelt apology.
For instance, in typically generous fashion, my parents decided that the thing to do was drive all three kids to Disney World. Yeah, they were habitually naive about how well-behaved their kiddoes would be in the car.
Having patiently ignored and endured two days of bickering, interrupted by complaining, my parents nerves were beginning to fray about the time we reached the freeway in California during rush hour. Finally, my dad turned around and chewed us out.
All was silent in the car.
Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the flashing lights and siren behind us that can mean only one thing; my dad was fixing to get a ticket.
As kids, it seemed like an act of God.
Amazingly, after the officer pulled away, my dad did the truly miraculous, no, heroic thing and apologized to us kids for losing his temper.
On a side note, I don’t think any one of us kids apologized for our attitudes. Personally, I remember gloating inwardly, just demonstrating again that children want justice for everyone but themselves.
There are plenty of ways to apologize which are cowardly. We’ve all experienced the kind of apology that only dodges responsibility.
So, what makes a true apology?
-Take responsibility for what you did or said. Simply and clearly, “I am sorry that I….”
-Don’t point out the other person’s faults. Period.
- Saying the words “Will you forgive me?” gives the person the chance to decide.
-Accept their answer. That’s it. If they need more time, then that’s their responsibility. You are free.
The reason the three rowdy backseat siblings like to laugh now about the time our dad got pulled over, instead of say, complaining to a psychologist, is because Dad had the guts and integrity to apologize to us. Wow.
Just a quick acknowledgement that he lost his patience with us. That’s all it took to convey a world of good mental health to his kids.
This Father’s Day, if your kids have never heard you apologize, please change the ebb and flow of your relationship by acknowledging the things that weigh on your conscience.
Give your kiddoes a heart to laugh.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I Refuse to Be Poor
“I refuse to be poor,” said my friend recently with a big grin.
Don’t ya love it? In the face of all the negative economic talk, she’s made a decision to be rich.
Me, too.
Take, for instance, our dog, Lucy, who does not care if the bills get paid this month as long as there are scary and dangerous squirrels in her yard that she can chase away for the safety of our family.
Okay, it may seem silly, but I love the way Lucy passionately goes about her business in the present moment without any concern for what the folks in Washington or on Wall Street are cooking up.
Besides squirrel-chasing pets, here is the list of wealth we can all enjoy no matter what the economy does.
-Heritage. We are a people who are rich in our ancestors; those good folks who founded a nation on the principle of self-government, based on self-sacrifice and self-discipline. Then, they came to Texas and built a culture out of hard-work and vision.
-Family. We can be rich in family in any economy.
If our kids know that dad and mom are heroes who would starve before letting the kids go hungry, then we are rich indeed.
When our parents have committed themselves to a lifestyle full of dignity and service to others, we inherit a wealth.
-Friends. We are wealthy if we have friends who understand the real priorities in life and remind each other.
-Good Health and Brave Hearts. Folks who are enjoying good health always add this to the list of reasons to be thankful, but I’ve noticed that my friends who are fighting a health battle are the ones who inspire me most. So, give us hearts to be brave in the face of whatever happens. Let us inspire those around us as we face challenges with grace and courage.
-Community Values. Community values are expressed a thousand ways, but one of my favorites is in the hymns that ring out on any given Sunday in hundreds of churches across East Texas. There’s nothing like a good old rousing rendition of Amazing Grace to serve as a reality check.
Does it seem a little Pollyanna to be positive in the face of bad economic news? Maybe. Or maybe the reality isn’t what we see on the television at night.
Maybe, just maybe, the reality is the wealth we enjoy in the loving relationships we create as we struggle and succeed together in tough times.
Just like my friend, I refuse to be poor, even if our bank account fluctuates with the rest of the world’s economy.
My best wishes to you, dear neighbors, for your continued success in the face of uncertain times. May you be rich in all the ways that matter.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Don’t ya love it? In the face of all the negative economic talk, she’s made a decision to be rich.
Me, too.
Take, for instance, our dog, Lucy, who does not care if the bills get paid this month as long as there are scary and dangerous squirrels in her yard that she can chase away for the safety of our family.
Okay, it may seem silly, but I love the way Lucy passionately goes about her business in the present moment without any concern for what the folks in Washington or on Wall Street are cooking up.
Besides squirrel-chasing pets, here is the list of wealth we can all enjoy no matter what the economy does.
-Heritage. We are a people who are rich in our ancestors; those good folks who founded a nation on the principle of self-government, based on self-sacrifice and self-discipline. Then, they came to Texas and built a culture out of hard-work and vision.
-Family. We can be rich in family in any economy.
If our kids know that dad and mom are heroes who would starve before letting the kids go hungry, then we are rich indeed.
When our parents have committed themselves to a lifestyle full of dignity and service to others, we inherit a wealth.
-Friends. We are wealthy if we have friends who understand the real priorities in life and remind each other.
-Good Health and Brave Hearts. Folks who are enjoying good health always add this to the list of reasons to be thankful, but I’ve noticed that my friends who are fighting a health battle are the ones who inspire me most. So, give us hearts to be brave in the face of whatever happens. Let us inspire those around us as we face challenges with grace and courage.
-Community Values. Community values are expressed a thousand ways, but one of my favorites is in the hymns that ring out on any given Sunday in hundreds of churches across East Texas. There’s nothing like a good old rousing rendition of Amazing Grace to serve as a reality check.
Does it seem a little Pollyanna to be positive in the face of bad economic news? Maybe. Or maybe the reality isn’t what we see on the television at night.
Maybe, just maybe, the reality is the wealth we enjoy in the loving relationships we create as we struggle and succeed together in tough times.
Just like my friend, I refuse to be poor, even if our bank account fluctuates with the rest of the world’s economy.
My best wishes to you, dear neighbors, for your continued success in the face of uncertain times. May you be rich in all the ways that matter.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Son of Man
Why didn’t he refer to himself as the Son of God?
Others called him Son of God, of course, but he called himself the Son of Man.
Why not claim the more impressive title? He deserved it after all.
Everywhere he went, Life sprang out of his words, his touch, his compassion. Just to touch the hem of his garment meant health. Health and Life and Power trailed after him like the followers who recognized and affirmed his Life-giving Nature with their curiosity or their adoration and awe.
Fruitless trees withered under the clarity of his Divine Purpose and Nature.
It makes sense that he would claim the unpretentious title, of course. He would leave room for humans to draw their own conclusions; to exercise their free will to decide who he is.
As I traveled along in my faith, I realized that the real miracle of the scriptures is summarized in the words, “God with us.”
This theme is repeated often by the New Testament writers, people who knew him personally and observed his Nature firsthand. Those guys who were trusted with the “Word of God” and received the gift of speaking in foreign languages instantaneously at Pentacost, recognized that he was the translation of God to humans
Recognizing the Creator’s astonishing Force, meant recognizing the difficulty that humans would have understanding One whose very Nature is Good and All-powerful.
Along the way, I grew to understand that God sought out humans to be his spiritual companions; this One, this Creator; this Force of Nature. His love transcended the limits of the creature who could not comprehend such a limitless Being. He sought us out in our limited perspective, inviting us to experience him in terms we could understand.
When the writers describe Jesus as the one in whom all things exist and have their being, they mean it. They got the message. They watched the “translation” and understood exactly Who they were dealing with. Peter stated “You are the Son of God.”
There it is again. That unclaimed title.
Most recently, I begin to believe that for Jesus, the real miracle was the miracle of existing in the flesh.
For him, to exist as the Creator was his very nature.
On the other hand, to limit that Creative Force, by translating himself into the form of a man and then to live within the confines that are inherent in his created, physical universe, that was the miracle; the true demonstration of his power.
The power of his love, actually.
For him, the real accomplishment, the real miracle, was to be the Son of Man.
No wonder Son of Man was the title he claimed.
Son of Man is also the title that honors the Creator’s Love for us.
The Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Others called him Son of God, of course, but he called himself the Son of Man.
Why not claim the more impressive title? He deserved it after all.
Everywhere he went, Life sprang out of his words, his touch, his compassion. Just to touch the hem of his garment meant health. Health and Life and Power trailed after him like the followers who recognized and affirmed his Life-giving Nature with their curiosity or their adoration and awe.
Fruitless trees withered under the clarity of his Divine Purpose and Nature.
It makes sense that he would claim the unpretentious title, of course. He would leave room for humans to draw their own conclusions; to exercise their free will to decide who he is.
As I traveled along in my faith, I realized that the real miracle of the scriptures is summarized in the words, “God with us.”
This theme is repeated often by the New Testament writers, people who knew him personally and observed his Nature firsthand. Those guys who were trusted with the “Word of God” and received the gift of speaking in foreign languages instantaneously at Pentacost, recognized that he was the translation of God to humans
Recognizing the Creator’s astonishing Force, meant recognizing the difficulty that humans would have understanding One whose very Nature is Good and All-powerful.
Along the way, I grew to understand that God sought out humans to be his spiritual companions; this One, this Creator; this Force of Nature. His love transcended the limits of the creature who could not comprehend such a limitless Being. He sought us out in our limited perspective, inviting us to experience him in terms we could understand.
When the writers describe Jesus as the one in whom all things exist and have their being, they mean it. They got the message. They watched the “translation” and understood exactly Who they were dealing with. Peter stated “You are the Son of God.”
There it is again. That unclaimed title.
Most recently, I begin to believe that for Jesus, the real miracle was the miracle of existing in the flesh.
For him, to exist as the Creator was his very nature.
On the other hand, to limit that Creative Force, by translating himself into the form of a man and then to live within the confines that are inherent in his created, physical universe, that was the miracle; the true demonstration of his power.
The power of his love, actually.
For him, the real accomplishment, the real miracle, was to be the Son of Man.
No wonder Son of Man was the title he claimed.
Son of Man is also the title that honors the Creator’s Love for us.
The Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Goals for 21 Year-Olds
“Do you think good kids are hereditary?” asked my friend as we walked along in my neighborhood. She was experiencing a rough patch with one of her kids and she was wondering why my children seemed so easy.
I laughed.
“I can’t wait to tell my parents you asked me that question!”
I was not only naughty as a youngster, but oh-so creative with my mischief. So, I don’t know, maybe that gave me an edge when it came to being hard to trick as a parent.
The more people get to know me, the more surprised they are that our kiddoes have turned out so well. How is it that an incredibly dysfunctional mom like me has such well-rounded, mature, respectful children?
Good question.
Anyway, I think setting goals helped focus my parenting.
Before your kids have finished high school and are attending college or working in their first real job, they should be able to:
-Successfully initiate relationships with and interact with people of all backgrounds and ages.
-Discern unhealthy friendships or motives in others and in themselves.
-Ask thoughtful, probing questions in order to respectfully understand other people’s perspective.
-Have a “Savings Account” of stored knowledge to draw on when handling Life’s big issues.
-Have a personal faith that continues to ask questions and sort information.
-Intentionally turn to wise people for advice.
-Speak and write clearly.
-Make clear, modern analogies in order to communicate about deeply held beliefs.
-Set personal goals based on the ambitions they have chosen for their life.
-Prioritize according to their life ambitions and current goals.
-Relax and enjoy the process of living, based on their priorities.
-Be grateful for life’s blessings and be able to express thankfulness.
-Recognize true authority and respect those who have it.
-Practice servant leadership, exercising authority by inspiring others.
-Recognize that they have intrinsic value and that they are loved unconditionally.
I saved the best for last. If you have time to do only one thing on this list before your child leaves home, make your focus unconditional love, even if that means tough love.
I make goals for myself, not just my kids.
It’s a good thing, too, because by age 21 kids have reached a point where the only goals that count are the ones they make for themselves.
Now, one of the goals on my personal list is to butt-out and let the grown kids live the lives they choose.
By the way, when I mentioned the question of hereditarily good kids to my parents, they just laughed.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
I laughed.
“I can’t wait to tell my parents you asked me that question!”
I was not only naughty as a youngster, but oh-so creative with my mischief. So, I don’t know, maybe that gave me an edge when it came to being hard to trick as a parent.
The more people get to know me, the more surprised they are that our kiddoes have turned out so well. How is it that an incredibly dysfunctional mom like me has such well-rounded, mature, respectful children?
Good question.
Anyway, I think setting goals helped focus my parenting.
Before your kids have finished high school and are attending college or working in their first real job, they should be able to:
-Successfully initiate relationships with and interact with people of all backgrounds and ages.
-Discern unhealthy friendships or motives in others and in themselves.
-Ask thoughtful, probing questions in order to respectfully understand other people’s perspective.
-Have a “Savings Account” of stored knowledge to draw on when handling Life’s big issues.
-Have a personal faith that continues to ask questions and sort information.
-Intentionally turn to wise people for advice.
-Speak and write clearly.
-Make clear, modern analogies in order to communicate about deeply held beliefs.
-Set personal goals based on the ambitions they have chosen for their life.
-Prioritize according to their life ambitions and current goals.
-Relax and enjoy the process of living, based on their priorities.
-Be grateful for life’s blessings and be able to express thankfulness.
-Recognize true authority and respect those who have it.
-Practice servant leadership, exercising authority by inspiring others.
-Recognize that they have intrinsic value and that they are loved unconditionally.
I saved the best for last. If you have time to do only one thing on this list before your child leaves home, make your focus unconditional love, even if that means tough love.
I make goals for myself, not just my kids.
It’s a good thing, too, because by age 21 kids have reached a point where the only goals that count are the ones they make for themselves.
Now, one of the goals on my personal list is to butt-out and let the grown kids live the lives they choose.
By the way, when I mentioned the question of hereditarily good kids to my parents, they just laughed.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
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