From a Future Dead Author

Eventually I'm going to write a book some day. I talk about it a lot. And I have a lot of great plans. But yeah, I never quite get around to it. I have several books that I'm going to write, though. Of course, I've planned fantastic titles for them already ...

A book about middle age will be called, When I Cough, I Pee. Yes, I've mentioned that title before in an earlier post and I'm sure you thought I was just joking. This will be a best-seller, ladies and gentlemen!! We'll finally unwrap all of the mystery, fear, and lessons regarding middle-age and all of the trials, joys, and incredible wisdom (?) that goes along with it.

A book about parenting adult children will be entitled, From M.O.P.S. to P.O.T.S to P.O.O.P. In other words, from Mothers of Preschoolers to Parents of Teenagers to Parents of Older People. I have no idea why bathroom language manages to show up in some of my titles. Maybe because I'm not very mature? Can you tell that I had three boys? We'll discover how to be the best parent you can possibly be to your children as they grow and how to survive the letting go process -- not that I was the best parent. I definitely learned what NOT to do!

A book about different lessons that God has taught me called Finding Me in Him (Living the Parable Filled Life). We'll see how God uses mice in our pantry, trees by a creek, and road caution signs to teach truths about Him. We'll also see how God continues to teach even when some of us (Okay, I admit it -- I'm talking about me here) are not necessarily continuing to learn ... and how He may use different objects, different times, and different circumstances to teach us the same dang lesson that we're not wanting to learn. (Yes, still talking about me!) ::Sigh!::

It all sounds good, doesn't it? Unfortunately, that's all I've got. .Just titles and a few ideas, but absolutely nothing that would fill enough pages for a book. So, I continue to scribble ideas and plug away on my computer. I write down lessons learned and pour out thoughts on paper. I figure one of these days, when I'm long gone, my kids (or grandkids or great grandkids or person hired to go through all of my junk and stuff before throwing it away) will stumble upon this "treasure trove" and will have my works published posthumously. I will then be a famous (dead) author of the best seller book, Coughing and Peeing Through M.O.P.S, P.O.T.S, and P.O.O.P's Parable Filled Life. Reserve your copy now.

Quirky Little Habits

I notice the little things about people. My husband says that it's because I'm anal and picky and super-crazy about details. But it's really just that I'm observant. Doesn't that sound much nicer? Regardless of what you call it, it's noticing things. Here are some examples (and I'm going to pick on my husband because I seem to notice "stuff" where he's concerned. The main reason I'm going to pick on him though is because he calls me anal and I don't like that. That just sounds icky.):

My husband has to constantly move his feet. Whether he's sitting there watching TV or laying in bed trying to go to sleep, his foot is bouncing ... all the time. It used to drive me nuts and I'd actually put my foot over his in an attempt to get him to be still. All that did was to drive HIM nuts because he couldn't move his foot. Poor guy. I've matured since then. Now he can wiggle his foot all he wants -- I'm fine, he's fine, we're all fine.

When we're all sitting at the dinner table and Wes wants to get a word in edgewise, he'll hold his fork up and start drumming in the air. Yes, that sounds a little strange. But all of our family will turn to him and give him our attention before he even starts to talk. A time or two, he's looked at us like we were crazy because suddenly we were all just staring at him and he had no idea why, until we explained the "drumming fork".

Wes is not the loud, talkative, overly expressive one in the family. I know. Hard to believe, huh?! Even when he laughs, it's not this loud, booming cackle like his wife's laugh (sorry, dear! Thanks for loving me anyway!). In fact, we've talked over the years how he's a lot like a cartoon character when he laughs. His shoulders move ... his eyes crinkle up ... and he laughs ... without noise. It's amazing to me how you can laugh without making noise! I need to take some lessons ...

As much as I love my foot-wiggling, fork-drumming, silent laughing husband, there are other folks who are almost as interesting. People in the grocery store who have conversations with themselves about which products to get are fairly entertaining. And no, they're not weird, psychotic people who have inner voices (at least, I don't think so). They seem to be sane, regular people ... just talking away to themselves about groceries. Personally, I try to not do this myself ... but to each his own, right? And occasionally you'll see a shopper who enjoys singing as they walk up and down the aisles, looking for the grape jelly that Wal-Mart moved.

Go in to my son's or daughter's room and move something. I dare you. The room might be an absolute pit that looks like a tornado just blew through it, but they'll notice that something has been moved and not put back quite right. My husband says it's obsessive-compulsive disorder. I just take pride that they're detail oriented, too ... like me ... and like God!

And then there's me. I have several of these nasty little habits -- like I'll be thinking of something or having a little conversation IN MY HEAD (I'm still not at the point of some people in the grocery store) and will suddenly blurt out to whoever I'm with what I'm thinking, like we've been talking about it all along. It's not until I see the blank stare on their face that I realize they have no idea what I'm talking about. In fact, I've done this pretty much all of my life and still haven't learned to quit doing it! OR, I finish a lot of my sentences with "There ya go." It's like I need to encourage anyone I'm talking to, or at least fill the air with the sound of my voice. "Oh! You found the toothpaste. There ya go!" ... "Yes, he hit a curb and had to get his tire fixed. There ya go." What in the world is that about? It doesn't even make sense to me! But I seem to say it all the time. (Notice how most of my quirky habits have to do with talking? Hmmmmm.)

It all boils down to the fact that we all have these little weird habits -- clearing our throats, wrinkling our noses when we think, sticking our tongue out as we write, cracking our knuckles, incessantly talking. It's just how we are. The most amazing thing about it though is that God notices all the little details about us. The Bible tell us that He even knows how many hairs are on our head ... and if He can tell how many hairs were on my head and then how many hairs went down the drain in the shower, that's really impressive! He knows me ... He knows you ... He knows each one of us even better than we know ourselves. For me, there's great security in knowing that God knows me exactly as I am ... and that He still loves me, in spite of all of my quirky little habits. There ya go!

Age and Wisdom

There have been a lot of things written (mostly by me) about the horrors of middle-age -- whinings comments of wrinkles, age spots, flabby bellies, gray hair, near-sightedness, or chin hairs. Unfortunately, all of those things are true for SOME people (not necessarily me. Pleeeeeease tell me that those don't apply to me ... even if it's not true. It'll just make me feel better.) But you know what? With age comes wisdom. I've heard that somewhere, and it's constantly repeated (primarily by older people), so it must be true, right?! The more I ponder on that little statement, I think it's got to be true. And here's why.

Go to a club and you won't find older, middle-aged people gyrating and grinding up against a stranger on the dance floor. Why? For one reason, gyrating can cause you to throw a hip out. Secondly, middle-aged people tend to be a little wary of strangers, and grinding on one isn't particularly the smartest thing to do because he might be an ax murderer. Lastly, most middle-aged people don't stay up much past 10:30 (which is considered extremely early in "club time") because they've come to realize the true beauty and value of sleep over the years.

Think about it. It's not the middle-aged man who's arrested at the ball park for stripping off all of his clothes and streaking across the field. It's not the middle-aged woman who is kidnapped at 3:00 in the morning because she's walking down the alley alone to get to her car. It's not the middle-aged man who is charged with vandalism because he was painting his name on the town's water tower. It's not the middle-aged woman who is arrested and has her car towed because she was driving 50 miles over the speed limit with her fellow middle-aged friends leaning out the windows yelling at other cars as they drove by. Middle-agers are past that. Many of them have "been there, done that" and are grateful to have simply survived.

Excitement in life is nice. But once you hit middle-age, safety and security become even MORE nice (or nicer, if you prefer good grammar). Middle-aged people would like to think they're going to actually make it to the next stage of life, so they tend to think of ways to do this. Examples of this might be: to NOT put your make-up on while you're driving to work ... to NOT crawl out of a moving vehicle and climb on the car's roof just to see what it's like to ride ON a car and not IN a car ... to NOT mouth off to the extremely big, angry guy standing next to you in line. Middle-aged people think, maybe sometimes too much, but still, they think. And that's a good thing.

So, the next time you spot one of those pesky chin hairs, or you try to run to cross a busy street but your "get-up-and-go" doesn't cooperate and you look like you're doing nothing but flailing in the middle of the road, celebrate in your wisdom! You've made it this far! We middle-aged folks need to embrace the adage "with age comes widom". Someone's got to ...