The church battles and tornadoes

Sunday morning Jacob ate his breakfast--always chocolate chip waffles at my house--and then plunked himself on the couch with the iPad, deliberately ignoring me. I came into the living room at 10:15, fully dressed for church, and announced that I'd put his toothbrush and mouthwash out and it was time to get ready for church.
Jacob (absolutely incredulous): We're going to church? (He looked out the window as though the Lord maybe had sent one of the thunderstorms promised for this weekend, but the Lord had not cooperated.)
Me: Yes.
So he took care of his oral hygiene and came back to my office.
Jacob: Juju, my stomach really hurts.
Me: Jacob, your stomach hurts every Sunday morning just before church. Get dressed.
Jacob: I didn't say that just so I wouldn't have to go to church. I just wanted you to know.
Me: I'm really sorry your stomach hurts.
I never heard another word about his stomach. We went to church, and there were baptisms (my church dunks). He likes to watch that, and I figure it's good preparation for him. All else went well--he bows his head in prayer, and he recites the Lord's prayer. I was glad we went, and I hope he was too. We're going next week too.
On the way home:
Jacob: I'm not afraid of tornadoes any more.
Me, thinking a little healthy fear was good: Where would we go if there was one?
Jacob: Your closet or the bathroom.
Me: Who would be there?
Jacob: You and me.
Me: What about Sophie?
Jacob: Oh, yeah, we'd take her. Unless of course she was already dead.
I did not explore any more.

Random acts of kindness vs. instinct

Today when I was running errands in the neighborhood, I drove by a woman standing on the side of the street. She had a cane although she was not elderly, and I assumed she was waiting for me to pass before crossing in the middle of a block. It was a gorgeous day--what happened to that rain we were promised?--and I had the top down. She lifted her hand, and I waved back. Only as I passed did I hear her say something like, "Excuse me?" or "Please." I did not stop, and then my conscience beat me up. Yet there was something just enough off that I didn't want to stop. I knew if she asked for a ride, I didn't want to let her in my car.
We're told constantly to listen to our instincts, and I believe it--but that warning conflicts with the idea of random acts of kindess. And I'd been the recipient of random acts of kindness the day before.So how do we know what to do?
A few minutes laters, as I drove by a TCU parking lot, a student shot out into the middle of the street before he looked either way--I stopped and waved him on, which he never acknowledged with a smile or a wave. My stopping was definitely instinct and not an act of kindness, but there was no sense honking angrily and bullying my way through even though I was in the right. There's the middle ground, I guess.
I once read a book, or started it, on the important or value of fear. Many mystery writers tout this book as a great source. I read a bit and gave it up, but the basic point was that fear is a great self-preservation instinct. If it feels wrong, it probably is wrong. (Oh, how I long to turn that into a comment on politics, but I'll refrain.) I think it's a valid point, but then again we don't want to live our lives in fear nor, heaven forbid, pass that on to our children and grandchildren. I do have a lot of fears like heights and deep water and so on, although not as many as my grandmother, but still I've worked hard at not foisting them off on my children.And the result is that they're a fairly fearless bunch. But I think they too feel the instinct of self-preservation.
Countering that is what we hear in church or elsewhere about being our brother's keeper, looking after our neighbor, thinking of others. That's the kind of person I want to be.
So what wouldy you have done? Would you have backed up to see what the lady with the cane wanted? Would you, as I have, spend much of the day worrying about her? Or would you dismiss it and decide your instincts were right.
Fortunately my day took a much more positive turn with the arrival of Jacob. We went out to dinner with "Aunt Betty" and had a good time. A friend at the next table talked with Jacob and then said to me, "I guess we have no issues with sociability." I laughed and agreed. And Jacob said to me, "This has been a fun day." Makes the whole day worthwhile.

Neighbors--and some thoughts on fear

I meant to post a lot earlier, but about 7:30 I wandered out to the porch with a book and a glass of wine. Sue came by to pick up a book I had for her and went home to get a glass of wine; Cathy, who lives on the other side of Sue, came by walking her dog and I gave her a small bottle of red wine. And we sat and talked for over an hour. We'd been to see Julie & Julia together, so we talked about the movie, and about the school across the street--this morning people wanting to transfer their children from out of the district were camped out on the lawn, and I wondered why there were all those cars on my street. Now I know. We talked about ethnic food--Cathy comes from Czech people, and I from German and British. Sue's parents won't eat lamb, which she and I adore. It was a far-ranging discussion, and I love that neighborhood spontaneity.
But I meant to blog tonight about fear. After battling agoraphobia, in one form or another, most of my life, I know about fear. I once thought of writing a memoir about agoraphobia and living a full and rich life in spite of it but I decided exploring my own mind too deeply would have a bad effect. But nowadays when I do yoga, I end with a relaxation session that turns into prayer. After I concentrate on relaxing every muscle in my body (down to the tiny ones around my ears and knees), I ask the Lord to clear my mind of worries. Since I've retired, I find I have only two major worries: one is to improve my self-confidence in walking. A few years ago I walked blocks and blocks in the neighborhood with confidence; now I have a hard time walking to my neighbors. I used to be nervous when driving, but that has gone away, replaced by this walking thing. I had it when I was in my thirties--couldn't walk across an empty parking lot to save myself--and it went away, so I'm expecting it to do that again. I do feel I am so much more relaxed since I retired--and so many fewer worries to ask to be rerlieved of--but I am stiill more comfortable walking next to someone or something--a wall, a bush, etc.
The other worry I have is boredom--strange thing to say, but I'm afraid my busy retirement schedule will slow down. Right now I'm doing a lot of work for the press--some contract and some pro bono--and I have lunch appointments almost every day. But I still fear, as I always did, waking up and thinking "What will I do today?" I don't really think that will happen--I will always have writing projects, but I still worry about it. For me, writing projects are only good if there's an end goal in sight, like publication. I don't write just to amuse myself.
Meantime, I have that cookbook to edit. I woke up this morning, swearing I would finish the Mexican food chapter before I went to lunch but here it is, after ten o'clock, and I haven't touched it, though I've done lots of other good things. Sometimes I think I postpone projects so I won't run out of things to do, but that's dumb. I have to get that chapter done. Maybe tomorrow--but then I have breakfast and lunch dates and am keeping Jacob in the evening. Why do I ever think retirement could be boring?

Telephones, Moving your Cheese, and Feeling Frail

Colin called tonight. He and his famly are in San Antonio, enjoying Sea World--Morgan said she'd seen Shamu and he'd splashed her--and the zoo, the river, and so forth. But he wanted me to call their hotel room. Morgan, almost three, has never seen anything other than a cell phone, and she didn't know what the phone on the beside table was. So I called, and she was excited. They'll be here tomorrow night, and I'm excited about that.

I won something today! At the monthly TCU Pinkbag Luncheon, which is always about books, I won a copy of Who Moved My Cheese? It's so brief that I read it quickly tonight. Basically, it's about change and adapting to change and letting go of old ways and fears--when I went to the podium to get it I said it was appropriate because I was facing a landmark b'day that meant change. But when I read it tonight, it spoke more to me about my fears and my balance, both of which have been too prominent in my consciousness lately.

I decided today that it's easy to feel that you're frail, and because of my sore foot, I let myself feel frail. As a result, I truly lost my balance a couple of times today, and once called out in panic to Melinda who was behind me. She said, "I've got you" and put a reassuring hand on my elbow. But I can't expect Melinda to always be there, and I have to abandon my old ways of thinking and look for the new cheese, without ranting about whoever moved it and it isn't fair. I also have to realize I have a sore foot, but I'm not frail by any means!

The days are going to get busy. Colin and family arrive tomorrow night--first guests in my new garage apartment. Then everyone else arrives Friday night, and I'll have dinner for everyone, so I'm making a double batch of King Ranch chicken tomorrow--supposed to feed 25. Knowing my gang it won't go that far. Saturday we'll be at Jordan's for dinner, after some mandatory shopping for a birthday outfit for me (Megan's mandatory, not mine) and Sunday night is my b'day party at Joe T.'s. There'll be quite a crowd, all people I love a lot, and I'm excited about it, though a bit self-conscious. Everyone will leave Monday, but Jordan and I have both taken the day off--we'll "do" a fancy lunch and sort of let the day roll over us. Tuesday, my true b'day, I suspect it will be back to work, but my co-workers are taking me to lunch. So I'm happily anticipating the next few days and vowing not to let myself get stressed, tired, any of those bad things. I'm going to enjoy my grandchildren.

I may not post often the next few days, but I should have pictures whenever I do.