Pieces of the Whole
Looking for an escape this weekend? Try “The Thin Man,” a pre-code film with the sass and class of Nick and Nora Charles. There’s a multitude of reasons this one is classic, and if you need a further break when it’s over, it has five sequels…
Da kittums, dat’s who.
I confess, I tried to set up a cute picture of one of my cats looking in the mirror for today’s prompt (Primp). It didn’t work. I guess they aren’t as vain as their mama.
![AdobeStock_98604038 [Converted]](https://myworldwithwords.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/adobestock_98604038-converted.png?w=204&h=300)
I spend less time these days in front of mirror than I did years ago, although of course, in my younger years I was working with better material. Most of us hit our peak before 50. It’s just a fact. These days, looking at my neck depresses me.
Fixing myself up used to be a lot more fun.
When I get my hair cut, I make sure I’m wearing the full visage. Too much time staring at that mirror under those lights. I don’t know what it is about salons and retail stores, but the lighting is always so harsh. Okay, salons, maybe they need it to accurately see what they’re doing, and I’ll forgive them for that reason. But why should The Gap make me feel bad about myself when I’m trying on jeans?
It isn’t the visible signs of aging that concern me as much as the time that is passing by without achieving what I believe I’m capable of doing. Yet I hold fast to my belief in the power of subtle changes.
There are days when your world might completely turn around for the better, and it’s possible all good things will come to you in short order. Generally, however, the gifts in life are given to us one at a time, until one day we look back and say, “hey, my life is growing stronger.”
Where I am today is far better than where I was five years ago. Some of it feels the same, but the reality is, it simply isn’t. Yes, there are stresses in my life, but I believe things will work out. That’s been my experience in far worse circumstances than what I’m facing today.
Thank God for the power of experience. It’s–no other word for it here–a relief. Okay, other words fit, too–it’s a comfort. It’s confidence. It helps you sort out what matters. You don’t worry so much about what’s going on outside your control.
But today I think I’ll spend a little extra time in front of the mirror and see where that gets me. A little primping might do my heart good.
Image Credit: © sapunkele — Adobe Stock
The best part of blogging is meeting all the wonderful people I’ve connected with in the last two years. There’s a certain anonymity about writing a blog that I think allows us to open up in ways we might not feel comfortable doing face to face. Through that, we gain friends and support. Friends we may never meet but who we care deeply about just the same.
A few days ago I wrote a post about skin cancer, a cautionary piece about this serious disease. Through it I’ve been reminded of one former co-worker who lost her eight-year-old son to that disease. It was an extremely rare case, and they had the best doctors in the nation caring for him. As happens so often in someone that young and otherwise healthy, it was also a very aggressive case.
She’s doing well now, has re-married a fantastic man, but never had any more children.
Cancer sucks.
I also have a new follower, Jo, who is in her twenties and has been living with melanoma for 11 years now. Please check out her blog, Melanoma Jo, to learn her story. I understand from one of her posts that she is part of an upcoming BBC documentary. I’m looking forward to seeing it!
Thank you to all of my followers, new and “old.” I try to check out everyone’s blog from time to time, and I apologize if I don’t get to yours right away. I will see it soon! If you leave comments on my blog, I’m certain to get back to you more quickly. That is, if I can link to your blog through your gravatar. That’s often the only way I have of finding you, so I encourage you to list your blog(s) there.
See you in the blogosphere!
Image Credits: (Alphabet background) © flas100 — Fotolia; (Pen) © artender — Fotolia; (Blog typewriter keys) © Marek Uliasz — Fotolia
Oh, blessings and misery. I confess, I like cooler weather. I get weary of downright cold weather, but still, I’ll take a stretch of freezing cold over an extended period of triple-digit highs almost anytime. So here it is, a week into November, and we’re still reaching the low 70s every single day.
I want my sweater weather! I like the feel and look of downy soft turtlenecks. I feel cozy and comforted. I like wearing ankle boots with my jeans. For whatever reason, I believe I’m stronger, more in control, with them. And all in all, what I like better, looks better.
I don’t want a sunny Thanksgiving or a balmy Christmas day. I want a nip in the air, days when I can’t forget my jacket, cold air that makes cheeks and even my nose a little red.
How we each feel about weather is a funny thing. I have friends who would never move away from the Southwest, despite the extremes down there. Others I know live in Minnesota (my home state) and while they grumble about the snow and deep freeze, they wouldn’t think of locating elsewhere. I’m in a state where we have four seasons, something I’m grateful for, although I wouldn’t mind a slightly longer fall and winter. These past couple of years those seasons have been annoyingly short.
I suppose our preferences are due in part to the priorities in our lives. If you love the outdoors, you may prefer the heat. If your favorite activities include reading, needlework or playing chess, the excuse to stay inside because of dropping temperatures may be welcome.
Whether you find it more challenging to walk your dog in the heat, with mosquitoes dive-bombing and sweat dripping down your brow, or in the snow, with your toes going numb and the sniffles that won’t go away, is part personality, part upbringing and likely part physiology. I’m betting some of us are just better suited for the cold. Maybe it’s an extra layer of fat. I don’t pretend to know.
Regardless of the reason for my preferences or the lingering warm weather, I’m begging for a little frost overnight and ongoing temps below 60 degrees. This perpetual heat is irksome.
Photos courtesy of Pixabay
I was taught, in my high school Sunday School classes as well as by most of my professors at the Bible College I attended, that the Bible is literal. One of my professors, however, Mickey O. Day, proposed this thought: the Bible was written during a time when authors of religious material used mythology to describe God, or their gods. Why couldn’t the writers of the Bible have done the same?
Let me describe what’s meant by mythology here: a story that tells of a quality of God in a manner that can be understood by human beings. Not unlike parables, the story may be pure imagination, but the characteristic of God that is described is most definitely not. He remains as powerful, omniscient, and glorious as ever. And ever.
We think of myths as being falsehoods, yet in its purest form, mythology is, in fact, truth. Now I don’t worship the gods of Greece or Rome, and I’m not in a position to debate their veracity. But thinking of some of the stories of the Old Testament as having been written in the literary form of mythology is intriguing to me, as well as more likely historically accurate.
I 
believe in the literal birth, death and resurrection of Christ, by the way. I’m talking primarily Old Testament stories here, and not all of them.
It doesn’t diminish God in my eyes. If you struggle with this concept, I’m not saying what you believe is wrong. Frankly, I don’t know the truth, but I am secure in Whom I believe in.
Image Credits: (Angel) © Bigstock; (Book) © GraphicStock
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