Password Protected

In this day and age there is a password for everything.  Any time you log on to a computer you probably use a password.  If you use online banking you need a username and password to access your account.  The same goes for email, Facebook, Amazon, Paypal, eBay, Pinterest, Blogger and any other online business or interesting page that you subscribe to.  Obviously, the ideal thing would be to use the same username and password for every single account that you have. But, alas, sometimes the username is already taken or worse yet, you are told you have to add some foreign character to your password to get the highest security. You finally come up with something that they accept and then when you go to sign in two weeks later, you can't remember what username or password you used. Eventually you find a place to store all these passwords where you can retrieve them when you need them.  Often they are in an inconspicuous file labeled PASSWORDS on your computer desktop on in your top desk drawer in an envelope with the same secretive title.

Recently, I had a very frustrating experience with a lost username and password. As part of my job at New Hope, I have to electronically file the federal, state and local payroll taxes each month. I usually like to do this when I am alone in the office so I am less likely to be interrupted.  On one such Friday, I logged onto Quick Books and did all the monthly reports and got everything ready and then went to the place where I keep my usernames and passwords to file and pay the taxes. I have a separate paper for each of the three entities and on each I have written the username and password needed to file them. ALL three of the papers were missing!  I couldn't believe it.  There was no way this could happen.  Trying not to panic, I looked everywhere.  Nothing. Frantically, I tried to think when I had last used them. I remembered having the papers out about a week ago to do some quarterly filing.  I finally concluded that I must have accidently picked them up with a stack of papers and put them through the shredder. Berating myself for not having the passwords anywhere else, I began to assess my options.  I have done this filing every month for the last seven years so you would think that I might be able to remember the passwords.  I racked my brain and prayed and miraculously I did remember the usernames and passwords for the federal tax and the local tax.  I went ahead and filed them and then began the difficult task of  recovering the passwords for the Pennsylvania tax.

I called the PA Department of Revenue. After the usual runaround of the recorded "if you are calling concerning _______ please push number ______," I finally was connected to a human who unfortunately was having as bad a day as I was.  I explained my situation and she curtly informed me that there was no way she could give me what I needed unless I could answer the security questions:

1. What is your mother's maiden name? and
2. In what city were you born?

Well, I knew that I wasn't the one who set up the account, so I told her I would have to research the answers and get back to her. I called the three persons who I thought might have originally set the account up and got their mother's maiden names and their cities of birth. Armed with this information, I called the Department of Revenue back, hoping that I would get a friendlier person.  No such luck.  Is it possible that they only have one person who takes phone calls?   As I read off the answers I had been given she smugly replied that none of them were correct. I asked her if she could give me some hints. When she refused, I asked her what my options were.  She told me the only thing I could do was register as a new filer and it would take several weeks for everything to go through.  I thanked her (well, maybe I didn't) and with a sigh, hung up. 

I decided to give it a rest over the weekend and hoped that maybe the username and password would just magically appear in my brain sometime over the next two days. It didn't. On Monday I returned to work and told my boss what had happened.  He offered to pray that the missing papers would reappear.  I was grateful for his prayer but was pretty certain I had looked in every possible place for them and was convinced that they had gone through the shredder.  I figured later in the afternoon I would start the arduous task of reregistering to file the taxes with the state. As I was typing at my computer I saw a paper sticking out behind my desktop.  I pulled it out and it wasn't one paper but three!  All the missing papers were there and on top was the Department of Revenue one with that username and password that I needed so badly!

This incident was frustrating and annoying but I learned some things from it: 

• ALWAYS, ALWAYS have the usernames and passwords kept in two different places so if they disappear from the one you still have the other.
• When you think you have looked everywhere, look again.  I am sure I looked all around my computer on Friday but didn't see them.
• Even if you are having a bad day, try not to take it out on someone else.

One thing we don't need a password for is prayer. I will never be told I can't access God because I forgot my password. I am thankful that I can talk to God whenever I want to.  I also hope and pray that my heart is open and not password-protected when He is speaking to me.
 

Keep On Singing

Over the past year the song by Matt Redmond, 10,000 Reasons, has become very popular in churches and on Christian radio. I first heard the song last September when Kristen Gochnauer introduced it to our congregation during our Praise and Worship time on a Sunday morning. I liked it immediately and the more I heard it the more I loved it.

Singing has always been a part of my life. My parents sang a lot. I grew up on a chicken farm and if I entered the chicken house looking for my father I just stood and listened where the singing was coming from (although sometimes it was hard to hear over the cackling of the chickens!). My mother sang or hummed as she worked around the house. Naturally my siblings and I sang too. I didn't know that there were some families who didn't sing as they went about their daily lives until I was in my teenage years and a friend expressed astonishment that my family was always singing.

We didn't always sing the correct words and we certainly weren't the most musically gifted family, but we still sang. I actually don't have that great a voice but I still sing. I married a man who has a lot of trouble staying on key, but thankfully he still sings. Steve's trademark is making up songs and singing them. The songs he sang to the children when they were little were absolutely goofy but the kids loved them and he taught them well. All of them are quite capable of putting words to any tune. If you are lucky enough for them not to know you are there, you will be treated to the most ridiculous, hilarious tunes that you can imagine. The other day, Megan heard Josh bellowing a song and substituting humorous lyrics in place of the actual ones. She said the song (with the incorrect words) has been stuck in her head ever since. Three year old Alexis rode with Uncle Josh in his truck one afternoon and to his delight and her mother's dismay she now happily and lustily sings "baby monkey, baby monkey, riding on a pig, baby monkey..." Also, if you ever happen to sneak into the shop when Shawn and Josh are working on their trucks you will hear a men's duet like you have never heard before.

I am telling you all of this to explain why I love this song. I love the tune but even more I love the words, because it is exactly how I feel about singing.

"the sun comes up, it's a new day dawning, it's time to sing Your song again....let me be singing when the evening comes....for all your goodness I will keep on singing...."

The Bible has a lot of references to singing. The Psalms are filled with songs, a lot of which we still sing today.  Jesus and his disciples sang together before they went out to the Mount of Olives. Paul and Silas sang in jail. I think the Lord loves when we sing together and I can't help but think he even enjoys the silly little songs we make up to entertain each other. I pray that I will never stop singing and when "the end draws near and my time has come" I plan to sing God's praises "ten thousand years and then forevermore."

If you have never heard the song and even if you have, I hope you enjoy this video and that you can find some reasons to keep on singing.

Seventeen Too Many

     When Megan was in 11th grade she needed to write a short story for an English class.  Writing has always come easily for her (I like to think that she got some of her skills from me), and she put together a tale about a serial killer who ends up in a small town as a deputy in the sheriff's office. As the story unfolds, it is revealed that the killer (Lilly) had a rough childhood and when she finally thought she met the man of her dreams and married him, her husband loved his cats more than he loved her. She ended up killing him and over the years she had killed sixteen more people and the common link was that they all had a cat.

     This lady hadn't killed for quite a while and was doing a good job as deputy but her life was shattered when the other deputy (Colt) bought a cat to keep him company.  Thus began the plot to kill him as well.  She sent a message, saying that Hox (that is the name the killer was known as) was in their small town and intended to kill someone. Of course the sheriff and Colt had no idea it was her and she plays along and acts like she is intent on finding this killer.  In the end, the sheriff and Colt figure out that it is her and she demands a gunfight with Colt.  They meet in an alley and when the noise and smoke subside, they are both lying on the ground.  Eventually, Colt gets to his feet and walks over to Lilly's dead body, and says, "seventeen deaths is seventeen too many."

    Megan handed it in, got a good grade on it, chalked it up as a pretty stupid story but that she had fun with and forgot about it.  Last semester in her Honors Comp class at college, her professor told them that they could get extra credit if they wrote a play.  He said that the plays would be entered into a playwriting competition as well. Megan heard the extra credit part and figured that was easy enough.  She pulled out her story from 11th grade, rewrote it as a play and turned it in and never gave it a second thought.

    In February she received an email from her professor saying that she had won first place, would receive $150.00 and that the drama department was going to act it out on stage. Her initial reaction was one of disbelief.  She actually emailed her professor back and asked if he was sure he had the correct person.  He replied, "your play was titled 'Seventeen Too Many', right"?  After it had sunk in that she had really won, she was kind of embarrassed, because she thought that the play was just dumb and pretty cheesy. She hoped that no one who knew her would realize she wrote it. 

She met with the cast and they made a few changes and then she didn't hear a whole lot more about it, until her professor emailed her the dates that the play would be performed and asked her to come so they could interview her afterward.  She was horrified. The week before the play, she texted me this picture:

 

 



Me:  This just made my day!

Megan: I’m considering taking them all down.

Me: It’s fantastic! You are a star!

Megan: It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just on bulletin boards. But no, it’s on doors too.

Me: Oh my goodness. This is CRAZY. Do people actually come to this?

Megan: I hope not.

Me: Did they ask info from you to write a bio?

Megan: O goodness no. That’d be terrible.

 

Well, as it turns out they did ask her to write a bio and I think in the end she felt pride in her play being selected as the winner.  Steve and I went with Megan to the play on Thursday evening and yes it was a little silly and not many people showed up but we enjoyed it and were glad we went.  Her brothers wanted her to record it for them so on Thursday evening we tried with one of our cameras.  The picture quality was awful so she used a different camera on Friday evening and got a little better picture.  She is working on editing and adding captions, and will possibly post it on her Facebook or blog some day.  On  Thursday evening, when they interviewed her afterward, I recorded that as well.  Again, you can't really see the picture but you can hear what they are saying.  I thought I would share it.  Who knows, maybe someday, Megan will be a famous writer, and this will be dug out of the archives and heralded as her first live interview as an author!

 

   

This Thing Called Prayer

I have always believed that prayer is more powerful than we can possibly imagine and I feel that most of us haven't even hit the tip of the iceberg in realizing what we could accomplish if we really used prayer the way God intended us to.  When I was a teenager, I was at a meeting where a minister invited us to come up front and pray specifically for healing for a person that God laid on our heart.  At the time, I was close to someone who was really struggling with some addiction problems that were not healthy. I asked God to heal this person and release him from the addiction. Within a year, my friend removed himself from some unhealthy relationships and recommitted his life to Christ. I felt like God had directly answered my prayer and I have always associated this instance as the root of my deep belief that praying is one of the most important things we can do for ourselves, our family and our friends. Above all, I believe it is what God wants us to do and we honor Him by doing it.

Why does having someone pray for you calm your anxiety and make you feel loved? I think it is because it shows that they care about you, about your life, and about a situation you may be facing. I remember being awakened in the middle of the night by Steve talking out loud. After listening for a little I realized he was praying. He was praying for a lot of things and he also prayed for me. I was filled with a tremendous warm feeling of love!

I am aware that the phrase "I am praying for you," is used quite casually and probably often the person who says it really isn't praying for you. I myself have been guilty of doing this. However, there have been times in my life, when someone has told me that they are praying for me and I have known that they really were. I have had people approach me at church and ask about things that they know are going on in my life.  They will then tell me that they have been praying for me.  I know that they mean it. My dad told me all the time that he was praying for Steve and me and our children.  I knew that he was. In fact, when he died, I actually thought how I would miss not having him praying for me.  It goes back to that feeling of comfort and knowing that someone really cares about you. In the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus prayed to His Father, I believe He was praying not so much for relief from the horrible death that was before Him, but because of the comfort it gave Him to talk with Someone who He knew loved and cared for Him with a love that He could not receive from another human.

I usually pray quietly in my mind, however, I will occasionally pray out loud when I am by myself. Often I will pray through a song. I pray when I am happy and I pray when I am sad.  I pray throughout the day but I especially like to pray when I am in the car. Often, I will have a running dialogue with God while I am driving (safer then on the cell phone, right?). I pray because I want to and because God wants me to. I pray because I love God and I am thankful for the life He has given me. I pray because I believe God hears me and cares about me. I know that He listens and answers my prayers.  Sometimes, I am not even aware of how He answers them but I honestly think that the answers He gives may not be as important as the time we spend in God's presence communicating with Him.

One of my main reasons for writing this Blog is for my children. I want my children to know that I pray for them.  When they were babies, I would softly tiptoe into their room where they peacefully slept with their knees tucked under them and their innocent little faces so sweet and I would pray.  I thanked God for them and I prayed that they would grow into a fine young man or woman who would love the Lord. I prayed for their life and for their future spouse if and when they married. I prayed that I would be a good mother to this child that God had gifted to me. Even though they are now grown, I still pray for them every day.  I thank God for the person they have become and I pray for their future. I pray that God would guide them in their lives and that they will continue to put Christ first in their life.  If I know specifically of something they are dealing with I pray for that situation. Now that I have grandchildren, I pray for them.  I pray that these precious children will grow up into fine young men or women who love the Lord.  If I am still alive when I have great-grandchildren I will pray the same for them.

I Thessalonians 5:17 encourages us to pray continually. As a parent, we love to give gifts to our children.  Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can give to them is the assurance that we are praying for them every day.

Grandma bloopers

I try to keep up with technology.  I consider myself somewhat computer literate.  I have a smartphone that challenges me but mostly does what I want it to do. I use copiers, printers, and ATM machines. I can get our TV changed to the DVD or VCR player so my grandkids can watch their favorite videos. I can take pictures....well maybe that is an exaggeration.

Megan and I purchased a camera together last year.  She assured me that I didn't have to worry about settings and all I had to do was push the button and it would take a good picture.  I thought I could handle that.  Things went pretty well.  I would snap pictures and I learned how to transfer them to my computer and either post them on Facebook or save them in a file for future use.  So far so good.

Of course my favorite people to take pictures of are my grandkids.  They grow so fast and I like to have updated pictures of them so I often have the camera with me when we are together and try to take a few pictures of them. Getting them to cooperate is another matter. Lydia doesn't sit still and Alexis likes to ham it up for the camera usually resulting in ridiculous pictures. Mark stares in horror at the flash and doesn't smile. Nevertheless, I get enough to keep the background picture on my computer current and to display on Facebook, at work, and on my basement wall.

The other week Steve and I were at Jay and Kristen's house keeping all three children while they enjoyed a night out.  Steve was holding a sleeping Mark and I was entertaining the girls. We decided to watch a video. I wasn't familiar with how their DVD/VCR worked but was quite proud of myself when the picture came on the screen and the music started. However, it was too quiet and I fumbled to find the volume button, hit the wrong one and the screen went blank.  I tried everything but couldn't get it to start up again.  Lydia patiently sat on the sofa twirling her hair and sucking her finger but Alexis stood beside me and offered advice.  Finally in exasperation she put her hands on her hips and said, "Grandma! You're not a very good grandma!"  Holding back the laughter, I agreed with her and went and got good grandpa to fix the problem.

While the video was playing, I decided to take some pictures of the girls.  I got out the camera, focused on one or both girls and snapped. The camera acted weird.  Every time I pushed the button a light kept flashing for a long time.  I thought it was the flash but couldn't figure out why it stayed on.  When I looked on the camera at the pictures I had taken, they seemed okay, so I just shrugged it off and took a few more pictures before putting the camera away.

A couple of days later when I transferred the pictures to my computer I was astonished to see that I had taken a chopped up video of the girls.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I don't even know how to take a video and had never done it before.  How did that happen? That evening I told Megan about it and showed her the video. I said to her, "How did I do that and how could I be that stupid?" She got this funny look on her face and then started laughing. Apparently she had been playing with the camera and had set it to something called "movie digest."  On this setting it automatically takes a 3 second video every time you take a picture. She had forgotten to change the setting back and that is why I ended up with a comical stop-and-start video of my granddaughters. Oh the joys of being over 50 in this technological age.

 Enjoy.

Sisters :)

With over a decade between me and my sister (11 years to be exact), it didn't even feel like I had a sister when I was growing up. By the time I was old enough to appreciate a sister, Lois was already dating and pretty much out of the house.  One faint memory comes from when I was about 5 years old.  Up until that time I had slept in a corner of my parents' bedroom and they were anxious to get me out of there.  Lois was told that I would be moving to her bedroom.  I was excited but Lois was not. My parents compromised by putting me in a single bed and not making Lois share a double bed with me. In the next few years, Lois graduated from high school, went to nursing school, got married and moved to Colorado and then Kansas.  To me, she was just a distant member of the family; someone who I knew was my sister but not anyone that I related to closely.

The years passed and and she and her family moved back to the area. After I got married and became a mother we began to connect with each other a little bit. I found that I liked talking and sharing my life with her.  So this was what it was like to have a sister! 

In many ways we are different. She loves gardening. I hate it. She is competent at sewing. I am not. She is always excited about a new project.  I tend to like things to stay the way they are and not try something new.  She is often late. I am almost always on time. She is somewhat forgetful with appointments, etc. I usually am not (although I will admit that the older I get the more forgetful I am becoming).

We also have a lot in common.  Both of us got married at the age of 20 and we each have three sons and one daughter. We dislike cleaning and we like reading, scrabble and cooking. Another thing we share is the need to spend time alone. Some people can't understand this but we just laugh and nod understandingly when one of us says, "I just need an hour or two by myself to get my life back in order."  There is something about solitude that refreshes both of us.

I learned a lot from Lois.  Once when my boys were small, one of them dumped a huge glob of mustard on new carpet we had just put in our living room.  I couldn't get the stain out and I was furious.  After unloading to Lois she made this comment which I have never forgotten: "In 5 years, this incident will make no difference in your life."  This was such good advice and I have remembered it many times through the years. Most of life's hardships or "catastrophes" that are huge at the moment will only become a small dot, if not completely forgotten in the future. It has helped me to put my life in perspective and to focus on the things/relationships that really will make a difference to me in 10 or 20 years.

The bottom line about a sister is that she is someone who will always be there for you.  There are times when we rarely speak and there are times when we speak every day.  However, I always know that if something happens in my life (good or bad), my sister will be happy or sad with me. She is the one I will turn to when I just need someone to understand.

Last Friday was my birthday. Dutifully, my husband, children and siblings called, texted, or in some way wished me a happy birthday.  All except Lois.  I told you she was forgetful!  On Tuesday, I was sitting at my desk at work when a man walked in carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers. I'm sure the shock showed on my face when he said, "Mary Lehman?".  As I took the flowers, I was trying to figure out who would have sent them to me and for what occasion. Of all the names and possibilities that flashed through my brain, Lois never made the list.  Here is what I read when I opened the card:

 

Missed your birthday?

NO WAY!

Your Sister

 



 



Indy

There is one member of the family that I have not introduced yet.  His name is Indy and he is a toy fox terrier with a little bit of Jack Russell in him.  Soon after Shawn & Melissa's marriage in 2003 they brought Indy home to live with them.  He was actually born on the exact day as Chip so the two of them are twins but that is where the likeness stops. Whereas Chip is an outside dog, Indy lives inside. Whereas Chip is big, Indy is little. Whereas Chip is timid, Indy is bold. You get the picture.

I first met Indy when Shawn brought him for a visit soon after they got him.  We had just finished eating and there was some leftover barbecue sitting in a dish on the counter. Shawn offered Indy some and my how that tiny doggie did eat!  He gobbled up the little bit of meat and sniffed around to see if he could get a second helping.  As much as Shawn fed him, he chowed down in a hurry and begged for more.  That is my first memory of the little guy, happily eating all the barbecue that Shawn offered him.

I have to be perfectly honest and explain that I am not a natural dog-lover like my dad and some others in the family. However, I did think dogs could be cute and fun as long as they stayed outside and I didn't have to pay too much attention to them.  I had absolutely no problem with anyone else that had an indoor dog, and was happy for Shawn and Melissa who were thrilled with their new addition.  After all, it wasn't going to affect me that they had a dog. I didn't mind that he came along whenever they were at our house. He came right in and we fed him scraps at the table and it was no big deal. They always took care of him and he preferred them (especially Melissa) over any of us so everything was great. It wasn't like he was going to come and spend the night or anything. Wrong.

Shawn and Melissa were going away for the weekend and they couldn't take Indy. Would I keep Indy for them? I said "Sure!" but inwardly I was thinking, "Oh no." On Friday afternoon, they arrived with Indy and doghouse in tow. We put the doghouse in the corner of our basement and Melissa fixed his blankets just right and left him with plenty of food and a few of his favorite toys. He ran after them as they left him at the door and when he realized they weren't taking him along, he glanced at me and then headed for the basement and his doghouse to sulk. Eventually, he came out of his house and sat on the sofa, but when I came down to the basement to keep him company and watch TV, he wouldn't even make eye contact with me. He just sat there forlornly with his chin on his paws. I sat on the recliner and talked to him and tried to coax him out of his misery.  After a while I gave up and just watched TV.  All of a sudden I felt movement and a little body hurled itself across my lap and snuggled down between me and the side of the recliner. We looked at each other warily and slowly and tentatively, I reached out my hand and gently patted him on his head.  We held each other's gaze for a long moment and gradually both of us came to the same conclusion--"maybe you aren't so bad after all."

The rest of the weekend went really well. We enjoyed Indy and I think Indy enjoyed us.  We played with him and I spoiled him by giving him a doggie treat every time he came in from "piddling" outside. Whenever we sat down on the sofa or recliner he would jump up and sit on our laps or right beside us.  Even Steve got in for keeping him company when Indy chose him to sleep with for their Sunday afternoon naps. They made quite the picture--both contentedly dozing.

The only one who suffered was Chip.  We keep Chip's food in a dish on the porch and the first time I left Indy out to do his business, he found it and starting eating as fast as he could.  Chip didn't like this and approached Indy cautiously to try and reclaim what was his, but stopped in his tracks when Indy growled ferociously at him. The next thing we knew, Chip was backing up with his tail between his legs as Indy continued to growl and glare at him and munch away on Chip's food. It was hard not to laugh at our poor big dog being humiliated and afraid of this miniature dog who definitely was not intimidated by Chip's size. We rescued Chip's food and put it in a safe place where Indy couldn't get to it. Chip contented himself thereafter by simply following Indy around and peeing on everything that Indy peed on.  Whenever he did risk an occasional sniff at him, Indy promptly flattened his ears and barred his teeth causing Chip to cower away again. Fortunately we kept Indy inside most of the time so it wasn't much of a problem.

The weekend passed quickly and late Sunday afternoon Shawn & Melissa returned.  As the basement door creaked open, Indy's ears perked up and he ran to the steps to investigate.  Upon seeing Melissa he hurled himself into her arms and jumped and wiggled excitedly.  He was more than happy to see them pick up his dog house and take it and him with them as they left for home.  And you know what?  Although I was happy to see him go home too, I actually missed him a little bit. 

Over the years, we have kept Indy a lot when Shawn & Melissa have gone on vacation, even keeping him for a week at a time on occasion.  By now, we all know the routine and he seems quite content to spend several days with us and I am always happy to see him. Even though Chip and he will never be best buds they have learned to tolerate each other. Now, when Shawn or Melissa ask if I can keep Indy while they go away, I say "absolutely" and inwardly I am thinking "yay!"  I think both Indy and I learned a lot from each other.  If you are willing to give something or somebody a chance, you may be pleasantly surprised at the outcome.