Our cistern went dry yesterday, very unexpectedly. We're still waiting to find out if we just "lost" 24K gallons of water in a month (we did have some new plumbing put in, so that might explain the missing water), or if there's something wrong with the cistern itself. Boo.

Anyway, my dad, who fills our cistern, kind of flipped out when we called to tell him we were out of agua. It's an ongoing issue... My parents, my dad in particular, suffer from what I like to call "famine mentality," and it appears to be hereditary.
My father monitors our water and electric consumption. He has a ledger to keep track of when he fills the cistern and what the measurements are, and to record the readings for our electric meter every month. When we use more than normal, he makes sure to let us know, with that sort of stern fatherly expression that makes me cringe. (We do PAY our own electric bill, and the cistern is filled from a 100-year-old ditch as part of the water rights that came with the property.)
To be fair, my parents have NO IDEA what it means to live in a household of 10 people. (I'm an only child.) When I try to explain our weekly grocery budget, or WHY we have 8-10 loads of laundry every week, they look...befuddled.
One of my childhood memories involves the time I accidentally left my baseboard heater on in my bedroom one day when I went to school. Not only was my room ROASTING when I got home, I was in deep weeds with my padre for wasting all that money.
I didn't realize how much of an effect that mindset had on my life until I moved out and became responsible for my own household... I had a reminder today, when I got an email from our Internet provider notifying me that we've already used 75% of our monthly download allowance, with three weeks left to go in the billing cycle. I had the same automatic reaction my father had to our empty cistern... Interrogate!!! Interrogate!!!

(Apparently my boys binge-watched multiple seasons of The Walking Dead during Christmas break. Internet mystery solved.)
My daughter and son-in-law (initial victims of my interrogation techniques) were quick to point out the similarity of my reaction to our Internet usage to my papa's reaction to our water consumption. Ouch.
So where does the "never enough" famine mentality come from? I'm blaming my genes. Recent studies have shown that our DNA is affected, even changed, by the lives of our ancestors. I can claim direct lineage (on my father's side) to one of George Washington's quartermaster generals from the Valley Forge period of the Revolutionary War.
Quartermasters were responsible for doling out supplies to the troops. Can you even begin to imagine the stress involved in being a quartermaster for the patriots during Valley Forge? Seriously, I think that's where my famine mentality springs from.

So, while I firmly believe in conservation and the ethics of frugality, I think I need to check my motives. Am I being thrifty in consumption because I want to reduce our environmental footprint and limit our consumption of non-sustainable goods, or am I being thrifty because I'm deeply, DNA-level terrified there won't be enough to go around? One is OK, the other is not, because one is based on fear, and that's never a good motive.

While a gun shoved into the waistband of a 60-some-odd year old man's pants goes off while he's in Walmart's checkout line gives me pause, the mommies who made an appearance at a Texas Target store (no pun intended) with their toddlers in tow and their assault rifles strapped to their back are enough to drive me to my knees.

Add to that the media frenzy over the local diner whose 20-something waitresses wear their plaid flannel shirts and their gun holsters snug on the job. My question: Why?

It's fallout from 9/11. Our nation has succumbed to fear. We're afraid of Islam, we're afraid of socialism, communism, whatever political position opposes our own, we're afraid of our own government, and we're afraid of each other. Fear rules us, and in the grand scheme of things, whether you're a Christian or a Buddhist or an atheist, that should concern you.

Fear is one of the greatest motivators. Animals in the wild run away from that which frightens them. Domesticated animals endure trips to the vet, or car rides, or whatever their master insists they tolerate, but they're still afraid. And humans? Instead of encouraging one another NOT to be afraid, our systems are triggered by fear. The more fear, the more news... Sensationalistic journalism has reached heretofore untold heights, and the American people, in response, have become more polarized in their views than ever before.

If we all took in every article, every post, every infographic, with a "fear-o-meter," might we find the truth on the other side? Or at least a place to discuss and interact without all the vitriol and turbulence? Is that even possible, in this day and age?

www.dictionary.com

"But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power..." 2 Tim 3:1-5 ESV

That about sums it up, doesn't it? How, then, are we to respond?

Shall we run out, buy handguns, and get concealed-carry permits so we can start "packing" whenever we head out to the store or the movie or the workplace? (Sorry, I'm a gun owner myself, but I have trouble with the idea that we're all gonna turn into Milla Jovanovich from Resident Evil if somebody whips out a semi-automatic in a public place, no matter how many hours we've spent at the shooting range.)

Shall we start testing our toddlers for signs of future psychosis and drugging them in advance? Making sure any angry, dissatisfied child will never become a threat to society? Or, better yet, subject EVERYONE to mental health exams and tests (in a field that changes from day to day) in the hopes of weeding out those who might slip over the edge and cause harm to others?

Obviously, those are knee-jerk reactions, born from emotions and our desperation to maintain some sense of security in our lives. Are those notions logical, rational, sane? No.

And that's the trouble. According to Newton's law, every action produces an equal and opposite reaction. But in the case of insane human behavior, we can't allow ourselves to yield to Newton's law.  The automatic, emotional response to the acts of insanity that take place in the world around us are based in fear, shock, horror, and dismay; not reason, sound judgment, good sense, or a state of calm, clear, mental health.

Each time we face one of these horrible events in our nation, or in our world, we must remember, one act of insanity cannot be balanced by an equal and opposite act of insanity... Step back, pray, seek God's ways and His will, and above all, don't react out of fear, because then you lose your power to respond in faith, to respond with a rational voice, to step outside ourselves and our desire to protect and defend our own in order to determine the necessary actions for the greater good.

I spent countless hours on the phone as a teenager, sitting in the hallway connected to the kitchen wall by that fascinating spiral umbilicus called a phone cord. So what on earth created the monstrous phobia I now have about using a telephone?


I'd like to blame it on Mrs. Williams, the cranky old lady who called our house at 5 a.m. every time her newspaper wasn't delivered to her satisfaction (which was almost daily). Because my parents were out delivering said papers, I was left to drag myself to the phone and pick up ... I'll say this for the ol' broad (and she fits the definition), she could raise up a rant about nothing. Too wet. Off the sidewalk. Not bagged. Too far from her porch. Missing entirely. Ragged on one end. Broken rubber band. Missing coupon inserts. I could go on.


For the record, I choose to forgive Mrs. Williams (she's probably dead now anyway) for her sad and pathetic obsession with the delivery of her daily paper, and her need to vent her frustrations upon the 11-year-old at the other end of the line. May she rest in peace.

But I don't think Mrs. Williams is to blame for my issues with the phone. They started later. After I became a PW (pastor's wife).

There are, in my opinion, few things worse than having traumatized parishioners call your house at all hours of the day and night in need of counsel, assistance, or some kind of aid you are not qualified or equipped to provide. Equally horrible? Having church members call and tell you (the PW) they've decided to quit attending your fledgling church because of this or that... Ouch. Yeah. OK. I forgive HER, too...

And then there are the phone interviews for newspaper articles with ancient people. No, really, ANCIENT. The ones who can't hear a thing you say whether you are three feet away or on the telephone? Those interviews are painful. Almost as painful as making telephone sales calls to sell newspaper ads, which is another phobia I won't address in this post.

Suffice it to say, I've become a phone-o-phobe. When it rings, I cringe. Even voice mail gives me the heebie-jeebies because I will have to return the person's call. How I feel about the person on the other end of the line, or what they have to say, has no bearing on my gut-level response. It doesn't matter who the caller is, I hate the telephone, be it mobile or satellite or land line or payphone or office phone.

It's a bit of a handicap, really, especially in my line of work. To write an article, I have to (most of the time) call people. Strangers, even. Not only do I have to explain who I am and why I'm bothering them (yes, I ALWAYS assume I'm bothering them) I have to come up with questions they can answer that will fit into an article's format.

Oh, how I would like to be comfortable and confident and not AFRAID of the telephone!

For those of you who don't understand (I know you're out there, I can hear your eyeballs rolling), let me share with you the process of  making a phone call in my issue-riddled world. (There really is no process for receiving a call. Sometimes I can answer, and sometimes I simply can't.)

1. Plan ahead. Whether I need to make a call or reply to a message, I have to schedule (in my mind) when and where (always an issue in the mountains with a cell phone) I will make the call.

2. Fortify myself. Depending on who I'm calling and why, fortification might include prayer, chocolate, a run, or a glass of wine. Something to settle the flesh and numb the irrational terror. (Yes, I am perfectly aware that telephonobia is completely irrational, but that doesn't make it less painful.)

3. Prepare my message. Who am I calling? Why am I calling them? What will I say? What message will I leave if they don't answer?

4. Dial and wait. {{shudder}}

5. Depending on the response or lack thereof: 1) Bumble awkwardly through my spiel.  2) Leave a convoluted message and hang up, which only increases the anxiety, because now I have to wait for the person to call back.

That's where I'm at this afternoon, waiting for someone to call me back. Which leads me to wonder, how many of the people I'm calling are also telephonobes?


I would have been perfectly content in the days of the telegraph (old-fashioned texting) and letter-writing (old-fashioned email). As it is, send me a text or an email... just don't CALL! Calling, IMHO, is as bad as "dropping by" for an unannounced, uninvited, unplanned visit (also a throwback from PW days, apparently).

And as for Skype, and video-conferences, and webcams... HORRORS, with a capital "H"!

Despite my pre-Christmas season commitment to avoid the annual commercialized Christmas pressure, I find myself drowning in a sea of cheap bows and ugly wrapping paper yet again.

Besides the nasty glue gun burn on my finger (yes, the same finger I snipped open with kitchen shears last summer) obtained while obsessively creating 3D paper stars so we would have some "new" decorations this year, I've depleted my "slush fund" like a cistern in a drought to buy presents for my kids and grandson. Not lots of presents, mind you, just one or two apiece. Now I'm fretting over the dearth of gifts and the depletion of my slush security fund. And there are still names on the list...

It doesn't help that everyone around me seems to have a surplus of Christmas funds this year. From iPads to the latest gaming system, to those wretched commercials where the wife presents her husband with a brand new Lexus with a ginormous bow on the top and the husband cracks open a box of "he went to Jared"...

Besides the gift issues, in order to spend Christmas Day with grandbaby, I did something I would ordinarily NEVER do. I finagled (manipulated) an invitation to the home of my SIL's parents for Christmas dinner. The kind of invitation that comes because folks don't want to say "no, we'd rather not include you, but we won't say so because we don't want to be rude."

Blea. Why do I do this to myself again and again? Can we just skip this season?

Don't try to tell me it's all about worshiping Jesus, because I had a more spiritual worship experience with the Lord last night in my dream montage (which involved a marble grotto, holy water and a genuinely intense one-on-one with Jesus) than I've ever had doing the Christmas thing.  Seriously, there's so much hype involved in Christmas and Easter services at church that it's often hard to hear His voice.

© Photographer | Agency: Dreamstime.com

As for the "creating family memories" and "togetherness" idea, that disintegrated sometime after my kids became teenagers.  Yeah, I remember opening gifts and racing to the phone in the hallway (the kind that was attached to the wall, folks, with a cord and everything!) to call my friends and compare gifts. I remember wishing, desperately, that one of my friends could keep me company for Christmas dinner with the fam. I really don't want to force my kiddos to endure my idealistic holiday vision against their will, either.

*sigh*
Hubby just came home and announced we must have a "state of the finances" meeting, which means nothing good. This is where I need a fast-foward button ...


Like I said, this is my whiny post. I'm sure I'll come out of it soon. Please forgive me for pity partying!

photo by estherase	via PhotoRee

A call-back generally indicates someone thinks your talent and skill are worth a paycheck. Writers and actors and job-seekers yearn for "call-backs" after interviews, auditions, and manuscript submissions.

After Monday's mammogram I got a call-back I didn't want, in the form of a letter in the mail. "There is no cause for alarm; however..."


Okay, instant alarm. Never, ever, tell a dyed-in-the-wool pessimist there is no cause for alarm, because that automatically sets off every alarm I have. (Funny, all those alarms in the picture look like breasts, don't they?)

photo by Leo Reynolds	via PhotoRee

Long story short: I have an appointment on Monday at the "big" hospital for further tests. Apparently, my boobs aren't any more photogenic than the rest of me. The girls' portraits were "unclear," and one revealed a "nodule."


As a woman, in today's age of hyper-awareness of breast cancer, one's reaction to that news falls somewhere between "oh, crap" and sheer terror. Coupled with the financial pressure of not having health insurance ... double crap.


I won't know anything more in the natural until Monday, but one thing I do know: God is still God. He's still my Savior, my Redeemer, my Provider, and my Lord.  And that will be as true on Monday evening as it is right now.


In the meantime, I'm just going to sing this song and focus on living in the NOW. Hey, isn't that what I should be doing anyway? All the time?

Think back to chemistry class for a moment. A catalyst was something that triggered or accelerated a sequence of events. Fear is a catalyst. So is faith.

In the fiction world, we use the abbreviation TSTL (Too Stupid Too Live) for characters who do things no sane, rational person would do. It's the character from the horror film who wanders aimlessly (and unarmed) through the dark, scary house without turning on a light, calling the police, or DUH... leaving. It's the character who ignores the weather report, the warning from the toothless guy at the bait shop, and the misgivings of his hapless wife and children, yet opts to set out for the summit of the mountain anyway.

Allowing fear to be the force that controls our decisions and actions makes us TSTL characters in our own lives.

And yet, it's SO easy...
Listen to the news, fill your heart with the media (and it doesn't matter whether you 'just get it online' or you only watch FOX) and you'll have all sorts of kindling for a raging fear fire.

What's a fear fire? It's when you separate yourself from whatever is actually going on within your sphere of influence and begin to respond and react to circumstances that have nothing to do with your life.

Oh, that's not a big deal.

Really? The Great Depression was triggered by a "panic" on Wall Street. Oil prices ebb and surge based on the actions of speculators -- modern-day fortune-tellers who buy and sell based on rumors and innuendo.

Today's news said there has been a rush to buy potassium-iodide tablets in the U.S., in case radiation drifts our way from Japan. Never mind the side effects of potassium-iodide. Never mind the fact there is no indication radiation levels in the U.S. are, or will be, elevated. Never mind the fact your last dental X-ray exposed you to more radiation than we're likely to see in the states.

• Fear destroys perspective. 
• Fear eliminates rational thinking.
• Fear obliterates the ability to make wise decisions.

As a person who, by virtue of personality, is susceptible to fear, I have to constantly check myself. Seriously, if I yielded to the fear that would like to have its way with me on a daily basis, I'd be living in a bubble. My children would never leave the house. I would never leave the house. There would be a germ-decontamination center set up in my mud room.


Fear says, "Don't bother trying. You'll never succeed."
Faith says, "Do it anyway. You never know what might happen!"

Making choices based on fear is fruitless. Choices based on faith, however, always bear fruit eventually.



What motivates your actions and decisions? 
Fear of the future, or faith in a loving and merciful God?