Self-Induced Labor

SELF-INDUCED LABOR

1989 by Angela E. White

"Where does this compulsion to write come from?"

asked the novice of the mentor.

The urge comes from within, giving birth to a labor of love.

Words are delivered to a sterile paper sheet;

A thought that was nurtured like an embryo of joy.

Spontaneous phrases disciplined like a recalcitrant child.

Flowing images and scenarios that warm the awed parent.

At times the words balk determinedly

At the ink that feeds them.

Only to emerge enthusiastically

To nourish and relieve the uninspired starvation.

This progeny grows up big and strong.

Demanding independence from the binding apron strings.

This product of love ventures out

Alone.

While the worried and concerned parent

Watches with pride.

Random Acts of Kindness

Random Acts of Kindness

I don't want you, dear reader, to think that I am a veritable 24-hour-a-day shrew who complains incessantly.  I assure you, I am a very positive, up-beat, generally mellow optimist.  I just don't think there's anything wrong with standing up for what's right.

And standing up for what's right also entails acknowledging the good things in life.

I have a variety of jobs -- my current part-time jobs of scriptwriting, newspaper reporting, corporate event planning, mystery shopping, and school carpooling equal out to a more than full-time work and almost full-time pay, so they are all satisfying and somewhat rewarding.

In trying to launch a home-based, freelance writing career, I started my own mystery shopping service and mailed flyers to local businesses offering to evaluate their service performance.  Combining my personal experience as a consumer with my professional expertise in customer service and communicative writing made me an effective evaluator.  Being very detailed, I provided my customers with extensive reports -- the good, the bad, and the ugly -- so they could fix whatever problems they might have as well as reward employees who were doing their jobs well.  (Too bad being in a small town limited my client base).

Often I would send complimentary reports to businesses where I received shoddy treatment.  Sometimes they made improvements, sometimes they simply ignored my recommendations.  But what I really enjoy doing is sharing "atta boys" with as many people as possible.  When I receive great service, I write a letter to the editor of our local paper (and it doesn't matter that I work for him on a part-time basis -- I wrote letters to the paper long before I was assigned the school board beat).  That way, everyone who reads the paper is aware of where to get good service and the business gets a pat on the back as well as an increase in potential business.

But that's not what most people think of as "random acts of kindness".

We think of:

•  the woman who fed expired parking meters (and got a ticket in the process -- which is ludicrous!)

•  the person who lets us merge onto the highway without the threat of a collision.

•  the young man who holds open a door for someone with their hands full

•  the generous motorist who pays another's toll

•  the benefactress who shares her largess with residents devastated by natural disaster.

But what about:

•  the person in line at the grocery check-out who lets a young mother and her toddlers go to the head of the line?

•  the "busy-body" older couple who keeps a watchful eye on our children when they're outside playing and on our property when we're away?

•  the teacher who freely dispenses encouraging words?

•  the doctors who try to find causes rather than just treatment?

•  the pastors, priests, and reverends who lend ears and shoulders to people in need?

•  the friends who share tears and laughter?

•  the co-workers who take up the slack when we're on vacation or sick?

•  the boss who understands when you have a sick child at home or need to go to the dentist?

•  the person who gives to charity out of a heartfelt desire to share rather than a guilty conscience or a misguided sense of obligation?

•  the motorist who signals you to go first at an intersection?

•  the neighbors who wave as you drive past their house?

•  the church member who shares a covered dish, a song, or hope?

•  the dog who wags its tail and licks your hand in return for seeing your face and a pat on the head?

•  the cat that curls up and purrs around your leg?

•  the birds that serenade you in the morning?

•  the people around you who are trying to make a difference, no matter how large or small it may be?

To paraphrase a chili commercial, "Neighbor, when was the last time you performed a random act of kindness or thanked someone for theirs?  Well, that's too long."

Small kindnesses cost so little, yet mean so much.  They are one of the best investment opportunities money can't buy.

Roadway Etiquette

                                         Roadway Etiquette

Driving on today's highways and byways is frustrating at best -- even if you're almost the only vehicle on the road.  Making long treks can be even more frustrating because driver's ed doesn't include a section on common sense (or at least it didn't 101 years ago when I took the class.).

For those of you who are morons (and for those who encounter this sub-species on a daily basis), here are a few rules of the road.

When you're in traffic, trying to hitch your front bumper to my rear bumper is NOT going to make me go any faster.  If I can see you're in a bigger hurry than I am, don't worry, I'll be happy to get out of your way at the first opportunity.  By the same token, if I'm already on the road, cruising along in my lane, don't expect me to slam on the brakes to get out of your way if you're trying to weasel in ahead of me just to be first (refer to right-of-way).  I make room for courteous drivers.  If you're rude or obnoxious (unless I see you waving a pistol in the vicinity of my head), I'll do everything I can to make sure you're not rewarded for your immature behavior.

When you're out on the open road, especially here in Texas where drivers are supposed to be friendly, it's common knowledge (to most, but not all) that you drive in the right lane and use the left lane to pass.  That means, if you're poking along at 45 miles an hour, STAY IN THE RIGHT LANE!  (That sign that reads, Slower Traffic Keep Right was put there for a reason, folks!)  And if you happen to prefer the left (fast) lane for whatever reason, do us all a favor and scoot over when someone cruising at the speed limit comes up behind you.

Another pet peeve is that people have forgotten what that little lever to the left of the steering wheel is for.  It's called a blinker and it's intended to help other drivers read your mind, or at least reasonably guess what your intentions are.  So, for future reference, use this handy little device when you plan on changing lanes or making a turn.  It simplifies the whole process.  Conversely, turn it off if you're planning on riding straight off into the sunset straight ahead.  A good rule of thumb is to turn the blinker on as soon as possible before your intended turn, but only after passing the last turn you could have made.

One interesting incident happened on my way to work one day. Some idiot decided that traffic was impeding his very important progress. Apparently, he was a very important person to whom rules didn't apply, because he illegally zoomed past me and several other drivers using the right shoulder. I honked at him as if to say, "Hey, Dude. That's not cool...and neither are you!" He proceeded to show me his interpretation of shadow performance art in the form of a bird flying out his window. Whatever. The funny thing was that I caught up to him at the next light. There I was, stopped right behind him at the exact same time. His antics didn't really benefit him or gain him a vast amount of time. I could see him glaring at me in his side mirror, so I did what any kind, considerate southern belle driver would do...I blew him a kiss! I do hope that the steam I saw coming from his vehicle wasn't connected to his radiator, but I dare say his expression in the mirror really made my day!

Thanks for listening.  Now get out of my way!

Memory

                                    Memory (or a lack thereof)

I truly think the human memory is much like the memory in a computer.  Remember that old joke about always thinking about the Hereafter -- you walk into a room and wonder what you're "hereafter"?  It's sad (but true) that our memories diminish with age.

We can remember the smell of childhood summers, what we wore on our first dates, and the taste of snow ice cream, but we can't remember where we put our keys fifteen minutes ago or what we ate for lunch.

My theory for this is that we humans have finite storage space for memories.  Once that's filled with stored-away memories (later in life for some than others) and the memory banks are full, recent memories are stacked on top of more recent memories and the old ones are embedded forever.

If it hasn't happened to you already, your day is coming.  Remember this (or at least try to) the next time an elder reminisces about a "way back when" incident.

Passage of Time

                                          Passage of Time

See, I have this theory about the passage of time.  Remember when you were a kid and Christmas and your birthday took FOREVER to arrive?  Every day was an agonizing wait in the dentist's office.  Then, suddenly, you're an adult and five years zip by at the drop of a hat.  Your days race past in a blur.  One day, you're graduating, the next you're married, and before you can turn around, you have kids who are driving nicer cars than you.

Here's my perception of how it works:  when you're six years old, a year is one-sixth of your accumulated lifetime.  When you're fifteen, it's one-fifteenth.  When you're 30, it's one-thirtieth, 40 a fortieth, etc.  (Okay, okay, you get the picture.)

Simple, isn't it?

Holy Spirit Delivering Gifts

Holy Spirit – wearing Fed-Ex or UPS-like shirt/pants or t-shirt or name tag identifying as “Holy Spirit Delivery”  By a stack of boxes, holding a box & a clipboard

Holy Spirit:  Let’s see – I’ll just check this order for spiritual gifts – I see that it was placed by the Father -  check.  Yes, paid for by Jesus.  Yes, everything is in order.

(Places gift in 1^st person’s hands; 1^st person opens gift & is delighted by what’s inside).

And, next we have __________, yes, the order is in order.  The Heavenly Father has placed this order and I see it was His will for it to have been paid in full at the cross.

(Places 2^nd gift in 2^nd person’s hands; 2^nd person opens gift & looks perplexed).

OK – he doesn’t quite know what to do with his gift just yet, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually.  I may have to help him out a bit – with some instructions or something, but I know we’ll work it out.

(HS is checking clipboard; 3^rd person tries to grab 4^th person’s gift; HS hangs on to gift and “tsk-tsks” #3)

No…you may think you have this gift, but that’s not what God’s got planned for you.

(Hands #3 gift)

THIS is your gift.  OK – almost finished with this order for Church in the Woods – Where is Bob?  I have this one last order for Bob that I’ve got to fill.  (Bob is facing away; HS knocks & knocks – then bangs/bangs).  “Bob, I know you’re home…”

BOB:  No I’m not!

HS:  Yes, you are!  Guess you’re forgetting that I’m one of your roommates!”  (HS takes key, opens “door”)  Bob – Bob…pay attention, Bob… (Bob continues to try to avoid, but HS finally prevails – Bob doesn’t open gift, though)

HS:  Let’s see…how our recipients are doing. 

#1:       Oh, I see my gift is ________.  I’ve always enjoyed ____________.  Guess I’ll try to see how I can put it to good use.  (Each gift has a ¼ of a picture of Jesus; #1 holds pic the right way)

#2:       Hmmm…wonder what I’m supposed to do with this?  Let me try this… (Holds pic the wrong way)

#3:       (still looks between #3’s gift & #4’s unopened gift; #4 is still ignoring gift) 

HS whispers to #1 who whispers to #2 who turns pic the right way.

#3 To #4:  Hey, let’s trade (#3 opens box & then holds wrong pic wrong way)

#4 half-heartedly holds up wrong pic wrong way.

HS whispers to #2, who whispers to #3 who looks upset & shrugs

HS whispers to #3 who then talked to #4 (HS whispers to #4) and they trade.

HS talks to all, they confer & get the picture right.

HS:  Whew!  That was certainly an interesting order to fill.  And that was just their 1^st delivery!  Sure hope they’re better equipped to handle the next shipment.  And I know they will be with God helping them…  What’s that?  Right, Boss…(looks up; starts to walk to the audience)  OK…on these next orders

Proverbs 18:16 NIV • Read this chapter
A gift opens the way for the giver and ushers him into the presence of the great.

John 4:10 NIV • Read this chapter
Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water."

Acts 2:38 NIV • Read this chapter
Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 1:11 NIV • Read this chapter
I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong—

Romans 4:4 NIV • Read this chapter
Now when a man works, his wages are not credited to him as a gift, but as an obligation.

Romans 5:15 NIV • Read this chapter
But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God's grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!

Romans 5:16 NIV • Read this chapter
Again, the gift of God is not like the result of the one man's sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification.

Romans 5:17 NIV • Read this chapter
For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God's abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.

Romans 6:23 NIV • Read this chapter
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in [ Or through] Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 12:6 NIV • Read this chapter
We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his [ Or in agreement with the] faith.

1 Corinthians 1:7 NIV • Read this chapter
Therefore you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed.

1 Corinthians 7:7 NIV • Read this chapter
I wish that all men were as I am. But each man has his own gift from God; one has this gift, another has that.

1 Corinthians 13:2 NIV • Read this chapter
If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

1 Corinthians 14:1 NIV • Read this chapter
[ Gifts of Prophecy and Tongues ] Follow the way of love and eagerly desire spiritual gifts, especially the gift of prophecy.

1 Corinthians 16:3 NIV • Read this chapter
Then, when I arrive, I will give letters of introduction to the men you approve and send them with your gift to Jerusalem.

2 Corinthians 8:12 NIV • Read this chapter
For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have.

2 Corinthians 8:20 NIV • Read this chapter
We want to avoid any criticism of the way we administer this liberal gift.

2 Corinthians 9:5 NIV • Read this chapter
So I thought it necessary to urge the brothers to visit you in advance and finish the arrangements for the generous gift you had promised. Then it will be ready as a generous gift, not as one grudgingly given.

2 Corinthians 9:15 NIV • Read this chapter
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

Ephesians 2:8 NIV • Read this chapter
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—

Ephesians 3:7 NIV • Read this chapter
I became a servant of this gospel by the gift of God's grace given me through the working of his power.

Philippians 4:17 NIV • Read this chapter
Not that I am looking for a gift, but I am looking for what may be credited to your account.

1 Timothy 4:14 NIV • Read this chapter
Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you.

2 Timothy 1:6 NIV • Read this chapter
For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.

Hebrews 6:4 NIV • Read this chapter
It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit,

James 1:17 NIV • Read this chapter
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

1 Peter 3:7 NIV • Read this chapter
Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers.

1 Peter 4:10 NIV • Read this chapter
Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms.

Revelation 22:17 NIV • Read this chapter
The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!" Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

Children vs. The Workplace

                           Children vs. The Workplace

            No jurors selected.  No judge presided.  No attorneys nor plaintiffs required.  I, the sole defendant, admitted my guilt without duress, without formal charges.  My crime?  Assuming I could control my children at a place of business in order to catch up with the rat race.

            Being a seasonably single parent (married to an over-avid sportsman), I thought I could subdue the monsters of paper that moving into a new office, acquiring a new computer system, and learning that system had created at the Dallas law office where I am employed.  I seriously doubted my three-year-old son was likely to mishandle our client's trust and my two-year-old daughter speaks a language discernable only to immediate family and wet-nosed puppies.  Besides, it was Saturday and all I wanted to do was at least eliminate a few briefs and time sheets from my sky-scraping to-do stack.

            I justified hauling my children to an adult domain by balancing the career sacrifice I made earlier in the week when they were Snow White's eighth and ninth dwarfs, Sniffly and Feverish.  (Need I also mention Cranky?  The tenth oversized dwarf which described all of us?!?)  Stay-at-home moms deserve a resounding round of applause.  Frankly, whenever I'm home for longer than two-day intervals, my kids practically push me out the door!

            This incident wasn't a premeditated behavioral test for Justin and Kristen.  Circumstances just naturally evolved into an abnormal dilemma -- either take them with me or face the wicked QUEEN (office manager) on Monday.

            The day began much better than average.  We skipped over the routine delays of the "I'm still asleep", "I doan wanna wear clean clothes", and "I doan wanna go ta day school" moans.  They both thought going to work was exciting.  (HA!)  We substituted a trip to the day care center with a treat to the donut shop.  I should have heeded my first warning:  Justin wanted a gumball instead of whichever donut would crumble the most; Kristy pleaded, "Cawy me".

            We arrived in one piece -- literally.  Both were as firmly attached to my side and my leg as if an invisible umbilical cord were still present.  Nonetheless, our adventurism remained intact.  Justin pushed the alarm button on the elevator.  Kristy balked at the elevator door when she could see down the shaft.  The security guard calmly disarmed the alarm and signed us in.  He kindly chatted with the kids and encouragingly sent us on our merry way.

            Fortunately, the office was empty.  We settled in with our survival equipment -- blankets and pillows for nap time, one toy per child, a bag with a change of clothes (just in case), and a coin purse filled with change destined for the vending machine.  Again, I strayed from the narrow path.

            I turned on my calculator, booted up my computer, and programmed my word processor.  Kristy attacked the calculator (it never had a chance), Justin pounced on a keyboard.  What started out as a preschool introduction to business machines ended up as a contest of squatter's rights.  Accusations flew; chants and whines of "I wuz here fust" and "Cissy dudn't share" were rampant.

            My wonderful, errant children were admonished and provided with weapons:  seemingly harmless pencils and paper.  My desk was equipped with a variety of writing instruments; Justin and Kristy fought over the property rights of highlighters, markers, pencils, and pens that soon became prohibited.

            One of the junior partners came in around 9:00 a.m. and immediately went to work on depositions and law books with the aid of a jam box at full tilt.  I, on the other hand, came fully equipped with my own little noisemakers, but I attempted to stifle my children's antics and control the volume of their grumbling.

            The novelty of Mama's stuff eventually wore off.  I worked, they wandered off.  I typed, they scotch-taped each other.  I printed, they pouted.  We broke for lunch and I walked them to a downtown park several blocks away.  We made innumerable trips to the bathroom.

            I panicked when Justin and I misplaced Kristen.  She had gone to the bathroom "awl by hursef".  (Have I mentioned that she's VERY independent?)  Both I and the security guard heard her cries.  I calmed, held, and patted her while Justin quizzed the security guard.  Justin showed the guard his "I'm this many" fingers and the guard reciprocated with an inventory of his gun belt.

            The guard-ian angel suggested a nap may be in order and my by-then-docile offspring promised to follow his advice.  The next two hours were blissfully peaceful.  One of the few universal aspects of parenthood is the freedom and relief that accompany nap time.

            I transformed into an efficient model employee.  I returned two extra chairs to their rightful homes, renovated my then-chaotic cubicle, and worked with a quiet vengeance.  I barely finished one of my last projects when the associate appeared to say adios.  (I still think he planned his escape while the coast was clear.)

            I then attacked a few of the menial tasks that I usually push aside.  My little cherubs bumped themselves into disoriented wakefulness.  By 5:30 p.m., we had restored the office to its former grandeur, repacked our gear, made the obligatory final trip to the bathroom, and signed our way out of the building.  The ordeal was over.

            Although I have confessed my crime, I put myself at the mercy of the court to pass sentencing as time already served.  I've already put myself on probation, to not repeat this offense in the near future.  I have enough gray hairs as it is.