The Power of a Dust Rag

(Joy here.) In addition to the many things we have learned and adjusted to living in a Covid world, one of them is — your house or apartment still gets dirty! And you are there to witness it in real time!

Cleaning… it’s a thankless job, my mother used to say. When my mother started a part time job, the first thing she treated herself to was a maid! Who doesn’t love the pleasant smell of a clean house when it is spic and span, but how many of us really enjoy actually doing the work that needs to be done to get it to that place?! With people not wanting to go into someone’s home for socializing, the likelihood of getting your cleaning person to come, is slim. The conundrum is… do you live in filth or get down on those hands and knees and do it yourself?

The funny thing is that I actually enjoy physical labor. I like weeding gardens, though it is frustrating as hell that the damn things keep coming back! I like getting down on all fours to give the bathroom floor a thorough wash. Call me crazy, but I refuse to use that beloved Swiffer floor mop (though easier on the back and knees) because it just doesn’t give me that same sense of physicality. A little sweat never hurt anyone and the results are ones that quickly illustrate what a good job you’ve done!

Studies show that cleaning is actually therapeutic. An article on the website Organicauthority.com points out five suggestions for turning housecleaning into a mood enhancer:

  1. As you clean the kitchen sink, you can practice deep breathing and meditation.
  2. Cleaning a drawer can give you a feeling of being in control.
  3. Scrubbing has been shown to release stress levels.
  4. Count your blessings while dusting -after all, you are one of the lucky ones to have a house to clean!
  5. Cleaning can purge more than just dog hair. As you dispose of dust and grime, visualize your negative emotions being tossed out as well.

Covid is not going away anytime soon, so you might as well bite the bullet, pick up the dust rag, and sing show tunes while you clean! Your home will reward you as a place to be proud of and continue to social distance in!

Today’s Takeaways

-Feeling isolated? Sad? Overwhelmed? Cleaning SOMEthing could just make you feel better. Start small. Try for drawer a day.

-Okay, who could possibly get excited about cleaning a toilet?! Run, don’t walk, to Target or Amazon ASAP and order this product! It’s amazing! Your toilet will smile back at you!! ToiletWand

Enjoy the ride!

xox

Barclay and Joy

Silver Linings

These are hard times. The word, unprecedented, does not come close to describing what we are going through. COVID has swept our globe with tsunami force leaving in its wake overrun ICUs, death, unemployment, food lines, isolation, and stress that for lack of a better descriptor is… well, unprecedented.

We hesitate to inject positivity here. For we know we are among the privileged. Our zip code has not been ravaged; we have not had to wait hours in a food line. We are not essential workers; nor are we on the front lines in a hospital emergency room.

However, COVID has interrupted our privilege with loneliness and longing. We cannot hug a grandchild, or meet a grown daughter for a drink, or visit a mother in a nursing home. Yet we have also recognized a few silver linings, for which we are grateful. We are recording them here, so as not to forget.

Silver Lining 1: Reuniting family

My family of origin is spread across the states. One sister lives in Vermont, four brothers reside in New York, Minnesota, and California, and nieces and nephews are dispersed. We see one another once a year at best and talk mainly on holidays and birthdays. Since COVID, however, my nephew has organized a weekly ZOOM call that has enabled us to connect. Yes, there are awkward silences and interruptions, but there is also laughter. Our family, however flawed, knows one another’s backstory and can speak in shorthand, referencing people and places only we know. We are closer now than ever before.

Silver Lining 2: Slowing down

Walking the dog, chatting with a neighbor from across the street, reading a book, journaling, planning a recipe, calling a friend – time during a quarantine has made us stay more present. We might share a smile with a fellow dog walker, or gaze at a hidden garden, or marvel at a cleverly disguised robin’s nest.

Silver Lining 3: And this is a big one. Examining systemic racism

We have COVID generated time now to learn and to listen. We are reading White Fragility and Just Mercy as well as the signs held aloft by the protesters in our streets. We watch and rewatch horrifying videos. We are trying to understand more and speak less, and to call out our myopic and generationally unresponsive eyes and ears. COVID is urging us to practice humility.

Silver Lining 4: Thinking about what matters

We can’t zip over to the store. We can’t have coffee with a friend. We can’t stroll an outdoor mall, or get our hair done. We are sick of our own cooking and we have saturated all Netflix options. We wear the clothes we slept in, and showering is, shall we say, less frequent. But at the same time we are grateful each morning when we wake up and discover we are not sick. We are thankful we have dogs to keep us company. And the weather…winter has passed and we are uplifted by the blue sky and the bright light that extends well into evening. All the trappings of our lives are stripped away and we are thankful for our family and friends. Needs and wants are more clearly delineated. Perhaps we can live without those skinny margaritas or that blow dry with the beach-y waves.

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I concur with my dear friend’s observations. Life IS different. I don’t want to say, it will never be the same again, because that’s been said before, after 9/11, after the Great Recession of 2008, basically after every major crisis or shattering event.

Some of us will learn lessons from these last few months and some of us won’t. For me, as a sixth decade-er, it will leave its imprint, its message to wake up, that time’s a fleeting. It has made me think more deeply. I was already in heavy thinking mode, having retired and struggled with a new chapter (those of our blog readers know this), but this COVID message is both physical and mental. My husband and I are considered “elderly”!! Who? Me? Couldn’t be. The disease could be lurking in coughs, on Amazon delivery boxes – a facial-touch away. We are vulnerable, but we are also profoundly thankful.

May we hold onto this gratitude for as long as we can. May we treasure our children, our grandchildren, our spouses, partners, and friends – we realize now more than ever that they could be taken away from us at any time.

As for racial tensions, we need to stop and think before we open our mouth; we need to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. And we must be kinder, more tolerant, and ever mindful that not everyone has the privilege of being taken at their word.

There are no “Takeaways” today. Just read our words which, hopefully, will leave a tiny imprint. We bare our rawest feelings when we blog and we hope just one person may walk away, saying, “Wow, I feel that way too.”

Enjoy the ride,

xox Barclay and Joy

The Case of the Fatigued Engagement Ring

About a month ago, I (Joy) was looking down at my hand.  This is the hand I have worn my engagement ring on for the last four decades. I did a double take.  One of the shanks holding a diamond baguette had separated from the main stone.  The ring is made of platinum, a very hard substance, atomic number 78, unreactive,  not inclined to break or crack.  I took the ring off for fear of losing the stone and put it away until it could be looked at by a jeweler. My hand felt naked.  I felt as though maybe this signified something.  Was my marriage broken?  Was this an omen?  I had worn this ring for 44 years, 42 being married and two during our engagement. This ring had seen much, felt much, and been with me on my hand reminding me of my vows, a token of affection and love, and several months of my fiancee’s salary at that time.  Who knew rings could break? If my ring could talk, what would it say?

I discovered that jewelers in my area were closed during the pandemic.  This was not a do it yourself project.  I didn’t know any gemologists, so my beautiful engagement ring had to be put away for safe keeping.

Finally, we entered into Phase 2 in the Capital Region of New York.  I found a jeweler in our little hamlet who was incredibly talented.  I walked in with my broken engagement ring and it was diagnosed as ‘fatigue.”  I had never heard this term before in relation to jewelry and I found it rather incredulous!  How could my ring be tired? All it did for 44 years was  sit on my finger. I asked nothing of it!

Apparently, rare as it  might be, especially for platinum silverish white in color, it can happen.  One of the shanks was indeed cracked and so, after an estimate of $550, I left my ring to be repaired and made new again. (The jeweler said he had never seen this happen before!)

Two weeks later and I received a call from the jeweler that my ring was repaired and looked brand new.  He told me that when he removed the shank holding one of the diamond baguettes, the other shanks disintegrated.  Perhaps, out of solidarity! Thank God it could be saved and there is a happy ending to my tale of woe. My beautiful engagement ring is now back on the finger it has always been on, shiny and new, no longer fatigued!

Today’s Takeaway

-Keep your eye on your jewelry at all times.  You never know when a piece that is dear to you is going to get “fatigued”!

-If my ring could talk, it might remind me that relationships too can become fatigued; they too may need to be polished, attended to with love, and valued beyond measure.

As always, enjoy the ride!

xox

Barclay and Joy

 

The Great Pandemic of 2020

Much has been written about this unprecedented time we are living through – scientific reports, daily briefings by governors, mayors, the President, as well as jokes and quips to make us smile.

I (Joy) can only liken this to a period in history that I never lived through. That of World War II. My parents spoke of rations, silk stocking shortages, cigarettes being hard to come by, bread lines, feelings of worthlessness, depression, real estate values plummeting. This will be our World War II, our defining moment that we will take to our graves. Our children and their children won’t forget, but at least, God willing, they will have many more years to replace this horrific time with happy memories and prosperous times. Those of us in our senior years have less time to make up our lost investments and to process our feelings of isolation, disconnection, and separation from our loved ones.

What I will take away from this is that I was fortunate to have great friends, close family members, access to the internet with Zoom, FaceTime, What’s App, Instagram, and especially a husband who has been my friend and partner through good times and bad. I will remember that as long as I have food to put on my table, good health, sufficient money in the bank, and love in my heart for God and others, I will be fine. I will do my best to hold on to these thoughts and feelings so that I never take anything for granted again and realize I can do without if I have to.

In the words of Fred Rogers, “Often when you think you’e at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else.” Perhaps, our new beginning will be an era of less pollution, less greed, less materialism, less hatred, less “me”.

I hope so.

 

Today’s Takeaway

-What can we do to brighten someone’s day? A card in the mail, as old school as that is, could bring a smile to the face of a nursing home resident or a widow next door.

-Turn your eyes away from cable news long enough to marvel at that robin contemplating where to nest, that perennial flower annoyed by recent April snow and insisting on bursting forth, that squirrel scurrying up the tree oblivious to a flattening curve and daily statistics. You have the time!

Stay safe!

xox Barclay and Joy

 

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Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a Shortage of Dogs!!!! Surprising outcomes of a global pandemic

We are living in a world that is more akin to an episode from “The Twilight Zone” than anything in my (Joy’s) previous umpty-ump years of life!! (Just in case anyone reading this is thinking of hiring me, I’ll continue to keep my age private!)

We have wanted to write, to speak out to you, our subscribers, but we didn’t want to  wring our hands, despair, panic, add more to your anxiety.  So here’s a good news story, courtesy of COVID-19.

An oddity of this pandemic has been a shortage of adoptable dogs! (Cats too!!)  Really!  What a wonderful problem for a shelter to experience!  You might scratch your head and say, so? What it says to me is how important socialization is to all of us.  We need to be comforted, we need to nurture, we need to love and be loved.

Bloomberg and Crain’s New York Business reported on this very curious phenomenon the last week of March. A surge of applications, as reported by “Muddy Paws Rescue” and ‘Best Friends Animal Society, as much as 10 fold the normal amount, has the shelters scrambling for adoptable and/or fosterable pets in the New York City area. It’s extended to other disease epicenters such as L.A as well.

A pet fills in the gaps when we can’t be close to other humans.  Don’t get me wrong, I adore my dog all the time.  But in times of stress, sadness, confusion, anxiety, when your furry friend looks up at you with those big eyes, be happy he or she can’t get Covid-19.  Where would you be without your furries?  In the words of James Taylor, “You’ve Got a Friend.”

Other Takeaways (so far) of a Global Pandemic

-Little Adventures Everywhere – Who knew taking a walk around the block could be so vital?  And during these walks, we find ourselves waving to perfect strangers across the street – a wave that says, “I know what you’re going through.” We are bringing jigsaw puzzles out of closets; we are resurrecting family game nights, or days; we are appreciative of hair-washing, Netflix, and video connecting.

I’ve just been invited to a cocktail party! My (Barclay’s) sister, age 80, living in rural Vermont, exclaimed.  She and her husband were going to Zoom with friends that evening at 5pm.  We are craving human contact.  And Zoom is easy enough for even Grandmas to navigate.  Our calendars are filling up with dates for online get-togethers where PJs are just fine.

When I pray, I kick worry and anxiety out of my head – Many of us  have been spending more time on our knees.  We have been rereading Psalm 91.  Hey, we have time!  And there is a TON to pray about! Praying and worry cannot coexist. So get kneeling!

We are learning to wait better and reflect more.  Amazon is no longer a few hours away.  If we want such and such, we can’t hop in the car and treat ourselves.  Life is slower. Days are seeming like weeks.  Patience and deep breathing are keys to survival. Whenever we feel sorry for ourselves, we reflect on those heroes who are driving ambulances, caring for the sick, patrolling our streets, manning our check-out lines, taking our garbage.

Churches are going beyond their four walls.  We can listen to online sermons live or at our leisure.  Those who wouldn’t think of attending an actual service, now have the means (and the time) to sit in the back pew and take it in (virtually, that is.)

The biggest takeaway sounds trite, but is true —

We ARE in this together and We Will Get Through It.

                                                                Hold On

xox Barclay and Joy

 

 

 

 

Don’t Climb that Ladder! Living out the Cycle of Life and Love

I’ll love you forever. 

I’ll like you for always. 

As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

This is the  lullaby of a mother to her son in Robert Munsch’s beloved picture book, Love you Forever.

This mother crawls across the floor of her son’s  bedroom, and if he is fast asleep, she cradles him on her lap while reciting the lullaby.  She does this when he is a baby, a toddler, a 9-year old, a teenager, and ultimately an adult.  Yes, an adult.

Finally the mother is too old and sick to come to her son, so he visits her.  And as he cradles and rocks his mother, he repeats the familiar words, “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living, my mommy you’ll be.”

After his mother dies, the son goes into the room of his own baby daughter, picks her up from her crib, cradles her, and recites the lullaby.  And so the cycle continues.

Now, it is pure sacrilege to utter a word of criticism regarding this beloved classic. Maria Shriver has praised the book, saying she could not read it through without crying.  It was even featured in an episode of  “Friends”  when Joey gives a dramatic reading at Emma’s 1-year birthday, leaving everyone overcome with tears.

But as for me, my tears dry up at the scene where the mom goes to her adult son’s house.

She brings a ladder and climbs through his bedroom window!

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Publishers Weekly said about this part of the story, “Either it moves you to tears and you love it, or it makes your skin crawl and you detest it.”   Another critic said, “It’s either a touching account of a mother’s unending love or the ultimate helicopter parenting gone bad.”

I find this scene downright creepy.  But maybe that is because, if I’m truly honest, my heart’s desire is to do the very same thing.  I am jealous of those mother-daughter relationships where they talk or text each other multiple times a day.

But I also know that healthy detachment allows grown children to find their own path and parents to find their own lives while remaining cheerleaders, pray-ers, safety nets, listening ears.

So we should probably resist the urge to climb into our kid’s bedroom window in the dead of night.  Much as we want to.

That said, I am going in the garage right now to make sure the ladder is in working order and will fit in the back of our SUV.

Joy here: 

Where was I in 1986 when this children’s picture book was published?? I don’t remember it at all.  In fact, I never heard of it.  I was a bit busy at the time, having made the decision to move back to New York City and finding out I was pregnant with our 1st child.  Nevertheless, a book that so many people know and love (some hate) and that won The Parent’s Choice Gold Award, as well as selling 30 million copies worldwide, is hard to miss!

I listened to it being read on a You Tube video this morning. While sweet, endearing, and touching, it’s a bit of an over the top obsessive mother child story (in my opinion). Cradling your teenage child at 17?!!  Child services might be called in today!!!

I could picture SNL doing a skit on this and having a blast doing so, but I also smiled to myself.  It dovetailed so well with my thoughts on letting go and over texting my adult children.  What’s the right amount of space?  Will they reach out if they really need me or should I be happy that they are trying to work out their own issues?

I wonder how tall a ladder I would need to reach my daughter’s 2nd floor apt?  Kidding!!

Today’s Takeaway…

-A bond between a mother and child is powerful, and for most of us, lasts until our last breath of life.

-Know when to pull back and when to dive in.  It takes practice!  Maybe, by the time your children have children of their own, you’ll get it right!!

As always, enjoy the ride!

xox Barclay & Joy

 

 

Barbarella, say it ain’t so! Women Embracing the Gray

Joy here –   I was aghast when I saw Jane Fonda present best picture of the year at the 2020 Academy Awards.  Sexy, bombshell, toned, Fonda, who had inspired millions to exercise to her 1982 Jane Fonda’s Workout, walked out and showed herself to millions of viewers with gray hair!!!

I think this trend of going gray might have started with Helen Mirren (elegance personified), culminating with Sharon Osborne, who had dyed her hair flaming red every week for 18 years!  What gives?  Are women of a certain age feeling more confident in their aging hair and skin?

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Not only did the fabulous Jane Fonda go gray, but she vowed that she was done with surgery to make her look younger.  At 82, she is remarkable by anyone’s standards.  I give her credit for speaking her mind and standing up for what she believes, still an activist in her 8th decade of life!

The guy who is responsible for both Jane and Sharon’s tresses is a top colorist by the name of Jack Martin.  Lady Clairol this is not!  The shades they both chose are truly beautiful grays, not your dingy dish  water gray that creeps up on you and says “time to go to the beauty parlor!”

I admit that I am not ready to go this route.  When I’m 80, (G-D willing) I might go gracefully into the white space. It will highlight my blue eyes, which will be cataract free by then!

 

Barclay here – I’m with Joy!

In fact, I never want to catch sight of what lies beneath!    When I sense its wire-like, springy presence, it is time to call Colette, my miracle working colorist and stylist who has become a good friend, given all the time we spend together!!

The truth is not many of us can afford the likes of Jane’s and Sharon’s colorist, who has deftly overseen their transition to the gray side.  OUR transition would likely be raccoon like, and reveal texture about as smooth as steel wool.

But I DO applaud Jane Fonda for boldly embracing the gray (smooth and perfect as it is) and encouraging us all to age with grace and gratitude.

Personally, I am grateful for her example, but I am equally grateful for Colette, whom I should probably call now.

 

Today’s Takeaway…

-You can spot them on the Red Carpet and on the streets of Naples, Florida, where I am presently.  The big lips, the pained smile, the too-arched eyebrows.  I have heard it said that, “The gods we worship write their names on our faces.”  May our faces radiate contentment and gratitude with normal sized lips and the inner beauty that comes with generosity of spirit.

-That said, let’s give thanks for make-up and hair products!

 

Enjoy the ride!

xox Barclay and Joy

 

Little Children,little problems, big children, big problems

cartoon.jpgI’m sure you’ve heard the expression, “your’e only as happy as your least happy child! I have to admit I, Joy De Santo , am a controlling person, a “helicopter mom’.  I mean well, always have, but after many many years, I’m finally beginning to get it that adult children are different.  I can’t call the guidance counselor anymore and discuss the crappy teacher my child has or complain about a bullying kid that is rude or pushy. I can’t call the mom of a child who isn’t being nice to my daughter or hasn’t invited her to their birthday party.  My ability to help is limited and most of the time, they want to work things out for themselves (as they should) Nevertheless, when it comes to boyfriends and career decisions, every once in a while mom is the only person who can help.

My younger daughter, wise beyond her years and truly an old soul in a young person’s body, gave me an admonishment the other day.  She said, “Mom, you are there to be a sounding board, nothing more.  When a daughter calls, she wants to vent, I am told.  It’s .  a knee jerk reaction-I’m upset, the world sucks, and I want to talk to my mom! Why don’t they call with good news?!!!  They call to complain, kvetch, cry, sob, lash out, and be comforted.  I listen now and try not to interrupt (a very bad life long habit!) If I am asked for an opinion or guidance (not usually the objective of the call), I’ll give it.

Little children are easy.  Their issues, while important to them, are minor in comparison to the adult child. Trying to find your life’s passion, who am I, what do I want to do with myself, how do I afford an apt on my own, convince a hiring manager to give you a chance, live with another person and come to the conclusion that this person is “the one” or not “the one” are big issues, not to be dealt with lightly.

I may be slow in coming round, but I think I get it now.  I need to listen more, speak less, and comfort with a hug, a kiss, or from a distance a note letting that person know that they are loved at all costs. Nothing that is bothering them is bothersome to me as the recipient. That’s what I am there for.

When you are a fixer, a problem solver, this new role is hard.  I can’t stop them from falling down or making mistakes, but I can be there to pick them up and wrap my arms around them (no swaddling!  Requires too much material for a grown child!)

Today’s Takeaway…

.Accept this role of mother to adult children with patience, wisdom, and love

. I will always remember  the first time I had words with my husband or got fired from a job, or thought I had some dreaded disease, who did I call?-my daddy!

Even at 30 or 40 (if your’e lucky to have your parents around) there are times when the only call, text, messenger, FaceTime, you want is your mom (or dad)

As always, enjoy the ride

Barclay & Joy

x0x

When death hits close to home

About a month ago a friend of mine from my former company, one in which I worked for 19 years, texted me. He apologized for contacting me in this way, rather than a phone call. A colleague from work had died suddenly.  She had been in my age group, and though she had some health issues, her dying was totally unexpected and truly overnight.  She had been in the office the day before selling sponsorships to an event, something she had done for years and done it better than anyone could.

She was filled with joy (no pun intended!), a zeal for life, dedication to hard work, specifically selling, and she was quirky.  There is no other P  (name omitted in deference and with respect). She loved good gossip (and there’s always plenty of it in an office environment), purses (she had a house in Spain and couldn’t resist buying beautiful leather bags of every shape and color when she vacationed), shoes (Imelda had nothing on P!), pasta, good coffee, her partner of 25 years, and her family. Dedicated daughter to a very sick mother, kind sister, and loyal friend to all.

I sat next to her when I went back to my former place of employment for 7 months.  In the morning, she’d make me a cup of Nescafe, the European kind, not the crappy American one from the grocery store. If you were working on something and didn’t have time for lunch, she’d make sure you had something from the vending machine!  Selfless, sweet, thoughtful, all would describe P.  One of my friends at work told me he had a drawer full of Kind bars that P brought him every day, even though he disliked them. She wanted to make sure he ate, since he had a reputation for skipping meals! She would never know he stored them away in his drawer for over a year!

When someone dies who is a contemporary, it is a shock, it hits home.  You may love someone in their 80’s or 90’s, but know that their time is nearing and if they pass, it’s not shocking.  It is part of life.  A person in their 50’s or 60’s is still young (at least, they are to me!) and they have so much more to accomplish.  P never did get to retire, have that last goodbye lunch, make that last sale, see one more client, or make one more call to convince a prospect sitting on the fence about attending an awards dinner.

Death doesn’t announce itself.  It can come suddenly and unexpectedly, without warning, without an invite.  P worked for the same company for almost 32 years, truly a part of the fabric of the firm.  She was part of the old culture that had existed, like  your work family. Several of my best friends in life, I made through my time there.

P will be sorely missed by so many, but she leaves those whose lives she touched all the better for having known her.

I know that there will be other calls, texts, emails, to tell me of someone who is near and dear to me dying or being very ill.  I cannot bear the thought.  It saddens me so.  I remember being in Florida with my mother when she got the call that her childhood friend, a woman she had known

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Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

all her life, had passed away.  She sat down and wept.  She hadn’t seen her for many years, but death wakes us up to our own mortality and pinches us to let us know we are alive.  We know not for how long.

Today’s Takeaway:

Death is not somewhere in the far off future. It can come at anytime.  We must take the best care of ourselves, but understand our fate in someone’s else’s hands.

Live life to the fullest and let those who are close to you know how much they mean to you.

As always, enjoy the ride.

xox Barclay & Joy

 

 

 

 

 

It’s all on consignment; Living with the end in mind

My mother’s talent as an interior decorator was on full display in her Florida home.  Orchids and art work, antique side chairs and floral love seats, coffee table books and ash trays – all  were placed just-so.  Her home was stunning.  Yet when my mother passed away, Sotheby’s swooped in and itemized each of her cherished possessions on a stark spreadsheet – valuing it all, even the antiques, at pennies on the dollar.

It’s likely that when we die, no one will actually want our stuff.  And here in Naples, Florida, home to the aging baby boomer, this is especially apparent.

Driving on Tamiani Trail, a major north-south route, one notices a glut of consignment stores and high-end thrift shops.  This is where our precious stuff ends up.  And that’s if we’re lucky – most will get carted off to Goodwill.  People want NEW stuff;  older pieces must be discounted to a fraction of their original cost in order to compete.

Now there’s nothing wrong with creating a beautiful space.  The problem arises when stuff becomes our focus, our void-filler, our source of pleasure.  Because some day, some inevitable day, it’s all headed to the consignment store or Goodwill.

John Ortberg likens this reality to playing Monopoly.  Growing up, he often played Monopoly with his grandmother who lived with them.   She was a lovely woman, he says, but she was ruthless at Monopoly and routinely beat him.   Finally, at age 10, he spent a summer playing the game with a friend, and he learned the secret to winning – that it was all about amassing land and money.

That fall he finally beat his grandmother for the first time, hoarding the land,  the hotels, the cash – taking his grandmother’s last dollar.  After her defeat, he says he asked if they could preserve the board.  Maybe forever.  But his grandma had one more lesson to teach him.  “When the game ends – and it always ends,”  she said.  “It all goes back in the box.”  All the red hotels, all the lovely cash, all the property titles.

All our stuff.

Ortberg urges us to keep the end in mind as we go through our short life.  To remember what is temporary, and to strive to invest in what is eternal –  namely, God and people.

Psalm 90:12 says, ‘Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Jesus said, “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”  Mark 8:36

 

So how do we number our days?

By giving thanks for what we have, knowing it is a gift from God – on loan.  We are mere stewards.

By investing in people.  Praying for them. Visiting them in nursing homes, prisons, hospitals, Habitat for Humanity work sites,  or simply in our neighborhood.

Remembering that it all goes back in the box.

Or if we’re lucky, to a consignment store…

 

Today’s Takeaway –

January 25 gave us a tragic reminder of life’s brevity – the sudden taking of Kobe Bryant and his sweet daughter.

All we have is today to invest in that which matters.

As always, enjoy the ride

xox Barclay & Joy