I can tell you one thing for darn sure, and that is that I would not want to be expecting a baby this day and time ... though maybe not for the same reason you might be thinking. It occurred to me tonight as I was at a wedding that expectant moms of today have lost one of the greatest luxuries of all time of being pregnant - maternity clothes. My gosh, I'd like to wear maternity clothes now just for the pure comfort of it, and I surely would want them at 9 months pregnant and not have to feel like I'm still having to "suck it in." These days the "maternity" clothes are body skimmers, and I simply cannot imagine not having clothes that expand with the waistline over those months. I cannot imagine any feeling of snugness during those months of expanding waistline. Sheesh. I guess the clothes are cute? But, are they really? Are the soon to be moms really comfortable feeling the tightness inside and outside the body as the clothes grab hold of the belly and squeeze? Do these expectant moms go home and slip into something roomy and comfy? Oh I hope so. Live free for a few months ... that's all you get.

Joining with others who share a common vision is oddly not in itself enough to guarantee successful work together. I learned this from working with children in an afterschool music program at the Oscar Mason Center, a community center of the Huntsville Housing Authority. Three years ago when this program was initiated, I realized our greatest challenge was not music education which all the children came desiring, but rather building a place of emotional security and inclusiveness for all the children who shared the common vision. Though this program met in the midst of these children’s community, barriers still existed and had to be broken so that each child was welcomed in by his or her peers. Six weeks passed before we made much progress toward violin fundamentals, but in those six weeks these children learned that music is about listening and when they found a focused point on which to listen, which happened to be the violin beside them in our small orchestra, they became more willing to listen and more apt to hear, and therefore to see and validate and welcome the person holding the violin, no longer hearing just the music, but willing to hear the heart of the player. We must be able not only to speak of our own individual visions, all noble perhaps, yet tinged with what we may qualify as justified pre-existing conditions, but to hear the vision as others speak it. I challenge us to listen and hear the hearts of our neighbors.

Imagine my shock when I numbered an estimated 1,650 people living in the house with Frank and me. Their presence does not bother me, or invade my solitary nature. In fact, they are a comfort, offering advice when I seek it, but remaining quiet and non-invasive otherwise. They help me relax and unwind, or stir up a bit of adventure when I feel like exploring beyond my own experiences. These people help me have a better understanding of those who live in conditions of all sorts and in all directions different from the conditions in which I live - and to know that I am not alone or unique in conditions that are the same. They bring me to outbursts of laughter and of tears, of shouts of "amen!" and to shouts of outrage. My attention to them anchors me in history and propels me to future thoughts.

I sometimes take our housemates for granted, the authors of those books on the shelves, but they have joined our household in a way that shapes our lives and influences us. Frank has taught me that as I have watched him grab just the right book off the shelf to affirm a cause or to validate a thought or to just be surprised with what is presented. What's written inside those books is the essence of the author, a sharing of something from deep within just as confidences might be shared between friends. It is as though there is life present in the books, life standing ready but dormant until opened.

Open up.

"October is national .... " gulp ... I hear the phrase beginning. My stomach tightens, my heart pounds, my attitude changes to defense as I prepare to hear the rest of it regarding the disease that shall, in my household, right or wrong, remain unnamed. Happened this morning as I was watching the video of the WKBT morning anchor who was presenting a response to a critical email she had received. But as she began the phrase "October is national ... she surprised and relieved and rallied me by saying "October is national Anti-Bullying Month." Hmmm. A relief, but also a sort of call to arms that I can better speak to.

I guess what bothers me about Pink October is that though we do gain in funding and enlightenment, and are given opportunities to honor and remember women who have been pounded by this disease, the disease is not going to learn anything from pink awareness.

Bullying, on the other hand - I think we're on to something. I sat beside my husband on the couch this morning and said that I find it interesting that in the Bible there are specific instances of God revealing what is desired of our words and speech, that our lips are referred to frequently in Scripture ... the touch of burning coals to the lips to remove guilt and atone for sin and inspire speech which praises God, and the closing of the mouth of Zechariah when he doubted the words of the angel Gabriel, for example. Until the birth of John was revealed as true and Zechariah could speak praise, his mouth was closed. No bad-mouthing, no mocking of the thought of conception at their old age, or pulling down, or talking in the streets about the message would be allowed.

So that set me thinking about how vitally important what we say or do not say to others makes such an incredible impact. We must be responsible with what we say to or about others. Words can be tools for building up or weapons for destruction. The weapon can be subtle and hidden, veiled in edification for our target's own good, or wide open out there for everyone to see, but what right do any of us have to pass judgement on the other, judgements often based on mere impressions.

Bullying? It is a dangerous thing and I have no tolerance for it. Bullying is happening in families, in churches, in neighborhoods, in schools, in the workplace - there is no place immune. But bullying is something that can be changed with awareness and teaching and building up. Bullying needs proper confrontation, and so I was pleased that the bullying of the anchorwoman was confronted by her husband and colleagues and used as an opportunity to bring to light the hurtful observations of the email. And it brought forward in support many people who most likely would have otherwise remained quiet.

Orange is the color of this October initiative and I will be pleased to see it.

I'm just asking ... can we add wine to that NutriBullet blender mix instead of water???  http://www.nutribullet.com/

How is it that I know how to cast a fishing line? Or hoe and plant a garden properly ... that okra likes it hot and dry ... that squash plants like a little mound on which to grow? How is it I know how to change a tire and to create a wireless network of my computers and printers?  Why do I know a defensive driver does not crest a hill on a divided highway in the left lane? How is it I can recognize signs of trouble in a car engine, could lay roof shingles if I had to, and know what makes pancakes nice and fluffy. Why can I tell when someone looks peaked (pronounced peak-ed)?

I've been thinking lately of the things I, or any of us, know without even "trying." Of things learned without being taught, but simply by being present. It has to do with time spent ... time spent paying attention, or just being present with someone though we may not be fully engaged in the moment. This is why what we do with our time, especially as children but all of our lives, is of such great importance. It was during some of my most irritating times such as blackberry picking with my grandmother in the sweltering, relentless heat of a buggy summer, or stringing up beans in samesuch summer that I now realize I have gained the most. I know things that matter simply by my having "been there." 

Though I applaud the premise, we need to know more than what we learn in kindergarten. We need the knowing of what those three leaves actually look like. We need to know how to sit on the porch every evening before bed at the end of the day ... which actually does end, by the way, for those of us who want to believe and behave as though time is limitless.

And, we all need to realize that we are all teaching with the lives we live and messages we send. Make it worthy.

"Woman." There. I said it. I think I must have been in my late thirties or early forties before I could even say the word. I remember finding ways to avoid using it. Felt so uncomfortable - almost like an obscenity. What's up with that?

Could it be that it meant something that few people, especially me, could really figure out? I mean, we all know what to do with a girl and maybe even how to be a girl. But, a woman? A woman is something that we can't quite fit into a comfortable box. A woman is established, rooted, knows herself and her mind. A woman has lived long enough (regardless of the number of years) to know that life is more than sexuality or physical attractiveness. A woman knows that the opinions of others are of great value, but are not to inflict any feelings of self-consciousness or abasement. A woman lives secure.

I believe men need courses in how to relate to a woman, and women need courses in how to be a woman. It is not an easy thing to grow old, especially as a woman. To know how to claim value beyond youth is critical.

I used to say "you go, girl!" But, I think I'll change it to "you go, woman!"