I keep forgetting the power of the one

A new game was under the Christmas tree this year-Stratego. Over the last two weeks, my flag has been captured repeatedly. My weakness is clear: I keep forgetting the power of the one. The game is pretty straightforward. Any number higher than the one it challenges wins. An eight kicks a seven off the board, a six any number lower, and so on. Except the one! The one will get taken by a two and above, but it has a particular strength. If you know the number of the opponent's piece, all the one has to do is call the right number, and it wins. It kicks any higher number off the board.

A couple days ago my "one" piece sat in front of my opponent's flag for at least 25 moves. I let it just sit there thinking it was too weak to challenge anything. It was only a one. Finally, I remembered its hidden power. I challenged the flag and won!

I keep thinking about my failure to remember the one. How often in life do I forget the hidden value of prayer? I have the chance to talk with God, the creator of the universe, my Lord, my Savior, the Alpha and the Omega. And then I just forget! Really?

Today I started my day with a prayer. I remembered the power of the One and only Father.

A Windy New Year's Reflection

A 35 mph gale is blowing from the north. The fresh snow is twirling off roofs and across yards. The house argues against the wind with protests of irritable creaks and moans. When all is still, the sound of the wind resembles the roar and crack of the surf against the shore.

I just returned from a 6 mile run in these conditions. Looking out across my backyard, I sense a foreboding that it is almost inhumane to venture out into these winter conditions. Yet, I did.

Being New Year's Day, I can't help but think about the coming adventures and challenges of 2012. I am sure a few of those challenges will seem too arduous or maybe even too painful to endure. I am going to try to remember the nature of the wind-it only blows directly and forcefully in one direction. While the opposite direction is made easier by the power of the wind. What appears as an abysmal challenge, if reversed, could be acknowledged as a source of strength.

So I found something to consider as today dawns a new year: a year of a daughter graduating, of a son becoming a high schooler, of trying new endeavors. Looking into the upcoming months from the narrow and frosted window of January 1st, no hints are seen regarding way the wind of this year is going to blow. There is a possibility of cold, hard gales as well as the softness of a spring breeze. Maybe both. But it won't be continual. If the challenge blows hard, maybe there is a new route. Or maybe there is something else beautiful and uplifting alongside the challenge. After all, the sun was shining on my run today.

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Where's the Beef?

We talked about community today and how we form friends. Sort of a crazy connection, but I was thinking about how our social interactions and bonds are sometimes created through media. About once a week at school, I hear someone say: "Ouch, Charlie!" You know exactly what I mean right.

Well, I want you to see a commercial that those of us tv viewers in the 80's had in common. A ubiquitous saying!

Sure hope I don't offend you vegans.

Letters

Sara-4 letters; Jim-3 letters; Gina-4; ; Sandy-5. Average letters in a name of a child growing up in my neighborhood in the 70's-4 letters. Sounds trivial, doesn't it. But when I went to kindergarten and practiced spelling my name, I was at a distinct disadvantage due to my name:
K-A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E-9 letters. I wasn't an outcast nor did I get placed in the slow-learner group due to my lengthy name; however, somehow I just felt out of place. All of those insecure feelings changed when I met a new friend in first grade. She lived close to my neighborhood, so we road the bus together to Ralph R. Reeder Elementary school. With backpacks on our laps and school lunch boxes safely stowed at our feet, we traveled the fifteen minutes across suburbia to our school. As we traveled, we spelled each other's name. It was a revelation. She, too, had 9 letters in her name: D-O-M-I-N-Q-U-E! Oh what fun we had saying our names, spelling our names, and counting the letters in our names. There was nothing trivial about the letters in our name. Those letters were the basis to our friendship.
I kept my faith and hope in Santa Clause until I was twelve years old due to Dominique. She wrote a letter that was published in the Star Tribune newspaper inquiring about the reality of Santa. Due to the editor's sort of a "Yes, Virginia" response to her letter, I could not bring myself to doubt the magic of Santa. Each December I would slip the article out from my Mother's desk and reread the newprint to be reminded of the faith required to believe in something and someone who seems contrary to fact, to possiblity, to reality. I held onto my childish desires and wishes for as long as I could. Much of this was due to a letter and someone's acknowledgment of that letter.
A letter can convey a lot. We form our names and our identities with letters. We send our love and our concerns in letters. A letter can give us a connection. Take a look at someone who seems different from you and see if you can find just one thing you have in common. You might not have to try too hard; just for starters, we all have letters that make up our names. Who knows, you might just make a new friend or maybe you'll have a part of your faith renewed.

Are you "casting on"?

English 11 is reading Death of a Salesman. Willy is bemoaning the fact that he has worked all his life to pay for the mortgage of the house only to have two people live there.   Linda, Willy's enabling wife, reminds him that life is a "casting off."  It is a brief statement that holds truth.  For teenagers and a young (sure hope I can still say young) mom like me, life is all about a casting on.  Kids need/want new clothes, shoes, electronics.    I scurry about meeting everyone's needs by casting on one more item for skiing, a new dress for a dance, the right frame for a bedroom.  For me, I work to cast on to my home to make it a comfy place to reside, to relax, to celebrate life.   It is a daily casting on.

So what about a casting off?   I talked with my neighbor across the street today as we were both getting the mail.  She is in her 60's and anxious to retire.  She is ready to retire so she can "start getting rid of all her junk."  All four cars are in in the driveway, rather than the in the three-car garage, due to all the stuff in the garage.  It is time to cast off!

If life were more about a casting on of dreams, hopes, and aspirations, perhaps there would be less to "cast off."  Perhaps.

Willy's son Biff wants to follow his dream of working on a ranch.  He finds peace while he is working with his hands.  Happy, the other son, is trapped working in a "successful" job but is lonely and malcontent.   Arthur Miller's timeless message reminds us to cast on that which can stay, that which is long-lasting, that which will feed our heart and our soul (rather than just filling the garage).