Category Archives: Wisdom

Painting Mary …

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She was looking kind of ragged.

Her royal blue robe was anything but majestic. Her feet were dirty. Her face and hands were worn. Her pedestal was chipped, and her heart was broken.

It was time to fix that.

Fourteen years ago, Mary had been rescued from the floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina by my father-in-law, a man whose rough exterior poorly hid the gentle soul who was capable of the detailed work required to revive Mary.

Mary, who had traveled 801 miles from Kiln, Mississippi, in the trunk of an Acura TL to our home in Miramar, Florida, to grace a corner of our yard and protect us from Hurricanes Wilma, Bonnie, Rita and countless other mini-natural disasters that had littered our neighborhood with downed trees, broken roof tiles and left us in the dark for days.

Mary, who, six years ago, made the move to our new home with spectacular sunsets in western Broward County and has shielded us from the ravages of Hurricane Irma and (and now Dorian) and the creatures that call the Everglades home: snakes, frogs, raccoons, alligators, and humans who prowl through our neighborhood at night, unafraid of the hundreds of security cameras watching and recording their every move.

For years, I joked that nothing bad ever happened around our house because Mary was protecting us.  But I was only half-joking. Her body was a warehouse of miracles waiting to happen. The storage capacity in her 2-feet, 9-inch frame could put an Amazon fulfillment center to shame.

But Mary was looking worn and tired.

She was still creating her miracles each day, but she needed a fresh coat of paint. We had gone as far as buying the paint and brushes, but they had been sitting in the garage for what seemed like forever, waiting for someone to move “Paint Mary” up on their to-do list and finish the job.

But that someone never seemed to raise their hand to say, “I’ll do it.”

Meanwhile, Mary was sending signs that she wanted to shine a little brighter. It was as if her never-ending storehouse of strength was charged by appreciation, love and care, as much as the humans she protects depend on a little bit of reinforcement every now and then to keep them motivated.

But I didn’t pay much attention to the signs. That is until Mary’s insistence became a little louder.

I had never seen a snake in my yard in the six years we have lived here.  My neighbors see them all the time but not me. I spend a lot of time outside, so by now, I should have seen my share of them.

A few days ago, I walked out my front door and right there, out of the corner of my eye, just inches from me, was a 3-foot-long southern black racer. That was about three feet too long for me, despite Google’s assurance that it was harmless and useful for keeping insects away. (I’ll take the fly swatter, thank you very much.)

Then there was the frog in the garage. (Anyone who knows me, knows that even the tiniest fake frog makes the hair on my body stand like a full-body Mohawk haircut spikey enough to be classified a weapon.) I had turned on the light to put something in the recycle bin, and there it was, all cute and cozy (to some people) and smiling at me. The fear rose from my solar plexus and turned into a blood-curdling scream that sent the frightened froggie out of the now open garage as I ran inside to monitor its departure through my security cameras. (I digress, but I assure you, I’m not making any of that up.)

Finally, there was the guy standing in our front yard with what looked very much like a rifle when we came home a few nights ago.  We made it inside safely while the guy disappeared to who knows where. The police nonchalantly dismissed it as a neighbor out shooting iguanas because “that’s legal now, you know,” but it was Mary’s loudest sign that I should pay attention to her.

She wanted to shine again, and sooner rather than later.

But who would paint her?  I was absent the day God gave out painting talents. So, I scratched my name off the list and went about the business of finding other to-do lists to conquer. But the paint cans sitting in the garage were too much of an eyesore to keep ignoring.

“Hey, Barb. Why don’t you paint me?” Mary whispered.

I looked around, and the smiling face of the frog in the garage popped into my memory.

“OK, Mary,” I’ll give it a try if you promise to hit the delete button on that frog vision from my brain,” I responded.

And so, I opened the paint cans, tentatively picked up a brush and trusted Mary to guide me, just as I trust the Muse when my hands hover over a keyboard and a blank page on my Macbook and the words flow like water from a broken dam.

Mary was restored to her shining glory.

Three days before South Florida was placed in the cone of Hurricane Dorian, I placed Mary back in the corner of our yard that she calls home.

My little statue was once again ready to pour her love and miracles on those willing to believe in her and trust her guidance.

It was a reminder that sometimes all it takes is a little “paint” and patience to make someone’s day brighter … to bring out the love hiding beneath an exterior that has been dulled by life’s elements.

Is there someone in your life who needs “painting?” Grab your brush of kindness and bring back the brightness that time has eroded.

And don’t be afraid to color outside the lines.

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Filed under hurricanes, spirituality, Uncategorized, Wisdom

Pearls, meet swine

“Carbs make you fat!” said the woman who had been proudly sharing her carb-free diet with another woman at the Publix checkout line. She was going on and on about the meal she planned to prepare that night, a meal which included NO CARBS AT ALL!

I glanced at the slab of ribs the size of a newborn piglet in her grocery cart. My pearls threatened to launch an assault on her swine theory. But the wisdom of Matthew 7:6 held me back.

“Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.”Matthew 7:6

A few months ago, I would have engaged in a conversation with that woman, telling her that all diets come down to one thing: simple math. Calories in, calories out. As my friend Scott Wilson so eloquently put it …

“Eating more than you burn makes you fat. Simple math. All else is noise.”

One thousand calories of steak will take as much time and effort to burn as 1,000 calories of spinach.

I would have told her that eating for health is a lifelong process, not one that will help you shed a few pounds, deprive you of your favorite foods, slow down your metabolism and send you back to pasta faster than if you had allowed yourself the gift of moderation.

But that was months ago. That morning encounter at Publix reminded me that sometimes it’s best to keep my mouth shut and let my computer keys do the talking.

Even the Facebook post in which I shared the details of my grocery line encounter with the pig in the basket prompted a few castigating comments from friends who have had success with the latest diet du jour, the Keto diet, which (in my humble opinion), is nothing more than a repackaged Atkins Diet.

But this article is about so much more than the battle between carbs and protein. It’s about the bigger picture of trying to educate someone based on the lessons your life experiences have taught you.

The bottom line is … you can’t.

You can’t tell someone that shedding pounds while their body struggles to adjust to the radical changes it is being forced to process is good for them.

You can’t tell them that if they are drinking a glass of wine every night for health reasons, they would be consuming perhaps a third of what they pour into their glass, and stop at that amount.

You can’t tell them that 15 minutes of meditation each day will give them the extra time they wish they had to do all the things they want to do.

You can’t tell them that exercise will do more for their mind, body and soul than any pill or powder ever will.

You can’t tell them that living in the moment is all there is.

You can’t tell them that sometimes the best thing to do is nothing.

You can’t tell them that their to-do list will outlive them.

You can’t tell them that surrendering the outcome to God, the Higher Power, the Universe, or the Source from which they came is always the best action plan.

You can’t tell anyone who drinks the presidential shade of orange Kool-Aid that perhaps it’s turning a bit too red.

You can’t do any of those things because the conclusions you’ve reached based on the lessons that life has taught you are precisely that … YOUR lessons … Lessons that have touched the deepest parts of your soul and stirred passions so strong you can’t help but want to share them.

But when the passions stirred by a life lesson are involved, you shouldn’t, well, throw your pearls in front of swine.

You can’t learn anyone’s lessons for them. You can only teach by example.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But no one will imitate you if you preach to them.

However, my friends, I can’t live without pasta. And neither should you.

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Filed under Diet, Food, Uncategorized, Wisdom