Saturday, June 19, 2010


People who know me, really know me, know I don’t like change… BUT…thinking it over, I’m changing my mind!
For me, change has generally carried with it a connection to something unpleasant. I am not sure when it started but I suppose twenty-some moves in less than thirty years had something to do with it. The older I have grown the more my desire seems to be to stay-the-course, don’t rock the boat, and whatever else you may think you have planned for me, don’t even think of forcing me to leave the harbor until God Himself plans that final heavenly cruise!
However, more recently I have discovered winds of change blowing through my thinking. Often these days happy memories come to me of how Vietnam refugees would smile and say, “Same! Same!” when they understood a concept but I wear no happy smile when I think, “Same! Same!” as I perform some repetitive task. Pervasive thoughts include, “This is the same old routine day in and day out! Where is the challenge in this? How am I going to keep my brain alive doing this same old thing all the time?” As quickly as these same old thoughts invade, others pile in reminding me I should heed the admonition to be thankful I am able to do these tasks knowing at any moment things could…uh-oh, there’s that dreaded word again! … change.
Now I must re-think things: all along I have known that change is not all one way or the other: there is a matter of perception or circumstance here…some change is good, some not so good. Even in all the moving around I mentioned earlier I found both good and bad. Though searching for a new place to live, a different store in which to shop for groceries, and worship with a new church family in each new city was unsettling, it presented something of value at the same time. While new grocery store chains presented challenges for finding familiar items, we found fresh taste treats to try. Somehow our old furnishings took on a new shine in different settings. Maybe that was because they’d just been dusted prior to the move or perhaps freshly painted walls behind faded upholstery set it off in a better light! And going from one congregation of the church to a different one was like finding a part of the family we knew about but had not previously met, thus providing an opportunity to develop new, lifelong fellowships that even a future move never takes away.
Okay, with all of my wishy-washy talk of change, are you seasick yet? I think I’ll just sit here and row-row-row my boat a while and then as my grandfather used to say about the mailboat in his charge, ‘Sometimes we just let the current take ‘er!”
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 6-19-2010

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


A couple of mornings back I was given a gift sample packet of raw wool. This morning as I stood holding it in my hands in our home in West Texas I was transported back to Northern Maine to Crafts Elan, a shop where I worked for several years ordering, stocking, counting, rearranging, and pricing many varieties of yarns, among which there was some called raw wool that had a similar look to what I was now holding in my hand.
As I stood there, fingers smoothing the sample amount over the palm of my hand, reminiscing with wonder about how yarn is made from what was so recently on the backs of these marvelous sheep, admiring the beauty in the natural color combinations, I spoke to my husband, “I wonder if I could make a sweater out of this.” My reverie was promptly broken when he said, “You don’t have enough!”
Laughter emerged inside and out as I had to agree and the musing for the moment was broken, but it was enough for the brief period of time to have revisited places held dear in memory and then to return to the present, all thanks to the sharing of the shearing of the sheep.
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 6-1-2010