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Entries by Becky Bader (158)

Monday
Mar032014

The Thrasher

 

I did it! I joined the Thrashers, that is.  

Thrashers. That's what my friend Taunia calls the trash junkies who sort through the curbside trash and are not bothered one iota about the gawking drivers who pass by, even those undoubtedly wondering what has happened to poor Mrs. Bader since she retired last year. Out in her pajamas digging through the trash on the side of the road. Well, at least it was our trash, anyway.  

Oh well.

I felt pretty good about it, too.

Not the digging through the coffee grounds and peeled-off wallpaper part, but the fact that I dug in the trash can period.

Reminded me of the time my college roommate and I sat in a dumpster one night at Texas A&M, dumpster-dipping. Now there’s a memory.

But I felt pretty good about digging in the trash because of the reason I was doing it. My husband wanted the brass towel bar I had tossed away, so I decided to surprise him by doing something he wouldn’t expect me to do.

That’s what made me feel good. Digging in the trash for him.

No moral. No lesson. No biggie.

Just digging in the trash for the man I love.

The End :)

PS -- Ian says he needs to go into the Witness Protection program because I write about him so much!

 

 

Thursday
Feb202014

IT!

For over 40 years, IT triumphed in my life.

I had wanted to defeat IT and had tried on several occasions, but never succeeded. I always backed out at the last minute. IT intimidated me, and I let IT.

IT wasn’t a daunting task. Nor was IT a bully or a terrorist or a warning to be avoided. IT wasn’t illegal or immoral or unethical, either. Not at all. IT was normal. A duty that daunted me nevertheless.

My husband did IT, my friends did IT, my mother even did IT, for crying out loud. What was wrong with me?  

To me, IT was like being stuck in an elevator or in an MRI or in a wooden box taped shut with duct tape and wrapped with wire! Just the thought of IT made me panic.

Ridiculous, really. How old am I, anyway? And the more I thought about IT, the worse IT got.

I was letting IT win when IT wasn’t even trying to win! The battle was in me, not in IT. So I decided that the time had come. IT and I were having a heart-to-heart, face-to-face, drive-by encounter.

First, I prepared, asking Ian to drive me through IT the week before, explaining one step at a time.

Then, refusing to tell anyone in case I failed, I climbed in my car, drove down the hill, around the corner, past the old pizza house, and into IT’s driveway.

All by myself.

For the first time ever!

So far, so good. Time for the next step.

Swiping my card, I waited for the sign to blink green, telling me to enter IT, whose near presence inspired yet another wave of panicky second thoughts. Why was I here?!?

The birds had torpedoed my white Honda, the junipers had joined the party, raining blue-black bombs of berries over what white surface was left, and then there was a yellow misty-muck, courtesy of the cedar trees, I assume. If my car was a teacher’s white board, I would have thrown it away and bought a new one.

IT’s time had come. Or mine, really.

And the sign flashed, “Enter, Enter, Enter….”

Remembering to fold in the side mirrors and to turn on the wind-shield wipers, I followed the instructions, took a deep breath, and entered IT.

And the encounter was deafening!

IT was The Birds, attacking with a fearful force, dive-bombing my car with hail-like intensity, while screeching Jaws-like and producing fear in me that Hitchcock and Spielberg would have enjoyed. I wonder if either director drove through car-washes while producing movies. Inspiring horror-show sound effects, for sure. Score one for IT.

And then the persistent pounding of the Pepto-Bismol squirts, sliming my car, leaving pink puddles of goo that certainly would have been an inspiration for Ghost Busters.

But who was I going to call? My phone was dead! Yikes! What would I do if I got stuck in IT? Would I dare to confront the attacking water, climb out of my car, and walk home? Boy, that’d make The Bellville Times for sure! “Panicked Woman Flees Killer Car Wash!”  

So I did what I normally do in any traumatic event: I pulled out my journal and wrote, scribbling intensely while listening to the deafening shrills of a 1,000 battering birds and feeling the stabbing fear from the great white foam circling my car.  

OK.

So I’m over-dramatizing!

Do ya think?

But claustrophobia and I have been acquainted for awhile, and he always brings his friend panic, who invites other pals to play.

The important thing was that I was in IT. That’s what mattered. Not that the car needed cleaning. I really could have done that at home.

So I watched and listened and learned. Not about IT, but about God, who teaches us even at a car wash. “There ain’t no tellin’ who ya might meet/A movie star or maybe even an Indian Chief.” Or maybe even God, who was celebrating with me in a way that no one else could. I was doing something I had been too timid to do before even though it seemed so silly. And God got IT! And He was happy about that, too. So I clapped, right there in my car, and thanked Him for being Lord of IT all!   

And then, finally, the red sign flashed -- “Thank you; Please Exit” -- which I did quite quickly.  Rolling over IT’s last final bump, driving by the green Sago Palms waving in the wind, and passing the yellow-lettered “Thank you, See you soon!” sign, I left IT behind, happier now after the encounter of dealing with yet another fear that needed to be faced.

“Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth” (Psalm 46:10 NIV). And exalted even in a car wash.  

And thank you, God, for stilling our fear whatever IT may be. Amen.

 

 

Thursday
Feb132014

Punch the Button 

We waited in a room jam-packed with people we didn’t know. The hostess at the restaurant had gestured us off to a side room to wait for our table. Twenty or so hungry customers waiting for a delicious meal. 

So Ian and I did what people do in a room filled with strangers: we made small talk -- casually commenting on the weather, complimenting a dress,  inquiring where they were from, asking what they had heard about the food  -- idle chit-chat my husband is so good at doing even though he would never call it chitchat! Ian Bader could write a blog called: “I Never Met a Stranger!”

“I guess they have a full house tonight.”

“It’s really hot outside.”

“I’m hungry! Heard the steaks were great!”

“Where are y’all from?”

And then the ultimate howdy -- “We’re Aggies, too! What year?”

And then the Gig’ems started, as they always do, in a room filled with people who are filled with the Spirit of Aggieland. And the time we spent waiting to be seated became a time of sharing about that school we hold so grand. And after awhile, we almost forgot what we were waiting for! Almost!

Until someone spoke rather loudly, “I wonder why it’s taking so long!”

At which point, the hostess appeared, concerned, and asked, “Did y’all punch the button?”

“Huh? Button?”

Turned out we were waiting in an elevator!

Oh, the Aggie jokes!

That incident happened quite a few years ago, but we’ve never forgotten it. It will always remain a memory that makes us laugh regardless of the time that has passed. 

But this morning I thought about it again. And a different Spirit filled my soul as I did. A Holy Spirit who gently reminded me that I needed to punch the button. That it was good to enjoy the casual conversations and common experiences and chit-chat. And it was really good to enjoy life -- getting to know people, making new friends, and spending time with those I love.  

But I also needed to begin each day by punching the button. Going where the food is. Seeking the noursihment first. For that’s where the food is that feeds my soul.

“My food,” Jesus told his disciples in John 4:34, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.” Jesus was nourished by his relationship with His Father.

A gentle reminder from the Holy Spirit that there’s more to a day than filling a day.

First, I need to punch the button.

 

Thursday
Feb062014

He was Everywhere 

He was everywhere. My husband, that is.

If I went grocery shopping at Brookshire Brothers, he would find me there.

If I went visiting my sister outside of town, he’d drive down the driveway to say hello.

If I went boot shopping at Buck Ferguson’s on the Square, he’d show up there, too, before I had time to buy too much!

Wherever I went, he’d be there sooner or later. Grinning, Ian-style. Lovin’ his life.

He wasn’t following me in his car, stalker-like, he just always seemed to know where I was. Weird. Bizarre, really.  

But he was Ian, and he did stuff like that. All I had to do was look up, and eventually, he’d happily stroll into sight, expecting me to be happy to see him. .

We live in a small town. I wasn’t hard to find. He knew my ways, my habits, my hobbies, my friends. I never thought about it too much, but I’d joke, “Here comes Ian!” And then I’d go about my business, expecting him to show up if he wasn’t showing property. (He does work!)   

And then I made a discovery:  my I-phone’s Find-A-Friend!

I didn’t know he had implemented it. Never questioned his unique Ian-like ability to appear wherever I was. Ha! Wasn’t he the clever guy?

Shortly after my discovery, I got mad at him about something so irrelevant I can’t even remember what it was, but Find-a-Friend and I were buddies by then, so I grabbed his phone and un-friended my phone number. Ha! I’d show him. That’d drive him nuts.

Which it did.

Shortly after, my phone beeped with a request from Find-A-Friend to share my location with Ian!

Which I did.

For I realized that I actually liked knowing he could find me. I liked knowing that if I needed him for any reason at all – serious or frivolous – he knew where I was. It made me feel safe. The knowing, that is.

My sister had a flat tire on her car the other night. She's not on Ian's Find-A-Friend, but she found him nevertheless, and we were able to find her, too, and help change the tire. Well, Ian changed it anyway. It was a dark night. Late. Quite frightening for a woman alone in the country and not a soul in sight.

Yep, I'm glad Ian can find me. You never know.

King David knew that God knew him and knew everything about him, and in Psalm 139, he said: 

You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
    and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?

And the answer is, of course, nowhere at all.

Thank you, God, for being the ultimate Find-a-Friend. Omnipresent. Omniscient. Omnipotent. Always and forever.  Amen.

Friday
Nov152013

Pause Briefly!

My favorite mornings are not the ones when I’m immediately confronted with something that happened the day before. Something small and insignificant, yet irritating enough to stir up my day before I’m fully awake. Or try to, anyway, if I dwell on it.

This morning’s devotional from Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling reminds us to “bask in the luxury of being fully understood and unconditionally loved.” Enough said. God is good. And then she reminds us to “pause briefly” as we go through the day, listening for the Holy Spirit’s guidance.

This morning, I needed to be reminded to pause even before I got out of bed!

To pause in His Presence, dwelling not on what irritates me, but concentrating on the One who dwells in me, the one who turns those irritants into a pearl of His making – now that’s a great morning!

“…God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us” (Romans 5:5b).

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