The Marshmallow Test...

The Marshmallow Test was done in the 1960’s at Stanford University. A psychological study of children between the ages of 4-6 years old.  Each child was placed in a room and given a marshmallow. They were told they could either eat the treat now, or if they waited, they could have two marshmallows.  The test was designed to to study the behavior of instant vs. delayed gratification. Their reactions were terrific. Some children would close their eyes in order not to see the tempting piece, others tried to cover it up or move it as far away as possible.  Still others would smell it, feel it, lick it and poke at it.  Some of the children tried to sneak small bits of the marshmallow, they would pull it apart and then try to mush it back together, making it look as if it hadn’t been touched.  A few children simply crammed it in their mouth as fast as they could. It’s quite a fascinating study of how humans respond to temptation and gratification.  

Steve and I saw this video on PBS years ago and we laughed as both of us knew without a doubt that I would have been the child who would stuff that marshmallow into my mouth without a moments hesitation.  On the other hand, Steve would have been the child to wait as long as it took, thinking he could certainly accumulate even more marshmallows the longer he waited.

I’m wondering if instant gratification has anything to do with impulsive behavior?  My guess would be that these two behaviors go hand in hand.  

While yes, I am that instant marshmallow popper, having never been good at waiting, I am also realizing that I am also impulsive on almost every level.

Since since you’ve no doubt read about my 9 year old rescue dog and my crazy 1972 Chevy pick-up purchase truck disaster, you might already have a vision of how I walk through life.  If it means waiting, rather than just going ahead and taking my chances...I chose the later.  At least, that was the case before the 17 day truck ownership.  I find waiting excruciating.  I get impatient waiting on people who are late, with waiters who are too slow, with long lines, and with waiting for answers to my questions.

I am the worst at waiting for answers. Impulsive? No, not in this instance. Desiring instant gratification? Maybe, in a small way but mostly this is simple impatience.  Great, so here I am impulsive, impatient and one who likes instant gratification.  Not a pretty picture.

The Marshmallow Test goes on to prove that those children who waited for their marshmallow to multiply proved to have higher IQ’s. They were more successful in life and in most cases, seemed to be, more content with their lives.

Well, I can’t argue the whole IQ thing, but I do feel that I have lead a rather content and successful life, despite my shortcomings.

Sure, I’m the first to say yes to a fun outing.  I’m the first to buy patio furniture before my patio is even complete.  I’m the one who so wants to buy a lake house.  The one who gets my children all excited about the possibility of buying one. I’m the one who puts quickly puts in offers when that “perfect” house comes about, but also the first to get cold feet and back out. Yep, that’s me.

So where will all of of my impulsive, impatience led me in the future?

I would like to think that the last few years of my life have taught me a great deal about myself and hopefully, I will put these learned life lessons to use...soon.

I have written about my daily journaling and, have written that lately I have been reading my journals from the past five years.  Much of my writing was really praying.  I wrote volumes of pages asking God why, when, begging, justifying, rationalizing, bargaining.  Many of my entries ended with, please God allow me to understand your will for our lives.  The same endless questions would resurface the next days, weeks, months, and years.  I wanted my answers immediately.  God what are you doing?  Please allow me to feel your presence. Please give us a break, show us your mercy. Page after page the whining and complaining was interminable.

Oh I wanted God to give me instant gratification, not five years of angst. I wanted God to allow me insight into the future. Impatient? Absolutely.  I wanted God to take away fear, doubt, sadness, illness right then and there.  Impulsive?  I’m afraid so.

I was great at ending my written prayers with, in your time, Lord, may your will be done, but I wasn’t wanting to wait that twenty minutes...I wanted my marshmallow right then.

God, thankfully knew me better.  Patiently, lovingly, mercifully he allowed nature to take its course.  In his time, he blessed us with a healthy, amazing Harper. It was his time that enabled Steve to live much longer than we might have believed possible.  No prayers I could have imagined praying were close to the wonderful years with Steve, nor with Harper's incredible health.  I can only stand in awe at God’s perfect timing.  

Looking back over my journals, I see that patience, trust and faith go hand in hand.  God is enough.  He knows exactly what he is doing and there is reason and purpose in his plan for our lives. I’m working on lessening my impulsive behavior, on strengthening my patience, on curbing my desire for instant gratification. I am consciously trying to put myself in God’s hands. I pray each day I live that I will allow God to remind me to wait, to listen, to be still. I pray that I will learn that God’s timing is perfect. I need only to be patient and have the faith to allow God to prove himself merciful.

Even if I have to squeeze my eyes tightly shut so as not to be tempted by my own marshmallows, I hope that while they are shut, I am learning to trust in a God who has proven over and over he is trustworthy and constant.

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Micah 7:7 “But as for me, I will look to the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me.”

2 Peter 3:8-9 “But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you,”

A new patio...

The last few weeks have been spent tearing out my old wooden deck and replacing it with a flagstone patio.  This has been much more of an ordeal than I had imagined.  What a process this has been to tear out all of that wood, jackhammer a 4 ton rock that was smack dab in the middle of the deck (don’t ask me why anyone would put a rock in such a place), lay electrical wires and drainage pipes, lay a foundation of dirt and small pebbles before the concrete foundation, and finally the placement of the flagstones.  While I had no idea what all was involved in this process, I’m certainly glad my contractor, Kris did.  

Kris is a master at his trade and does so much so well that I marvel at his knowledge, skill and craft.  We, like the royal “we,” as I have stood and watched while Kris and helper, Austin do all the work, are now in the final stages of completion.  While this is not going to look like a large home improvement, I certainly appreciate all the hard work and many hours that have gone into the reconstruction of this patio.

I have always had a great fascination with brick masons.  There is something so mesmerizing about their actions.  Watching their plumb lines go up, how they mix the mortar to just right consistency. The way they use that trowel to scoop up the mortar, splatter it on the existing layer, place the brick, smoosh it in and then scrap off the mess that was squished out, it’s seems so satisfying. It looks so fun, though I know it’s hard work that takes great skill and practice.  I admit I’m a little jealous.

This last week I have watched Kris perform an even more fascinating craft. Laying varying sizes of flagstone to create something that looks like a kind of crazy quilt made from stone.  

Kris had me go with him to a stone yard to pick out the type and color of my flagstone.  Did I go with beige or gray tones?  Did I want the stone to be smooth or wavy?  I was a bit overwhelmed, but in the end picked four huge flats of beigish/brown smooth stones, each stone with varying veins of color running through them.  

Watching Kris meticulously cull through each stack of stones was so interesting.  He would stack and restack the stones in various piles, leaning them against one another almost like a chain of fallen dominoes.  I later found that this assured him of being able to see all the variations of the stone’s colors. I realized he had stacked the stones according to size and shape.  The largest of the stone slabs that had straighter edges he placed around the yard, leaning them against trees, fences and any place he could easily look for just the perfect stone to place in a corner or along a straight edge.

Once Kris began the actual process of slopping the mortar onto the newly poured slab his work magnetically drew me to his side.  I watched as he carefully handpicked his stones, some small, some large, some in between.  All the shades of the stones began to meld and compliment each other as the patio began to take shape.  I watched as he would carefully place stone beside stone, their irregular pieces fitting together much like a jigsaw puzzle.  He would fill the spaces between each stone with mortar making sure there was equal distance between the stones.  Oh if only Kris could have been like Tom Sawyer whitewashing that fence. Tom trading his friends small treasures for the privilege of doing his work, I would have been thrilled to get my hands on that mortar and trowel and work those stone pieces together.

Fortunately, Kris knew the skill and experience it takes to lay flagstone and he continues to plod along, making sure each stone is strategically placed.  Insuring that I will have a beautiful flagstone patio very soon.

All of this reminds me of Corrie ten Boom’s tapestry poem “Life is but a Weaving.”

Corrie writes how life can look much like the underside of a tapestry at times, loose threads dangling, filled with raw knots and rough edges.  It is not until the piece is complete however, and the tapestry has been turned to the finished side that the observer is able to see the masterpiece as its finest, or...that we can see what God has planned for our lives.

I felt the same way watching Kris with the stones.  I realized that it takes all types of stones (or trials), different colors, shapes and sizes to enable the finished product to look exactly as the master had planned.  The large rough pieces might well be significant of the times in our life when those boulders of sadness or fear seem unmanageable. Isn’t it those tough times that enable us to grow, to broaden our views or opinions, to turn to our Master, who enables our faith to increase?   Isn't it those amazing large pieces of stone that enhance the beauty of the final patio product? 

When I watch Kris carefully fill in a blank spot with a smaller piece of stone, making sure the mortar around each piece is even, I am reminded of how much more diligently God seeks the right moments to help balance our lives with certain obstacles, so that we might be exactly who he created us to be.  

There are times Kris had to stand firmly, sometimes even stomp with all his might, on a certain stone to make sure it was securely embedded in the mortar.  How many times in life have we felt life’s pressure was simply too great to withstand?  Yet, after time has passes, we see God’s fingerprints covering experiences in our lives and it is these moments are precious and rare.

I have tried more times than not to jerk that trowel out of God’s hands.  Thinking, I could do a better job, demanding the perfect scenario to be accomplished in my time...not His?  Oh, I’m thankful our God doesn’t take after Tom Sawyer.

I think as I’m growing older, I’m seeing that my patio, my life, still seems so uneven at times, so awkward, so full of knots and loose threads.  There are those rare moments though, when I do get a glimpse of the finished side of my quilt, when I can see a vision of my completed flagstone patio, when the rough, jagged pieces of my life do begin to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle with purpose and definition.  

It is in those glimpses I am able to see that God is indeed working within my life, making it one of purpose and joy. It is then that I can sit back and breathe deeply and be thankful that He is not yet finished with his work and even more grateful that He is the greatest Master of all.

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Four years with Harper...

Last week we celebrated Harper’s 4th birthday and the feeling that she will always be a gift from God, an amazing miracle and extra special fills me to my very core.

You know those moments in life when you hear devastating words that catch you off balance?  Those moments when replayed in your mind, you are able to recall the exact place you were when you first heard these words.  Even the slightest reminder sends you tumbling back in time.  You are there...sitting in that chair, or standing in a particular store, or maybe eating in certain restaurant and all the feelings that you had moments before hearing these life changing words are frozen and now all that will ever exist is the feeling you felt when you first heard those words that would change your life forever.

I vividly remember the winter of 2010.  Brooke and Jared were living in Atlanta and they were 12 weeks into their first pregnancy.  The phone rang, I was cooking dinner and Brooke told me there was a “slight hiccup” in the baby’s sonogram.   She tried to sound calm, but I could feel the tension in her voice from a thousand miles away.

That “slight hiccup” ended up developing into a serious birth defect.  I had never heard the word before and had no clue what it entailed, but the term giant omphalocele quickly became part of our reality.  

As this child grew in utero all of our fears grew larger and darker and more troubling.  News that the child within might not survive, might have serious life-long issues, or be seriously restricted by this birth defect enveloped each of us through out the next year to follow.

I watched my strong, professional, courageous, young daughter remain stoic. I also was by her side when she would melt into puddles of tears when those darkest of fears were simply too overwhelming.  

I will tell you that as Brooke’s mother, my heart was heavy as a heart could be, not only for this child within, but more so for my precious daughter and her darling husband.  I wept mountains of tears for what might come. I prayed daily asking for God’s mercy, asking for a miracle that by all medical certainty could simply not be reversed.

August 4th finally came.  Harper Elizabeth was born by c-section and was to spend the next three months in the NICU.  We still had scary days ahead of us, and we knew it would be a long time until Harper might be out of the woods.  God was merciful, he blessed us and he answered my prayers more than I could ever imagine possible.

Brooke was a constant in Harper's life from the moment she was born.  She mothered Harper with more devotion and determination than she could ever put into any job.  She was at the NICU every day and many nights.  Her days were long.  At first, Harper was unable to be held until the O started to solidify.  The holding times grew longer as Harper healed and I would go at least once every day to now spend time with both Brooke, and Harper.

There has been something extraordinary about Harper from the start.  She would take you in with her big brown eyes. She seemed able to look deeper within me than I thought possible.  Trying to discover who I might really be.  We spent long hours rocking and looking into one another’s eyes. To this day I still find a knowing wisdom that lies within the lovely eyes of my granddaughter.

There were developmental delays with Harper, but her physical condition soared.  She grew into her O and finally in July before her 1st birthday she had surgery on her little tummy and was also given a brand new belly button.  She was on her way to putting those dark unknown days behind us.

While Harper might have been a little late in sitting up, crawling, even walking, she made up in soaking up knowledge like a little sponge.  Her first passion was for letters.  Soon after her 1st birthday Harps began to have a great curiosity in the alphabet.  Letters and puzzles became Steve and Harper’s favorite past time.  They could sit for hours talking about different letters and working puzzles.  Grandy could never quit talking about how amazing his little pal was.  I loved nothing more than sitting and watching the two of them with their heads together chattering at length about all things wonderful.  Oh what a gift Harper was for Steve.  As sick as he became, he always wanted an opportunity to watch her curiosity and personality unfold.  

At an early age, probably because in the NICU she was unable to wear cute little baby outfits and partially because she was bald...forever, Brooke and I began buying and making her caps and hats.  I hope she will never lose this devotion for hats.  What fun it was to walk in and find her plopping different ones on her little head.

 Harper’s next passion involved transportation vehicles and construction site equipment.  She quickly new the difference between excavators and backhoes and slept and played with only trucks, buses and earth moving toys.

From there we fell in love with dinosaurs.  I say "we" because Harps was very demanding about proper naming of these large critters. She thought nothing of correcting of us when we would mix up a Allosaurus with a Ankylosaurus...this is no exaggeration.  At three years old she was telling everyone she was going to be an paleontologist.

Then the inevitable happened...Disney princesses came into her world.  The door to pink, purple, frilly, prissy and beautiful opened and Harper was sucked into it like a Hoover Wind Tunnel Vacuum Cleaner.

We now stand amazed at how many times a day a girl can change into another lovely ball gown.  We spend hours talking about why Cinderella’s step-mother didn’t want her to go to the ball. Why Elsa and Anna’s parents had to die on board that ship? Why the evil Maleficent had it in for Aurora a.k.a. Sleeping Beauty????

In the fours years Harper has been in my life I know my heart has doubled in size.  She has taught me so much I might have forgotten about the innocence of life, being silly and witty and imaginative, and the fact that I am indeed getting older.

A year since Steve’s death, Harper continues to bring up her memories of Grandy.  I love these times when we can sit and talk about how much he loves her, how amazing he thinks she is, and how he always jumped out of his chair when she came in the door and would throw his big arms around her and said, “Hey Pal!”

There are nights when Harper sleeps over and she often sleeps in my bed with me.  Her method of waking me in the mornings is to hold my face in her little hands and smooth out the wrinkles she finds beneath her fingertips.  I hear her whisper “Honey” so softly.  If I keep my eyes closed for just a brief moment after I wake up, I am reminded so very much of Steve doing the same thing not so very long ago.  Ahh...what a gift!

I am also reminded of my aging condition as Harper sits in my lap.  Thinking we are being sweet and cuddly, Harper plays with my upper arm.  She gently rubs my arm, so lovingly and her little hands gradually find their way to the underneath part of my arm.  Not paying too much attention I soon realize Harper is flapping my loose dangling arm fat between her hands.  “Oh Honey, I do love your arms, they are so fun and squishy.”  I wouldn’t trade in squishy arms for toned ones for anything in the world,  it might deny me the delight of this giggly little gir!

Just the other day we were sitting on the floor when out of the blue Harper asked, “Honey, can you do a somersault?”  “Well, of course I can!”  I stated with great confidence.

I bent over from a cross-legged sitting position and placed my head down on the floor between my legs.  I suddenly realized that if I in fact followed through with this exhibition I would be either (1) never get up again, or (2) I would break my neck.  I mean if it weren’t for Harper I might never have realized that what used to be second nature, something I didn’t need to think about twice.  Now, find I can no longer contort my body into a wadded up ball that flips over on the ground and springs right back up again.  But guess what?  I no longer need to. All I need do is enjoy every single somersault this sweet ball of energy has in her.

If I could, I might love to freeze Harper right where she is...I remember Minnie Mama telling me at age five that one day I would out grow her.  One day I would no longer want to come and spend a week with my grandmother doing absolutely nothing except soaking in the love and special attention she had to give me.

She was right, of course. All grand babies will eventually outgrow us, but until that day I plan to revel in the delight of each of my exceptionally special and perfectly wonderful grand children.

Oh how blessed I am,

Honey

 James 1:17  "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change."

True confession...

Sunday late afternoon, I plopped down on the sofa, turned on the television and began browsing through the menu section on my remote control.

Okay, stop right here for a brief “Let-Me-Get-On-My-Soapbox” spiel.  Am I the only person in the world challenged by the numerous television remote controls?  Why is it that I pay an incredible amount of money for AT&T cable services and feel I'm missing out on ¾ of my options?  I have a zillion channels at my fingertips and yet, I struggle terribly trying to remember which number goes with which program?  

Then there’s the problem of accidentally hitting a wrong button.  Oh great, now I stand a real chance of (a) losing the program I’m am watching, (b) having to go back to the beginning of the program and start all over, or (c) all of a sudden realizing I’m watching “Breaking Bad” or “The Good Wife” or "Parenthood" in Spanish or French or Russian!  

For pete's sake, what happened to the get-up-and-turn-the-dial days?  Okay, my rant is over let me resume the story of my true confession.

So, it’s Sunday and I’m browsing..and there in the Menu Setting I find I have automatically programed new episodes of Project Runway.  There, I have exposed my dirty little secret to all of you.  I love this horrid program.  Embarrassing, yes, but truthful.

Let me be clear that I have never watched a full episode of “American Idol,” “The Bachelor,” “The Voice” or any of the reality TV shows.  Often I sit with my friends and I'm lost in conversation because I’m not sure who got cut from their latest singing challenge.   I struggle with keeping up with who got a rose or which judge is everyone’s favorite.

I admit, I have really struggled to sit through an entire episode of “A.I.” just so I could be part of friendly conversations, but alas, I have never made it.  I remain left out in the cold when it comes to “knowing the people.”

Now I know this sounds a bit uppity on my part, like maybe I’m too cool to waste my precious time watching someone sing their hearts out and then get cut to the core and must leave the show, terrible right?...but then there’s “Project Runway”...

Sunday afternoon, when I discovered the New Season 13 of “P.R.” had started and, even better, when I realized I had recorded both the 1st and the 2nd episodes of the new 13th season, well, I was a little beside myself.

There I sat, riveted to the tube.  My friends were back!  I had had to wait almost a year to reunite with them again, and now, we were all back together again.  Timm Gunn, Heidi Klum, Nina Garcia and the other guy…Zach Posen, not much of a fan of his.  I like Michael Kors so much more.

The selection of the new designers began!  Oh fun, more new friends and/or enemies to spend time dissecting.  I think my heart might have started pounding a little harder, my breathing more erratic, okay maybe I’m being overdramatic here, but I’m loving this.  All the drama, the backbiting, snippy behind-the-back comments, the melt-downs, the tantrums, the blood, yep, even seamstresses are capable of suffering when one almost got their finger chopped of with a rotary cutter or experiencing a sewing machine needle going through a finger.  Oh, this is television at its finest.  It's fabulous, who could ask for more?

The 18 new designers were introduced, a bit of their stories unfold, they begin to show the judges their designs...their hearts, their talents are exposed for all to critique. The creativity and imagination of these wannabe designers, so incredible.  

Their crazy challenges like creating an outfit out of fruit, or finding all your design material at a hardware store instead of a fabric store, the list of wacky challenges gets better with every season.  Timm Gunn's favorite sassy mantra, "Make it work!"  as he mentors the designers to the very end.

Immediately I find my favorites, my A Group.  Their stories appeal to me, their personalities blend with mine, their work is divine!  Heidi states she would love to own some little top or jacket or pair of slacks that the would-be-designer has just created!  Me too, Heidi, me too!  Oh, how I hope my people make it to Mercedes Benz Fashion Week!

But as Heidi says in every episode, “One day you’re in, (she lifts her ever so toned arm and snaps her fingers) and the next day you’re out owt! (little German accent there)  Now isn’t that profane?  

So I watch. I watch both one and a half hour episodes, three full hours of “P.R.” in one sitting!  I can’t wait for the next episode, only problem is how the heck do I find The Lifetime Channel?  

I do hear Steve every once in a while...”Janet, how long are you going to sit there and watch this ridiculous show?”  Oh how crazy it made him that I was a little giddy about my people.

So there you have it.  I have confessed my shallow, foolish, empty obsession.  I can’t wait until Thursday.

For what it’s worth,

Janet

1Peter 3:3  "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes."

okay, how about this one…

Proverbs 31:25 "She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come."