Cowboy Up!

Springtime means only one thing in Limestone County: RODEO!

And the Limestone County Sheriff's Rodeo is a wonderful event, particularly for the kids like Jared who are disabled and usually are on the sidetracks of life watching everything pass by at a high rate of speed.

We went out to the Rodeo grounds about 9:30 in the morning to participate with the other kids in his class and all of the 'special' guests who had been invited from the area. Schools and organizations that serve the needs of the handicapped youth and adults from our area brought buses and vans filled with eager participants.

Cowboys, rodeo clowns and the Queen of the Rodeo were all at the ready to make sure that each one of these participants went home with memories and smiles.

Jared loved his time there. We did the fishing pond and rode the hayride. Jared watched while some of his friends rode the horses. He got a horse painted on his right cheek and won a little stuffed horse from the fishing pond. While we were there, Jared had his photo taken with the Queen, got her autograph on a beautiful photo of her wearing her crown, and enjoyed his time just soaking in the atmosphere that makes it all great. We waved to the riders and smiled at the clowns.

Although the day was chilly, the warmth of the people who took the time to make this day fun for my son and so many other like him who are less able in visible ways was undeniable. Sometimes, you have to go beyond the norm to achieve something good.

In this case, I have to say, the people who organize and prepare all year for this event have done something more: they have achieved a measure of greatness. They have opened their hearts to the people who are truly a representation of the meek and lowly in our world.

God bless cowboys! Though the cowboys are rough and tough and strong so that they can handle the animals that make the rodeo such a heart-pounding, thrill-a-minute draw, underneath that rough exterior beats a heart filled with a kind of love and compassion that can't be seen by most folks.

Unless they came to the Exceptional Rodeo Friday.

That's the one place that the heart of the American Cowboy is seen in all of its red, white and blue American glory.

It just doesn't get any better.

Pajamas and email

While I normally do a great deal of email every single day, there are times of the day in which I prefer to be in my pajamas for the effort. Virtually every school day, I am in PJ's or my bathrobe for the first few mails of the morning.

I wonder if that is reflected in my answers?

Do they bring on a spell of yawning for the recipients (or is that a natural consequence of reading what I wrote)?

Then there are the times, like now, when I am not only completely dressed, but reasonably coherent. It's Sunday and we all have to be out of the house early for meetings before the meetings.

While I can't lay claim to the content of my messages being any less yawn inspiring, I can at least grab the brass ring and shout out that I am dressed and ready to go, including hair and makeup.

That in and of itself is a major accomplishment since I am not a 'girly girl' who really likes the hair and makeup gig.

But, having said that, I realize that there are times when certain dress and behaviors are expected for certain things.

So what is considered email dressing?

Suits and ties? Slacks and a nice silk blouse?

Pin striped pajamas?

Semi-clean bathrobe?

And, assuming there is a dress code secretly enforced in email sending and receiving, who gets to determine what is considered appropriate?

While I completely understand that pajamas are not considered workwear for the successful business person (unless they work for a pj making factory), I have to wonder what constitutes appropriate attire for various occassions.

I remember years ago receiving an invitation to a reception which indicated that the dress was black tie. Having been raised by a genteel Southern woman, I instinctively knew that wasn't referring to women wearing ties, but rather to formal wear.

We didn't attend the event.

Not because we didn't know the people or wouldn't have enjoyed an evening out, but rather, I don't OWN anything that formal.

Sometimes our opportunities in life are determined by our clothing.

I am glad, that at least for the time being, that we don't have some governmental department of clothing. I expect it any day now. Fashion police will not only be free to be snarky in magazines and on cable programs, but they will be free to actually impose penalties for improper wear for public and private functions.

Soon, I'll find that I am no longer able to stroll to my mailbox in my bathrobe for fear that I will find myself ambushed with cameras rolling in a fashion hostage crisis from the deep ditch in my own front yard.

Boldly broadcasting my fabric and color matching shortcomings during prime time, my lack of fashion sense will earn me some horrible penalty which I am unable to pay - like sewing individual sequins in a garish pattern on a prom dress.

Lacking both the sewing skills and the sequins required for the job, I will be confined to the forced labor of sweeping up after the rodeo horse parade on a hot summer day.

But for now, contentedly I eat my breakfast in my PJ's and read the mail both consequential and inconsequential that fills my e-box today. I am safe. For now.

All that and a bag of chips

In reading the lesson for Sunday School tomorrow, there is a question in the text that asks simply: "Why do you think King Benjamin emphasized his people's 'nothingness' and unworthiness?"

As I read the background scriptures in Mosiah 3-5, the understanding of just how dependent we are on our Father in Heaven really came to bear in a way that was both tender and somewhat unexpected.

The reason that King Benjamin made that underlined emphasis to his people is the same reason that we have the account of his words for our own day.

Though I cannot speak for other people, I can speak for myself and tattle on me with total impunity. When I do something good or have a successful day, I tend to forget who made it possible - and I'll give you a really big hint - it WASN'T me.

And worse yet, when those who (for reasons best left to their own explanations) show me love and care in both tangible and intangible ways, I am not as grateful and demonstrative of that gratitude as I could and should be.

That is sort of a double slap because it ignores their contribution to my life and well-being and that care of My Father who sent them into my life.

Talk about a rude, selfish, and self-absorbed brat!

I have to wonder why God would even grant me any oxygen.

Perhaps that same lack of understanding existed for the people in King Benjamin's day. They got busy with what they wanted and thought was best and forgot to remember that EVERYTHING they have was granted to them by a loving Father who sent people into their lives to help them through it all.

I was at an LDS girls camp a few years back and one of the brats on campus had a T-shirt that said "It's all about ME!". I can say this kid was a brat because it is true. (Thankfully, she grew up, matured and is a nice young lady now.) Since I also have a penchant for shirts with tacky sayings on them, I recognized what I hoped was humor not a personal lifestyle choice statement.

Back to the ME statement, I was working on a lesson and some back notes for a class I was asked to teach sometime next month. That statement of ME-ness sort of smacked me in the face since the lesson is about service.

Without care for our fellow inhabitants of this planet, there isn't any reason for us to pretend. We can't know our Father and His Son if we don't bother to know their children.

Ouch.

So on those days that bring me to my knees to humbly beg for one more chance in my flawed and painfully selfish life, I ask to have some of Father's understanding that I am NOT all that and a bag of chips and that life truly isn't all about me.

The tender message came back that I am loved and that while I am struggling to find my way there is something that will help.

"It's all about THEE!"

When I put My Father first and remain open for His promptings, I can be forgiven for all that I fall short on and He can help me to overcome the 'natural' tendencies that keep me in hot water instead of drinking from the waters of everlasting life.

King Benjamin wasn't trying to throw a 'guilt trip' on his people hoping for temporary change. He was sharing the message that he had learned the source of TRUE and lasting happiness by finding that he wasn't the only one on the planet and that other people had needs.

We can't ignore the pleading and needs of others and expect to have the Father to continually make our lives all special and wonderful forever with no effort.

Though I know what to do, I know that I fall short. I NEED HIM!!

So how do I reconcile my need of Him with someone else's need of me or of my need for someone else to bless my life with their love and care?

It's a work in progress...

Punchline

Telling a story or joke with a flair takes real talent.

Occasionally, I succeed in doing so, but most of the time, I get the strangest looks and dead silence.

Which is fine.

Reality dictates that we don't all think the same things are funny.

Take the time that I had volunteered to help a family move into our ward. I rearranged my schedule, got a sitter for my kid and borrowed a big moving truck from my husband's employer at no cost to this poor family other than help on the gas bill to move their furnishings.

We got together and I fired up the big truck and headed to the nearest gas station to fill up for the trip. Turning down a side road to get to my favorite station, life took one of those unexpected turns. Forgetting the railroad overpass was too short for the big rig, I managed to peel back about 4 feet of the box and end the moving trip in one fell swoop.

The lady whom I was trying to help was literally on the ground laughing her head off.

I was in tears because we would have to pay for the damage to the truck and any damage to the overpass.

As if stupidity isn't its own reward, this "kind" lady spared no time at all telling everyone she could find what a complete loser I was and how I had wrecked the truck.

Needless to say, others enjoyed laughing at my error for months to come.

It didn't exactly seal our friendship.

When I was growing up, I was taught that laughing at someone else's misfortune was rude and inappropriate. Now we have entire television shows dedicated to just that premise. We are encouraged not only to laugh at the mistakes, accidents and errors of another, but to videotape them and send them in for the chance to win cash and prizes in front of a live studio audience.

Some of the best moments of humor come from human weaknesses and foibles, but I don't like humor that belittles someone else. The hard part is defining what is something to laugh at and what is something to laugh with them over and what should just be kept quiet.

When someone is injured is never funny, no matter how they got injured. Even redneck stunts gone awry isn't a laughing matter. I've been in too many hospital emergency rooms and worked for doctors cleaning up the mess after those 'funny' stunts.

And, when someone has been publicly humiliated is no laughing matter. Even when other people thing they 'deserved it', I can't help but think of that child of God who has just been made to feel like they were lower than dirt just so someone else can score points in front of people who don't really care about either of them.

My parents had a book of jokes called "G-Rated Jokes and Other Rarities" when I was growing up. It was the singularly funniest book in the house. While there were other funny books and stories in the bookshelf, this one was geared to having a good time and not making other people feel bad in the process.

I guess the issue here is learning that humor isn't a universal concept. There are some things that simply will never be funny to everyone on the planet. The real art in humor is knowing just how much to say and how much to leave out in order to keep feelings from being doormats and to make everyone feel welcome instead of picked on.

I end with what I believe to be a pretty good joke that is of human nature. It won't be universal in appeal. But I think most people can relate to the generic streak of circumstance in it:

Bubba walked into a doctor's office and the receptionist asked him what he had.

Bubba said: "Shingles." So she wrote down his name, address, medical insurance number and told him to have a seat.

Fifteen minutes later a nurse's aide came out and asked Bubba what he had. Bubba said, "Shingles." So she wrote down his height, weight, a complete medical history and told Bubba to wait in the examining room.

A half hour later a nurse came in and asked Bubba what he had. Bubba said, "Shingles." So the nurse gave Bubba a blood test, a blood pressure test, an electrocardiogram, and told Bubba to take off all his clothes and wait for the doctor.

An hour later the doctor came in and found Bubba sitting patiently in the nude and asked Bubba what he had. Bubba said, "Shingles."

The doctor asked, "Where?"

Bubba said, "Outside on the truck. Where do you want me to unload 'em??"