When Did This Become My Job? | by Linda Brendle

I joined a work party on Friday to paint the inside of the Senior Center here in Emory. It’s an older building that has been well used and was in need of a face lift. The director secured a small grant for carpet for the entry hall and offices, paint, tile for a backsplash in the kitchen, blinds, and three baseboard heaters, but she didn’t have enough money left to cover labor costs. Our church is always on the lookout for “Outside the Building” projects, so David and I stopped by the pastor’s office on the way home from lunch one day to discuss the possibilities. A couple of phone calls and a visit or two later, David was asked to head up the project and a call for volunteers went out.

Daddy’s Legacy of Love and Peace | Linda Brendle

Today is the first anniversary of Daddy’s death, so I’m rerunning the first post I published on this blog on July 20^th last year. I miss you, Daddy.

Daddy was a simple man. I don’t mean that he wasn’t smart. Quite the opposite. He was valedictorian of his high school graduating class, and he was great at helping me with my homework. He could figure out how to fix or build anything. When he worked for the Post Office, he could quote the manual verbatim and knew where every Texas town was located, no matter how small. But his needs and wants were simple, and he sometimes didn’t understand the complexities of the modern world. He didn’t leave behind a collection of awards and trophies or a big estate, but he left behind a legacy of peace and love that will live for a long time.

On Motherhood, Co-Dependence, and Letting Go | by Linda Brendle

I loved being pregnant. For a co-dependent like me, it was the ultimate boundary-free relationship. I had an easy pregnancy, no morning sickness or fat ankles, but toward the end, he took up more than his share of space. Like a toddler who crawls in bed with you in the middle of the night, he stretched his 21 inches in all directions at once, wedging a hand under my ribs while standing on my kidneys and sitting on my bladder. I think God plans it that way so, by the time labor begins, you’re completely ready to let go of the little bundle of joy you’ve been incubating for nine months. And that’s what being a mother is all about – letting go.

Senior Humor 4 | by Linda Brendle

That’s pretty much what my mornings look like.

Medicare Saga – Part Three: Medicare or Matrix | by Linda Brendle

I’ve been writing about my Medicare experiences the last couple of days, about the feelings and response when I received my card  and about the confusion and decisions involved in choosing coverage. But the real experiences came the last couple of weeks when I used my cards for the first time.

Medicare Saga – Part…Whatever: The Research | by Linda Brendle

I posted yesterday about getting my Medicare card.  That was just the beginning of the Medicare saga. For several weeks after receiving the card, I received mail, lots of mail, about how Medicare works. The most helpful items were a couple of booklets produced by the Department of Health & Human Services. One was called “Welcome to Medicare” and the other was called “Choosing a Medigap Policy.”

The Medicare Saga – Part One | by Linda Brendle

I published the following post on my Facebook status sometime around the first of the year: “I am officially old now. I got my Medicare card in the mail today.”  I got lots of responses, basically divided into three categories.

Mom’s Busy Hands | by Linda Brendle

One of my writer friends recently issued a challenge in her blog to describe the hands of someone; to try and show this person to the reader by showing her hands. I immediately thought of Mom’s hands. If I had to describe them in one word, I’d have to use the word “busy.”

The Risk of Making a Joyful Noise | by Linda Brendle

A couple of weeks ago the worship leader at my church asked if I would sub on the piano this past Sunday. There was a slight pause as several thoughts ran through my head.

It’s been 15 or 20 years since I played for a worship service and over a year since I’ve touched a keyboard that wasn’t attached to a computer.

I’ve never played most of the praise choruses we sing now, and a week doesn’t give me a lot of time to learn.

The church doesn’t have a real piano. It’s an electronic keyboard, and I’ve never played one. Besides that, Stacy stands up to play, and I don’t know if I can do that.

Presentation Isn’t Everything | by Linda Brendle

I wrote this on Saturday, but because of the problems discussed in yesterday’s post, I’m just now getting it published. Some subjects, although not earth-shattering, are timeless.

I don’t know if it’s Emory in particular or small towns in general, but there are a lot of pot lucks around here. In the 14 months since I’ve been here I’ve taken food to several lunches for bereaved families, desserts to the Senior Center on Volunteer Dessert Day several times, muffins and juice to a church-wide breakfast, soup to a SISTAs luncheon, cookies to AWANA, a salad to one baptism/pot luck and a dessert to another, and those are just the ones I can remember right now. This morning I baked cookies for a Sunday School party tonight and made a cake for a spaghetti lunch after church tomorrow. The SISTAs ministry is raising funds for a youth mission trip to China.