Posts Tagged ‘small town America’

Skepticism is a Good Thing

April 30, 2013

I love a skeptic. In fact, I am one myself. A wise person does not hitch their wagon to every new thing that comes down the pike. Discernment is important.

There is a difference between discernment and bull headedness though. And that is a very important difference.

We’ve all heard the saying, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

I’ve got some powerful truths to teach you, And…. You will need to make an effort.  Examining your skepticism and getting control over it will be a first step. (Hang it up in the closet for a little while. You can always bring it back out if need be…. But I promise you will not be wanting it back with regards to this.)

The reason? Once your mind is open to experimenting with these new ideas, you will prove to yourself, in your own life, that they work.

Give each new possibility a chance, just a fair chance to change your mind.  This you must do, because if, while being a skeptic you insist on also being bull headed, learning something new, no matter how valuable, will be impossible for you.

You will not be expected to believe anything that you are unable to prove out in your own experience. So do the work, personal work. There is no scientific data to swallow hook, line and sinker.  You alone will be the judge.

Learn some new Laws of the Universe, Natural Laws. They are not really new, just new to you.

At first, no matter what you see change in your life, they still may be hard to believe, you may want to think it’s an accident that your life has suddenly started to work. However, as time goes on and you continue to act and think in the new way, you will see the consistent results over and over again until you can no longer deny that something has changed.

Years ago, I was at a lecture by Wayne Dwyer. The one thing in his speech that stuck with me was that once an individual proves something out in their own life, from that point on, no one will ever be able to tell them that it is impossible. He said, “No one can ever convince me that a person cannot go from rags to riches, because I did it myself. I left the orphanage with nothing and became wealthy.”

There is no proof more powerful than proving it to yourself.

So why isn’t everyone doing it? For the very reason we have been discussing, most people hold on very, very tightly to their original beliefs.

Changing your mind is the most important change you will ever make.

The very hardest part about changing your mind is the first step. That first step is simply a willingness to consider and then examine a new way of being.

_____________________________________________________________Dina Dove

As an author, inspirational speaker, and coach, I am dedicated to helping people remember who they really are at their deepest core and discover their unique path to career and personal fulfillment.

For further information, please contact me at Dina@BagladysGuide.com

www.dinadove.com

www.facebook.com/BagladysGuide.com

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Just Stay

April 13, 2013

We’ve all heard that everything happens for a reason.

I think the universe is perfectly designed in such a way that there is no encounter and no experience that is an accident. And, even more amazing than that. That there is a blessing in every moment, no matter what it looks like at the time. God is working His magic in our lives every second of every day.

I normally write original content for my blog, but today I just had to share this story that I received in an email. In my searches, I could not find who wrote it or whose story it actually is. It is so powerful in its message of blessing that I could not resist sharing it with you.

Just Stay

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. ”Your son is here,” she said to the old man.
She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength.
Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile.

He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious to her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.

”Who was that man?” he asked.

The nurse was startled, “He was your father,” she answered.
”No, he wasn’t,” the Marine replied. “I never saw him before in my life.”

”Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

”I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed.
I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this gentleman’s name?
The nurse with tears in her eyes answered, Mr. William Grey………….

The next time someone needs you … just be there. Just stay.

Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Goes on a Rampage

March 15, 2009

Many of you know me as a person who is prone to looking on the bright side. Look out!

As you may know, I live in a 100 year old Victorian home. In a house, you can imagine, that occasionally may need work.

“To be expected,” you might say.

And I agree.

I keep up with it, if I know something is amiss, I get ‘my fix-it guy’ (The one who fixes all things broken in the house).

Well, last month I was only home about 5 days.

While I was away the heat was turned down to just above freezing.  I was more than shocked to get a gas bill for $290.00.

My personal opinion was that the unit had epilepsy.

By that I mean that it goes along working just fine most of the time and then, Whammo!

All of a sudden there is a glitch and it stops. Then, when it corrects itself, it starts working again.

Since I wasn’t at home anyway, I could put up with the heater not working. But… when the gas bill was outrageous and the heat still was not working…

Now THAT’s a problem.

So, I called in my guy. And he called in another guy.

They decided that the lack of a cold air return for my first floor system was the problem. I’d known I needed this done for several years but had tried to get along without it.

However, since they believed it was the reason for the high utility bill, I finally acquiesced to the solution.

Even though the solution cost me almost $600 (more than my normal full year in gas bills), the prospect of an even higher bill this month while I am home made me bite the bullet.

“So,” you may ask, “what’s your beef?”

After two days of beautiful weather, last night it got cold again. I turned the thermostat up and later on went downstairs to find the first floor all nice and cozy.

(The reason I say the first floor is because my house has several different central air units. The one on the first floor is the one with the problem.)

I was happy and thought that the problem had been solved.  But, this morning I went down to find the temperature was only 55 degrees, the new thermostat (part of the fix) was set at 68.

The heater was not running. No hot air was coming out of the registers.

The epilepsy has returned. 

I’m $600 down, might have another gas bill close to $300 this month, nothing is working any better.

It is really cold down there… and…   

Oh, did I mention that the cold air return they put in required them to saw an 18” square hole into the 100 year old lath and plaster wall?

@#*^%$#@  

If you have never dealt with the dust raised by such an act then you have no conception of the kind of clean up required.  Don’t even think about comparing it to sheetrock dust.

Sheetrock dust can’t hold a candle to this. An 18” hole cut out of sheetrock would have taken about 15 minutes to clean up.

EVERYTHING on the entire first floor and the stairway to the second floor was covered with the finest particle dust known to man.  

Imbedded in every piece of furniture, clinging to the walls, enhancing every cob web in the corners of the ceiling, laying in the folds of all the cascading draperies, encrusting every silk flower arrangement, every piece of pottery, the table, the candles, grandma’s antique glassware, the area rugs, the hardwood floors, the fancy woodwork, and all the indoor trees and plants.

And that was only the dining room!

The living room, kitchen, bathroom and family room were covered too! The mess rivaled the damage of the great dust storms of history, completely held within the confines of one house.

I spent the entire last two days cleaning up this dust and I’m not done yet. 

The family room is still barricaded off as if it is a toxic dump site. Even walking thru the room with dust that fine would cause a flurry that could re-contaminate the rest of the house and undo the progress I’ve made thus far. I have paid my dues.

From now on, anyone who says I haven’t done my part to clean up the environment will be shot.

So, to finish this episode of the saga at hand…

It is Sunday, but I called ‘my fix-it guy’ anyway.  I just rambled off this entire litany of woes to him.  

Hearing the tears in my voice, he promised to call the other guy and come and look at the heating unit that has cost the national debt and still won’t keep the house warm. 

 I gotta go now. This guy does so much work for me that he has a key to the house. I have to go downstairs and make sure he doesn’t come in thru the family room and raise the dust.  

Norman Rockwell and the America We Remember

August 10, 2008

If you are feeling like America isn’t what it used to be, you may need a change of scenery. I’m in a small Kansas town of around 3,000 people. It’s a far cry from the other places I’ve lived in my life. Having grown up in Wichita, the largest city in Kansas, and then spending years in San Francisco and Houston, I’d consider myself to be a city girl. But small town America is special because it is still the America of our grandparents and… the America of our youth when we felt safe in our communities.

 

There are no fancy restaurants, but there is good country cookin’ at the local diners. If you want to dance, the VFW is the major nightspot. Local talent performs at the county fair, the highlight of the summer. 4-H is big and everyone’s kids enter livestock, photography and baked goods. Norman Rockwell could still find things worth painting in small town America. Update the fashions and the automobile styles and you can still find that kind of friendliness in heartland communities.

 

What brought about this bit of nostalgia? Well, I just drove down to the local Sonic Drive-In for lunch. It’s Sunday, so a little drive around town was in order before coming back home. Kids were all over town on their bicycles, waving and smiling as I yielded the right of way to them. There wasn’t an adult was in sight. Not because they don’t care about their kids, but because their kids are safe here. The cost of a season ticket for the city pool is affordable to almost everyone, and the bike rack out front is full most of the time. Children are still able to walk to school in small towns with the other kids in the neighborhood. In cities now, parents drive them to school and deliver them personally to their classroom.

 

When I moved here many years ago, I couldn’t figure out why anyone would ever want to live in a small town, and now I wonder why more people don’t move out of the cities and back to America, the real America…. where brotherly love and neighbor helping neighbor is still the order of the day.

 

And about those kids riding, unwatched, all over town? They are free and safe and having the time of their lives.