T is for TRUST

I thought I had written on this before, and I have. If you're interested, you can click here to see my previous post.

This time, however, I'm thinking a bit differently and considering what trust actually "is." I understand it to be both emotional and logical. Emotionally, I expose my personal vulnerabilities. Logically, I assess the probabilities of what I might gain or lose depending on the previous actions of the other person.

Therefore, trust means being able to predict what others will do in certain situations; trust means that I expect reciprocity, even if it's delayed; trust is allowing others to take advantage of my vulnerabilities but expecting that they won't.

Have you ever tossed a baby into the air? Most babies love this and never consider that you would let them fall. That is trust.

TRUST

Trust is a calm and confident blue.

It looks like an oasis in the midst of a slough.

It sounds like shouts of clear convictions.

It smells like the stimulating salt of the oceans.

It tastes like deep draughts of discernment.

It feels like faith in a confident comment.

Trust is the tender texture of temperament.

As the sun went down last night, I reflected upon the fact that
I trusted that the sun would come up in the morning.

As usual, thanks to Denise Nesbitt for creating ABC Wednesday and continuing to temptingly tease us with treatises, theories, and tests of creativity.

S is for SAFETY

Because I grew up in a dysfunctional and abusive family environment, I still often feel anxiety even if I logically understand that there is nothing to fear. So it got me wondering what it means to truly comprehend safety or security. As my poem acknowledges, a bird builds a nest for her babies high up in a tree so she can stay nearby and scare away any intruders. Near schools, crosswalk guards, in brightly coloured red and yellow vests, keep students safe as they cross the streets. Within the confines of home, one can sit down in the afternoon with a scented cup of tea and listen to music - or silence - and feel the warmth and coziness of being surrounded by loved ones. When a baby is born, it is immediately wrapped up tightly in a warm flannel blanket and put into the arms of its mother. Instinct on both sides should kick in with mother feeling responsible for her child's security, and child knowing it's safe in its mothers arms. Sometimes we prefer steak, but a homemade plain meal can give us a sense of security even more, knowing it was prepared by loving hands who worked hard to provide. Finally, home should be a haven whether it is small or large, ordinary or grand. I am grateful to live in a part of the world where poverty and war is something far away and I can give practical assistance through charities and relief organizations. However, now I know that I am now safe and secure from those situations that, as a child, scared me.

SAFETY

Safety is the brown of a bird's nest.
It looks like a red and yellow neon vest.
It sounds like a sigh in an afternoon's rest.
It smells like talcum on a baby newborn.
It tastes like meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn.
It feels like the third pig's house made of bricks.
Safety is a pin that will not prick.

Continued thanks to Denise Nesbitt for designing and promoting ABC Wednesday! If you would like to contribute or see other contributions, simply click here.

R is for RESPECT

November is always a time of remembrance and respect. We remember our Canadian Armed Forces for their participation in all wars since confederation (1867). Because of our ties with the British Empire, Canada joined forces in the Second Boer War, World War 1, and World War 2. Canada has also participated in multinational coalitions and fought in the Korean War, the Gulf War, the Kosovo War, and the 2001 invasion of Afghanistan. As well, Canada has played an important role in peacekeeping operations worldwide and has sent more troops than any other country.

Along with remembering Canada's military forces for their sometimes heroic endeavours to keep our country and other countries democratic, we show our utmost respect to them on November 11 every year. We honour them for their specific actions and conduct and respect them for their dedication to freedom. Here is my poem about respect.

RESPECT

Respect is a blood-tinged soldier's cerise.
It looks like privates positioned at ease.
It sounds like everyone saying "Please."
It smells like the cool crisp scent of autumn leaves.
It tastes like the bread and wine we receive.
It feels like reverberating vibrations of sound.
Respect is honoring the moral high ground.

Thanks to Denise Nesbitt and her radiant and ravishing group of revolutionaries for keeping ABC Wednesday alive. We refuse to restrain ourselves as we revere the ridiculous to the reflective to the romantic revelations of our contRibutoRs. Click HERE to reward yourselves and rejoice in renowned reflections.

Q is for QUIET

When I was in Grade 7, my Mom attended the annual Parent/Teacher Conferences because my report card had indicated that I was "reticent" in class. I had never heard that word before and was, therefore, terrified that I was in some sort of trouble. I later learned it meant "quiet," but my mother could not believe the teacher had written the comment for the correct student. However, it appears I was indeed "reticent" in class - quite the opposite of what I was like at home. We all had a good laugh and I never again worried about what the teachers wrote on my report cards.

I am naturally a very optimistic person, full of good humour, and with an internal strength when confronted with life's indomitable difficulties. However, there have been times (as my regular readers are aware) when life has knocked me down flat on my face. It has been during those times when I have needed the quiet moments to build up the strength to go forward. I know there are other people who have endured worse than I have, especially Job. I'm actually looking forward to reading this Book again with one of the Grade 12 students that I tutor. He has no knowledge of the Bible, so this will be an interesting time of sharing God's ideas of why people suffer. Here is my take on "Quiet."

QUIET

Quiet is the archetypal blue of the sky.

It looks like an eagle soaring so high.

It sounds like the silence of the first soft snow.

It smells like early primrose in the meadow.

It tastes like the coolness of candy cane.

It feels like a peace that touches the pain.

Quiet is a sigh that that comes from the soul.

This is where I like to go when I need quiet times. It's the Boundary Bay Regional Park near my home. I like to wander the back trails where I can see wild birds, rabbits, and the occasional fellow walker. It's near the salt water of Boundary Bay and the air is fresh and salty. I do my best thinking here.

ABC Wednesday is in its fifth year and on its ninth round, thanks to the quintessential Mrs. Nesbitt and her qualified and quirky gang of assistants! To check out other contributions and/or to join in the fun, simply click here.

THE GREEN THING

My sister sent me this and I like it so much, I'm sharing it with you all.

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized and explained, "We didn't have this 'green' thing back in my day."

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations."

She was right -- our generation didn't have the 'green' thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. But we didn't have the 'green' thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs because we didn't have an escalator or elevator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go a few blocks. But she was right. We didn't have the 'green' thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters not always brand-new clothing. But that young lady is right - we didn't have the 'green' thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV or radio in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana . In the kitchen we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. But she's right, we didn't have the 'green' thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But we didn't have the 'green' thing back then.

Back then people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not a bank of sockets to power a dozen things. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza place.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the 'green' thing back then?