It's my pleasure

I love good customer service. I love it when I ask a Publix employee where to find flaxseed and I am then escorted to aisle 9. I enjoy being cheerfully greeted when I pop through the doors at Quik Trip  I applaud ARMC for sending me a survey to check the quality of my last visit. I relish saying "thank you" at Chick-fil-A just so I can hear "it's my pleasure".  And I appreciate Race Trac's clean restrooms and Sodapalooza free refills. I love good customer service.

We all enjoy good service. And companies, for the most part, are good at delivering it. So good in fact that most of us have come to expect it. Maybe even demand  it

So imagine my surprise when my doctor told me he had "fired" some patients. I thought back to several disappointments I'd had with his office and felt relieved that I hadn't complained about the grumpy receptionist or the delinquent immunization paperwork or the phone call for a minor emergency that never got returned. He went on to explain that his office was overloaded, his staff was overworked and he had some patients who were so demanding they they could not be satisfied. Through tired eyes and with slumped shoulders he said "They can't accept that some of our decisions don't go their way. They got mad that we couldn't do things to suit them all the time.  So I fired them. Not my employees. Those arrogant, impossible-to-please patients." I was now way past relief and into full- blown gratitude that I had not expressed my opinion all these years as to how they could better serve their customers . Whew.  I figured it was safe to assume, since I was sitting in his office, that I was not one of the patients he let go. I asked him how it felt. Great, he replied. Great.

I later reflected on times I've been a dissatisfied customer. To be sure, some of those were just plain bad experiences. An important - and promised - deadline missed. Shoddy installation of an expensive product.  Broken locks on a hotel room door.  Erroneous information by an technician on a price quote. Repeated misdiagnoses that eventually necessitated scarring surgery. Happy customer I was not.  Understandable.


But other times...is it possible that my expectations were unreasonable?  Or at least self-centered? Was I so accustomed to getting what I wanted that my desire for good service had morphed into a demand instead? Have we as customers become arrogant and irrational?  Do we think that companies should bow before our throne of exaction?


And, if they refuse - whether the reason is justifiable or not - how do we react?  Do we throw an adult version of a temper tantrum?  Do we harass the poor employee who has to deliver the unwanted news?  Do we rant about our experience to all our friends....and all over social media?  Do we complain to the home office and insist on reparations?


I wish we didn't. 


But sometimes we do.


Whether it's a doctor's office or a fast food restaurant or some other provider of goods and services, are we as the American customer just a little over the top in what we think should be delivered?


And have you ever noticed that those folks who are the most onerous hardly ever say "thanks" when you are finally able to deliver what they demand ?


Kinda makes you wanna fire 'em, ya know what I mean?

Minus three Orphans

The religious observance that God the Father considers pure and faultless is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being contaminated by the world.  James 1:27


This very week, as only Providence Himself could plan it, three of my friends are boarding planes with their respective hubbies and biological children to cross the ocean and each rescue an orphan.  To bring him or her back with them and adopt them into their family and raise them to adulthood.  What a picture of God's love, what a testimony of His grace.


There's about a bazillion widows and orphans in this world.  Lonely, afraid, maybe even desperate... needing love and help and security. That you and I can give.  Maybe we're not all "called" to bring them all to our house.  Maybe it seems like too gargantuan a task.  Maybe it is....all by ourselves.  But if we all just follow His command, to care for them in some way, maybe we can get the job done.


Even if we can't get to all of them, this week there will be three fewer orphans in the world.  Shelley, Michelle, and Jess, I'm praying for you and yours.  And, readers, I'm asking you to pray for them, too.


And if you want more info on how you can give or pray...or maybe even rescue one yourself, contact me and I'll get you started.  Thanks.

Happy Birthday, Jonathan

Two years ago today, my world changed.  The whole world changed, actually.  Because my grandson arrived.


Jonathan Miller Alligood, Jr.


In just two years, he has given us a lifetime of laughs and cheer, a universe full of hugs and kisses, and enough hope and promise to fill the whole world.  That's what babies do to us all. That's why we applaud their arrival, marvel at their uniqueness, and lay down our lives to make theirs better. They give us a glimpse of God's greatness, His love, and our hope in Him.


Dear Jonathan, I know you've inherited a world where peace is not ubiquitous, a country where selfish agendas set the pace, and an extended family that is far from perfect.  But I pray that you will be able to change all that, even if only a little bit.  I pray that you will be so aware that the foundation of love you've been set on is sure and strong that you'll have what it takes to bring about transformation in the lives around you.  If I could, my precious little fella, I would fix it all for you. I'd make everything perfect for you to enjoy.


  I'd love to give you


a world where differences in cultures and nationalities are celebrated, not persecuted
a world that listens to others' viewpoints respectfully, even  if without agreement
a world that rewards hard work instead of clever ways to beat the system
a world that is generous and compassionate to those who deserve it....as well as to those who don't
a world where people think before they speak or post or email...and then act wisely on those thoughts
a world where initiative is applauded instead of regulated
a world where Moms and Dads are more interested in making things better for their kids than grasping for that elusive gold ring
a world where the helpless are helped and the capable act with competence
a world where there is trust....because it's been earned
a world where broken relationships get fixed instead of discarded
a world where the "rights" of some people don't trample on those of others
a world where people are happy and have fun together
a world where all the chocolate and gummy bears we want won't make us sick
a world where Truth is constant and Love reigns supreme


Dear little Jonathan, until HE returns and makes all things new, we will only have fragments of that kind of world.  One day there will be no more cancer, no more divorce, no more hurtful words, no prejudicial opinions, no more hate, no more orphans, no  more death, no more selfishness or laziness or greed.


I can't change the whole world, dear Jonathan.  And, as much as I'd like to believe you can, the truth is, you can't either.


But until HE comes to change it all forever, I'll do everything in my power to make YOUR world as perfect as perfect can be.  As only a grandmother can.


Happy Birthday, Jonathan. I'm so glad you were born.  Suzie loves you.  Forever.

 Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.  I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

 He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
 He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life.  Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children
Revelation 21:1-7

To the Granddaddy at the pool

One of the privileges of my summers is getting to assist the venerable Miss Sandy with swimming lessons at Shamrock pool. Now, full disclosure, I am only a sub for when one of my kids (bonafide instructors) cannot be there.  I am merely there for crowd control and the last stop before drowning but Miss Sandy knows I love "helping" her and she good-naturedly looks waaaaaaaay down the bench and calls me in from time to time.  Betsy is the last in our  line of Chambers swim teachers.  I don't know what I'll do when she graduates from this.  Maybe Miss Sandy will still need someone to smile and cheer and adjust goggles........


Anyhow, sometimes I go with my kids even when I'm not teaching subbing in, just to watch them teach and to see all the adorable  kids and their Mommies.  Remember, Shamrock Pool is my happy place - anytime I can be there is a great day!  So, the other evening I was there to watch.  After noting to myself that, yes, my children are surely the cutest and most wonderful swim instructors ever, I moved on to observing the parents. 


That's when I saw the Granddad.


He was so stinkin proud and it showed.  I declare, I think that if there were buttons on his swim shirt, they would've popped right off.  I grinned to myself and thought that perhaps this is a bit of overkill, even for a grandparent.  I mean, seriously, this was just the Moms and Tots class - the kids were no more displaying any athletic prowess than when they get pushed in the grocery cart at Publix.  I was able to figure out which pair his adoration was directed towards and couldn't for the life of me figure out why he was so proud.  The little fella wasn't even cooperating with his mommy!!!


Then my grandmother gene surfaced.  Then I understood.


He wasn't simply proud of his grandson's ability to be dunked repeatedly by the mother - this Papa was busting his buttons over his own daughter. Applauding the little fella was more of a smokescreen for the pride over the Mommy. He wasn't there by the pool to supervise swim instruction - he was there to watch his little girl - though as grown as grown could be - do her thing.  My heart so beat with his for a moment that I thought I'd had a transplant.  I got it.  I knew just what he was feeling.  His daughter was indeed doing a good job with that wiggly little boy and he sat right by the pool's edge to admire her with delight.  There was no mistaking it for me - the cheers for that Mommy were just disguised to look like they were meant for her son.


I had to look away and take several deep drinks of my Sodapalooza Diet Dr Pepper to wash away the lump in my throat.  I knew just what he was feeling.  That part of grandparenting that nobody explained.  At least not to me, anyways.  So, if you are yet to enter this stage of blessed bliss, allow me to share a nugget or two....


First of all, you'll not be old enough to be a grandparent.  Neither was I.  Probably never will be.  So it just might take you by surprise that your own offspring - who is barely old enough to carry a lunch box and board the bus, mind you - will be in charge of keeping a human alive.  Gulp.  Scary thought indeed.


But you'll adjust to that by deciding which grandmother title doesn't age you and debate about having liposuction and eyelid lifts just so everybody else can affirm what you already know - that you're not old enough to do this.  Then you can start looking forward to another little bundle to adore....and hope against all odds that he/she will adore you right back.  You stockpile as many ideas as possible to insure that will happen, including providing junk food and never having to be the bad guy.  Yeah, this is gonna be OK!!!


Then it comes.  The flood of grandparent love. They arrive and you hold them and they look you right in the eye.  Surely they are the cutest and most clever creatures ever to inhabit Planet Earth but that doesn't explain the width and depth of the emotions you feel.


Because there's something more.


At least for me, anyways.  Seeing my own child be a Mommy - and do such a cotton-pickin spectacular job at it - overwhelms me with a tidal wave of love and pride that I'd never expected.  It's not just the grandkids...it's my kid. I will always and forever be a Mom.  And experiencing joy at who my children are is timeless.  So is wanting to help them.  To encourage and cheer.  To give them a break (even from the job they love the most!).  To notice their successes (cuz let's face it - probably nobody else will!) and to empathize with their not-quite successes.  And to share their triumphs unabashedly because a grandparent is afforded grace and patience which aren't as easily extended to just plain parents.


I wanted to pull up a beach chair beside that G-Dad and cheer with him.  I wanted him to know I understood - and agreed with - his pride. 


And then I would've shown him my pictures.  Of all my trophies.  Swim lessons ended so I didn't get the chance.  But I know he'd have to agree - I have a right to feel blessed.

Emotional whiplash

Emotional whiplash.  Or parenting schizophrenia.  Those are the terms I use to describe a condition that the medical community may not recognize but one that is quite well known to all moms.


In fact, I was having a couple of conversations with some of my fav swim team Moms and this was our topic.  One of them grinned and said "you should blog about this."


Uh, sure thing.  I can talk about the malady all day long but I have no idea how to prevent it, treat it, or cure it.  It's completely impossible, I am sure.


You're reading this smiling cause you know exactly what I'm talking about.  The ups and downs of responding to the different needs of  your kids simultaneously.  As in one just broke his personal record for the 25 freestyle race and you are celebrating with him.  Before you can unwrap yourself from that chlorine-soaked embrace, you notice one other offspring in a puddle of tears from a DQ on his butterfly stroke. Or one daughter got elected Prom Queen...hooray!!...and the other one got rejected from the college of her heart's desire.  And so you jerk yourself from your happy place to the one of consolation and empathy.  Or the other way around....just depends on which emotional need surfaces first.


Emotional whiplash. 


Sometimes the onset of parenting schizophrenia has been so acute that I forget which emotion I am supposed to be responding to and consequently administer the wrong antidote.  Sympathy instead of cheer.  Or, worse, gladness instead of condolences.  Wow, talk about the "cure" being worse than the "disease"!!


As I type this, I'm smiling.  Grinning, actually.  Just like my swim Mom friends and I did when we chatted about it.  Not smirking at the affliction, mind you.  And certainly not at the repercussions of wrongly-administered doses.  But at the privilege it is to bear this condition.  The honor of getting to be the one to diagnose the emotional needs and then to apply the appropriate salve.


My soul doesn't feel so handicapped after all.  I realize I am downright blessed.  No matter how much it may appear that I have a personality disorder!!