Hot Flashes

For a big part of my life I have anticipated menopause. I mean, anticipated as in looked forward to. Sound strange? Well, it wouldn’t if you knew how cold I’ve been most of my life.

But I had hope for brighter days. I knew that someday, in the not-too-distant future, menopause would hit and I would finally find some relief. I imagined that in my mature years I would be warm and toasty–courtesy of hot flashes.

I waited. And waited and waited and waited. I will be fifty-seven years old this coming Sunday, March 1. I am still waiting. Oh, I am finally in menopause, I think. Perhaps not finished but at the very least near to it.

But instead of hot flashes do you know what I got? Cold flashes!

Oh yeah, you didn’t know cold flashes existed, did you? Neither did I! And I am pretty mad about it. What a lousy way to be greeted by a long-awaited day! What a cruel dashing of hopes!

And somebody might have warned me. Surely some older woman knew about this! Maybe I would have been trying to put on some weight in preparation if only I had known.

When I refer to cold flashes, I am not talking about being a little chilly. I’m not even talking about bone-chilling cold. No, no, no. I’m telling you that I am like an iceberg. The cold I experience is organ-chilling cold. I feel like a corpse ready for the casket.

“Get ready for the hot flashes,” my older friends told me. “Oh, you’ll be hot enough pretty soon,” they warned when I whined about being cold.

Hot flashes, my eye! Don’t get your hopes up, ladies!




Standing on the Problems

Standing on the Problems

My grandson, Jonathan, had a little church service the other day. He got his songbook and sang, “Standing on the problems, I say.” Then he said, “I want to pray.” He reached out and took my hand and bowed his little head and said, “Thank you, God, for the food and thank you for the bread.” Then he once again looked down at his songbook and sang, “Standing on the problems, I say.”

I got to thinking about that today and understood why those words would make sense to him. Standing on promises (what the song really says) makes no sense to a two-and-a-half-year-old, or, as he likes to say, an almost-three-year-old. Why would we want to stand on promises people make to us? That would be rude, wouldn’t it?

But standing on problems is another thing. Why not! Stand on them, stomp on them, make them dust beneath your feet!

Jonathan takes the words of the song literally (he knows no other way to take them), and standing on problems probably seems like the only logical thing the song could be saying. And his sweet, innocent thoughts are a reminder to me to take comfort in the truth that when I stand on the promises of God, He will be there to help me through my trials and tribulations and help me deal with the problems that beset me.

So, standing on the promises of God, I know I can stand on my problems and defeat them. I heard it from the mouth of a babe.