For Goodness Sake

The first Triple-A Image post is coming tomorrow. In the meantime, I couldn't resist posting this wonderful quote from the wonderful John Wesley.

“Do all the good you can, By all the means you can, In all the ways you can, In all the places you can, At all the times you can, To all the people you can, As long as ever you can.”

Now... that's good.

He said WHAT?

It was a hot summer day many years ago. I'd had a grueling week at the television station where I served as both morning news anchor and managing editor. So, I snagged a comp day, threw on a swimsuit and headed for the beautiful beaches of Gulf Shores, Alabama. After relaxing in the sand for a few moments, I realized that in my haste, I had forgotten to carry something to drink. So, I walked up to the concession area and asked the young man behind the counter for a bottle of water. As I handed him my dollar bill, and reached for the water, he put a tight grip on both, refusing to let go. I looked up at him and he said, "You're not... mmmm.. you're not... nah... you can't be. You're not that lady on TV are you? That.... Drexel Gilbert?" I straightened my shoulders, flashed my biggest TV camera smile and said, "Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I am." To which he replied... "Oh. I guess you must wear a lot of makeup on TV."

Yes. He. Did.

I stomped back to my spot in the sand, fussing and carrying on the entire way. "Seriously?  A lot of makeup? Dude. I've had a hard week. Give me a break..." and on and on. Then I took stock of myself.   For my 'cover-up' I was wearing one of my husband's raggedy fishing t-shirts;  I had on a dirty baseball cap that was probably older than that young man; and my shoes had more flop than flip to them. I realized I'd let that young man down.

He was used to seeing me with my hair styled, my makeup on, speaking to him in a professional manner. I'd blown his image of me. The next time I went to the beach, I wore pantyhose and pumps.

Kidding!

But, I did purchase a new coverup, a nice straw hat....and HUGE sunglasses. No more embarassing 'gotcha's' for me! And, that is when I began to study the importance of image on our professional-- and our personal-- lives. People do make assumptions and judgments about us based on how we dress, speak, and behave. I'm not telling you that it's right. I'm just telling you that.... it IS.

Over the course of the next few days, I'm going to offer some advice on ways to enrich your image. Don't get me wrong. Image isn't everything. There has to be substance behind it. We see the danger of 'empty image' everyday on the television screen and tabloid covers, with celebrities and politicians who look the part---and that's all. Image should be the outward reflection of who you are inside. Image Enrichment™, as I like to call it, starts with the heart.

I hope you enjoy the advice that is to come. I'm basing the next few posts on a speech I gave to a group of business professionals. It's entitled "Triple A Image: Be Aware, Be Authentic, Be Appropriate." Perhaps you will find tips to help you reach whatever goal you may have set for yourself and to become more successful and fulfilled in your professional and personal endeavors.

P.S. I think I might go to the beach tomorrow. Where DID I put those sunglasses?

The Feature

“From Heaven, the Lord looks down and sees all mankind.” Psalm 33:13

He stole my heart the way a baseball player steals a base-- in the blink of an eye and before I even knew it was happening. I took in his angelic face, his infectious smile, and his boundless energy, and I was smitten. Instantly.

His name was Jacob. He was seven years old.

As I watched his bat connect with the ball, time and time again, I marveled at his timing and his aim. Not many boys his age would have so masterfully conquered the skills of… tee ball.  Especially, if they could not see the ball, or the tee on which it was perched. 

You see-- Jacob was blind.

My assignment was to bring in a feature report on people helping people. My search led me to Jacob and his youth league coach.  Retinoblastoma had robbed Jacob of his eyes when he was four years old. But his pre-school memories of playing tee ball in the back yard remained vivid in his mind and he wanted to play once again. By seeming coincidence, a youth league coach learned of Jacob and agreed to put him on his team.

In the beginning, the coach would patiently tuck Jacob’s tiny hand into his own, and guide it to the place where the ball sat.  He would wrap his arms around Jacob and help him aim, then step away and let the child take the swing. When bat and ball connected, the coach would again grasp Jacob’s hand and guide him as he ran around the bases. The reaction from the crowd was always the same. Emotional silence followed by thunderous applause. 

As time went on, Jacob mastered many of the moves of the game on his own.. no longer needing a guiding hand every time he stepped up to the plate. He even took his place in the outfield and was often heard gleefully yelling “Hit it to me! Hit it to me!” 

Jacob’s mother once said to me “He doesn’t think he is blind.” Indeed, it seems to me that Jacob has simply learned to see with his heart, instead of his eyes.

Today, when you are faced with a difficult situation or person, think of Jacob. Resolve to put a smile on your face and shout out to life: “Hit it to me!” Like Jacob’s tee ball coach, God promises to take our hand, put his arms around us and guide us around the obstacles in our way, making certain we move safely toward ‘home.’

*This is an excerpt from my video devotional, "Anchored". My thanks to Jacob, and his mom, Jessica, for allowing me to tell their story. They are my heroes now.... and forever. If you would like to see the video version of this blog entry, click this link which will take you to my website. http://drexelgilbert.com/Drexel%20Gilbert%20Anchored%20DVD%20Order%20Page.htm
Photo Courtesy: Promise. A quarterly publication of St. Judge Children's Research Hospital. Memphis, TN.

Ode to 52

Oh, 52…You wicked age.

I welcomed you, as Life's next stage.

You told me age would make me wise.

Oh, really? 

Try telling that to my thighs.

At 51, I was trim and lean.

I could eat French fries, and chocolate ice cream.

At  52, a lettuce snack

Will add 5 pounds to my view ‘round back.

The biggest ‘gift’ mid-life doth bring

Are calories that seem to cling

To waist and tummy and hips and chin.

But, 52,

You will not win.

My new regimen has now kicked off.

I’m 52, but I’m not soft!

A two mile walk will start my day.

And, sugar’s out.. but veggies stay.

No fats, no sweets, no restaurant cookin’,

At least until I like how I’m lookin’.

So, 52, just kiss my grits.

Oh... and, eat them, too.

They’re off my list.

A Heavy Assignment

It was an English assignment that took the place of a final exam. Each student was asked to take a short story or poem that we’d read during our term,  and put our own interpretation to it—pulling out at least one literary element employed by the author (ex.: symbolism, imagery, parallelism) and identifying that element in our presentation. “Be creative,” the instructor told us. “Go with what you know. If you’re an artist, paint a picture. If you’re a photographer, take a picture. If you are a musician, write a song.. or sing one.” I’m a writer- - with thirty years of news reporting under my belt. I produced a short, FICTIONAL, newscast.

My presentation was based on the short story “The Things They Carried,” by Tim O’Brien. Mr. O’Brien uses parallelism to drive home the weight our soldiers carry—on their backs, and in their hearts and minds. I recommend reading the story. The language is a bit strong at times, and frankly makes me uncomfortable… but I suppose that’s also part of the heaviness, and ugliness, of war.

This is my project. It was produced simply as a classroom assignment. IT IS NOT A REAL NEWS STORY! It is my dramatic interpretation of Tim O’Brien’s’ story, which moved me. It was produced as a classroom assignment. (I scored 100!) Thanks to my daughter, Avery Cotton and to  my friend, Matt Allen, for helping me with this. To my television friends: GO EASY ON ME! This was my very first experience with the FLIP camera and with the Movie Maker program on my computer. The next one will be better!

If “The Things They Carried” was a newscast, this is how I envision it would play out.  (My thanks to Terry Wilhite for the bump music. It was created for another purpose, but fit this project perfectly. Terry, you are awesome!)

http://youtu.be/IJ7Rfb5aX0g

Passing It On

Love this saying that I spied on a calendar today: "The more difficult the obstacle, the stronger one becomes after hurdling it."~Unknown   Hurdle up, my friends!

The Button Box

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born I set you apart. Jer. 1:5

When I was a little girl, I loved to stay with my grandmother in her little country town in the great state of Texas. Mama's home was filled with beautiful things...sometimes mysterious, very often “untouchable” things. Things like the hand carved cuckoo clock my uncle--- the WWII sailor--- brought  her from some exotic location. Things like a little plastic woodpecker that danced around when you pressed the bottom of the pedestal on which he stood.  Things like her trunk that sat at the end of her bed and contained a magical bounty of old magazines, letters wrapped in ribbon, Bibles, tintype photographs, eye glasses, sweet smelling talcum powder… and mothballs. Things like pretty glass bottles that had once contained something boring like cooking oil, but were now filled with brightly colored water and placed on this dresser or that end table.

The one item in her home that always drew me to it, and was always very ‘touchable’, was Mama’s button box.

It was wooden and round and was filled with hundreds of buttons that I would sort by color, or size, or simply in stacks of the ones I liked and the ones I didn’t. The contents of the button box changed with each visit. Every time Mama would cut up an outgrown or worn out article of clothing for quilting squares, she’d cut off the buttons and add them to the box. Or, if she made a new dress, she would toss in any extra buttons from the button card she’d purchased at the dry goods store. Sometimes, she’d sit with me as I explored the buttons. She’d pick up one, rub it tenderly and say with a smile, “Oh, I forgot all about that button! That came off of a school dress I made for your mother when she was your age!” Or, she might say with a tear, “That button was sewn onto your granddaddy’s work shirt. Lord knows how many times I had to wash that shirt of his.”  Her eyes would sparkle as she turned a tear into a smile, and tenderly placed the button back into the box.

There were so many buttons. But, I had a favorite.

To this day, I can vividly see in my mind the small, round, pink cut-glass button with the pearl accent right in the middle. Oh, how it sparkled.  Sometimes I would hold it up to the lamp and watch it shine. Other times I would take it to the ‘picture window’ in her living room and watch it sparkle in the sunlight.  Sometimes, I would hold it tightly in my hands, close my eyes, and imagine that it had dropped off a princess’s gown and somehow made it into my Mama’s button box… in her little country home… in her little country town. Every time I ran my fingers through the buttons in the box, I searched for another like it. But, there was only one. It was special, unique and---for the purposes of the button box---one of a kind. It was a treasure.

That button box reminds me of us and of our relationship with God.

Like the mismatched buttons in the box, we are all individual parts that make up a large community. Some of us may be sparkly; some of us may be sturdy; some of us may be small and some of us—not so much; some of us may look alike; some of us may look very different from each other;  but we are all special and one of a kind.  Like my grandmother, God can look into His human button box, pick us up, and remember exactly when we came to Him. He knows everything about us, and like that sparkly pink button was to me, each of us is a treasure to Him.  He said so in Isaiah 49:16. “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” Like the buttons I held, YOU are held tightly in God’s hand, in more ways than one.

Sometimes, like the buttons in the box, we may feel like we are just part of the crowd. No special purpose, nothing unique about us, we are just "here." But, that’s not true.

We never know when the day will come that someone will be looking for a "button" that looks just like us! We never know when the opportunity will come for us to jog someone’s memory of a happy time, or share our own memories of loved ones and fun days gone by. We never know when we’ll have the opportunity to make someone’s eyes sparkle by sharing our faith. We never know when we will have the opportunity to lead someone else to God, and to their place in His spiritual button box.  Colossians 4:5 tells us to "make the most of every opportunity."

I’ve have my own button box collection. It’s pitifully small compared to Mama’s. But, one day, I hope it will be a larger collection and that my grandchildren will put down their fancy toys, computers, telephones—and whatever else they’ve come up with by then-- and enjoy rummaging through my button box. I hope that the experience will teach them that, like those buttons, they are special... not just to their grandmother, but to the God of all creation. The God who made them… and you.. and who keeps you in His heart and in His hands.