Our techno world has changed everything in the last 15 years. Much of it makes our lives so much easier by having what ever we need at our finger tips. Part of it also complicates things by making us available 24/7.

Of course you can look at your phone and let it go to voice mail, but be sure you’re not in public when you do that. I had someone say to me, “Oh sure, ignore my call this morning when you saw it was me on caller ID.” I was in a hurry in Walmart when she called from the produce aisle to say hi. What’s a smooth comeback for that one?

It’s all transforming so rapidly even my kids can “remember when” if I say remember when (fill in the blank) referring to technology. How can we forget schlepping store to store looking for the best deal hoping things were in stock? That memory is what puts online shopping on the top of my list of favorite things in the new cyber world.

I read an article in the Chicago Sun Times citing online sales up 12% on Cyber Monday from the same day last year reaching a phenomenal $1.28 billion! And most likely a hunk of those sales we made on Smart Phones. I’m not brave enough yet to let Droid handle my shopping. I’m afraid I might hit the wrong button or screen and end up with 100 monster trucks instead of 1.

I’ll just stick to the old fashioned way using my laptop and browsing at my convenience in PJs with a cup of coffee. I just hope things don’t advance to the point of face to face ordering so I don’t have to brush my hair and put on lipstick before shopping online.

Doing things that aren’t common and normal is one of the benefits of living in a small town. I just saw a video about a community in Mississippi touting three generations of noodlers. Noodling is a sport where the fishermen wade into muddy lake water to ram their arms down into murky mud holes trying catch a catfish who is protecting her just laid eggs. That the angry fish will bite is guaranteed and coming upon snake is always a possibility. Those folks must really be bored. I’m sure there are noodlers who live in my community, but I don’t know any of them personally.

What we do, that most towns large or small don’t do any more, has been a tradition for 62 years. The first Sunday of December Branson lights a huge nativity on the hill across the lake from downtown. It signifies the official start of the adoration parade and for most of the longtime locals, the real Christmas season. It’s not the Winter Parade, the Holiday Parade or even the Christmas Parade, it’s the Adoration Parade and the theme is keeping Christ in Christmas, just like it was at the first parade 62 years ago.

There’s only one Santa Clause on the final float who throws candy out to the tens of thousand of visitors who come from all over the country. You can see almost everyone you know in a three county area on the streets the first Sunday in December. People line blankets up early in the day to save their seats for that night. No one takes or even moves the blankets and no one protests the event. If anyone did, some of the noodlers I don’t know might show up to set them straight.

I’ll trade big town conveniences for small town benefits without even thinking about it.

I’ve heard people say, “I was the one who was hooked when I caught my first fish.” I can’t say that was the case with me. Dad took me fishing for years and I caught my share of hand-size perch and minnows and could bait my own hook, but the love of fishing was no where on my radar. It was kind of like tasting something everyone assures you is heavenly, but it only leaves you smacking your lips real fast to figure out what’s so good about it.

The summer I was 16 Dad chartered a boat and took the family deep sea fishing. After a quick lesson from the first mate, the captain took us out to the deep waters. Everyone was catching fish except me, but being strictly a social fisher, I was more interested in the Dr. Pepper and the cute deck hand.

Then it happened. Something hit my line so hard it pulled me out of my seat onto the deck. I did the social fisher person thing and screamed like a girl then jumped to my feet hanging on for all I was worth. Everyone was shouting instructions and the cute deck hand put a big leather belt around me that tethered me to the boat. I was sure I had hooked a whale and no one had the guts to tell me.

The hour I fought the fish with gritted teeth, the men all offered to reel in whatever it was on my hook, but there was no way that was going to happen. “Just tell me what to do,” I would tell them. “I can do this.” And I did. My whale was a 36 pound King Mackerel. That didn’t even flip my switch for fishing. Maybe if there had some stylish fishing clothes involved it would have been different.

I thought about my big fish the other day when a woman said, “Don’t you think parents do too much for their children these days?”

“Maybe so.” I answered. “Because sometimes it’s just easier, I suppose, and if you think about it, that’s just selfish on the parents part.”

Some of the most important things I’ve ever learned, I figured out on my own. Sometimes it’s best to not tell someone how to do something, but what needs to be done. Then step back and see how creative he or she can be.

Like the “Give a man a fish,” quote that’s not in the Bible but sounds so spiritual, kids learn to reel in the big one on their own when given a chance.

“Hey there. How’re you doing?” I turned around to see if someone was behind me the middle aged guy must be talking to, but no one was there.

“Umm, pretty good,” I answered a little confused. I just wanted to stand in line in the crowded Wendy’s and be quiet for a few minutes, but it looked like that wouldn’t happen.

“Say, have you tried the new salad. It’s really good?” He was really trying. “You look like a girl who watches what she eats,” he said winking.

I squinted thinking about that. Was it a compliment or did he think I needed to watch it? Either way this was getting annoying. “So do you eat here often,” he went on.

Are you kidding me I thought. Was he trying to pick me up in a Wendy’s order line? Now that’s classy! I started looking around for Jim Brawner who surely put the guy up to this.

“Do you live here,” he asked. Who was this person who looked a little like a combination of my high school principal and Orson Wells?

Almost to the counter I asked, “Do I know you?”

“No, not yet.”

“You know, I normally don’t talk to strangers standing in line unless they’re tourists asking for directions or dinner suggestions. Besides this “girl” is the mother of three and grandmother of 7 and my husband, who I’ve been married to since the Nixon administration, will be here any minute. I’m way past the expiration date on flirting.”

“Oh,” he said a little surprised. “Well, it never hurts to try.” He turned around, got out of line and left. I ordered a salad ... and a frosty.

I’ve always admired trail blazers and pioneers, especially women. While they’re busy exploring new territory, I wonder if they ever consider the groundwork they’re laying for those to follow. When I was a kid, the first column most women turned to in the morning paper was either Ann Landers or Dear Abby. I doubt seriously either of those woman had any idea they were literally setting the stage for Dr. Phil.

Why are we so intrigued with advice columns and shows? I think we like to hear the weird and sad situations of others to be reminded our lives are pretty good. Some of the questions leave me wondering.

Years ago a woman wrote in to Dear Abby asking how to solve the ongoing argument she and her husband dealt with: “Why can’t my husband turn his socks right side out before he puts them in the dirty clothes hamper? This makes me crazy.” My mom thought it was such a dumb question she actually wrote to Dear Abby saying: “Honesty, won’t the socks get just as clean inside out or right side out?”

Now it seems people are dealing with much more complicated issues than dirty socks, or maybe it’s just now they’re willing to talk about them on national television.

I really try to not offer my opinion on solving a problem unless asked. It leaks out sometimes anyway. I once had a friend who asked how she should handle situation after situation in her life. Then she would do exactly the opposite, frustrating me like crazy. I finally realized she was basically a troubled soul and really wanted the attention, not advice.

I read something recently that said, “The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not and never persist in trying to set people straight.” That will lower your blood pressure. I’ve learned this; unless someone truly wants to make change, no one is going to convince them otherwise, so why wear yourself out.

We complicate our lives searching out advice trying to figure out how to live. Simple old advice is the best. “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” ~ Micah 6:8

Next to the mall, the place that most intrigues me is the airport. I had a three hour layover in Atlanta so I took the underground transit to the international terminal. It’s always less crowded and the atmosphere is just different. Actually, after hanging out there for a couple hours I almost felt a bit international and smarter.

The food court has flowers on each table and a grand piano. Most of the time the player mode is on, but occasionally a pianist in tuxedo shows up. For some reason McDonalds, Panda Express and Qdoba taste better while listening to classical music.

There’s such a mix of people in the international terminal. I listened to conversations in eight or so languages. I don’t know why it is, but when I hear children speaking anything but English, I feel like they must be gifted.

I wondered if all the service men and women were coming home or headed for deployment. I hoped it was home. I thought about why pilots are the only ones who really dress up to fly anymore. I suppose it would be a bit disturbing to have someone in ripped jeans and a T shirt walk into the cockpit of a 747, unless it was John Travolta.

Sitting there it dawned on me how tiny my world is. Where were all of these people going ... to a wedding, on a vacation or business trip, were they relocating, or traveling to a funeral of a loved one?

The one thing I noticed about almost everyone was they were relaxed. Maybe it was the piano music or it could be Americans are the most tightly wound people on the planet, and most of the folks in the international terminal were not from the U.S. That’s most likely why they will live longer and suffer from fewer diseases than we do. Maybe we aren’t as smart as we like to think we are.

As got back on the tram to the real world, I hoped I could remember to slow down act more international when I got home.

There are some things that just can’t be explained, like why does a dropped piece of toast always land jelly side down, or why does the phone ring just as you get the shampoo lathered in your hair, or why do people die before they should. Being the logical, connect the dots thinker, I more times than not try to figure out at least a semi logical reason, like the weight of jelly flips the toast. But the more years I see come to a close, the more I realize so much of life will always remain of mystery.

My friend Sandee sent me this picture of the hands in the clouds. The spiritual giant that I am, the first thing I wondered was what atmospheric conditions it took for the clouds to do that, but after staring at it I saw the hands. I will say I did see them faster than when someone tries to point out giraffes or Marilyn Monroe when you’re laying in the grass looking at the sky.

Why does everything have to be analyzed and solved with a reason and a purpose? I think our stress levels would drop significantly if we simply chalked unexplainable up to just that, unexplainable.

If you think about it, do we really question the why when good things happen? I’ve never tried to figure out why the parking space right beside the front door at the Super Center opens up just as I arrive in the pouring rain or why I hit all green lights when I’m running late for a dental appointment. It’s a different story when I have to park two city blocks away or hit 5 red lights in a row. We’re quick to complain about the negative, but why do we forget to be grateful for the positive?

Maybe if we spent less time trying to figure things out and more time whispering, “Thank You,” we’d be better off.

“Be still and know that I am God ...”

~Psalm 46:10