The other day I was shopping in one of those athletics stores where the employees wear the latest gear and look like they are going straight from work to the gym or out for a run. It’s a bit intimidating. I caught myself standing up a little straighter and holding my stomach in.

Like everything else, the choices are so vast I ended up walking around confused. Maybe I burned up a few calories circling the store. Then I remembered the athletic looking guys were there to answer questions and offer help and suggestions. After the explanation of hot gear and cold gear and what was most popular among the employees, I checked out. It’s expensive to stay fit.

According to statistics, our country has become dangerously sedentary. We need to get up and move more. Jack Lalanne has been telling us that for 70 years. At 96 he might be on to something.

I wish I could say I was dedicated to a work out plan. I’m not. I’ve gone through fits and starts and stalls then restarts depending on what else is going on in my life. I suppose that’s better than never doing anything. There’s not enough glucosamine chondroitin to keep me running and swimming turns my hair green. I tried P90X and my arms started to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s instead of Michelle Obama’s so I dropped that plan.

I read once since 60% of the human body is made up of water it can get stagnant like a pond covered in algae if we don’t keep it stirred up. Just thinking about a green farm pond with a couple of cows standing in it is enough to get me to park at the far end of the Super Center parking lot to get some extra steps in.

The slogan for one athletic company is “We Must Protect This House”. That’s something to think about since we are only assigned one body for this lifetime. Maybe I should consider some remodeling.

There’s something so special about a little girl. Last year for Christmas I gave Jason, Travis and David pictures of their little girls with the script, “My Prince has come, his name is Daddy.”

All three of the manly men teared up.

The minute Jim Brawner saw Jill and realized he had a little girl, he was instantly smitten. It was the beginning of a once-upon-a-time.

When Jill was in preschool they started gong on dates, just the two of them, usually to McDonald’s or the Dairy Queen. Jim’s goal was to ask questions and listen. That was easy because she’s never been short on words. When she was in third grade on a four hour road trip, Jim counted only a dozen or so words he got in.

As Jill got older they would go to dinner or ball games. He opened doors for her, stood up when she left and returned to the table and took care of her as if she were the most important person in the world. He wanted to set a high watermark for the hormone ranging knot heads who would ask her out someday. I thought no one would ever measure up.

Jill and David have been married eight years now and David probably assumes Jim is still watching him. He is. Jim and Jill still go on dates. He took her to dinner last night then to Starbucks for coffee. I’m sure they talked about what they have always talked about; hopes, dreams and the future.

Every man has the choice to be the Prince in his little girl’s eyes. Jason has started taking Mollie Jane on dates and I know Travis and David will do the same with Kaylin and Vivian. They’ll all ask questions and just listen, just like Jim.

There’s nothing quite like what a dad can be for his daughter. Though my Dad’s in heaven, he’s still my Prince.

"Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?"

~Winnie the Pooh

I think we all underestimate the power of our thinking. Our brains are busier than the air traffic control center of the Atlanta airport. There is constant activity, even when we’re sleeping. The flight patterns in my brain get backed up every now and again and many times there are long delays before traffic clears.

Something I’ve learned in the last couple of years about my thinking is this: how I start the day generally determines how it unfolds. If I get out of bed complaining and dreading more often than not, it turns out to be a challenging day. I heard a friend say recently, “Nothing is going right today. I guess that’s just the way it’s going to be.” And sure enough, it was a mess all day long.

Chuck Swindoll once said, “I truly believe that life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we respond to it. I watched two women diagnosed with the same type of breast cancer fight the disease with different attitudes and different thinking. One was grateful it was caught when it was, said it was fun to put a wig on every day because she didn’t have to mess with her unruly, curly hair, and made a decision to be an encouragement to other women in the battle. The second woman was horrified she had cancer and focused on herself and her pain. It took her twice as long to get to the point of being cancer free.

Our brains are never empty even though men usually say, “Nothing” when asked what they are thinking about. Our thinking can paralyze us and side track us or it can push us on to do great things with a positive attitude even in the midst of overwhelming circumstances. We get to choose.

Don’t get stuck in negative thinking. If you stop and wallow in it, it’s tougher to shake it off and get moving again.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

Our kids grew up in the city with more theater seats than any place in the U.S. Over time the country music acts and entertainers have morphed and changed to keep up with public demand. Now Andy Williams, The Oak Ridge Boys, and Yakov Smirnoff have joined the Chinese Acrobats and magician Kirby Van Birch to give tourists choices. It’s not unusual to see Chubby Checker, Bill Medley of the Righteous Brothers, or one of the Lennon Sisters or Osmonds at Walmart or Panera Bread.

However, to see a play or musical anywhere but the community theater or the high school auditorium we had to go elsewhere. My job sent me to New York several times a year so when I could, I took one of the kids with me. I felt it would be good to expose them to some art and culture.

When the house lights came up for intermission at the first Broadway show I took Jason to he wanted to know if snacks were sold at half-time. After spending $6.00 for a box of Milk Duds he decided next time he would stock up at Walmart beforehand. I hadn’t realized how badly a little culture needed to be introduced.

The first time Travis went to the Big Apple, we were standing in line to buy tickets to see Annie Get Your Gun when a man in a business suit asked us if we wanted to see the show. Logical Travis said, “Yes sir, that’s why we're in line to buy tickets for tonight.”

“Here are two tickets for the matinée,” he said handing them to me like the $130.00 tickets were coupons for half price meals at a local diner. “You’ll need to hurry, it starts in 10 minutes.” Stunned I thanked him and dashed off to find our seats on row 10, front and center. Travis thought all New Yorkers were great. Most likely, the ticket guy was from Dallas or Seattle.

When Jill was nine, I sprung her from school for a day trip to Springfield to see the touring show, Cats. It had been one of the longest running shows on Broadway and I thought it would be a good introduction to theater for her. A friend was able to get tickets for us on the third row. I watched her sit motionless, mesmerized with the music and costumes. I smiled thinking how wonderful it was she was enjoying her first Broadway show when she leaned over and whispered loudly, “I think the boy cats should wear shorts over their tights.”

After trying to explain it was artistic on stage, but tacky at the mall, I decided I might stick to high school plays for a few more years.

Sometimes looking at things with the eyes of a child sets the world straight again. Everything is so fresh and new and special. Wouldn’t it be fun to approach Christmas with that childlike attitude instead of panic, worry and dread? Someone recently said to me, “I love this time of year, but I’ll be so glad when it’s over.” I understood what he was feeling, but it made me sad.

Last night I stepped away from the real adult world at Jackson’s school Christmas program. He’s a second grader at Redeemer Lutheran School so it can still be called a Christmas program. A couple of years ago he was Joseph, as in Mary and Joseph, in the kindergarten program. His dad, Jason, was Joseph in his kindergarten Christmas program too. That was when Jesus was allowed in public school. They both were possibly the blondest Christmas pageant characters ever on a stage. I suppose Joseph needed to be tall.

Last night’s program was the musical, The Christmas Chronicles. All the first through fourth graders were on stage in costume for the whole performance. Jackson was one of the angels who stood by the flock of sheep. He explained to me only third and fourth graders had speaking parts and everyone else was a singer. He’s already looking forward to next year.

In the middle of Scene 2, Senseless Census, a little girl angel in front of Jackson on the risers threw up. One of the teachers retrieved her from the stage, another teacher took care of the mess and the show never missed a beat.

Jackson sang on cue and during the speaking parts he worked on his loose tooth. He’s on his way to being a master of multitasking. Everyone remembered their lines and words to the songs. Even the violin ensemble’s rendition of Jingle Bells wan’t too squeaky.

In that hour the teachers were master instructors, the kids were Tony award winners, and the audience had a time of escape to be reminded of what’s really important. And, one little girl will always remember the night in second grade she threw up on stage.

Ask anyone and they can proudly tell you about the first job they ever landed. It’s almost like a rite of passage into personhood. I stuffed rolls of film in plastic bags and stapled on cardboard toppers for store displays. For my hard work I was paid $1.00 an hour. Mine was considered a white collar office job, I suppose, because Jim Brawner’s blue collar job running TV antenna wire under houses only paid twenty-five cents an hour. But, we both had jobs and we learned how to work.

I remember Dad saying, “Honest, hard work never killed anyone.” I guess that was to differentiate from dishonest work which might get you killed. “If you know how to work, you can learn a job,” he’d say.

Knowing how to work was on our list of things we wanted our kids to understand before they left home. They had all kinds of jobs from waiting tables to mowing lawns. Travis, who’s now a surgeon, got his first job experience cleaning toilets for a resort. Jason, now a camp director, was a life guard at a water park and Jill handed out tokens at a go-cart track. Those were all valuable learning experiences.

Jim’s been a bus driver, a construction worker and a maintenance guy. I was an Avon lady who took orders from my hospital bed after giving birth and I wrapped gifts for a department store where I learned how to make even a cheap gift look expensive. We both collected life skills along the way.

Not all jobs are fun because they all have one thing in common ... work. The sooner that’s realized the better. In our entitlement society it seems more and more of the twenty-somethings are “holding out for management positions.” I even know some forty-somthings doing the same thing. Maybe they should learn to work on their way to that dream job.

”Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.”

~Colossians 3:23

Everyone needs an Aunt Jo in their life when they’re a kid. An Aunt Jo person may be a coach, a teacher, a neighbor or a real relative like my Aunt Jo. These are like bonus people who are different from our parents because at the end of the day they go home and get a break from us.

Aunt Jo was the third of five girls, Mom was the oldest. She didn’t marry until she was 40 and never had kids of her own. That left plenty of time for me and my brother. She would do the most wonderful things like let us have candy bars no matter what time it was and read Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer to us in July. And we laughed a lot.

Every year in December on a Thursday, when the stores stayed open past 5 o’clock, Aunt Jo would take me Christmas shopping after work. That was before malls and the 24 hour Walmart took over the world. We would shop for a while, stop for dinner, then shop a little more. She patiently helped me pick out bottles of Evening In Paris cologne for teachers and yet another tie for my granddaddy. She made me feel like I could be a personal shopper because I chose such wonderful gifts.

We always finished the night walking up the long row of steps of the state capitol to see the nativity. That, of course, was when it was OK for baby Jesus to hang out with the state’s leaders.

I hope you have an Aunt Jo person in your life who did special things for you, especially this time of year. The other day I was Christmas shopping and wondered if Evening in Paris was even still sold.