Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
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The silence is deafening. We lost my dad, Tom Dobson, on April 11. He was 80 years old, and filled with the same impish spirit that day, just like he was for his entire time on earth. He was ready. We were not. There are moments when the silence is absolutely overwhelming. I miss his snarky comments (and there were loads). I miss the eye rolls (again, loads). I miss the grin (carried on through generations of Dobsons). I miss talking to him. Well, I still talk to him; I miss h...
Worry is a beast. I grapple with the monster daily. I sweat the small stuff. The medium stuff. The big stuff. If there were a way to cram more in the cracks between the small, medium and big stuff, I’d sweat that, too. Exhausting, right? Yet, the cycle of worry and regret continues. When we worry, we fight the same battle over and over. More often than not, the larger battle is that of trying to defeat the cycle rather than the initial worry! It’s a meltdown waiting to hap...
I’m a big fan of Mr. Rogers. As a kid, I thought he was a wise and kind man. As an adult, I still think he was a wise and kind man. And he wore a cardigan well. I believe in the power of kindness. And one of his stories certainly speaks to that. In times of trouble, Mr. Rogers looked to his mom for comfort: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would always say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this...
Are you ready for the … Souperbowl? Souperbowl of Caring had a humble beginning, back in 1990 at Spring Valley Presbyterian Church in Columbia, South Carolina. Under the guidance of a seminary intern, the youth collected money and food items for the needy in their community in conjunction with their Super Bowl party. Their first effort raised $5,700. Flash forward to 2017. Last year, churches, youth groups and other community organizations across the country raised $...
Sometimes, words fail. It’s messy and uncomfortable when the words we generally find so much comfort in fail us … or fail a situation. And at times, there are no words to adequately express how we feel, how much we empathize, or how much we feel for someone or their predicament. So, what then? For me, I bake. There is something meditative about the art of baking. Yes, there’s science and math involved; but, true peace comes from the art of putting heart and soul into baked...
The holidays can bring out the best — and worst — in people. By people, I mean me. And by worst, I mean one goofy move after another. All in the name of perfection. Perfection is a double-edged sword. It is elusive. It is rarely (if ever) achievable. It is subjective. It is exhausting. I started the pre-turkey rush with a frenzy of baking. All to get THE perfect pie, bread, cheesecake … fill in the blank here. I lost track of the bags of flour and sugar, cans of pumpkin, carto...
Sometimes, it’s the little things that make the biggest impression. I had an unexpected, yet welcome, surprise one recent week. A few of them, actually. As it turns out, each of these surprises coincided with a difficult situation. I mentioned these things to a friend, who immediately said it was nothing more than coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidence; but, I do believe in divine intervention. Coincidence or divine intervention, I’m grateful for the angels who are pulli...
In recent weeks, we’ve seen hurricanes, floods, fires and other assorted misfortunes. All catastrophic to be sure. Yet, in the midst of these events, we see people shine. It takes a village. The worst of times can serve to bring out the best in people. Neighbors step up to offer food or shelter to people in need. In watching the evening news recently, there was a report of a family who offered space in their home for people and animals who needed shelter as they escaped the Fl...
Sometimes, there are no answers. No matter how hard we try to figure things out or to understand, we simply can’t answer the “why” behind things that happen. Because we’re of the human persuasion, we’re hard-wired to try and make sense of things in our world. If we can figure out why something happened, if we can make it “make sense,” then perhaps we’d understand. Yet sometimes, we can’t. This is where we find ourselves now. The community has been rocked by tragedy in recent...
August is “Celebrate 80 Years of Tom Dobson” month. Well, at least it is in my house. My dad, who is a fighter in every sense of the word, will turn 80 on Aug. 31. In normal circumstances, this is a milestone. In my dad’s case, we’re talking miraculous. Any one of his health issues could have taken him, the latest being kidney cancer. To say that he’s my hero is an understatement. He has a title; I’ve called him “The Dad” in my writings and my sermons. I’ve written entire se...
Grief is a fickle beast. It’s a lot like the ocean creeping back during high tide. There’s an ebb and flow; one minute the sea is calm, and the next you’re engulfed. There isn’t a right or wrong way to “do” grief. It happens. I don’t know that time heals all where grief is concerned. I think it is more of adjusting to a new normal. My husband Wayne and I both lost our mothers to cancer, Wayne’s mom 12 years ago to liver cancer, and mine to breast cancer nearly 18 years ago. W...
Sometimes the past sneaks up on you, in all its bittersweet glory. As a fresh-behind-the-ears adult, I lived at Edwards Air Force Base in California. I was incredibly homesick, lonely and missed my family. I was struggling to fit in and to find my place. And then Stephanie Levitt blew into my life, with all the force of a nor’easter. I’ll never forget it. We lived next door to each other, and shared a common wall and fence. We met early one windy morning, standing outside wit...
My dad has the heart of a warrior. I have been reminded of that throughout my life with him; we’re talking decades. He has had more than one doctor say he’s a medical miracle. When each medical crisis knocked him back, he would fight and rise up. In these last several weeks, without saying a word, he reminded me again of his incredible spirit and his warrior heart. My dad is a cancer survivor. Kidney cancer. He went into the hospital with a small percentage of one kidney tha...
It’s an odd time of year, that space between winter and spring. Heavy. Dreary. Sleepy. Cold. My garden, usually the go-to place to dig, to think things through, to “be” in creation, is dark. Raised beds, various tubs and pots of all shapes and sizes hold the remnants of last year’s planting. Once so vibrant and alive, everything is withered. Even squinting, it is hard to see the beauty in the garden. Like the gardens at Head Acres, there are times when my spirit feels heavy,...
I believe in the goodness of people. Even now when the world seems flipped on its axis, the goodness of people shines through the darkness. The view from the cheap seats is pretty good. Case in point: A young woman who lost both of her parents in a relatively short amount of time decided to celebrate the blessings in her life by helping others. She sent out an SOS asking for people that she could help at Thanksgiving. The response was a tad bit overwhelming; yet with help...
