The Truth about Time

Posted on January 7, 2024 by Christina Ryan Claypool

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” Many of us have heard this famous Bible verse turned Byrds’ lyrics, but have you ever considered how it applies to daily life? Personally, I’ve been rather stuck on thinking about the intangible concept of time for quite awhile. My quest began on an unplanned Florida vacation over a decade ago.

To explain, I was supposed to join my late mother and two sisters on a cruise ship headed for the Caribbean to celebrate my sister’s 50^th birthday. Instead, birthday girl had a frightening health crisis in the Washington airport and was rushed to the hospital.

This left me stranded in the airport in Ft. Lauderdale, not wanting to board the ship without news of her status. Inwardly panicking about what to do next, my brother who is a Florida realtor heard about my plight. Don called me in the airport with a gracious invitation to stay with him in Naples just a couple hours away. Thankfully, I later received word that my sister would be fine, too.

Despite the fact that it was the busy season for selling real estate and I was an unplanned-for guest, Don made me feel incredibly welcome. One night after supper, my brother even offered to take me to the beach near sunset. It was there that we met an elderly woman who gave me a lesson about time. Her tanned face was so leathery and wrinkled from the Florida sun, that it was difficult to tell her age. Probably mid-eighties, yet there was a kind of vitality about this silver-haired senior that made you think she was younger. She was a widow who had enjoyed the Floridian lifestyle in retirement, but she shared that she would be reluctantly returning to the Midwest soon.

“It’s time,” she said simply. “I have a daughter and her family up north.” My compassionate sibling shook his head knowingly, and with understanding in his voice softly echoed her words back in acknowledgement. “It’s time.”

Time for what, I wondered, while guessing that this was a final life stage. As soon as the woman disappeared, I sat on a bench pensively staring out at the vast blue-green Gulf of Mexico picking up seashells sensing that something sacred had just happened. Finally, I asked Don, “What did she mean, ‘It’s time?’”

He explained that often there comes a season when it’s no longer wise for retired Florida transplants to live alone. When health, security, and planning-ahead requires them to move to an area where they will be surrounded by family who can care for them in case of a crisis. Usually this means moving back home. These practical seniors are planning for their final days, but that doesn’t mean that the joy of living and being fulfilled stops.

After all, the Bible also tells us about, “A time to be born, and a time to die.” Yet there is that metaphorical dash that exists between these two stages. Each day we are given needs to be cherished, because inevitably a moment comes for all of us when the sand in the hourglass runs out.

Long ago, my late grandmother shared her impression that as one ages, “Time flies.” I recall thinking her theory seemed unscientific and random. But through the years, I have discovered Grandma’s opinion is all too true. To explain, time is moving way too rapidly as I now find myself growing older at what seems to be the speed of light.

Lately, I occasionally discover myself desperately wanting to beat Father Time and hold fast to the valuable moments of today. But in the end, there is no way to buy more time. Instead, we have to make the most of each precious day we are given, living it as though it were our last.

Christina Ryan Claypool is a freelance journalist and inspirational speaker. Contact her through her Website at www.christinaryanclaypool.com. Her inspirational book “Secrets of the Pastor’s Wife: A Novel” is available on all major online outlets.

Mom’s Advice about Getting Older

Posted on October 13, 2021 by Christina Ryan Claypool

The anniversary of losing someone you love can be quite painful. The calendar date, month, or season can bring back the feeling of the initial grief, as if you are reliving the loss all over again.

Some folks believe this anniversary business is best dealt with by shutting themselves away for the day. Other individuals make a plan to do something special to honor and celebrate their late loved one’s life.

This October, I can’t help but contemplate the sights, sounds, and even fragrance of fall when death came unexpectedly more than once leaving such a gaping hole in my heart. For instance, 11 years ago, my seemingly healthy 78-year-old mother died suddenly of a kidney stone gone terribly wrong.

The fall afternoon my mom breathed her last breath the sky was vivid blue, the leaves were breathtaking shades of red, yellow, and green, and the crisp autumn air smelled invigorating clean. This scene is forever etched in mind, because it was such a sharp contrast to the gut-wrenching task of saying goodbye.

Still, with time grief lessens. The shock, heartbreak, or even horror of death and mourning are often replaced with pleasant or poignant memories from happier days. Like the seemingly meaningless event which occurred on one of my last visits to see my late mother who lived out of state.

Mom and me on our last Christmas together 2009

When family was visiting, Mom would usually awaken early and brew a pot of coffee and set something out for breakfast. We were in the kitchen alone on one of these occasions, when I noticed her bathrobe was threadbare and shiny. In her mid 70s by then, she and my stepfather lived in a newer Philadelphia suburb.

At this point in her life, she had the financial means to buy a new bathrobe. As a young mother of seven biological children, her situation had not always been so prosperous. In the early days of mothering, she often sacrificed personal items for herself to purchase groceries or something for one of her children.

That’s why sometimes my mother could be more than thrifty when it came to spending money on herself. This is probably a quality most nurturing moms can relate to. Yet her once pink housecoat had faded to a pinkish ivory and was glaringly worn. Realizing she was entertaining my husband and myself that weekend, I knew it must be her best robe or she wouldn’t be wearing it in front of us.

When mom and I were alone, my concern overwhelmed me. Without meaning to be unkind, I blurted out, “Mom, you desperately need a new bathrobe. Yours is so shabby I can see through the fabric. It looks awful.”

“Oh, thank you for telling me,” Mom said sincerely, appearing blissfully oblivious to the shape of the garment. Thankfully, she wasn’t insulted by my remark, sensing my heart in wanting her to have better.

“Didn’t you realize it was worn out?” I asked with concern, surprised she seemed unaware of its condition, especially since Mom was the family fashionista. The truth is, I was frightened my mother might be experiencing some cognitive impairment as a result of aging. The dreadful word, “dementia” menacingly flashed through my mind.

“No, I didn’t notice how worn out it was, and I really appreciate you telling me,” Mom said candidly. “You see, honey, sometimes as people get older, they don’t notice the condition of the things they see on a daily basis.”

Mom’s advice has served me well this past decade

Gradually with aging myself, I have come to more fully understand what Mom was saying. Complacency or a desire for comfort can make it difficult to be objective when something has passed its stage of usefulness and needs to be replaced with something new. It might not be merely an old bathrobe, but a more important item like an unsatisfying career, a toxic relationship, or an unhealthy lifestyle requiring a dose of reinvention.

My mother’s practical advice has served me well this past decade even though I continue to miss her greatly. So, I decided to honor her memory by passing it along. Besides, I don’t grieve without hope, because Mom and I had a shared faith and trust that Heaven really is real. I like to think of her waiting there, brewing coffee and opening the box of donuts. Oh, what a joyous reunion that will be.

Christina Ryan Claypool is an award winning freelance journalist, Chicken Soup for the Soul contributor, and author who has been featured on Joyce Meyer Ministries Enjoying Everyday Life TV Show and CBN’s 700 Club. Her inspirational, “Secrets of the Pastor’s Wife: A Novel” is available on all major online retail outlets. Here’s the Amazon link to learn more.

A letter to younger women

Posted on July 2, 2018 by Christina Ryan Claypool

If I could give young women some advice from the lessons I’ve learn along the way, here are a few of my most significant takeaways on this crazy journey we call “LIFE.”

Dear young woman,

I know you think you will never get old, none of us do, but you will some day. That day will come quicker than you can imagine.

First of all, whatever you do, avoid being competitive and territorial. This will cause you great loneliness, and it is something most of us females struggle with due to insecurity. Make friends, and encourage other women on the journey. In turn, you will discover many blessings. Don’t just be someone’s friend, because of what you hope they can do for you.

Secondly, be the best you can be, and strive for excellence. Still, don’t allow giving life your best, to cause you to embrace perfectionism. It’s guaranteed you will fail, but when you fail, you will learn, so get back up and fight the good fight of faith.

Education will be a game changer for you. Read, read, read, anything enabling you to grow, to learn, to embrace new horizons. Be disciplined in your studies, delay immediate gratification to achieve your educational goal whatever that is. The life you change will be your own.

Women my age fought in a societal sense, so that you could have the opportunity to be anything you dreamed of, if you work hard enough. Yet don’t use others to get there. Doors will open, but manipulating them open, will only cause frustration. I promise you, material things and prestige won’t provide lasting happiness.

About your family: They need to be your top priority. Success in a worldly sense will fade away soon enough, but you will find out your family is all you really have.

When your grown children make poor choices or break your heart, don’t wallow in what you did wrong. Their lives are their own. Remind yourself you did the very best you could with the knowledge you had at the time. Give them wings and let them find their way.

As for being a victim, don’t allow others to abuse you or use you for a doormat, even family members. You can pray for them from afar, but forgiveness does not mean permitting someone to wrongly hurt or violate you. Get counseling, seek a support group, but keep yourself and your children safe.

Most of all, about God, put Him first. Let Him lead and guide you. Then when you look back, you will have peace, knowing you did your very best with the time you were given!

Mike Ullery photo

Christina Ryan Claypool is an award-winning freelance journalist & speaker. Her novel, “Secrets of the Pastor’s Wife” will be released in fall 2018. Her website is: www.christinaryanclaypool.com

Not a Wannabe Advice Columnist

Posted on September 19, 2017 by Christina Ryan Claypool

How many of you are frustrated advice columnists? When reading the newspaper would your eyes zoom in on the headline, “On the Hook for Someone Else’s Wedding” by Annie Lane? In case you aren’t up-to-date, Annie Lane is today’s version of Ann Landers. For decades, folks relied on the advice of Ann Landers, whose real name was Esther (Eppie) Lederer. Her pen name became a household staple after Lederer began authoring the already established Ann Landers’ column for The Chicago Sun-Times in 1955. In 1987, she joined the Chicago Tribune staff.

When 83-year-old Landers passed away in 2002, she was still writing her monumentally successful column. When she died, Margalit Fox of The New York Times wrote, “She advised millions of readers on problems ranging from acne to alcoholism to AIDS, often in spirited competition with her identical twin sister, who also wrote the advice column Dear Abby.”

Frequently relying on the advice of experts, Landers answered the never-ending questions with a sense of confidence. From the time I was teenager, I mentally chimed in on finding solutions to the stickiest of human dilemmas. Usually, I agreed with the famous columnist. When I disagreed, I would consider writing a rebuttal, but then forget when her next column presented a new challenge.

“At the time of Mrs. Lederer’s death, her column was carried in more than 1,200 newspapers around the world, with a readership of 90 million, according to Creators Syndicate, her distributor,” Fox’s article reported. The copyright to the Ann Landers name belonged to Lederer who said, “When I go, the column goes with me.” Since her death, there have been other advice columnists of lesser notoriety, and amateurs like me who continue to critique whoever is writing the advice column. For instance, Annie’s Mailbox written by Kathy Mitchell and Marcy Sugar filled the gap until June 2016.

Then Annie Lane followed, and she seems like a good fit. Maybe it’s because the young wife and mom’s name is Annie. Or maybe, it’s because her photo looks like the girl-next-door. More likely, it’s due to her compassionate beyond-her-years advice. There are occasional days when I disagree. For example, in an August 2017 Dear Annie column, “Feeling sad about growing older,” I think Annie Lane tried her best to offer a couple helpful suggestions. Yet it seems rather impossible to empathize with someone whose sand in the hourglass is running out, when your sand is in good supply. Even the most insightful individuals probably can’t truly understand what it’s like to be experiencing so many lasts in life, when their world is all about firsts. Besides, when you are 31 or 41, you don’t really believe you will ever be 81, the age of the letter writer.

“How do I make myself accept the fact that I am old?” she asked. The poor woman didn’t want to be old and to have her body betray her, as only an aging body can do. She felt trapped by all the things she and her husband could no longer do, abandoned by others, and desperately wanted to be part of life, even though her physical being and stamina were diminished.

Annie advised Louise* to, “Let your children or younger family members know that you’re struggling and what you need from them – support, acknowledgment, more quality time together or anything else.” I hope this works, but what if Louise’s children interpret this plea as complaining or whining? This could annoy these young relatives and cause them to stay away even more? My heart broke for this lonely lady who seemed genuinely distraught. Being a lot older than Annie Lane, and with my cup definitely being less than half-full, I readily identified with a few of the writer’s aging issues. On the other hand, not being 81, I didn’t have any profound wisdom. Sadly, no one has discovered the fountain of youth, and growing older is a huge challenge for most people.

Annie also suggested to, “Commiserate with friends your age…” Maybe that will be of comfort. All I know is on that particular day, I was grateful not to be the newspaper’s advice columnist. Dishing out advice comes with the weighty responsibility that if your guidance is wrong, you could negatively impact someone’s life. So for now, I will leave it to the experts like Annie Lane. She seems to be doing an overall great job of filling the really big shoes left behind by iconic predecessor, Ann Landers.

Christina Ryan Claypool is an award-winning freelance journalist and Inspirational speaker. Contact her through her website at www.christinaryanclaypool.com. She has been featured on Joyce Meyer Ministries, Enjoying Everyday Life and is also a two-time Chicken Soup for the Soul contributor.

The First and Last Time

Posted on December 13, 2016 by Christina Ryan Claypool

The December darkness had begun to settle in, and there was no traffic on the deserted street. It was cold, but not the blustery kind of cold that produces snow or ice. Still, the toddler was bundled up against the elements, reminding me of decades ago when my now grown son was about his age. The youthful father completed the task of wrapping the green strands of clear lights around the bushes in the family’s front yard. He headed into the nearby garage to switch on his handiwork. His about three-year-old son stood next to the shrubbery by the open garage not moving. When the twinkling white lights came on, his little chubby face lit up in amazement.

I happened to be walking by at the exact moment when the tiny boy’s uninhibited delight made me reassess my own lack of enthusiasm. It’s this gift that children give us of seeing the beauty and excitement in this world, because often adults take so much for granted. We get buried in the day-to-day struggle, the hectic pace, and the tedium produced by aging, forgetting that there is so much wonder constantly surrounding us.

First times can be memorable, but sadly often we don’t know when a last time will occur. I thought about this the other day when I saw the Facebook post, “Cherish every moment and every person in your life, because you never know when it will be the last time you see someone.” Many of you reading this can relate to the trauma created by the unexpected loss of a loved one. Grief is tinged with horror and disbelief. We doubt if we will ever be able to breathe again without feeling a giant lump in our throat, and we silently argue with God about the unfairness of the circumstance. Then regret can take over. We think of all the things we should have said or done, if we could have just had some preparation that someone who meant so much to us was about to be unpredictably ripped from this existence. Besides, even if a terminal illness prepares us, we are never ready to say, “Good-bye,” to those we love. Sadly, some people get stuck in loss. Hopelessness and bitterness swallow them up. For most individuals though, in time—life goes on. Reluctantly, we learn to accept what we cannot alter, adjusting to a new normal.

Yet everything changes in that instant. Then the holidays arrive, and this blessed season can be a reminder of the precious people who are no longer here to celebrate it. Maybe in youth, one can blissfully ignore the chasm death and even geographical distance create. But as we grow older, we often become nostalgic for those who were once a vital part of our celebration, causing us to cling to traditions that are no longer useful. Instead of getting stuck in what was, why not create something new?

After all, there is another recent quote attributed to best-selling author, John C. Maxwell that asks, “When was the last time you did something for the first time? …Or are you still doing what you’ve always done?” Whether it’s about creating a new Christmas tradition or reaching for a goal that we’ve had simmering on a back burner, Maxwell’s sage wisdom might be one key in moving forward. Of course, human beings are usually terrified to take risks, because risk can result in failure. “Trying new things – and sometimes failing – is one of the best ways to grow,” counters the national leadership expert.

As we wind up the final month of 2016, may we all be more like the toddler who experienced the wonder of Christmas lights for the first time. There’s a whole world of firsts out there, regardless of our age. Let’s go fearlessly explore!

Christina Ryan Claypool is a national Amy award-winning freelance journalist and inspirational speaker. She has appeared on Joyce Meyer Ministries Enjoying Everyday Life TV program. Contact her through her website at www.christinaryanclaypool.com.

Pain: My One Word for 2015

Posted on January 7, 2015 by Christina Ryan Claypool

Pain [noun]: “the physical feeling caused by disease, injury, or something that hurts the body or : mental or emotional suffering : sadness caused by some emotional or mental problem” Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Winter Scene P-A-I-N! I definitely did not want this bleak word to start the new year. Here in Ohio, January is bitter cold and the days are gray enough. I tried desperately to push the word out of my mind, assured that I was not hearing our heavenly Father’s still small voice clearly.

My search for my one word for 2015 began in December 2014. I prayed that God would reveal what I needed to contemplate in order to grow spiritually and become more like Him. At first, it was difficult to accept that a good God would want me to concentrate on the word, “Pain.” I wanted nothing to do with dissecting its definition for twelve months. I had to wonder if this was a misguided, self-inflicted masochistic leading like cutting my arm as a teen had been. Or if the all-wise Holy Spirit could possibly desire for me to further investigate this topic.

You see, I know a lot about the pain of mental torment. When I committed my life to Christ in my early 30s, I was a patient on a psychiatric ward battling depression and addiction. I was desperate for anything that would relieve the anguish. Then in my more than two decades of recovery, I have tried to empower others in their journey of finding wholeness from past brokenness, addiction, or abuse. In my book, Seeds of Hope for Survivors, I share some of the painful circumstances which I have overcome through God’s grace to enjoy the fulfilling existence that I have today. Speaking and writing about the pathway of spiritual & emotional healing, I have found the true meaning of being a “New Creation” in Christ. By profession, I am a journalist, a lover of words, but this particular word has always had a terrible emotional connotation. Pain is a four-letter word that conjures up agony and suffering, and is something I’ve spent my life running from, or trying to overcome.

That’s why, I prayed earnestly for confirmation concerning this 2015 word of the year suspecting the enemy of my soul was sending “Pain” to haunt me one more time. I tried to convince myself that our benevolent Father wanted me to have a positive expression like “Believe.” After all, my 2014 word was “Hope.” This past year, I have enjoyed researching Scriptures and even purchasing keepsakes that point to the hope we have in our Savior.

To prove that I was hearing wrong, I turned to my favorite resource regarding the word of the year, “One Perfect Word,” by Debbie Macomber. I was certain the New York Times best selling author would advise folks to never select a negative word. To my surprise, when I randomly opened her book and began reading, my eyes landed on the heading, “Choosing Your Word.” The famous author writes:

“Sometimes a word will not let you alone – like my word brokenness. Who would want to spend a whole year exploring something as depressing as that? I’m an optimist by nature, but I’ve discovered over the years that some of the most profound lessons of life have grown out of pain [there it was again] and struggle….. If the Lord seems to be whispering the word that you’d much rather not even think about I encourage you to embrace it. Prepare for a year of discovery and growth. God will bless your willingness to trust Him for your word.”(Page 72, One Perfect Word by Debbie Macomber)

Even after this serendipitous event of divine intervention, I still wanted to push “pain” away. To explain, I have spent almost a year and a half battling debilitating physical pain caused by injury and arthritis. Pain that exhausted me, that took every bit of creative energy away, and that made me feel like an old woman before my time. I had always promised myself that I would never turn into one of those boring individuals who talk only of their physical ailments. Then suddenly, I found myself offering daily reports about the unrelenting pain in my feet, hands, and knees, while discussing doctor visits and surgery. Formerly an athletic individual, I was relegated to life on crutches and the couch. I was the one used to ministering to others, and now I was humbled to require assistance for daily tasks.

I prayed and cried and begged the God who I had always known as Healer to restore me to the vibrant woman I had once been. All to no avail, as the physical pain continued, and fear of more pain increased my anxiety. The resulting emotional turmoil grew so intense that deep depression became a battle like it had been in my youth. I had never experienced anything like this. My heart was broken by my diminished existence, and also for all the other folks living daily with chronic pain. The kind of unceasing torment, that can ultimately cause you to question God’s love for you. Pentecostal by background, I did not theologically know how to explain pain. Didn’t I have enough faith? Was there sin somewhere in my heart? I knew all these faulty questions were not the problem, thankfully my non-charismatic brothers and sisters would never even ask them, yet I had watched others who were struggling being judged over my years in ministry. Even when I was well, I never wanted to judge someone suffering, knowing there is so much we will never understand with our finite mind.

As I wrestled with physical pain, my personality changed too. Like a butterfly who is forming in a cocoon gradually I began to transform into a more gentle human being. Something, my passionate nature and high energy have always prevented. Of course, I did not know this. The pain made me think that I was simply weak and had failed, since I was unable to recognize the person I had become. It was my precious husband who at first was sorely confused by this metamorphosis, but eventually delighted that I was no longer the driven individual he had married.

Finally and miraculously, I am beginning to feel better physically – more like myself, something I will admit I had almost given up hope of happening. There are a couple permanent limitations like everyone grappling with getting older, but amazingly some good days. Sadly though, so many wonderful people around me continue to suffer. With my health being renewed, the last thing I want to do is to think about pain, but there is no escaping it. “Pain” is my one word for 2015 – the word God wants me to “embrace” as Debbie Macomber suggests, because He obviously has more for me to understand about it. Christina Ryan Claypool - Angel Column photo 2

Perhaps, as I reflect upon its meaning, I will learn not to fear it, trusting that God` has always been with me in the midst of it. Then in some small way, maybe I will be better able to assist others struggling with spiritual, emotional, or chronic physical pain for which there seems to be no remedy. In the end, our Heavenly Father will eradicate all of our pain. Revelation 21:4 NIV says, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Until that day, it’s up to us to be wounded healers to those we encounter who are desperate for our Savior’s mercy. So, “Pain,” here I come. In 2015, for the first time in my life, I’m facing you head on.

Christina Ryan Claypool is an Amy Award winning freelance journalist, Chicken Soup for the Soul contributor, and inspirational speaker. She has a Masters in Ministry from Mount Vernon Nazarene University. Her website is www.christinaryanclaypool.com

About Alzheimer’s: The Long Good-Bye

Posted on October 20, 2014 by Christina Ryan Claypool

Shopping Good Friday “Could you please help me find some sheets?” I was surprised when an elderly man asked me for assistance while I was shopping. Instantly, I realized that the eighty-something senior had mistaken me for a store clerk. It was an autumn Sunday afternoon in an Ohio mall, and the slight-built male was dressed like a farmer in his best church clothes. He was neat, in a non-fussy sort of way, but he seemed so alone. I wondered where his spouse was, because you could tell he was the kind of man who had had a wife for so long that he wasn’t functioning well without her.

“Is your wife gone?” I asked guessing he was a recent widower used to his mate buying the household goods. There was a gold wedding band on his small wrinkled hand. It hung on his finger like he had once been larger than he was now.

“No, she’s still alive,” he answered. “She’s in the nursing home, and I go to see her every day.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, that must be difficult,” I said saddened for his situation. “Is she ill? How long have you been married?” I wasn’t trying to pry with my questions. Rather I learned a long time ago, that sometimes the best gift you can give an elderly human being is to simply listen.

Bride and Groom Cake Topper His eyes brightened as he told me that they had been together for more than six decades. Then he shared the dreaded diagnosis, “Alzheimer’s. My wife has Alzheimer’s.” In that moment I understood his circumstances.

“More than five million Americans are living with the disease” according to statistics from the Alzheimer’s Association Website, www.alz.org. In addition, “In 2013, 15.5 million caregivers provided an estimated 17.7 billion hours of unpaid care…. “ The progression of this cruel malady is sometimes titled, “The long good-bye.” The physical body of those afflicted might remain intact, but right before your eyes, they die gradually to the person they once were, and a part of you often dies with them.

Understanding Alzheimer’s, enabled me to support my husband in healing from the loss of his late father. Traumatically, the doting dad he adored didn’t even know who my spouse was by the end. I had also experienced the trauma of having someone I loved not recognize me. My great-grandmother had some type of undiagnosed dementia. Alzheimer’s is the most common form of dementia, but in the 1970s many folks used the general term, “senility.”

Back then, my formerly wonderful grandma falsely accused my poor mother of starving her. Once, shortly after eating a big dinner followed by a couple pieces of pie while visiting us, I overheard her loudly complain to relatives about not being fed. She was petite in an emaciated sort of way, causing her accusations to seem believable. After my mother’s grandmother went to a nursing home, the last time I visited her, not only did she not know me, but she accused me of stealing money from her bedside bureau. I felt shame and hurt, because as a teenager I didn’t understand how common a false allegation from someone struggling with Alzheimer’s or another type of dementia could be.

All of these thoughts came rushing back during my conversation with the elderly stranger who wanted new sheets. I was encouraging him to avoid polyester and look for 100% cotton. I was wondering too, what it was like for him at the nursing home. “Does she know you?” I asked hoping that he was one of the fortunate ones. That despite the ravages of this hideous illness, his wife would still know who he was. Maybe not say his name, but at least that her eyes would light up when he entered the room.

A terrible sadness passed over his countenance as he replied, “Today was the first time that I don’t think she did.”

I was so thankful that I had slowed myself down that afternoon and taken time to listen to his heartbreaking story. I was hopeful that somehow just sharing had lessened his burden of this new loss, because Alzheimer’s is all about stages of grief. Besides, once we have experienced Alzheimer’s firsthand, it can become a calling to lighten the load of another who is walking the treacherous path of the long good-bye, because no one should have to walk that difficult journey alone.

Christina Ryan Claypool is a freelance journalist and Chicken Soup for the Soul contributor. Her Website is www.christinaryanclaypool.com. For more information the Alzheimer’s Association 24/7 helpline is 1-800-272-3900.

Happy 55th Birthday to Barbie

Posted on March 4, 2014 by Christina Ryan Claypool

Barbie will turn 55 on March 9^th and this year she’s getting more press than ever. Maybe that’s because the iconic Mattel doll made the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue recently.

Although I wasn’t happy about the magazine cover, I do have wonderful Barbie memories. As a young girl growing up in a large financially-struggling family, there wasn’t any money for Barbie outfits. That’s why I vividly recall the delight I experienced when my mother sewed an entire wardrobe for my blonde Barbie on her old Singer Sewing machine. A silver brocade gown was my favorite.

The timeless doll was originally created in 1959 by Ruth Handler, who along with her husband Elliot founded the Mattel Company in 1945 in their garage. According to www.mattel.com, Barbie quickly propelled Mattel to the “forefront of the toy industry” and by 1965 their sales were more than $100 million. In the meantime, Mattel also created the Ken doll in 1961 to serve as Barbie’s one true love.

The idea for Barbie was birthed through the paper cut-out dolls that Ruth’s daughter, who was named Barbara, enjoyed playing with. Just like Barbie, who was named for the Handler’s daughter, Ken was named for their son. Barbie’s friends, the Midge doll (1963) and Skipper (1965) were also added to the line. In 1968, Christie, Barbie’s African American friend was introduced. The company’s website reports that Christie was the “first of many ethnic friends of Barbie, which …include Theresa (1988) and Kira (1990) Barbie Latina and Asian friends.”

Who would have guessed that fifty-five years after her introduction, Barbie would still be inspiring young girls and adult collectors everywhere? Barbie products have included everything from dolls and accessories to jewelry, eyeglass frames, pillows, backpacks, digital items, and even McDonald’s Happy Meal packaging.

For many of us, Barbie has been part of our own history as women. About five years ago, the Mattel doll became even more personal for me. This was due to an elegant woman named Reggie who I met on a cruise ship. This was my one and only cruise, since I spent the whole time being seasick. The sixty-something female accountant practically gushed when she told me that she once represented Mattel’s Barbie to Toronto stores. I was seated next to the blonde French Canadian every night for supper, a meal which I valiantly tried to keep down. We were from different countries, but Barbie had somehow worked her way into our collective hearts. We giggled like school girls as we discussed the doll’s early days and her unprecedented success in the toy market with both of our husbands looking on in quizzical dismay.

Feeling nostalgic, that Christmas I bought my then four-year-old niece a Barbie to start her own collection. However, when I arrived with the present, I found my little red-haired relative carelessly clutching an already naked Barbie who was having an obviously bad hair day from being drug around.

After all, it hasn’t been smooth sailing for Barbie. For example, some folks are deeply concerned about her unrealistic dimensions. The fashion doll’s measurements vary on Internet websites, but would be an approximate 39/36-18/16-33 if she were a real person. Talk about a catalyst for eating disorders and low self-esteem, since young girls and even older females have a difficult enough time accepting their flawed bodies without being faced with Barbie’s unattainable role model.

Adding the plastic doll to the other models being sexually objectified by Sports Illustrated hasn’t helped either. In explanation, “Swimsuits (and unrealistic body images) were never the same after the first doll rolled off the assembly line in 1959 and this is, after all, Sports Illustrated’s 50th anniversary swimsuit issue..,” according to Cindy Boren in a Feb. 18, 2014, Early Lead column in the Washington Post.

After fifty-five years, I do wonder if the female race is better for having known her. For more than five decades, our own body images have been sabotaged by a doll, with an unattainable perfect build that never wrinkles. But we can’t blame Barbie for all of this, or can we?

Apparently, last year’s sales statistics portrayed a decline in Barbie’s popularity, too. In a July 2013 AP article by Mae Anderson for the Associated Press the headline read, “Mattel’s Barbie Sales Plummeting While other Girls Brands Climb.” Maybe that’s why, desperate marketers put her on the cover of a men’s magazine last month.

Well anyway, “Happy 55^th Birthday, Barbie! I still love your perfect little self and treasure my memories, but only time will tell, if you’re here to stay.

Christina Ryan Claypool is a freelance journalist and an inspirational speaker. Contact her through her website at www.christinaryanclaypool.com.

A Lesson from Morrie: Always live like you’re dying

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Christina Ryan Claypool

Last fall, I met my writing idol, Mitch Albom. The famous journalist was the keynote speaker for a Cancer Awareness Symposium held near Dayton, Ohio. Like hundreds of other mostly Ohio fans, Albom signed my copy of his book, The Time Keeper. Then he let my husband snap our photo together, which I promptly posted to Facebook.

It’s increasingly difficult not to see the literary genius of this Detroit Free Press columnist. Albom’s book writing genre was originally sports-related, although several have dealt with spiritual issues. They include “Have a Little Faith” published in 2009, “The Five People You Meet in Heaven,” (September 2003) and 1997s “Tuesdays with Morrie.” All of which were made into movies.

Mitch Albom, best-selling author with Christina Ryan Claypool, blogger

“Tuesdays with Morrie” continues to sustain popularity probably because it addresses one of the most challenging issues that individuals must face; human mortality. It wasn’t predicted to be a bestseller, but years and millions of copies later and counting, readers have voiced their opinion.

In the book, Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz explore the reality of death and the lessons learned in life. For fourteen consecutive Tuesdays, Mitch interviewed an elderly Schwartz; his former college professor who was dying from (ALS) Lou Gehrig’s disease. Albom quotes Morrie as saying people don’t talk about death, because “no one really believes they are going to die.” Admittedly, death can come as a shock when it occurs in our inner circle, because it isn’t supposed to happen to us or to the people we love. Or when we hear of another family’s tragic loss we sometimes feel guilty, because we are grateful that it happened to someone else. So, we hug our spouses and kids a little tighter, hoping to stave off this inevitable grim reaper

It was almost a decade ago, when the question of death began to preoccupy my own thoughts. At the time, I was waiting for the results of a biopsy for a relative who I love more than my life. During those long days of waiting, I tried desperately to busy myself with distracting activities, so I opted for a little “Retail Therapy.” While spending time shopping, I first heard the now classic country tune, “Live Like You Were Dying” being sung by Tim McGraw.

Don’t stone me, but I’m not a big country fan. Yet the lyrics stopped me in my tracks. The song is about a man in his early forties whose medical tests reveal that his time on this Earth will be short. When asked what he did when he got the news, the verse says, “I went sky diving, I went Rocky mountain climbing…And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter, and I gave forgiveness I’d been denying…And I finally read the Good Book and I took a good long hard look at what I’d do if I could do it all again…”

While listening to these poignant words, I stood motionless in the store aisle clutching a pair of kitchen curtains, fighting back tears. My faith crumbled. I was fearful that the song was some kind of prophetic preparation for the bad news that was soon to be relayed concerning my loved one’s biopsy. Thank God, I was wrong. The physician’s verdict was “no cancer.” I was so relieved that I can’t remember what the doctor said after that. But since then sometimes these challenging lyrics come back to me.

Like recently, when just days before the pool closed for the season, I heard Live Like You Were Dying over the loud speaker there. It’s been almost a decade since I had first heard this tune, and I now view life a lot like Morrie Schwartz. Because I think it was Morrie’s wisdom that taught me to try embrace whatever life stage you’re in as I traveled through his last days with him thanks to Albom’s writing.

You see, on the very day I met Mitch Albom, I had buried a precious 41-year-old friend after her valiant three year battle against breast cancer. Making me all too aware how fragile and brief this life can be. Albom’s Morrie didn’t become an iconic example of how one should die, but rather how one should live especially in a society that seems terrified of both growing old and death. In parting, a bit of Morrie’s sage advice, “Aging is not just decay, you know. It’s growth. It’s more than the negative that you’re going to die. It’s also the positive that you understand you’re going to die, and that you live a better life because of it.”

Christina Ryan Claypool is an Amy Award winning freelance journalist and inspirational speaker who has been featured on CBN’s 700 Club and Joyce Meyer Ministries Enjoying Everyday Life TV show. This column originally appeared in The Lima News, & Troy Daily News, among others. Contact her through her Website: www.christinaryanclaypool.com

Christina Ryan Claypool Blog _______ The Road Less Traveled and other Stories

Where you will find inspiring stories, practical and informative advice, and also a spiritual path that will cause you to think deeply about your daily journey. Website at: www.christinaryanclaypool.com

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