As I linger a little longer with God each morning, I ask questions, seek answers, muse. So, I invite you to join me as I wander through my labyrinth of thought and wonder out loud sporadically throughout the year. For a study of Proverbs 31:10-31 and additional affirmations for women, go to womenofworthmin.org
Christmas continues.
We're half way through these twelve days of celebration.
Great stories of prophecy fill the air.
Wonderings about the 'wise' men prompt us to dig deeper.
I journey with the seekers as they follow the Star.
I wonder as I wander through the brightness of scripture.
We never got around to putting up the big tree.
Our little tree should be full of decorations but . . .
Too much happened this year.
I did place a star on it, given to me in a card sent by dear friends.
I chuckle.
I have been focusing on this little star . . .
. . . just as the wise astrologers did over 2000 years ago.
They followed a brilliant light in the sky.
They knew it was unique, a once in a lifetime happening.
After all, they knew the skies better than anyone.
Perhaps this bright light would lead them to the king they had been seeking according to their Zoroastrian belief. A human king . . . to lead those residing in a place very near where Abraham began his journey from Ur into Canaan.
These twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany play out the pageant of the journey of the Wise Men.
In these twelve days we race through great stretches of time.
Wandering takes time.
Just think of the Israelites wandering for forty years in the wilderness.
These Holly berries have taken three years to hold strong through the wind and snow. Their journey of growth is not much different than ours.
It may have been well over a year before the astrologists began to wander.
We forget that Harod's temple, gilded in GOLD, was meant to reflect the sun as a beacon of light to draw crowds to his depraved territory in Jerusalem.
Travelers could not help but stop at the top of this highest point to wonder at the sight.
So, too, the wise men wandered . . . and wondered . . . visited Herod . . . and kept wandering.
When the brightest light in the sky stopped, they stopped.
When they moved, the bright sky-light moved with them.
And so the wandering and wondering continued for . . . we do not know how long.
They sought the answer to their wondering.
They sought a final destination to their wandering.
Don't we also do that?
Something sparks our attention that compels us to journey until we say, "Ahaaaaa, I understand."
Often the seeking seems endless.
My own journey into the presence of God's light in Christ took a long time.
My journey was circuitous, meandering endlessly . . . or it seemed so at the time.
Red poppies and peppers pop as Paper whites bloom in the midst of a snowstorm. Rosemary sprigs remind us of new life. Slowly 'the light' helps my little potted plants bloom and give life to my inside-world.
Tiny lights turned on in my heart as I felt compelled to seek more.
Tiny lights became stronger 'epiphanies' as I asked questions, dove into scripture and joined another group of seekers on the same journey.
And then, finally, quietly, I had my own personal 'ahaaaa' moment, my epiphany.
But that's for another time.
We have a long way to go with the wise men before they reach their final destination.
The journey is the best part.
May we all journey into the NEW YEAR with eager anticipation to expand upon the flicker of light or the vibrant beacon that draws us into a deeper love relationship with the Lord, thy God.
Tiny spots fill the room as I turn on the lights draping our little version of Christ's birth.
My hubby's dad brought the creche home after being stationed in Germany during WWII.
The figures are simple but the scene tells the story every year.
I wind up the attached music box and listen to Silent Night for the kazillionth time.
Today I place baby Jesus in his simple manger.
It's a new day.
We celebrate the birth of the king of kings and lord of lords.
Of course, one look at the little scene and we see a helpless little baby in a feeding trough.
Who would think that this helpless little one would change the world . . . again and again . . . as God-followers come to understand the significance of this new light that fills dark days.
I have come to follow the path of those celebrating Christmas centuries ago.
Carols to celebrate Christ's birth do not begin until today, Christmas.
In fact, it is at the Christ Mass that we pull out all the stops.
Every carol is sung with full orchestra . . . or whatever instrument players are available in the congregation.
We don't decorate the church until just before the Eve of the Christ Mass.
It's so magical.
There is something that happens within me that is beyond magical.
God is doing a mighty work to re-energize my oneness with Him.
It's like the little light within me begins to shine more brightly than ever before.
You see, I have chosen to walk with Mary through her last four weeks of pregnancy.
It's that anticipation any new mother feels . . . anticipation of the 'advent' of a child to be born.
Advent
A pregnant pause.
Four weeks of quiet.
Not necessarily a time of emptiness, far from it.
It's a time of fullness, of joy, of wonder, of heavy anticipation.
It's a time of hustle and bustle as with any new mother who wants everything to be just right for the day of birth.
I don't think Mary was anticipating a long journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem.
What is normally a three day journey by foot might have taken twice that long.
Just imagine yourself . . . pregnant . . . trying to stay on a donkey.
I think I'd rather walk, thank you.
So, I did imagine a little bit.
The closest I got was when dear hubby, as usually, parked the car at the furthest spot from the entrance to the store.
The wind was blowing at gale speed at below freezing.
I was not a happy camper.
My plight lasted about three minutes, the time it took to scurry to the store entrance.
I cannot even begin to imagine the God-strength of Mary, carrying a child whose seed did not belong to her husband, bravely traveling during her most uncomfortable month before delivery of a child in a dung-smelling barn.
That's why we journey through Advent with songs foretelling, not celebrating, the 'coming' of Christ.
The One who 'was and is and is to come' cannot be celebrated until He is actually with us . . .
Emmanuel, God with us.
So, for four weeks we take a very pregnant pause and walk with Mary as she and Joseph journey to Bethlehem from Nazareth to be counted . . . and taxed.
We take time to hear the story of the miracle of inception.
We wonder as Mary and Elizabeth meet just months before John, the baptist, was born.
As John comes upon the scene and exhorts good Jewish God-followers to repent and return to sole worship of their one and only God, I reflect on my own journey.
Wonder
Reflection
Waiting
Anticipation
It's all part of pondering on that pre-Christ time, or without Christ time, when we wander in the wrong direction.
Just as those who wandered in the wilderness before they entered the promised land, this is our time to wander a bit.
Am I wandering aimlessly, in constant circles?
Without God's precious presence in my life I have no beginning or end.
Wandering is like that.
That's why Advent is so refreshing.
It's a time I can rethink my walk in Christ.
It's a time to reconnect with the story . . . of how God came down to us . . . as a helpless babe.
This helpless babe grew up to lead any who chose to return to God and follow His direction.
So, today, Christmas, the light breaks through.
Because I opted to take time to reflect, to ponder, to take that pregnant pause, I am ready to celebrate another year rejoicing in the presence of God in my life through the God-man, Jesus Christ.
I continue this pageant through Epiphany, the twelfth day . . . the day the wise men come on the scene.
Cookies to give to neighbors
So now it's time for:
MUSIC
FOOD
GATHERINGS
STORY TELLING
ANTICIPATION . . . of a better year.
Rosemary for remembrance.
Mary, the Rose, a greater God-follower than I could ever be.
CELEBRATE!
My little 'merry christmas' angel I pull out each year.
Dawn comes later each day . . .
still later when combined with rain clouds.
The darkness sweeps me into a numb state.
I slog through daily chores.
I look for the days to grow longer, to show me a tiny bit more light.
The day with more light is soon . . . just before Christmas . . . just before we celebrate the day the Light of Christ came into our world.
My mind lingers on the news of the weekend.
I am stunned at my sense of emptiness.
Dark days swirl about me, not just physically, but emotionally.
Evil lurks in the shadows and pounces on innocent children.
Evil is defined in ways too numerous to count.
In the dark days, people spew out platitudes meant to console grieving hearts.
The words sound hollow.
Deep in my heart, I ache for those parents who don't need fine speeches.
Those words are for the rest of us who feel so helpless and want to do something.
We want to say something but words will not bring back a child who was so eager to grab life!
I cannot imagine how a parent can deal with the fact that pieces of metal ripped through their child.
I cannot imagine what is running through the hearts and minds of brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and grandparents and close friends of those whose lives were snuffed out by one evil act.
DARKNESS.
ALL of us want to hug those people and say . . . say what? . . . words don't work!
Words are band aids that don't fit on oozing wounds that slice through the ones who are left.
Words in the darkness seem empty.
And then we hear of another who lives in our county, a county full of faith-filled people.
He is filled with darkness.
He bound up three elderly women, 84-90, and taunted them as he sparked their flesh with a taser gun.
He screamed with anger as he ripped pages from their bibles.
These are old women who are on the edge of life . . . physically and verbally abused by one who is just beginning life on his own.
He lives in a very dark world.
They all survived but with severe injuries and emotional distress.
Darkness lurks around them.
Yet, they know how to overcome the darkness.
More and more people struggle in a dark world,
without the extra love they so need,
without sources of 'light' to guide them.
This world seems more topsy than ever before.
Nothing seems logical ...
hurting children killing other children.
Hurt pain darkness evil.
It does not end.
Sometimes the nicest, sweetest child is pushed into darkness, to seek evil solutions to problems that only silence envelopes.
Darkness . . . silence . . . absence of light . . . emptiness . . . pain . . .
Evil lurks,
ready to pounce on a tender, hurting soul.
Emmanuel . . . God with us . . . God IS with us . . .
But, if we humans are unable to take the hand of one living in the darkness and lead that person to "God with us, Emmanuel," that child will remain in the dark and evil will suck the life from this tormented soul.
One more . . . and one more . . . and one more . . . remains in the darkness.
Who can lead hurting souls to the place of love and healing?
Who can lead one from darkness into a place of assurance that all have value, that all are created with value and can provide value to the community?
Where are we?
Can we each lead one . . . just one . . . out of darkness into the LIGHT? GOD .... IS .... WITH .... US.
HE IS OUR LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.
God sent His only begotten Son to BE OUR LIGHT .... to guide us through the darkness .... to show us a way to skirt around the evil that lurks around us in those dark corners or our lives.
I love traveling . . .
. . . but I'd love it better if I did not have to pack quickly and dash out of the house during this wonderful season of Advent.
I had a long layover at the Charlotte, NC airport It was a wonderful mid-way rest.
I missed a few Christmas events but I was glad to be of help.
Dad, almost 98, was doing quite well after surgery.
I was part of a 'tag-team' to give respite to my sister and her husband.
They were only two hours away when dad entered the hospital the beginning of November.
Between his hospital stay and nearly a month of rehab, they took charge.
Then dad ended up having surgery to insert a pacemaker.
Dad's surgery was on a Saturday and the hospital released him on Sunday.
Needless to say, we all responded to the call for help as we were determined not to send dad back to the hospital or rehab.
So dad slept . . . and slept . . . almost twenty hours a day for three days.
Healing took place.
On the third day he 'resurrected' back into life.
Sound familiar?
I don't know what it is about three days but I have seen this happen many times.
We thought dad was going to spend the rest of his days sleeping.
Yet, by Wednesday he was up and alert and ready to go.
Only . . . his body said otherwise.
We had a trained aid to help us by this time.
Dad had spent over a month with almost no movement.
He was 'walked' twice a day but left alone most of the time.
Dad needed stimulation.
So, we stimulated him.
Six days after surgery dad is ready to roll. Notice to rosy skin color. Something new!
Dad's skin glowed after his bath.
The barber clipped off locks of white hair that had grown too long.
The podiatrist trimmed his toe nails that were cutting into his skin.
Dad commented often that his feet felt good.
Dad's hand nails were next.
I was not around for that one but dad has never had a manicure.
I bet he is more dashing than ever now.
It's like Rip Van Winkle woke up after sleeping a year.
Dad was ready to learn to walk . . . with a walker and the aid holding on to this six-four gorgeous hunk of a guy.
Dad felt better each day.
His skin glows.
He smiles, knowing he has accomplished something amazing.
I think dad is good for another few years.
My brother took over after me.
He was just in time to see dad hungry, enduring long days with short naps and with his sharp mind totally in tack.
Dad is ready for intellectual as well as physical stimulation.
Except for his 'shuffle' one would not know anything happened.
Knitted ornaments and garland drape a Christmas tree at dad's condo.
I'm told that, with daily practice, his walking may also improve.
Dad does need more help than usual so he will return to his northern home where he is surrounded by all sorts of aids in his assisted living facility.
Too bad his 'southern' sojourn was short.
Yet, we made sure dad enjoyed sitting outside and driving around his 'winter homeland'.
We ate at old haunts and drove to all his favorite places so he can retain thirty years of memories in these warm environs.
As I traveled back north to celebrate this season with my hubby, I was reminded that we don't know what the future brings but it's always good to be HOME SWEET HOME.
My natural progression from THANKS is GIVING.
We proceed immediately from a day of THANKS to a month of GIVING.
So, I suggest that the celebration we call Thanksgiving is truly a prelude to an entire month of thanks-Giving!
This year we were given more than a week to prepare for the month of celebrations focused on giving to others,
Giving thanks for our surplus,
sharing with others and
getting outside of our little boxes
so that we can enter into the lives of those less fortunate or those going through a difficult time.
I continue to GIVE thanks daily even though I am far behind on my daily Gifts of Grace blog.
I'll get there.
I have been 'gifted' with an interlude.
Christmas decorations are still in a pile.
The tree must wait to be decorated.
Cards and annual notes to dear friends all over the country must wait.
The family is pulling together to help dad.
Dad had a bit of a 'blip' when one of the kids brought him south for a few months.
My sister and her husband have done the lion's share of the work.
They just 'happened' to be closest to dad when he had his setback.
It's been one challenge after another and a couple hospital stays.
But, he is now under family care.
I't my turn now.
My hubby holds the fort up North while he helps me prepare for a jaunt south for a short time.
I choose to GIVE of my time and energy as do my brothers and sisters.
We're each taking our turn.
Giving. . .
Time,
Energy,
Stamina,
Ourselves.
Isn't that what it's all about?
Does one really need to go to this party or decorate or create with friends?
Does one really need to do all the things required of us during this Christmas season?
Sometimes we are simply asked to BE.
To be present.
To be the present that an aging parent needs.
To simply sit,
and be there,
and do little . . . except be attentive . . .
and be ready to listen if the aging parent wants to talk.
Most likely I will simply be present.
I'm not there yet. I'm in the middle of my travels.
That's the other part about giving.
It started at 5:30 this morning.
The airplane increased its departure time by thirty minute segments until a gate agent whispered in another's ear . . . "It may cancel."
I'd been praying that God would weave the right route as the agent working with me tried to find an alternate route.
It turned out that the best 'route' would be to try again tomorrow . . . simply repeat the whole series of flights the next day.
So, I call my hubby and invite him to turn around . . . he was already home from the grocery store when I called.
He GAVE his time and energy to return to the airport.
Just when I knew he would arrive to pick me up, the airline announces that the flight that was 'canceled' is boarding! I flew out of my chair,
ran to the agent,
asked if I could re-check my bag,
rebook a seat on the flight,
run through all the check points,
catch that flight,
AND find a connection to my final destination!
In five minutes she had me rebooked, rechecked and on my way!
I'm re-calling my hubby who was patiently waiting outside.
I was running through 'body-check',
throwing my stuff back in my carry-on bag,
almost forgetting my shoes,
and running toward the plane.
The agent GIVES me a sweet, knowing smile.
He knew I was the one they were waiting for.
I run down the jetway only to stand in line as people are still trying to find spots for their carry on luggage in a half-empty plane.
Most of the original passengers had found alternate flights.
And so I sat for another half hour.
Do we cancel again?
I GIVE THANKS for the miracle of me being at the right place to hear the flight called.
I GIVE THANKS for getting on and getting routed all the way to my destination . . . even though I will arrive nine hours late.
I GIVE THANKS that we FINALLY do take off.
I GIVE THANKS that my sweet hubby hung around 'just in case,' after I called and told him the turn of events.
I GIVE THANKS that my dear sister swallowed hard and was ever-so-polite when she heard I'd initially be a day late.
I GIVE THANKS that I was able to call again and assure her and her hubby that I'm on my way.
They GAVE so much of their time and energy and patience over the past several weeks.
It is time for me now.
And then my brother will take the baton from me.
He and dad will figure the best long term solutions.
All of us are GIVING a bit of our hearts for this effort.
And that's what it's all about.
This GIVING season is revealing a very unique opportunity to 'give' in ways that may not be the easiest for us.
GIVING
IT'S THE SEASON.
It's what life is all about, isn't it.
THANKS!
We can look at the daily 'stuff' and choose to be grateful or choose to whine.
It's not easy.
This home near us was so damaged that it was torn down.
I can note plenty of people who truly have the right to whine.
It turned bitter cold today.
I cannot imagine being in a damaged home without heat or living in a hotel room with five other people.
Yet, I read in the news that these people give THANKS . . . that their family is together, that there is so much generosity, that life continues to move forward with every tic of the clock.
Life happens.
Sometimes it is not so good.
Sometimes it is fabulous.
THANKS!
This month had its ups and downs for many of us.
THE storm, Sandy.
THE election
Go to nma.gov and enjoy incredible works of art.
A national holiday called THANKS=GIVING.
It's a day to say THANKS.
We were blessed, my hubby and I, to enjoy a quiet time together after a delightful trip to D.C.
We enjoyed balmy weather and digested incredible works of art.
We gawked and swooned as we walked wide paths.
We ate authentic foods made by cooks from other nations.
We joined the masses on the subway as we traveled into the busy city.
And then we drove home before the holiday crowds filled the vast highway lanes.
We arrived just in time to enjoy a special meal on a day set aside for the nation to give THANKS.
This day set aside for THANKS melts into thoughts of GIVING.
THANKS and GIVING do blend together, don't they.
Yet, THANKS is so daily.
One Thousand Gifts . . . of THANKS. Go to Ann's blog to learn more
That's why I joined hundreds of others around the world as we share in daily THANKS with the writer of One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp: A Holy Experience
This month I reached 1000 THANKS! ASTONISHING! . . . just by writing three THANKS each day! I invite you to look at my other blog to see what I've done: Daily Graces from God
I continue my daily THANKS as a wonderful discipline to remain positive in a life that seems to spin in so many directions.
As I give THANKS, I set my eyes on the season of GIVING!
THANKS + GIVING = A long season of wonders.
May THANKS and GIVING become a daily part of our lives.
It has been a turbulent week.
My schedule suddenly became very full.
My teaching is accented by volunteer work at the food bank.
Then I was asked to substitute for someone who is unable to lead our meeting tonight.
It so happens that I am also in charge of the AUCTION fund raiser after the meeting.
I also volunteered to work at the voting polls yesterday.
So far, it is all do-able if I remain focused.
Dad is still over 6 ft. tall
Then my dad experienced a 'bump in the road' so to speak.
He arrived in his winter digs on Sunday.
He was admitted to the hospital Monday.
Family BUZZ via email and phone was constant Monday and Tuesday.
Dad was surrounded by those who could help.
But, as he is determined to remain independent at almost 98, he was a little wobbly.
Even the one who was with him knew he could not pick dad up if he fell.
Dad's legs were not working right.
It took more than one to get dad to the hospital.
Phone calls.
Emails.
What to do.
I am far away but I know the 'ropes' as I use to live down there.
I call a friend who gives excellent advice.
In the mean time, doctors take lots of tests.
Loved ones are waiting and wondering what our next steps will entail.
Dad's family is ready to help but most are some distance away.
The load falls on a few.
I am too far away to carry much of the load.
So, NOW WHAT?
I wait for information.
I wait for further instructions.
We all wait for doctors to tell us the next steps.
Dad was suppose to enjoy six months in the sun, in his beloved little condo.
He was only there one day before he landed in the hospital.
Now he wants to return to the comforts of his wonderful assisted living facility up North.
Dad sits on the bench he donated to the little park
near his condo. He can no longer walk to it.
It is a reasonable request.
It is a do-able request as soon as the doctors give him the go-ahead.
There are plenty of 'helpers' willing to escort dad back to the place in a cold climate filled with loving caretakers and family members close by.
In the mean time, I am asking myself NOW WHAT?
What is going to happen in our lives?
How are we going to endure the next several years where too many people want and not enough are willing to give?
Too many are saying, "What's in it for me? Give me what you others have worked so hard to earn."
Yet, I am sure dad is saying, "NOW WHAT?"
"What is my life going to be like?"
For my dad, life as he has known it has come to an end . . . at least it looks like that for now.
He needs help.
That's an understatement.
Hopefully the doctors will rectify dad's inability to walk.
But, independence is no longer an option for him.
His long life is changing.
He is healthy but he is now more limited than ever before.
As I feel overwhelmed by too much on my plate . . .
As I feel overwhelmed by 'circumstances' for our country . . .
As I wallow in a bit of a self pity . . .
I begin to pray.
"Show me, Lord, what you want me to see.
Show me the "NOW WHAT" you have set before me.
Remind me, God, that . . .
My life is FULL!
My life is ACTIVE!
My life will continue to have WONDERFUL SURPRISES each day.
My life is GOOD!
My hubby and I are HEALTHY!
We are SAFE!
We are being used and WILL BE USED even more as times get really tough."
NOW WHAT?
For dad . . .
His life just changed on a dime.
One day he was fine.
Dad's view from his little porch.
He rode in an airplane from North to South . . . from cold to warm.
He walked just fine . . .
and then he could not move his legs.
He wants to return to what he is use to even if it is cold.
He wants to embrace the familiar.
He wants the comfortable feeling that comes from being surrounded by loving caregivers or others who are his age or a bit younger.
I imagine he cares nothing about an election or who is running the country.
He is totally focused on surviving and perhaps thriving, even if it is in a different mode.
I should be saying, "WHAT NOW can I do for him?"
How can I help?
How can I serve and comfort him from afar?
Life will go on for me until the moment it stops.
It does not matter what is going on in the country.
It does not matter if I do not get my own way.
It does not matter what I think.
Life is precious.
Dad's life is precious.
What Now?
I must make every moment count for him.
He may live several more years . . . or not.
But, he is now living in MOMENTS.
I need to look beyond my own selfish desires and ask my dad,
NOW WHAT can I do for you?
NOW WHAT can I say to encourage you?
He is taking each moment as it comes.
Age has taught him to be flexible.
He has much to teach me.
So, I ask God, NOW WHAT am I called to do . . . for my dad . . . for my family . . . for others?
Last week I began to write about the affect of storm Sandy in our little town.
None of it made sense.
Our community flag was shredded.
Within a week a new one was flying high.
As you see, Sandy did little damage in our area.
After a hurricane in Florida we experienced no power for two weeks but the weather was warm.
We could not flush our toilets because the main sewer pump was compromised.
But we had help from friends across town who had showers and toilets.
They took our thawed food and we had wonderful meals together.
We then moved to a little town up North. . . and away from hurricanes?
An earthquake south of D.C., over two hours south of us, dismantled some foundations in our little town last Fall.
When hurricane Irene flooded our town last year, people lost homes, clothing and so much more.
Yet, neighbors helped with food and clothing and appliances and rebuilding.
It took a year.
And then Sandy visited us.
Our new little lake that dried up in about two days.
We were more prepared.
The wind was the worst part.
Twenty-four hours of howling.
Thud, thrash, whoosh, plop.
Bushes and trees uprooted or split in two or simply squashed.
And then the rain.
Sheets and sheets of rain . . . with the wind . . . and hail from the drop in temperature.
Soggy soil uplifted roots.
Trees and bushes turned on their sides.
The dry little valley below us became a lake . . . where ducks came by the dozen.
The ducks held on . . . heads to the wind . . . blown to the south side of this new pond.
Yet, within 24 hours it was all over.
Gentle wind, softer rain, fluffy clouds . . .
and a huge drop in temperature from the storm from Canada that hit us at the same time.
We still had electricity.
We had plenty of food.
The little bit of damage was easy to fix.
Our TV worked . . .
So we saw how much real damage this 1000 mile wide storm created.
New Jersey and parts of New York are a mess.
The 80+ homes in Queens were burned to the ground.
Within hours the Red Cross and World Vision and so many other volunteer organizations were there to help.
BUT . . . BUT . . . due to extreme danger from power lines in water, they were not allowed to enter the states.
This is reasonable.
As fast as the power companies and firemen and policemen could work, it could not be fast enough for millions of people.
A catastrophe of this sort left hundreds of people stranded for days before help could arrive.
We hear of dumpster diving.
We hear of no water and no food.
Help was there . . . but helpers could not pass through dangerous areas.
Should more people die so that others can have food and water?
I cannot imagine the cold, dark nights.
I cannot imagine losing everything . . . EVERYTHING . . . in a storm.
Of all the storms and floods and hurricanes and earthquakes I have been through, we were never beyond inconvenience.
My heart sinks each time I see, on the news, the long lines waiting for gas.
I cannot imagine waiting three hours and then being told 'we're out of gas.'
I cannot imagine losing everything . . . and then freezing . . . then being hungry and helpless.
All we can do is DONATE.
The Red Cross is one place we can count on. World Vision, which has supplies for the needy in a warehouse in the Bronx, lost 1/3 of its inventory.
They help all over the world, including New York and New Jersey.
I trust the Red Cross and I trust World Vision (less than 14% admin. costs).
We are praying for each person affected by the storm.
We are donating now . . .
AND we will donate our CHRISTMAS PRESENT MONEY.
It's going to take BILLIONS to clean up those two states and fix so much that was damaged.
The government cannot . . . and should not . . . pay for as much as they need.
I pray we can all help a bit.
So we give . . . and give some more . . . and then keep on giving . . .
and thanking God we all are able to give a bit . . . even if seems like little.
And it is money, $$$$$$$$, they need.
Not old clothes or used items.
It takes $$$$$$$ to rebuild.
It takes $$$$$$$ to provide what individuals truly need.
There are plenty of people to help.
We survivors . . . we who are merely inconvenienced . . . can help in our own little way.
It's the quiet ones who no one knows about.
They are the ones who simply live out their lives according to the choices they make.
They tuck their joys and aspirations into their hearts and keep moving forward.
If there is a roadblock, they find a way to work around it.
They find ways to keep moving through mud or around brick walls in spite of circumstances pressing in on them.
They are the ones who plan and create creatively.
I am one of those women.
I have always made plans that reach beyond my current circumstances.
I just move forward.
I need no one to tell me if I am oppressed or do not have rights.
No matter what 'circumstances' surround me, I can creatively choose to rise above roadblocks.
We are beautifully and wonderfully made.
God begins with our DNA, each as different as
each snow flake or grain of sand.
My DNA is all mine, to do with as I ought.
God created me in His image.
God does not make 'junque'.
God created ME . . .
. . . with all my faults,
. . . all my capabilities . . . or lack of them.
God created me to grow and thrive and be who I am suppose to be . . .
. . . according to His divine plan
. . . able to choose according to my own personal will.
Although God might desire that I remain intimately connected with Him in all I say and do and plan, I may be selfish enough to choose another path.
God is patient.
God will wait.
God's creative work cannot be defined in our limited time and space.
We humans are finite.
We have a beginning and an end.
Each day has a beginning and an end.
It's time to LIVE!
Without notice, the seconds turn to minutes and minutes evaporate into hours.
Before I know it, the day is over.
My plans for the day may not have materialized the way I'd imagined but I learn to be content with the moments that ticked by too fast.
I make choices that I think might suit me well for the moment.
Sometimes I talk to God about them.
God is patient.
God waits for me to talk to Him and ask a blessing or ask for direction.
All of us, men and women, were created to bond with God, know God's best for us, and make the best choices so that we can create creatively . . . as God created each of us.
Women were given the gift of growing God's new creation within us.
Two seeds, joined together, immediately create a new life.
Our main purpose, as God's creation, is to keep creating.
Why would I voluntarily want to extinguish this life-creating process within me?
God created me, a woman, to carry the honor of carrying life!
Robert Baral, RN, took a picture of this 20 week old baby at
the time of a surgical procedure to save the life of this child.
Normal gestation period is 38-42 weeks.
Oh how I grieve when I hear loud voices telling the world that all women feel exploited because they do not have access to enough resources to extinguish life.
I want to shout back but I am not a shouter.
Perhaps it's the quiet ones like me who know my body does not belong to me entirely.
My body belongs to my Creator.
My Creator invites me to use my body fully, as He designed, according to the wisdom given me.
If my body was made to create life, as God created me, then it is up to me to choose to be responsible in the way I give forth that life.
If I am able to create a human being, no matter what the circumstances, this should be a joyous moment.
About 1% of the women who have created life may not have been in control of their own choice.
1% may have a good reason to extinguish a life.
That's 1% of the 55 million lives that have been extinguished since it became legal to do so.
And there are some brave women who were raped . . . who chose to create life and give that life to another who, in turn, was given the opportunity to raise God's precious creation.
This short video gives one a better understanding of God's Creation.
God created me, a woman, to recreate.
However, God created a caveat.
I must bond with a male.
This 'bonding' relationship is the same 'bonding' relationship I should develop with God.
I talk to God daily as I talk to my husband.
I rejoice with God daily as I rejoice with my husband.
Because of my bond with God, I chose to marry a man who loves the Lord, thy God, as much as I do.
Because we both continue to bond with God, we honor each other as beautiful creations made in the image of God.
We have very different perspectives on the way we overcome daily challenges.
Our different perspectives only make us stronger as a couple.
No matter how we differ, we are still in one accord with God's design for us.
We both can create life.
I, a woman, can carry that life.
I know I was created to create and carry the seed of life from conception to birth.
I was created to grow a human being inside me.
Being part of God's ongoing creation and having the opportunity to carry that creation is a very healthy choice.
In fact, I was told by doctors that a woman's body is healthier in the long term if she has carried and birthed new life.
I grieve that my body is unable to carry new life to full term.
There is something in my body that has prevented this.
I could go back decades and try to figure it out.
I could ...
But God created me to be who I am, just as I am.
I have no need to blame God, myself or others.
I have all that I need or could ever want because I have assurance that God is with me always, leading me into the next opportunity to LIVE creatively.
Thirty-five years ago I gave myself, totally and unequivocally, to God through His Son, Jesus Christ.
I continue to claim Jeremiah 1:5 as God's declaration to all generations. "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you and before you were born I consecrated you; I have appointed you a prophet to the nations."
I may be quiet but I know that my choices are my own.
I am not a victim.
I am not oppressed.
I am beautifully and wonderfully created by my Creator to create.
I have a voice. . . as one 'called' to tell others . . . like that of a prophet.
If I am unable to create another life, I am able to influence others, creatively, to choose God's best for their lives.
God continues to use my creativity to creatively share his promises so that others may make the right choices.
I can, like a prophet, help others be the creation God created us to be.
I can creatively help others to live life as we should . . . loving others, laughing through challenges and living each moment of life, one day at a time.
God knew us before we were born.
That means, before we were born, we bonded with our creator with the creativity he created in our DNA.
I washed windows the other day.
I knew the time would come when I could no longer linger outside.
All too soon it will be time to drink in the outside behind closed windows.
I figured it is better to wash them now, before it is too cold and wet and ugly to scrub the outsides.
I love how the newspaper squeaks across the glass when it has absorbed my simple solution of vinegar and water.
A dark wet day has enough light to bring into
the front of the house if the storm door is clean.
Bugs and dust and dirt spots are gone.
Streaks and blotches disappear.
The storm door takes a bit more work.
There are as many smudges on the inside as the outside.
But OH HOW IT GLISTENS!
The wonderful thing about summer is that I don't care about windows or seeing out between the blotches.
I'm outside!
Who cares if one can see nature clearly?
I'm outside!
I savor the summer months and try to linger on my porch as long as I can until my hands become numb-cold and my legs, covered by a blanket, begin to shiver a bit.
So, I spend more time inside than outside as the days grow shorter . . . and darker.
All too soon I will need to see the outside through tempered glass.
I even move my little writing desk inside, near the most light I can find.
I move the dining table back a few feet and rearrange a new space that I carve out each winter.
If you look carefully, you can see my little computer by
the window. From a distance you can't even see my desk.
With windows on two sides I see greens turn gold, blooms fade into stalks of tan and brown.
Red berries pop up from behind my determined red roses, still blooming strongly after the frost.
My own reflection invites me to move to one side to see the hosta thriving under the protection of our beautiful pine tree.
Candles are another interference but such a delight when they automatically turn on in the late afternoon.
Today the drizzle quietly trickles into newly turned dirt left from transplanting day lilies.
I give thanks that I have windows to keep out the cold.
I am thankful that I have such a grand view of my garden and natural beauty of the wetland area below us and acres of farms with no end in sight behind deciduous trees on the far side.
They are losing their leaves so I will soon see the old stone barn and the farmhouse with the wraparound porch.
I pull the curtain back from another window and drink in the changing garden on the side of the house. Variegated leaves for now will soon fall and reveal bright red twigs-like branches. When the snow falls, they will add new beauty to a white landscape.
Windows offer a view to another world in another season of life.
Windows invite me to linger longer and wonder about a new phase of my own life.
God has a window into my heart and knows exactly where I am in my walk.
Do I dare take a look inside?
The view is so murky from this side.
I need to take more time to clean the window into my heart. There are too many blotches and streaks.
A lyric from scripture set to song comes to mind.
"Create in me a clean heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me ..."
Perhaps the words could change a bit to: "Clean the window to my heart, oh God, so I can see the rightness of the Spirit you planted in me."
I wander and I wonder as I sit at my window, rain beginning to drench the warm earth . . . and leaving spots on my newly polished glass.
Like the heart, this convex glass
reveals a distorted view and reflected
light from a window that seems distant.
I guess nothing is perfect . . .
imperfect view . . .
imperfect heart for God . . .
always an ugly blotch here and there . . .
always a need to clean and polish and take away the streaks that smudge my life.
I am thankful that I have the desire to see, or begin to see, what God presents to me, whether it is on the other side of these pieces of thermal glass or whether it is deep inside my heart.
God's view is perfect but mine is distorted and the light of Christ within me seems distant, like the reflection from this convex mirror.
Words come to mind: murky, smudged, flawed.
Yet, God sees perfection.
Since I am beautifully and wonderfully made in God's image, I should see myself as perfectly clean without splotches.
I know I don't need water and vinegar solution or scrubbing with newspaper.
All I need to do is look out my beautifully clean windows and look at God's creativity. . . and remember how God sees me.
Windows . . .
a gift to help me through the 'inside' months.
I will keep my table and chairs outside until
the first hint of snow. Then I will know I
cannot linger on my favorite porch for awhile.
I have this little wooden window that I use all year. I place a pretty card behind it
that reflects the current season and voila . . . I have a window to another world.
Time
Where does it go?
I think I have written a day or two ago and it's more than a week.
Time . . . it moves way too fast.
I cannot catch it.
I cannot put it in a jar and place a lid on it for future use.
Time is illusive.
I want to grab it and hold onto it and dole it out in tiny increments but the clock keeps ticking . . . forward.
I can look back and grab a memory of the past.
I can grab a moment and hold it tight, trying not to let it go.
But memories and moments become the past in less time than it takes to say the words.
Time moves forward whether I am ready to move with it or not.
I can let it go . . . let the milliseconds tick by . . . watch the world spin through space . . . which takes time.
I can linger quietly and watch time fly.
Sometimes that is soothing to the soul.
Sometimes it is frightening.
Time marches on . . .
As I take one well chosen step at a time.
I can miss-step, hold a step, skip a step, step up to the plate, step forward, step back . . . but . . . no matter how I step . . . time still marches on.
The best I can do is take time . . .
savor time . . .
stretch time . . .
linger in time . . .
according to my own little time-clock in my heart.
It may put me way behind the times . . .
or make me lag in time . . .
or run me out of time . . .
but then, it's my time to take . . . to choose.
It's my time to use or abuse . . . or loose.
So what?
Time is what we make of it.
If I lose time,
make time,
use up time
or refuse to step in time . . .
is it my time to do with as I choose?
Sometimes.
It depends if someone else hires me to use time the way they choose.
I must ask myself if I have 'redeemed' the time properly.
More often than not,
I have plenty of time to share with others,
give to others,
give to myself and use time wisely.
But, that means I must make myself aware of time
and bide my time
and use my time with good intention.
That means that some time is not my own.
Whose time is it anyway?
Who made time?
God, our Creator, made time for us . . .
to enjoy,
use,
fill,
empty out,
give,
receive,
share,
covet . . . as we choose. It's our choice.
Each day I make the choice.
How much time do I take to linger a littler longer in my quiet space talking . . .
and sometimes listening . . . to God?
Is it a good time or a waste of time or a fulfilling time?
Almost always it is a very pleasant time,
a fulfilling time,
an enriching, in-reach time.
As it says in Ecclesiastes:
(2:1-8)There is a time to give birth and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.
(10) I have seen the task which God has given the generations with which to occupy themselves.
He [God] has made everything appropriate in its time.
He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that mankind will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end.
I know there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and to do good in one's lifetime; moreover, that all who eat and drink see good in all their labor.
It is the gift of God.
(20)All go to the same place.
All came from the dust and all return to the dust.
One cannot find a better explanation for time.
Now to use it well.
100 seems like a small number in relation to our national debt of $16,000,000,000,000.
I cannot even imagine a 'Trillion' of anything.
In fact, creating a pile of 100 of anything became daunting to me.
I counted 100 Nasturtiums but realized
that this was not the best way to see 100.
That was the request from my cousin.
Her mom, my aunt, turned 100 years old on Sept. 15.
That's a HUGE milestone for humans.
So, why not ask everyone to send a picture of 100 of anything.
At the very least, we could send a couple of cards so that she could obtain 100 cards.
That was the easiest task of all since my aunt knows and keeps in touch with well over 100 people in her life.
I imagine she received far more than 100 cards.
Pictures of 100 of anything were also compiled.
There were cheerios, flower petals, stones, marshmallows lined up to look like 100.
Dozens were digitally compiled into a slide show.
I could not wrap my brain around compiling anything except 100 Thank You notes, since my aunt has always been a huge influence in my life.
She took my sister and I under her wing at a very young age and encouraged us to become the best Girl Scouts we could be.
My old badge sash
Girl Scouts also celebrated their 100th birthday this year.
My aunt was a Girl Scout leader for years as she raised her own daughter. She even earned her Eagle Scout Badge which, when I became old enough to earn it, no longer existed.
One would think giving 100 thanks would be easy. I am already giving three 'thanksgivings' a day on my other blog: dailygracesfromgod.blogspot.com
After the first couple of pages, I had to think.
My memory became muddled.
As they say, long term memory is easy.
It gets harder to remember the more recent events in our lives.
For sure, I managed to write down 100 thank you notes and place them in a pretty cover.
Off they went to my aunt.
Of course I added pictures. That was the most fun.
There she is, responding to her
sister's question in the middle
of her one of her 10 oratories of
her life story.
We also managed to visit my aunt on her big day.
Here she is, standing for ten minutes at a time, telling the story of her life.
This was totally amazing because she did not use her glasses, does not wear hearing aids, uses no cane or walker, and stood by herself without microphone as the rest of us sat in lawn chairs listening over the din of loud music down the block.
She just talked louder and became more animated.
In comparison, her children and nieces and nephews seemed to have more ailments than my aunt!
She was as perky as ever!
10 Balloons were released after my aunt 'released'
stories of every 10 years of her life.
I think she will live another 10 years at least.
My aunt with her GREAT Grand son!
Greg was the 'master of ceremonies'.
She is astute, alert, filled with incredible information, and ever present in dozens of peoples' lives . . . daily.
Reason: the computer.
My aunt has always been on the leading edge of technology.
She has never feared a new invention.
She had an Apple computer before many of us knew what it was.
She now has the latest Apple and a touch-screen PC.
Reason: Although she much prefers Apple, more software is created for the PC.
Aunt Helen took a moment out from the party
to show us her latest work. AMAZING!
Can you see the two computers?
Latest in computers but notice in the bottom
right corner - an old TV which she rarely watches.
She needs the latest software to continue her genealogy work, which she has done for well over fifty years.
100 years brings more than 100 changes.
My aunt has floated through endless changes and challenges.
Her attitude is positive to a fault and has carried her well into the 21st century.
To be 100 is a gift.
My aunt, at 100, is the greatest gift I could ever have.
I share her with 100s.
Yet, she seems as if she were attentive only to me.
Oh to be 100.
Oh to be attentive and caring and savvy with the latest technology in order to maintain that pastoral care she gives to so many.
Who knows what the next 100 will bring but she is on the 'edge' of a whole new world where the 'average' may be 100.
I linger with thoughts of her and wonder if I will be able to remain attentive to others and savvy with the latest technology so that I can reach beyond my comfort zone.
Hmmmmm, I guess writing this blog is a beginning.
I pray I can be half as giving and caring and attentive as my aunt if, by God's grace, I even reach 100.
