A BEAUTIFUL MIND

The mind.
It's a beautiful thing.

The complexity of a spider's web is nothing compared to
 the beautiful mind of God's human creation. 

I assume my mind will work nicely to get me out of bed and into my daily routine.
I assume my legs will work and my hands and eyes as well as all the functions of my body.
I don't even count breathing which is paramount to life.
One can live without the use of many body parts but one cannot function without the mind.

And so I move along as if I am fully in control of my life.
How little do I know?
I decide to make something special for hubby.
I concentrate hard on removing an apple core to make a baked apple.

There is a 'law' of motion that I know well.

An innocent counter, lots of apples, one wrong move.

"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."
Well, my arm pulled back with great force as my head hit our Quartz counter.
The instant I hit I knew I'd have a bump.
A little ice, a quiet moment, all is well . . . or so I thought.

The next day I lead a meeting and miss some important information.
The following day I try to bend over to pick weeds in the garden but I see stars.

My brain felt like this water trough at Wintertur Gardens.
It felt like water splashing forth from tight parameters.

No more bending.
The day after that I am at another meeting and I think I see someone leaving who is sitting right in front of me.
Others notice the faux pas.
One of them calls me the next day.
"Get ye to the doctor!"
OK, OK

Oh, the mind is a beautiful thing, too beautiful to ignore.
CAT scan with contrast.
Something weird is found.
MRI
All is well.  It's an anomaly that may have been there from birth.
Days of going back and forth to various doctors finds no bleeding in the brain.

Our bushes are turning wild HOT red.
My brain feels hot-red when I use it too much.

Hot spots in my head,
throb, throb,
tired mind after just a few hours.
"Just stop thinking too much," says my doctor.
We both laugh out loud.
Right.
But, since I had no other choice, I did take the opportunity to slow down,
 I lingered in the garden more (but I did not touch all those weeds).
 I enjoyed wonderful drives among the fields being harvested as hubby shepherded me about.
 I sat quietly and took time to notice how I breathe.
I became more focused on how my brain works automatically to keep me alive.
I continue this practice well after I am healed.

The brain is so strong.

These small patches of glory invite me to linger.
I so love my garden in the Fall
It blooms wildly this 'indian sumer.'

Yet, in a moment, it can become frizzled.
In a moment, thoughts become scrambled.
I am blessed to be feeling stronger mentally.
I am blessed to be alive!

Last week I told others how to have the 'Mind of Christ' as the Apostle Paul relates to us in the book of Philippians.
I need to remember that God created my mind when He created creation and the ability for creation to create.
I was made in His image.
My mind was made to commune with the Father, through His Son, by the power of the Holy Spirit.
God gave me the gift to use my mind creatively.
God gave me a well functioning autonomic system.

St. Francis day is almost here.
He understood the need for daily celebration
 of God's Creation. . . the beautiful mind.

  I need to thank my Creator . . .  to       give glory to God each day.

  Then I can ponder what it means to have the mind of Christ:
  Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control, mercy, forgiveness and so much more.
  That is a LOT to think about.

  Oh what a beautiful mind.
  I praise God that I still have good  use of it for now.
  Each day is a gift for the mind to grasp.
  I linger on that thought as I sit on my porch and let my mind
 unwind,  slow down,   rest.

THE POWER OF WATER

I am always amazed at the power of water.

My faucet works when I choose.

We turn on the faucet spigot and out it comes, at whatever speed we wish.
We have control over a faucet.

But when it rains, really hard, in a short period of time I am spellbound at it's rush around and through anything in its path.
Flooding storms are infrequent up north but are almost expected down south.
Even though expected, I think those ambushed by raging water are stunned at its force.

Systems created to expel the water into streams and lakes and even the ocean cannot carry water fast enough.  Streets flood, homes flood and extra stress is placed on anything in the way of this determined force of wet.

Dad has lived part time in a small, first floor condo for decades.  Flooding has happened as close as a couple blocks away but never in his domaine.

Niagara Falls gushes forth with nothing to hold back
the torrent of wet, the power of splash.

That's why I was startled that water engulfed his home up to three inches after a torrential rain - six inches in two hours.  

Actually, I found out that the rain did not directly affect his tiny abode.
In fact, it was routed around his edifice through a well planned drainage system.
His condo and his neighbor's condo were the only two homes that were flooded.
What happened?
From what I understand, this three story complex has a specific drainage system on its flat roof.
Water cannot linger on the roof long because of a double-drain system.  The water that does not drain off the side is captured into a central pipe that allows excess water to flow down through the building, under the two bottom condos and out into two separate drainage systems.

the back of dad's favorite chair.  Water went right under it,
missed the couch, on the right, and oozed through the
glass doors that were closed.

Flooding rain, falling with great force, presses into the tiny space of a pipe as it is pushed out onto a larger drainage system.
Heavy rain,
 pressing water,
 pressure,
46 year old pipes,
most likely pipes with fissures,
old, cracking cast iron pipes.
C r a c k . . . C r a c k
Puuuuuuush
Pressssssss through ground and concrete and whatever else is in the way.
F    L    O    O    D !

The condo next door, a newly renovated home, only occupied a few months a year, fills with a half-foot of water.  What is not contained in the neighbor's space is pressed through the concrete dividing wall.  Another stream presses out their door and into dad's place.  Sand, snails and stinky water ooooooozes into every space it can find.

See the mirror? It was taken off of the wall, below.  It made
the room look double its size.  Now all gone.  All walls
are now gone as mold lingers inside.  All must be sanitized.

Water races across tile,
 hits walls,
forces itself in any unhindered direction it can find.
The natural slant of the old concrete floors directs the water into the lanai but this gush of goo first presses into the living room carpet.

Sticky ooze works itself down the little hall into other carpeted rooms.
The old carpet with its spongy pad absorbs as much as it can.

WHAT A BLESSING!

It's the old carpet, so in need of replacing, that saved the furniture from being buried in yucky, smelly sediment.
Not even the skirt of the couch was touched as waves of 'splash' swept past it in one direction.

Dry wall absorbed all that passed by,

The wall with the DOTS is where the mirror was stuck to the entire wall.
This is a look at the dining room after a preliminary inspection.  All walls
are now gone, the piano found a good home and the floors are clear of debris.

Kitchen cupboards, made of pressed wood, absorbed.
Bathroom cabinets of the same pressed wood absorbed.
All that was attached to any wall  a b s o r b e d  this gooey,  smelly wet.

Because he loved to dine on the lanai, the dining room was used more for
an office.  He loved to spread out his paper work and linger there a few
hours each day.  

This old, tired little home was unoccupied for a season or two as dad now relishes in the comfort of assisted living.  He's 99.  When told that his winter retreat flooded he did not mind.  He only remembers the good days of lounging in his favorite chair reading the Wall Street Journal.
I am glad.
It happened at the perfect time for him.

Dad is still living a good life, pampered by caretakers and eating whatever he wants - cooked by someone else.

Dad cooked the perfect instant oatmeal each morning,
just inches away from his favorite table in the kitchen.

This well-loved home will pass into another era.
The foundation is still strong and the complex is well managed.
Just like dad, the place is old and has creaky-cracky pipes.
I wonder, will the 'fixes' be enough to placate flooding waters in the future?
Hope so.

I took a picture of the living room facing the 'mirror.'
You can see the lines of each panel.  It was all the rage
thirty years ago and made the place looks so large.
We will open up this space and let light into the kitchen.
But, I think I will miss the fun we had with the mirror.

But, it won't look like his beloved abode.
Isn't it wonderful that disaster sometimes happens when we no longer care.
We will fix it up to be better than before.
All too soon it will be like new.
Old memories linger in my heart but there are new memories to be made in this sweet place.

The power of water is beyond my imagination but the power to regroup and grow new memories is even more powerful.

EASY LIVING

Lazy days.

Cool mornings.

Lingering outside.

It all sounds so good for summer.

But wait.

I need to:

                Pull weeds,

                Paint stressed wood,

                Repair broken places,

                Clean windows,

Squeeze in work and meetings and obligations.

When do I make time to linger through these lazy days?

Ahhhhh, it is so good to MAKE time to weed and paint and repair and clean.

That's what summer is all about.

Living seems easier when I can wear less, move freely inside and out and linger a little longer as the daylight allows.

Four extra hours each day allows me to squeeze in a few more fun moments.

So, I weed and read a good book.

I paint and pick my roses and herbs.

Repairs eventually get completed.

Cleaning windows is easier when I can open them fully and hang out a bit in spite of a bug or two

that might whiz past me.

It's summer, and the liven is so much easier without snow and cold and icicles and freezing temperatures.

Summer.

Sun.

Heat.

Bare feet.

T-shirt.

Shorts.

Flip flops!

Easy living is an attitude.

There will always be work and chores and never enough time . . . summer or winter.

But there is something about summer which enables my attitude to soar.

I don't whirl around getting things done.

I swirl more slowly . . . intentionally . . . sometimes even enjoying those pearls of moisture dripping from every pore.

I have an attitude of gratitude for the freedom to live easy this summer.

Nice.

LEGOS IN A GARDEN

If this gardener can get rid of my weeds
I'll be glad to have him work in my garden.

We were walking through a Florida garden a few months ago and were amazed at the beauty surrounding us.

What was more surprising were the Lego sculptures nestled in the midst of tropical flora.

We let our minds wonder and our eyes wander as we linger in the midst of odd shapes within God's incredible creation.

Tiny bricks of plastic, an artistic eye and a lot of creativity enhance these surprises that seemed to pop up in the midst of green acres.

 Once in awhile the eye has a difficult time discerning which is real.

In fact, I did not take a photograph of a lawn mower that I thought should have been stored out of sight of visitors.
 Later I found out it was made of Legos!

We have seen soapstone sculptures, concrete art forms, and various odd garden containers but this was a new sight for our eyes.

Instead of lazily wandering about, we were on the 'hunt' for other amazing creations.

 When we came upon a few creations, we lingered a bit and wondered how the eye can adjust to these unique forms as if they were real.

Lego Boy was moved to a new spot each day.  We just 'happened' to
walk down a hidden path to discover this little gem.  Don't you
love those funky branch fence rails!

This latino art form, made of Legos, popped out at us as we came out
of a children's garden.  Fun.

Fox sneaking up on bunny.  The reality of the 'wild' was hidden in the
middle of beautiful vegetation.  

Who doesn't love butterflies.  This gigantic beauty reminded us that
God's art is hard to re-create by human hands.
Humans may mimic God-art but
nothing matches the real thing.

This rose seemed to overwhelm us as well as the
tiny wild rose bushes that surrounded it.
This is definitely Legos. 

Can you tell which ones are the REAL lily pads?
Some of those HUGE lili pads are real and some are made of Legos!
This was my favorite place to linger because the artist's creation blended so well with God's creation.
The giant lily pad to the far right has a little Lego-frog sitting on it.

These Lego creations remind me of our gift from God.
 God gave us the ability to create whatever we want but it will never be as authentic as God's original.

A butterfly moves through a cycle of ingesting mounds of food in order to laboriously weave a cocoon around itself.
Only by waiting patiently for the right time and working tirelessly, almost to death, to removed itself from it's tight quarters can it unfold into a specimen of exquisite beauty and have the strength to fly away.

An artist moves through a cycle of digesting lessons and techniques in order to laboriously create an image of beauty, perhaps as a gift from the heart to God.
Learning, planning, patience and hard work lead to an image for the world to enjoy.
Tedious hours given to build one brick at a time bursts forth with new life in a medium that our creative God created us to create.

Whether made of plastic or bronze or stone, God enables us to linger awhile in a place of beauty in order to soak in all that our imagination can possibly embrace.

It's nice to linger in the midst of legos if our imagination is able to unfold new experiences in the midst of the exquisite beauty that surrounds us.

What fun we had in the garden of Legos.

DOWNTON in DETAIL

This month we found time to wander about after a conference and ended up in Wintertur, a vast estate in Delaware with home, gardens and endless collections of furniture, porcelain, needlework and so much more.
To our surprise, we were able to visit a tiny snippet of Downton Abby through a beautiful display of clothing worn by various characters in the first season of the show.

We were not alone.
Swarms of studious individuals joined us to linger about the display which was laid out in a corner of one floor of this 175 room mansion.

We entered through the 'kitchen', or so it seemed.  Remember the bells that ring at the beginning of each episode?  If one pulled very hard on a brass knob, one bell would ring. 

The Fabrics were rich with natural fiber and created with attention to the smallest detail.
Much was hand sewn.
I wanted to touch but, of course, we couldn't.
So, I lingered longer at each article of clothing and simply 'studied' each hand-sewn stitch.
RICH with detail: even in the clothing of the kitchen maid. 

We even saw what a breakfast tray looked like.
Wouldn't it be wonderful to linger in bed and be served on such a lovely tray?
Who cares what the food is like - although I am sure it was delicious. The porcelain was a delight to the eye.
Of course, we all need a lovely rose to begin the day.
And the freshly ironed newspaper to keep my fingers from absorbing any ink, of course!
Fine linen with embroidery to match the china was a 'must' I'm sure.
The attention to detail was much like one would see in the Smithsonian Institute.
 Above is an illustration of how most items were displayed.
 Although there were videos replaying scenes, I loved the written explanations with the face of the one who wore the garment.
 Maggie Smith is beyond exceptional in her role and her clothing was magnificent.
 Every detail was hand stitched and we only saw it for about 5-10 minutes.  The attention to detail did not go to waste at this exhibit.

You may have missed this one.  Cora attends the theatre.
We never did see such elegant detail of the dress much less the velvet cloak that hid most of it.
My eye catches the beautiful 'cross' of embroidery with velvet appliqué drawing our eye to the center.  It's a feast for the eyes as well as the soul.
 Look at the hand stitching on the coat!



I may be wrong but this looks like a dress Mary wore.  Again, each rose is hand stitched on a panel that adds a bit of weight to the airy flow of silk and embroidered chiffon.  How many minutes was she in this dress?  Who knows. Not enough for my eyes.




And who could forget the moment of engagement!  Did you know Mary's dress was this deep ruby silk taffeta?  Notice the tiny glass beads sewn around the neck and under each scallop.  
Michael's elegant suit was made of very heavy fabric but one could see the detail in the stitching.  

And we never saw Mary's full wedding dress on-screen.  
A mirror was strategically placed so we could see the fine detail in the train. 
Mary carried this garment better than this shows but the back, the part that all the guests see, was a feast for the eyes.   Again, detail is exceptional.

Here is closer detail of the train.



Of course I pretended that I was actually standing on the lawn, just about to enter this great edifice.  What a delight to have this giant mural in a quiet area for us to take pictures.
A perfect end to a day of lingering at Downton Abby - replicated.

So, why do I reflect on such scenes of opulence?
What does it matter for the days to come?
I learned much about taking great care of what I have and in all I create.

God, our Creator, gave us creativity to create beauty right in our midst.
I am reminded to take care with each word I write or with each stitch I sew when mending a garment.
It is the attention to detail that slows us down.
It's the details that complete who we are.

It's important to linger a bit longer in this hectic electronic age where we complete tasks in sound bites or pixels or tweets.
It's good to know our history and gain a deeper understanding of those who made everything from scratch and those who enjoyed someone else's hard work.

God created each of us with a definite purpose.
Whatever that purpose is, we are created to live it out with attention to the finest detail.
It is good to take pride in that endeavor that meets our purpose.

As we have heard so many times before, it's the "----" between our beginning and our end that says it all.   Let's take time to fill that "----" with our best attention to detail.

May we choose, each day, to linger longer with something that is good for our soul.

May our lingering be extended a few more seconds the next time.

May our souls be filled with the detail of God's intentions and purpose for each of us.

Snippets of Time . . .Thyme

I look at this blog and review my 'page views.'
 Zip,
Zero,
None!
 I don't blame the very few who chose to visit this site and linger a little while once a month.

I check the little clock that is on the right side of this blog.
It just keeps ticking.
Nothing stops time.
Every tiny snippet of time seems to evaporate as I scurry from one adventure to another.
No time.

Always time.
Important things take time.
Plenty of time to find a snippet of time.
Perhaps I have strayed from my monthly ritual because . . . ?
No excuse.
I prepare lessons on time.
Every week I drink in God's Word so that I might blurt out some understanding of His Word to others.
Every day I take time to digest words from the daily lectionary . . . even on vacation.
We took a break from the cold this month and went south to warm up a bit.
One would think I would take time to send words out on this blog.
At least I lingered longer with my 'Daily Graces'.
Alas, time got away from us.
Too many friends to see.
Too many places to explore.

T I M E  is like T H Y M E. . . . in my garden.
It pops up out of nowhere and spreads into tiny crevices if I am not intentional to grab it.

Time and Thyme are like that.
I need to be intentional and grab those snippets if only to linger in a sense of timelessness.

Even now I stray from a deadline to produce words for others to hear and digest on Sunday.

But I finally chose to take time to write about snippets of Thyme and Time.
I choose to breathe deep, linger in my garden as Thyme envelopes my senses.
May what I learn about thyme in my garden plant teach me how to linger and weave thoughts into the cracks of my schedule.
Time IS like Thyme.
It's Time to embrace a snippet as it creeps into the crevices of my life in the same way I snip a branch of my favorite herb to add to our simple suppers.
Both are delicious when consumed with intention.
May each of us take time to enjoy the snippets of . . .

MARCH WIND for my journey

Why do I always forget that WIND is part of March?
  It never fails.
 Perhaps I have been so busy shoveling snow in relatively calm weather that I forgot to anticipate the whipping chill of sleet in my face.
 Oh Joy . . .  Oh March . . . a good time to walk into the season of Lent.

One might as well find a soft chair and a window and simply wait out the season.
It's a good time to wind through the streets of Jerusalem as I wander with those who are aware of Another who is drawing people to God by the hundreds.

What is it about Jesus?
He simply tells a story that has many layers and people want more.
 Is it the fact that we want Another to peel the skin off so we can see more clearly?
The layers covering my own eyes, closing my sight from the obvious, need to be pealed off one layer at a time.
It seems I have a choice.

I can either battle the chill curtain of cold outside or dig deeply into my soul to find what I keep hidden inside.
What a choice.
So, here I sit in quiet contemplation.
I choose to linger a little longer by the fire and take a moment to look deep.
Can't see much.
Too many 'layers' covering that gem that God planted deep inside me, being 'rubbed' and 'polished' by  my life journey.
That gem deep inside is not ready to be drawn out for all to see . . .  yet.
Other parts of me, led by the Spirit, can easily cast light on my path.

 I sit and read and reflect and work on words that I will share in a few days.
I'm on a journey with God . . . through His Son . . .  Jesus.
I am on a journey to the cross.
Only my journey is taking a lifetime.
Jesus journeyed only a few years.
I'm glad it is too cold and windy for me to flit away my time beyond this self exploration.
Sometimes it takes the wind to draw me inside myself.
And so I wonder and ponder and smile at the results.
I know.
I know I belong to Him.
I know that no matter how many mistakes I make my journey is never alone.
God sent His Son, His ONLY Begotten Son . . . to die for me . . .  for little ol' me!
He will never leave me nor forsake me no matter how the winds of life slide me every which way.

This season of seeking simplicity, taking layers away, learning to be comfortable with myself with nothing else to distract me is so freeing.
It's too bad that it takes a windy, cold, March day to keep me right where I am.

I guess that means I am thankful for the wind.
May the wind at my back blow me into new discoveries during this season of Lent.