Thursday, October 4, 2012

Ode to Poison Ivy

Ivy has been my constant companion these past several weeks. And, I'm sorry to say that despite the many times I try hard to avoid her, she pursues me like a true friend. She really gets under my skin – literally.

I've known Ivy for some twenty years now and she usually plans her visits in the heat of the summer when I'm most likely to sweat and swell. We meet in the cool of the forest while enjoying the prairie paths and then she follows me home. In her carefree, breezy manner, she also tags along with my little dachshunds, following them home, bringing an unseen presence into our lives. It's almost magical the way she appears and re-appears.

I'm amazed at my dear friend's stick-to-it-ness, her ability to love on me through my daily work schedule and then, oh how she keeps me company in the wee hours. When I'm having trouble sleeping, there she is spurring me on to more challenges.

My latest conversations with Ivy began about four weeks ago out on our little road that travels to the back pasture. I have to admit most of our discussionss are a bit one-sided with me ranting and raving while she demurely turns red before my eyes. The objective that Saturday was photo opportunities on the prairie. It was an enjoyable outing, winding my way through the prairie grasses, the trees, and all those little stands of jagged leaf green plants. Ivy followed right along, teasing me with her abrasive humor once we returned home.

Yes, that's my dear friend Ivy. I've come to respect her place in my life . . . and accept her annoying nuisances. She reminds me again and again that to be a friend we have to be vulnerable and willing to accept the good with the bad; the beautiful and the ugly. In sickness and in health . . . friendship, like a marriage, is about the coming together of two forgivers. Right?

Well, I don't think Ivy got that memo. While I'm willing to forgive her discretions, despite how tiresome they may be, I've heard no apology from her all these many years.

Monday, August 20, 2012

God is in the Details

Cicadias are deafening.

They seem to drown out the other evening noises. A tractor/mower, a weedeater, the rainbow colored power parachute guy who throttles by overhead nearly every night, the drone of I-70 several miles to the south, crunching gravel on the road, a barking dog in the distance.

As I sit alone on the patio, gazing out to the prairie hills, it's easy to appreciate the Monet glow of a pink sunset behind me and the early evening stillness.

This past week, leading up to the birthday day yesterday, I gave much thought to writing a blog for my birthday. But that would be a bit too much self-aggrandizement. I really don't like to be pretentious. It's not too cool, me thinks.

So instead, here I sit the day after pondering life on the prairie . . . and wondering really what is it all about. A cacophony of cicadas . . . burnt orange prairie grasses preparing for autumn . . .

. . .a beauty unappreciated by many . . . surprises every day if you look for them. And, that's the ultimate gift of the prairie . . . touching . . . seeing . . . feeling . . . movement, change, wonder. Much like life . . . we have to be open, we have to look for the wonder - seek opportunities to be amazed.

Details, details, details . . . they say God is in the details. And on the prairie . . . it is indeed evident.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

August 3, 1918 - A Mother Remembered . . . and Much, Much More

Ninety-four years ago my mother was born in St. Louis--the only child to a couple (one Irish and another French/Austrian--both first generation Americans).

I remember her today, and as always, try to spend the day reflecting on who she was as a person, how her character impacted mine, and how she influenced me. Earlier this year, I wrote about her in memory of the day she died (March 16, 1998).

Today, however, as I reflect on that special relationship between mothers and daughters, I would be remiss in not mentioning the greatest blessing to my life--my three daughters. My mother and I were only daughters--only children. It's not easy being an "only." You grow up playing alone, make-believe games with imaginery friends. And, now, as an adult, with my parents both gone, I feel it even more--the aloneness of no siblings. On the flip side, it also makes you more independent.

Now as a 50-something mom, I can sit back and realize that there is no greater honor and privilege than knowing my three daughters. Because His plans are true, God placed them here on this earth at their perfect time in history - He created them each with special and unique qualities like no one else on this planet. Their laughter, their warm hearts, their beauty inside and out humbles me like no other.

Each one was created for a special purpose . . . and they can do nothing to disappoint me--ever. I am so proud of the beautiful women they are becoming.

And, despite my insane nature right now, my three daughters are treasures sent from heaven. They are shimmering gems--lighting up my darkness on this day when I remember my Mom and our short 38 years together. I so wish that my Mom was here to see her darling grandaughters and experience the joy I do each and every day knowing they share life with me.

Side note: At the grocery store tonight, I made an impulse buy in the frozen food aisle--Stouffer's Mac & Cheese. I think it was sub-conscious, but when I got home I realized that my Mom loved Stouffer's Mac & Cheese. After my Dad died, she didn't cook as much and it was something easy for her to prepare to share with Meghan & Aubrey when they came to visit. Cheers to Mom--Brinna, Ron & I indulged in this sinful, carbohydrate-drenched side dish tonight. Just sad that Meghan & Aubrey missed the pre-celebration.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Where Have All The Servants Gone?

"Do all things without grumbling or disputing; that you may prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world, . . . " (Phil. 2:14-15 NASB)

Three weeks since a hard crash into a rocky gravel driveway sent me into a comatose, dependent state of being. Not literally without consciousness, but figuratively it would seem.

It's been a state of grief - aloneness - and helplessness. And, it's also a wake-up call to the feelings I'm sure will surface when I'm 108 and can no longer feed myself or perhaps walk to the bathroom unassisted. It's a sobering thought - this growing older, tables turned topsy turvy.

One shining star, though, brought light and encouragement from a very unexpected place--one of my co-workers. This young man, born the year I graduated from high school, is a breath of fresh air in my workplace. In the two years I have known him, I have rarely seen him not grinning wide, full of exuberance for life. He's a former New Yorker from the Bronx with Midwestern ways it would seem.

His tattoed visage, rough language, and dubious past mask a servant heart that seems to know no bounds. He is a rare gem among the litter of this ugly world. And, while he's no church-goer, it doesn't matter because he lives the life of service. Paul writes in Philippians: "Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others." (Phil. 2: 3, 4 NASB) That is his mantra.

The Saturday after I broke my arm, this young man called our company owner to get my phone number so he could "check up on me." Our owner's wife called me as well and their two calls meant so much to me--concern, love, honor.

Just about every day or so I receive the privilege of watching him in action--serving customers, helping out in some way and he continues to make it a point to ask me how I'm feeling. He blesses my soul.

Have you blessed someone's soul today? Taken time to smile? Shared a story or your heart with someone? Said "thank you"? Offered assistance? All it takes is a few simple lines in a text message, a phone call, or simply a smile to brighten this world and be a light in someone's darkness. You CAN make all the difference.

Why not try it?

Monday, July 2, 2012

Pain of This Earth - Things Above

Yes, that is pain. I'm really tired of the pain and suffering of this life. Some days I just want to give up on everything and everyone. How did Jesus do it, dying, being tortured, and suffering for our petty sins and selfishness? He was the God-man, though. That's how. Then we, selfish humans that we are treat one another with little regard. We are so full of ourselves, our own pettyness, that we disregard the feelings of others. We shamefully think of our own pain, our own supposed suffering without seeing the pain of the Cross, the pain of our neighbor, our friends, our family.

I shake my head in disbelief at the lack of caring, the behavior that eats away at our very souls. Pain is a vast feeling of nothingness, an endless, mindless chasm of tears and suffering. Maybe pain is like hell only its right here on earth, every day surrounding us, engulfing us.

Like a fire – it consumes us – destroying the very fabric of our souls. Crackling, spitting, scorching flames that suck the oxygen from us leaving us breathless and stunned.

Yes, that is pain. A violent brush fire that destroys and then leaves us with nothingness. The aching, the internal hollow feeling that lingers is wretched.

That is indeed the pain I've been feeling for some time now. It's inexplicable--yet somehow so tangible I can feel it, see it, touch it, smell it.

I apologize to my readers for this foray into the deep darkness of the human soul, because I know it's somewhere many dare not venture. Some hide in silence, while others hide in shadows, hoping no one will see their pain. I hide here in words on a blog that very few read. So, it's safe to say that my pain will remain virtually undiscovered. And, do not worry over me because the writing is a way through the pain. And, beyond all this there is a higher hope, a confident clarity and a purposeful journey ever pulling me upward.

I find it is interesting that tonight ushered in a full moon – so appropriate with all its connotations of disaster, predators hunting the weak and werewolves baying. Despite all the pain and suffering in this world, both physical and psychological, there is one thing that remains – I AM. The beginning and the end; Alpha & Omega.

"Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth." (Colossians 3:2)

"And so, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. And beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity." Colossians 3:12-14

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Our Little Wise Owl

July 1, 1992, 2:32 a.m. Overland Park, KS Humana Hospital

A little sprite of a girl was born this morning 20 years ago. From the very beginning, I knew this one would be very special. Many times, the second child lives in the shadow of the older and I believe she did for a time.

But her own personality came out early one - a determined spirit, but one that above all is sensitive, loving and caring.

I can remember many times her coming home from school with stories to tell of classmates who had been wronged by another. She would grieve over their pain - and it wasn't something she could let go of very easily. Such a testimony to her caring spirit - her empathetic nature. And, her sense of moral justice. Quite an unusual characteristic for one so young.

My husband and I had this crazy idea to try to choose Irish names for our kids and when the second one came along, we debated over several different names - landing on Aubrey Shannon. Now for those of you who may know, the name Aubrey is not Irish (oops). No - its roots are Germanic/French and it means "blond ruler" or "king of the elves." At the time, we didn't even really look at the meaning too closely - we just liked the name. The middle name was a bit easier - (like the River Shannon in Ireland). It's origins are Irish and the meaning is "little wise owl."

But those who know her best know her independence and determination shine forth. There are "deep waters" within Aubrey that are yet to be tapped and I look forward to watching her continue to grow and develop as she now enters her 20s.

From early on, we suspected chocolate would be a large part of her life. And, that has definitely proved itself out as we have experienced first hand her love of pastry and baking.

The last five years, Aubrey has immersed herself in what she loves best - the hard work and joy of baking and culinary arts. Her creativity blossomed in this endeavor because she flourishes when she can work with her hands and create something new. She loves to try new things and her newest endeavors with raw desserts has been a joy to watch and be a part of.

So, Happy Birthday, Daughter #2! I am so blessed and honored that God chose me to be your Mom for a short time on this earth. I'm so thankful that our Heavenly Father has known and will know you for an eternity. Love ya!

Sunday, June 24, 2012

The Commitment Garden

The garden analogy is probably nothing new to my readers. However, Saturday as I was weeding out in the 96 degree summer heat, several truths hit me again over the head.

Several years ago, our family spent a long Mother's Day Sunday preparing a garden bed around our patio. We worked and worked to get that bed ready, sprayed, dug, and laid down the landscape fabric - confident it would do its job and there would be no more weeding. The next year, though, the weeds were rampant, making for a lot more back-breaking pulling and chopping to assure our beautiful new bushes and flowers had a chance to take root and grow again.

Years later the bushes are big, the flowers showy and we regularly enjoy visits from skittery little butterflies and zooming hummmingbirds. Was it worth all the effort? Is it still worth the effort each year to prepare the bed, trim the bushes, lay new mulch, pull the errant weeds?

It seems to me that the gardens we plant and nurture are much like the relationships God brings into our lives. Developing a God-designed relationship is hard work and to do it right requires a lot of effort. As broken people, we all have shortcomings, fears, struggles--those weeds that want to choke out the beautiful, the mercy, the grace.

Last Spring I put a lot of effort into a small flower bed in front of the house. However, I neglected some key elements and when I returned from a short trip the weeds had overtaken it. Sadly, I watched in dismay as all that work was ruined. If I had been faithful and weeded the moment I returned, things might have been different. I gave up too soon - I lacked endurance, faithfulness and commitment to my dear friends.

Looking back on those two different plantings, what made the difference? Last year's planting succumbed to the overwhelming heat and dryness, but I can't blame it all on the summer sun. Unfortunately, it was my lack of devotion and care that also contributed to the sad outcome. Yes, it takes work to grow a garden . . . it takes patience, love, and devotion to grow a relationship.

And, what about those instances where the other person is stumbling, weeds are growing up in their life. What do I do then? Do I have the faith not to give up on them even when they've given up on themselves? It's all about commitment - indeed family and faith. Much like the fruits of the spirit - a garden of relationship thrives through the Spirit. The herb garden is thriving through the heat. Why? Love and commitment.

It's a lot to take in - this garden life. Am I up for the challenge? Are you? I'm determined this year will be different. My herb garden is now flourishing; pretty flowers dot the front landscape . . . and the waters of life will sustain them, along with a little help from me. They've got a good start, but it's up to me to maintain our relationship, nurture it - persevere. Love believes all things. (I Corinthians 13:7)

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern~

Five words we use when we really don't know to whom we're writing. A bit nonchalant. A trifle lackadasical. Noncommital really.

Tonight I was asked to write one of these letters so it got me thinking about the whole salutation thing and then it dawned on me that it's definitely a symptom of what our society has evolved into - unconcerned, lazy, and . . . well, you get the picture.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not sitting in judgment - it's just an observation from my miniscule brain cells. Sometimes, I've been told, I really think too much. Or, I think about some nonsensical things - blow them out of proportion. Probably like I'm doing tonight in this strange blog entry.

But I digress so back to the topic. Isn't it a shame that many times we don't know to whom to address a letter or an inquiry. Some mysterious person is hiding behind obscurity. It would seem that if we don't have a real name, we then become unsure if our request or inquiry will ever get heard.

I'm so glad the God of the universe isn't hiding in anonymity. I'm delighted that He has made Himself known to me. He is Yahweh - the Creator of the Universe. He's also Abba - Father. I can call him Father! I can address him by name and his mailing address is right here, right now--past, present & future. Alpha & Omega - Beginning & the End.

". . . and I will call on the name of the Lord, and the God who answers by fire, He is God." (I Kings 18:24b, NASB)

Thanks for enduring my bit of oddity this day. And, don't forget to call on His name. He's there--yesterday, today and forever! Amen.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

"Say What? Who Me?"

"Yes, you!"

Giraffes are an interesting lot. This little guy's tongue is 18" long! He loves acacia leaves and he can eat 75 pounds of them in a day. And as you will see in a bit he really craves large Kansas weeds. He can drink up to 10 gallons of water in a day and has four stomachs much like our neighbor - the cow. He has a large, loving heart at two feet long and 25 pounds and it pumps about 16 gallons of blood every minute! He has the highest blood pressure of any mammal on earth and that wonderful heart beats 170 beats per minute. Amazing facts for the elegant giraffe. He is definitely one amazing creature. And learning all this now reaffirms what I experienced at the Topeka Zoo on Saturday.

It was a close encounter of the long-necked, curious kind. This little guy (if you can call him "little) entertained Brinna & I for quite some time. Watching his languid movements and his inquisitive, friendly ways was a real treat.

Watch & learn . . . persevere. Show a lot of heart. All the best things are within reach if we just have a little faith. Those expressive eyes - trusting - confident - steady. So full of faith and heart. Just another example of God's magnificent hand in every part of His creation.

If you want to read more about giraffes - I recommend the book Tall Blondes by Lynn Sherr - still in print and available on Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/Tall-Blondes-Book-About-Giraffes/dp/0836227697. They are truly amazing animals.

Prairie Striped Horse

Exploration on the prairie never seems to end. And wonders fill our hearts and minds.

I just wish I could have acted quickly enough, driving at 70 mph on I-70, to stop and capture this prairie oddity for all to see. All I can say is my youngest daughter and I were witnesses to a miracle - a sighting - far removed from the African velde. Just mid-way in the tallgrass prairie, half-way on our journey to Topeka, close to the geographical center of the U.S. - we spied a prairie striped horse on Saturday last.

Black and white, not gray or tan or prairie beige, no--simple black and white stripes topped with a bristle brush of black. The mysterious creature taunted us from its prairie pasture.

And, yes, you guessed it - a spry little zebra exploring the prairie. I wonder how he or she felt - far removed from its natural surroundings of a grassy African plain. Timid, shy, nearly hidden at the entrance gate to a sprawling ranch, this little guy seemed to be awaiting an opportunity for escapism.

Sometimes I feel a bit like that zebra - alone, different, uprooted from my home place and stranded in a foreign land.

We are but sojourners in this crazy land full of wonder. And, that's not a bad thing - it's just something to ponder - something to appreciate and savor - this aloneness, the uniqueness of my being here on the planet.

And so cheers to that prairie striped horse who is discovering new life on the prairie. So am I. :D

Sunday, May 27, 2012

The Empty Swing

I love the old country swing. Its wood plank seat and heavy rope--primitive . . . simple . . . childhood joy.

Early memories fill my mine's eyes of a little brick farmhouse near the wide Missouri River. Nestled among large, creaking oak trees and surrounded by gardens of flowers and little kittens, my Aunt Helen's home was magical to me. Barns to explore, antique farm implements, musty, familiar scents of history. The overgrown oak next to the garage held the classic childhood wooden swing. Swinging to and fro, higher and higher, pumping the air, the breezes--simplicity heavenward.

Why don't we see adults enjoying those swings more? It seems to be a child-like distraction. Or is it? Not today as I survey its deeper meanings.

The empty swing. Symbol of childhoods forgotten, joy abandoned. Sedentary life - motion upturned and in upheavel. Early dawn silences the motion. A wooden swing - motionless, resting, saluting underneath its leafy canopy. It waits for another . . . another child, another life full of abandon, one more reckless swing heavenward with squeals of delight.

Reaching for the sky . . . striving for the eternal.

Empty swing . . . filled life.

Reliving childhood . . . simple, joyful abandon, new life.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

O taste and see that the Lord is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him! (Psalms 34:8 NASB)

Have you ever experienced a time when certain words, images, or phrases just seem to overtake your mind?

I've had this phenomenon assault my psyche the last couple of weeks . . . and those are the words that can't seem to leave my mind. More specifically, they are "Taste and see the goodness of the Lord." I couldn't remember where they were found in the scriptures so today I decided to look them up.

The second half of the verse stopped me in my tracks. I'm blessed if I take refuge in Him! Wow, what a thought. Now I know why the Spirit wouldn't allow me to rest. God had a word for me - I just needed to keep listening.

So many times when we are going through difficult circumstances, we try to handle them ourselves, we retreat & give up, or worst of all we deny the problem is even there. But, how many times do we seek the safety, the tower, the stronghold God has built for us? It is only in Him that we can find rest.

I am reminded of the images in Psalms 91 that speak to God's role as protector (much like a mother bird protecting its young). "He will cover you with His pinions, And under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark."

Saturday, May 12, 2012

And That's How We Show Love

When you have a menagerie to feed out on the prairie, where do you go? The farm store, of course. We're frequent visitors to the farm & home store in town. It's a great place for plumbing & electrical supplies, garden fertilizer and bedding plants, gun safes, hardware, overalls, flannel, leather work gloves, fencing, sour gummy worms, peanuts in the shell, salt water taffy, and on and on. The list is nearly endless.

Springtime, however, brings a new attraction to the product mix that always has a big pull for the elementary age crowd. And, Miss Brinna is no exception. Can you guess what it is?

Yep, downy balls of ducklings, chicks, and Beatrix Potter's favorite--Peter Rabbit's American cousins. They come in all shades and sizes and inevitably leave an interesting scent in aisle 1. Brinna doesn't seem to mind though, because once we hit the front door she's off for her baby animal fix. This past Saturday was no exception as I stocked up on 50-pound bags of grain for our horses and Brinna cooed to the bunnies.

At the check-out counter, they were giving out freshly cut, home-grown roses. Brinna picked a beauty that looked like God had taken his watercolor palette to it. Delicate brushstrokes of pinks & yellows.

Pushing the overloaded cart, loaded down with about 300 pounds of horse feed, I struggled to the truck with Brinna following. As I loaded the feed into the bed of the truck, I noticed Brinna was distracted a short distance from me, intent on something in the parking lot, near the curb. I called. She came. A beautiful yellow butterfly perched on her finger. The little guy was wounded, however. One of the four wings was down. Her spindly legs clung to Brinna's finger. Then Brinna decided to move the sweet thing to her painted rose.

Brinna's comment to me, "I just want to help make her last moments happy."

And, that's how a little girl showed love to a tiny butterfly.

Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13 NASB)

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

A Walk Through Daybreak

Saturday I awakened to a six o'clock blackness--quiet and full of promise. Expectant adventure. Painted heavens. Monet light. Refreshed peony petals, awash in morning dew. Prairie walk of wonders.

Unfathomable glory in a morning nature walk. I so wish the rest of my family could experience the wonder, see the glory, understand my crazy nature notions. Guess I'm too much like my dad - lovin' the land, inhaling the fragrance of farm.

My older daughters have the stars of shiny city lights in their eyes. I remember that age when all I wanted was the fast-paced excitement of busy streets, exotic restaurants and entertainment choices. Experience has changed all of that; maybe it's the face of a life learned. Something heard from afar; beauty all around.

Experience has gone beyond--grown into something sacred--wonder, awe, contentment, peace.

Splendor and majesty are before Him, Strength and beauty are in His sanctuary (Psalms 96:6 NASB).

Even one of our cats enjoyed the tall grasses--hiding, stalking, playing. Glassy eyes pointed on its prey. Ringed tail at attention, saluting the dawn.

Criss-crossing hillsides dotted with Spring flowers--iris, nameless, nomad wild flowers, and pink prairie roses blushing as they meet the sun.

Then there are the fragile, fairy blues. Each Spring their spindly feathery stems take flight among the grasses and each year my feeble attempts at capturing their glory for the digital world falls short. The blue fades, the wind blows, something distracts from their magic. This year . . . well, you decide.

It continues to be an exercise in patience. hhmmm? But despite their ever-frustrating behavior, I persevere because something tells me the pursuit of grace is all worth it.

It's another step of walking through daybreak.

Friday, May 4, 2012

Fragility - It's You I Need

And, you thought you could get rid of me that easily. Well, it's not happening. I know. I know. You needn't remind me that I've been a bit lackadasical since the Lenten Experiment whipped my butt just a few short weeks ago.

"A bit lackadasical?"

"C'mon - downright lazy, I'd say."

Looking way back to sometime mid-February when the Lenten Experiment launched its monumental work in my life, I made the crazy boast about making the habit of writing every day would be easy once I mastered it for the 40 days of Lent.

As expected, this has not come to pass. I've shown my true colors, that most unpleasant of characteristics--fragility. And, that monster of all monsters - unfaithfulness. My inability to form a habit.

At least I am comforted by the fact that I'm probably not alone in this. As humans, we are all fragile, vulnerable. As fragile as a wind-blown tender blade of first Spring grass.

Then looking out over a well-tended, manicured landscape of Kentucky Bluegrass, its obvious that that single shoot wasn't meant to go it alone. Solitary aloneness doesn't come easy for the grasses. They need the stability, strength of one another to fight the winds. Intertwining roots and worms - rich, musky earth - bonding, shared experiences.

Growing up wild and untamed, yet rooted and grounded. Full of promise . . . alive and green.

It's YOU I need. It's friends. It's family. It's enemies. It's a wealth of ancient words with emblazoned meanings. It's Jesus.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

The Heartbeat of a Savior

"There was reclining on Jesus' breast one of His disciples, whom Jesus loved." (John 13:23, NASB)

Life right now has been overly challenging for our family. Many stresses and obstacles have obstructed our paths and even threatened our vision, our focus as well.

As I reflected today on these challenges, God brought to my mind the image of the apostle John reclining on Jesus' breast during the Last Supper. Several years ago, I read some teachings on this short little verse that opened my eyes to a great many truths. And, thankfully those truths refreshed me and gave me courage once more.

First of all - a few words about John. He refers to himself as "Beloved" or "the one whom Jesus loved." Strong words indeed to indicate a very close, intimate relationship - none of the other apostles are referred to with such tenderness. He wasn't afraid to admit his closeness with His Lord, His Savior.

We are told that he was probably the youngest of Jesus' disciples and he lived the longest of all - dying on Patmos after God granted him the visionary book of Revelation. Just imagine--

* a young boy who witnessed first-hand the life, miracles, and death of the Son of God

* a young man whom Jesus gave over the care for his earthly mother Mary,

* an older man who wrote, under the power of the Holy Spirit, the most readable, yet profound gospel in the New Testament

* and, finally, an elderly man whose lasting legacy is the most complex of all Biblical texts--Revelation.

What shaped this apostle's life into the powerful man of God we know today? What made the difference in his life? Mark 3:13 reads, "And He went up to the mountain and summoned those whom He Himself wanted, and they came to Him." The twelve were chosen, each one for a reason and because Jesus Himself wanted them. However, I still find it fascinating that we don't have a book of Andrew or Philip or Bartholomew or Thomas; not Thaddaeus or Simon either. And, certainly not Judas - though his purpose was just as deliberate as the rest. While He chose them all, only a select few developed as leaders within the early Church.

I would like to think that John thrived and His ministry and legacy grew out of his intimate relationship with Jesus. He leaned backed upon Jesus' breast and listened to His heartbeat. That simple image always stops me in my tracks--Is that where I am right now? Listening to, leaning upon, learning from a God who actually wants me as a friend.

While Jesus is not with us in bodily form today, His Spirit lives in the hearts of every believer. And, the words of His mouth and the meditations of His heart lie within the pages of the Spirit-breathed Scriptures He left to us. As such, I can still hear His heartbeat--it's a privilege He has bestowed, an honor He gives me to be His child and rest in His heart.

Most importantly, to deny those precious gifts He lavished upon us (the gift of friendship & love, the gift of His word, indeed His very heart) is to deny Him.

Are you taking time to listen to His heartbeat today?

SPECIAL NOTE: The two images I've included are scans of two Catholic holy cards from my collection. As you can imagine, this particular theme is of particular interest to me and I have several cards depicting the scene from the Last Supper. The first card is written in French--(loose translation is "Lord, you are sweet nourishment for the soul and the one from whom we receive dignity and will have a part of the heritage of His eternal glory."). The second card reads: "It is there, alone with Jesus Christ that the soul tastes the full sweetness of the Holy Eucharist (P. de Ravignon)." While the word "Eucharist" is the term for Communion or The Lord's Supper in the Catholic tradition, I only just learned that the word "Eucharist" is a Greek word meaning "thanksgiving."

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Armored Plated, Pre-Historic Face-Off

A Sunday afternoon drive in the country, down gravel roads, seems to always bring adventures aplenty. And, that's what Brinna and I discovered last Sunday on a remote country lane. Right smack dab in the middle of the road was a lumbering, armored plated pre-historic snapping turtle - his spiky tail dragging the ground behind him. As we approached in the noisy diesel truck, he stopped his progress.

My natural curiosity got the best of me, and while I'd seen one of these beasties before, Brinna had not had the privilege of witnessing these interesting creatures, so I insisted she get out for a look-see. Fortunately, I had my little camera with me so I could capture our adventure for posterity.

Our little friend was a common snapping turtle, not his larger, rarer cousin--the alligator snapping turtle that I had seen before in Missouri. However, that didn't make him any less formidable. As we approached him, he curled his tail around and pulled back in to that armor-plated shell.

Strangely, though, as I struggled to get closer for a better photo, he kept his head ever facing me, pivoting around to follow my every movement. If you know anything about snapping turtles, that mouth is one area that is best to avoid - they are not named "snapping" turtles without good reason. Their powerful jaws can cause serious damage.

As I watched his defensive behavior, it brought to mind how many times our human nature mimics the snapping turtle. Many times when we're having a difficult time or we get hurt or are afraid, our first instinct is to retreat into ourselves. We curl up in a little ball, put on our defensive face, and move through life with a host of defensive mechanisms - anger, silence, manipulation, etc. Anything to deal with the situation--we bare our teeth at our opponents and engage in a face-off.

So, Mr. Snapping Turtle - my lesson for the day was to get back in the truck and give you a wide berth around the road. I'm sure he was relieved that I moved on down the trail. Brinna and I had an adventure and in the process we learned some more valuable lessons.

Take it easy, Mr. Snapping Turtle - maybe we'll meet up again some day.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Wee Hours

Are you a night owl or a night predator, prowling the moon-lit nights seeking prey? Or, are you at the opposite of the light spectrum and are a child of the morning light? Are you one of those people whose internal clock is set to pre-dawn timing so you can watch the Eastern sky stretch open its eyelids to greet the pink glow of another day?

Lately, I've been a bit of both worlds - attempting to stretch myself way beyond the limits of healthy non-sleep habits. What's gotten into me - you wonder? Well, it's a combination of many things - taxes, commitments, and striving to make more money on eBay because no matter how hard I try I still don't have enough money each month to pay necessities (groceries, gas, little things like electric bills, etc.). I also enjoy the "thrill" of the scavenger hunt through my house looking for valuables to sell, and then when they do sell - it's quite a joy to see them go out the door, sometimes to far off places like Poland and Taiwan or Canada.

It also means it's just one less thing for me to dust, one less thing to worry about and one less chain about my neck. I'm sure there's many out there who wouldn't share my twisted thinking on this issue. But when it comes to providing for my family, paying my bills, etc. - I'd much rather sell from my excess than go without the necessities. And who needs all the clutter anyway?

This whole process continues to be a lesson in simplicity, in finding grace in the midst of turmoil. It's actually a joy to rid myself of so many "things" that have had the tendency to weigh me down, to distract me from the eternal.

Actually, I've learned to see this time in my life as a time of refining, a time of perfecting, a time to rejoice in drawing ever closer to who God is and to what ultimately He has in store for me. It's not all about me - it's all about Him, for Him, and because of Him

I challenge you too, each and every one of you, to check out your shelves, search through your closets and through those cluttered drawers. Discard the useless, the excess; refabricate the old and make it new. Not just in the material things stacking up, but in matters of the heart as well.

"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature. The old things passed away; behold new thing have come." (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Friday, April 13, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 40 Something!

How is it that old cliche goes? Better late than never. Ha ha ha. Well, I guess that about sums up my struggle this week with completing my commitment to my blog for Lent. Easter weekend was busy with commitments and activities despite our small family. And, as I began to reflect more on how to summarize the Lenten blog experience, I got bogged down in a quagmire of indecision and exhaustion.

Here it is Friday after Easter, 4:47 a.m. and I decided it is very important to finish what I started no matter what time it is, no matter how tired I am, and no matter whether I finish successfully or not (at least in my own limited mindscape).

I've felt for some time that the summation of 40 days of thoughts might be a bit daunting task to undertake. And, frankly, I may ruminate over this thing a bit more before I get it all down on cyber-paper. The 40 days of Lent have revealed much to me about wonder, family, life, death, God's work in this world and in my life and many other things.

To begin, I need to share a list of words that summarize this recent learning experience.

Life

Death

Family

Contemplation

Understanding

Darkness

Light

Chosen

Joyful

Hope

Blessings

Faith

Listening

Peace

Observation

Friends

Encouragement

Persevere

Prayer

Penitence

Giving

Self-Denial

Last night I watched another Skit Guys video on YouTube and it spoke to me in a deep way because as I tallied up the list of words that capsulized the Lenten Experiment, I realized those words represented something much more. While, just words, they are qualities, attitudes, ideas, and thoughts that have indeed enriched and shaped my existence. Simply put, they have been tools in God's hands - tools to mold me into something new; someone new.

So, watch God's Chisel from the Skit Guys and let it shape your thoughts, your heart, your life. Only as we submit to God's work in our life, can we truly grow and develop and become more like Him. We are God's masterpiece!

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 39 (A Day of Darkness)

I'm always amazed each morning as I wake up to the view outside my kitchen windows. An easterly view means most mornings I can experience the wonder of specatular light shows that many people call "dawn" as the sun makes its appearance from behind the large hill across the road. Today, misty fog and droplets of rain permeate the blackened hillsides around our home. The spacious carpeted field rolling out before the window, gives way to more fields and bushy tree sentinels guarding the streams and creeks. Then just beyond, the treetops are crowned by the barren limestone hills. These hills are now charcoaled from the recent Spring burning.

It's a most appropriate symbol for the darkness of the day before Easter. As I imagine the events of the first century, it's only fitting that today would be a day filled with regret, doubts, sorrow, fear and the overpowering stench of death.

The annual cycle of grass burning brings pungency, dense smoke to the area, ribbons of fire across the night skies, but ultimately and most importantly, it brings new life to the prairie--germinating the prairie grass seeds and revitalizing their growth across the hills. Life and death - the circle of the prairie.

So is Easter--the ultimate completion of the life and death cycle prophesied from the Ancient of Days.

A new dawn is approaching - it is imminent, certain - reassuring is the promise of Easter morning.

The Lord's lovingkindnesses never cease; His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is His faithfulness. (Lam 3:22, 23 NASB)

Friday, April 6, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 37 & 38 (Reflections on Easter)

As I look back at my Lenten Experiment these past several weeks, I'm reminded of Lent as a child and what it meant to me. Growing up in the Catholic Church, all I recall about Lent was keeping to a fishy diet on Fridays and giving up chocolate or candy. It seemed like the adults were more reverent during that time. However, as my Mom prepared me for Easter Sunday, it was all about donning a pretty new dress with white shoes and receiving brightly colored wicker baskets full of plastic green grass cushioning colorful arrays of foil wrapped chocolate eggs and chewy jelly beans. And, of course, the abundance and glory of Easter dinner. My mom literally didn't know how to cook for just three of us. I never understood how an only child such as herself cooked for an army. I think she just liked to try new side dishes.

The obligatory Easter Egg Hunt would commence on Sunday morning even before we went to Mass. It was always a rush around the house for lone, little me. Being an only child, it all was MINE--solid chocolate bunnies, jelly beans (black & orange ones are my favs), large Russell Stover chocolate eggs stuffed with coconut cream, maple (yucky!), strawberry and vanilla cream.

This Easter will be much different than those of my childhood. While I have tried to carry on the traditions established by my mom, this year will be much different. Our family is no longer in tact and we are missing those dear to us who cannot be here this year. It just doesn't "feel" like Easter. Once again, I find myself having unreasonable expectations about what the "perfect" holiday should look like. I know it's crazy, but I've always longed for a larger extended family, but when you and your husband are only children and all your parents are gone, the extended family, the support system just doesn't exist.

It will be a "lean" Easter this year - no extravegant meal, no new Easter bonnets or dresses, no Easter candy, no frivolities - simplicity will be the order of the day. And, as I reflect on this, it'a all about viewing the day with a grateful heart for those who are here, for the time we have, for the miraculous gift of this most sacred of days. For many, Christmas is probably the highlight of the year, but when weighed next to Easter and its true meaning, there is no greater celebration than the meaning of the cross.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 36 (Chosen)

Rejected. Defeated. Worn out.

Those are feelings I'm sure many of us have had at one time or another. This world we live in makes sure of it. It's how I've been feeling lately. And, I just can't seem to shake it off - even right now this very minute.

Then, a few days ago I picked up a book from my shelf that I never got the chance to finish. Life of the Beloved by Henri J.M. Nouwen.

For those of you who might not know, Henri Nouwen was a Catholic priest and he wrote this book for his friend Fred Bratman, a secular journalist and Jew. His friend had asked him to write a book explaining the spiritual life avoiding theological jargon and technical language. Though simple in language, this book is powerful and deep in thought.

"The eyes of love have seen you as precious, as of infinite beauty, as of eternal value." In this messed up world we live in, it's extremely easy to lose sight of this simple, basic truth. And, that is what has happened to me. We all look to others for affirmation, acceptance and support. While there's nothing wrong with that, our identity/our belovedness/our chosenness is rooted and grounded in the Creator and always should be.

This thought of being beloved is difficult in a society and culture that seems to many times be corrupt as well as devalue the individual. We have to cut through the garbage and dig deep to find the truth. And, what is that ultimate truth?

You are a chosen child of God. You are precious in His sight--beloved as only He can love--and held safe in His embrace.

I am just beginning to mine all the treasures within this tiny volume, but already there is much to ponder, much to pray over, and much to discover.

During this beautiful Easter season, while watching the red buds bloom and the flowers stretch to meet the warmth of the sun, let's all rejoice in whose we are--His beloved.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 35 (Make a Joyful Noise!)

Make a Joyful Noise! And, that's just what Brinna and her friends from church did today for the kick-off of Holy Week or as more are familiar with--Palm Sunday. This photo was taken at their last practice on Saturday. So fun - the waving of the sparklies. Later they waved palm leaves as well. The innocence and purity of children is wondrous. It was so evident in the kids' performance as they led the whole worship service in song and in story, preparing our hearts for Easter.

Proud Momma moments for me as Brinna performed her solo and then later shared her speaking part.

With Holy Week now upon us, I need to commit myself more to prayer each day - it is so vital to increase my faith and acknowledge His hand in my life, every little corner of it.

Make a joyful noise - every day this week!

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Lenten Experiment (Day 34) - Hosanna

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS: We interrupt this blog to provide the readers with a bit of levity today—a relief from the sadness this week that seemed to overwhelm our writer. This is being done not to avoid the melancholy, but to prepare you to embrace this most holiest of seasons - Holy Week which begins tomorrow with Palm Sunday.

It all began a few weeks ago when, much to my horror, I agreed to sing in the newly formed church choir for Easter services. I haven't been a choir participant of any kind since my Catholic school days. Yikes! What was I thinking? Maybe I was encouraged by my youngest daughter, Brinna, who always signs up to sing in just about every children's musical at church. She DOES love to sing. I do, too, but only in the privacy of my truck on the way to work. It's not something I usually do publicly and certainly not for others to hear.

Maybe it was my inclination to please others. I just can't describe the feeling that came over me from somewhere down deep when my friend Wesa asked me to participate. I just couldn't say "No."

So began my foray into the mysterious world of choir singing. The group was small at first, but as we have moved closer to Easter, our numbers have swelled. Last Wednesday's practice was great - we were about 30 strong and "our song" is sounding terrific. I have to admit, though, it is one of my favorite Newsboys songs and I really delight in singing it to God.

Believe it or not - I'm actually excited about singing in public now. I'll probably be sick to my stomach all Easter morning and may even throw up around 8 a.m., but somehow I'll get through three services! Not by my strength, but through His. That's my mantra for next Sunday.

Hosanna in the highest! Hooray for salvation! Salvation has come!

Friday, March 30, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 33 (Saying Goodbye)

Today was sadness--separation--suffering.

For those of you who know me well, I'm not normally a negative person and I don't want this day's meditation to turn into negativity, however, it was a very difficult day as our family said "goodbye" to one of our own for the last 14 years. Our dear little brother, Crackers, was buried at dusk under a redbud tree here on the prairie. His grave was lovingly adorned with fragrant lilacs by Brinna who also covered him in lilacs as he was laid to rest. Our whole family pitched in to dig his grave, to make it "just right" for him.

Our dear old friend succumbed to a monstrous cancerous tumor that consumed him in just the space of a few short weeks. I'm so glad he can be laid to rest among the beautiful trees and on the land he loved to roam. His brother, Chubby, is already missing him, I can tell. Tonight he wanders outside, searching for his brother/his best friend.

Tears were shed in mourning as we all felt the loss of a faithful friend. While I know many do not believe animals have an after life, our family can't imagine a heaven created by a loving Creator where animals do not walk side by side with us. We know animals do not have an eternal soul as we do, however, their spirits are so pure as they live out their short lives with us. Sometimes I believe I can learn more from them than most humans. Their loyalty, their unconditional love, their endurance in the face of trials, their long-suffering and patience, their joy--all point to a sacred purpose here on this earth.

Dear Firecrackers, we all miss you! Thank you for all you taught us about love. Rest in peace (May 30, 1998 - March 29, 2012)

photo: - Chubby (on the left); Firecrackers (on the right) taken at our farm in Missouri, c. 2000

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 32 (Frequent Companions)

Life and death are frequent companions.

This week I've seen them once again vying for my attention, silently sitting at my doorstep, patiently watching and waiting. They have stories to tell. Sadness and joy; struggle and pain; beauty and hope.

In the midst of the birth pangs of Spring, tiny reminders of the shortness and sacredness of life surrounded us. From the flattened toad on the driveway to the gnawed-on rabbit I found in our yard yesterday, life cycles are an imminent part of this life. Even the turn of seasons reminds us of this fact - it is ever before us.

It's also evident in the illness that has afflicted one of our 13-year-old male dogs. Watching his deterioration the past couple of weeks has been disheartening. Both he and his littermate, Chubby, have been hardy souls. Just last week, he was following me up to the barn to feed horses, as has always been his habit. Then, this week, with each passing day, he showed increasingly more distress.

Crackers himself has survived being hit by a car and Parvovirus and then last summer he was stepped on by one of our horses. Life in the country can be a challenge and we've seen that in these many circumstances, and in the struggles we currently face. He's a survivor though. He's proved it over and over again.

Tonight when I got home from work he was more alert and even ate some meat I hand-fed him. He showed signs of feeling better and I was encouraged. He's drinking water better and I'm ever hopeful that "this too shall pass."

When I started this blog yesterday I honestly thought that it was the end for our sweet dog, but as I've found in every situation--there is ALWAYS hope.

Whether it's the hope of new life in the colors of Spring or the hope of a peaceful passing to a new future, there is ALWAYS hope.

My soul, wait in silence for God only, For my hope is from Him. (Ps. 62:5 NASB)

Monday, March 26, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 31 (So, Who's Old?)

As an adult, what do you do when a small child says something "bad" about you? This weekend, I was confronted by this when a little girl Brinna's age turned to me and told me another little girl said something "bad" about me. My mind quickly wondered "what on earth did I do?"

Anyway, I did ask my daughter if she knew what was said and, of course, she did. As I discovered, it all revolved around the fact that I'm OLD! Yep, that's all it was. I mean isn't everyone old? Is it "bad" to be old? My eldest daughter is 23 years OLD, my middle daughter is 19 years OLD, my youngest daughter is 9 years OLD. I'm 51 years OLD. We, each of us, is some type of OLD, are't we? It is just a number, though, at its core. So what's the big deal?

Poor Brinna, though, was made to feel like an outcast because her Mom is old enough to be a grandmother. And, I can sympathize because I lived through the exact same thing having an older Mom and a Dad who was 50 years older than me. No, I'm not her grandmother, as some kids might think when they see my gray hair and wrinkles. aah . . .

And, just for the record - I don't think being 51 years OLD is bad - nope. Actually, Brinna and I had a good talk about the whole situation and, with that wonderful resilience of youth, she bounced back quickly. Her joy and acceptance, as always is an encouragement to me. We'll face these challenges together. We're family no matter how OLD we are.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 30 (Two Tons of Fun!)

Some call me "hardy." It's my thinking that I'm one part hardy, nine parts fool. At least some of the time. And, today I proved myself right . . . again.

While most of the people I know are probably spending their Saturdays out enjoying the warm Spring weather or relaxing, I spent my afternoon retrieving two thousand pound bales of hay for my horses. Through the fall and winter, I've made the 30-something mile trip to Clay Center to get hay. It's been an unusual arrangement because one of my co-workers offered me the hay "FREE." The only catch was the hay was a bit old. What a blessing it has been, despite the journey and the hard work required on my part.

So today around 3 p.m. I started my exercising. Yes, you guessed it - unloading two tons of hay by hand, sheer will and muscle. It took me about four hours, but I made it. May never walk again, but I GOT THAT HAY OFF THE TRUCK!

Now, you're probably saying, "What was she thinking?" "When will she ever learn?" "You really should ask for help sometimes." Maybe . . . but then I wouldn't get some needed stretching and exercise for this flabby 50-something body. hahahaha

It's just one more thing I'm constantly learning - hard work is good for the soul, especially when it's two tons of fun.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 29 (Our Little Drop of Water)

Nine years ago today, a very special person entered this world. She is the smallest, youngest of three sisters. Created for this time, this place, this little girl is my daughter, Brinna. Her name is a derivative of Brenna or Brianna which is from old Gaelic. It literally means "little drop of water" or "noble, high, exalted."

And, she has indeed provided refreshment to our family's soul - our little drop of water. From early on, she showed us her noble character, her generous spirit, her love of others. As her mother, I couldn't be more proud of her. It's not easy having a child at 42, but God had plans to enlarge and enhance our family and his plans are always true.

Brinna was born on a Sunday morning - right in the middle of church services. Ha - she knew her place right from the very beginning I think. The old Mother Goose rhyme says, "But the child born on the Sabbath day is fair and wise and good and gay." That indeed says it all.

This little sprite has given us all much to ponder, much to appreciate, and much to learn. The most important lesson, though, I've learned from Brinna is joy.

Thank you, Daughter #3. I'm so very glad God shared your special spirit with us!

Lenten Experiment - Day 28

I just couldn't let the week go by without recognizing the passing of winter into spring. This usually occurs each March around the 20th or 21st - the Vernal or Spring Equinox. So, we have just passed that milestone - Welcome home, Mr. Spring! And it's been a momentous week from that Springtime perspective - I mean come on I think Noah might have just ramped up his building efforts if he had been around this week. The deluge cometh . . . and it came and it still comes.

I'd really love to know just how much rain we've had this week. To satisfy my insatiable curiosity, I've searched on-line and come up a blank, but my dear husband just volunteered to go out and check the rain gauge - so I'll report back in a moment with those results. Ta-Da! The results are in - just under 4". Not sure how accurate our little plastic rain container is, but that's the verdict at least out here on the prairie.

In the meantime, let's talk about the rain a bit. Here in central Kansas, we've just journeyed through one of the driest winters I can ever remember. Snowfall was practically non-existant, thus contributing to the deep crevices throughout lawns, fields and pastures. Most people reveled in this respite from frigidity and snowy driving conditions, only to wake up the 80 degree temperatures earlier in March. Another anomaly of weather conditions. But, I'm sure you're not really interested in my weather analysis - I mean I didn't go to school to be a meteorologist.

However, there's all kinds of truths I could glean from this soggy Spring Break week here in Manhattan, Kansas. But you probably don't want to hear that either. You . . . just . . . want . . . it . . . to . . . STOP. . . raining. Sorry, I have no control over that. Only the one who made the heavens and the earth can water the earth; can give or take away blessings. "His going forth is as certain as the dawn; and He will come to us like the rain, like the spring rain watering the earth." (Hosea 6:3b NASB)

What a promise. And, right now, after living through last summer's excessive heat and the winter's barrenness, I'm viewing this week as a blessing. It's the only option; it's the best option; the most perfect option. There is no other.

Oh, and need I state the obvious, right now at this very moment - it is raining.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 27 (The Usurper)

Usurper - one who wrongfully or illegally seizes and holds the position of another. Yep that about sums up the stand-off underway here in the homestead between our two tabby kitties. Maybe it's just too much estrogen trying to share the litterbox. Who knows? Put simply - they do NOT like each other.

Is that a face or what? I can't quite figure out if she's roaring, yawning, or laughing. Probably the latter given the circumstances.

To truly understand the whole drama between our two cats and perhaps the meaning behind these two photos, I have to go back to the very beginning of their lives within our household.

Howler, a sweet little girl, appeared on our front porch about four years ago. She was a tiny tabby--probably only four or five months old. Her caterwauling out on the front porch that first night is what earned her the name "Howler." She's been Momma to two babies--the older one, Ruckus, moved to California with our oldest daughter Meghan. Her favored human pet is my husband and she slept on our bed, content and comfy until . . .

Tabby #2 came along. This ring-tailed kitty came to us last fall as full-grown and totally affectionate. Daughter Brinna named her Racoon-Tail for her distinctive tail. She's bigger than Howler and that may be part of the problem. However, she has become the usurper. Howler hides under bedroom dressers and chairs; seeking sanctuary in the adjoining forest whenever she gets a chance. It only takes a look from Racoon and Howler is hissing, spitting, and the cat fight is on!

Last night the girls found themselves sharing our bedroom. I awoke to find Racoon-Tail nestled into our wooly blanket at the foot of the bed. Look where Howler spent her night.

Now we know for sure what that crazy laugh is all about! Onery little girl causin' trouble. If I take it to heart, I could learn something as well. Let's see, #1: Don't antagonize others. #2: Share the space. #3: Work out your differences!

Somehow, I don't think they're going to listen to my advice. Howler? Racoon-tail? Hello?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 26 (Campin' on the Porch of Indecision)

On the way home tonight from work as I manhandled the big diesel Dodge Ram through blinding rain and my daily dose of whirlwinds, I had plenty of time to formulate today's blog entry. A few random thoughts even fluttered around during my work day--teasing me. It was supposed to be about discernment, hearing God's voice or not hearing it as the case may be.

I had big plans to research that word "discernment" and then somehow make sense of it in my daily prayer life. You see, for some time, wisdom and discernment have been at the center of my prayers for each of my family members. I've made a point of saying those words over and over again, every day. And, I felt it was about time to analyze on some level this idea of discernment and what it all meant for me and for them. I even did some on-line research, finding lots of good words on the idea of discernment, perception, wisdom, etc.

Then, I turned up the radio and heard one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite artists. Why is it that songs seem to speak such truth? It kind of reminds me of the movie August Rush --only it wasn't words that made the difference, it was the music he heard in traffic, in all the sounds around him, in virtually everything--he found meaning. The sounds marched into music which, in turn, evolved into his way to connect with others. And, isn't that really the discerning part of life? Now, stay with me here.

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Look at some of the words from To Know You. "I'm awake with questions that won't wait for daylight, separating fact from my imaginary fiction." "I need to find a place where you and I come face to face." "I really want to know You." "I want to make each day a different way that I can show You how." "I really want to love You." "I'm just tryin' to figure out Your will." "No more campin' on the porch of indecision." "No more sleepin' under stars of apathy." "Dreamin's not for me." "And I really want to know You still."

"To Know You" by Nichole Nordeman--Its haunting melody and lyrics speak to a desire, a yearning, a struggle--to know more, to love more, to overcome doubts, to "get on with life." Am I really ready for that? I surely, surely hope so. And, I'll faithfully keep praying my family is too!

Monday, March 19, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 25 (Vision Possible)

Yesterday's church service was definitely a joy. The focus this Lent has been "Light." Each week, the light pierces the darkness bringing more clarity; more vision.

Darkness - dismal, gloomy, unenlightened - associated with death and obscurity

Light - something that makes vision possible; explodes in the darkness

Shining my light every day, all day, in every circumstance is indeed costly. Much like the cost of electricity that seems to skyrocket out of control, so is the energy it takes to switch on my light of encouragement, my light of love, my light of positivity when I don't feel happy. And, not just to "click" the switch, but to keep it burning brighter and brighter amidst the gloom of this world.

The Skit Guys talk about colored lights all year round for all occasions. I'm a bit embarrassed to tell you that I still have my Southwest Christmas tree up with its bright chili pepper lights - maybe I'll keep it lit this year despite attitudes around me to the contrary.

Are you going to join me? Let's let our little light shine - whether it's chili pepper lights or a little encouragement and joy - arm yourself with the light.

It is a "Vision Possible."

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 24 (Recycling, Pistachio Donuts and The Color Green)

Despite the fact that I've mentioned St. Patrick's Day in many of my posts, I can't let the grand day go by without more thoughts on the day, shamrocks, a bit of the blarney, and, of course, the color green.

But here it is now Sunday, March 18th and I missed my opportunity to expound on St. Patrick on his "real" day. gggrrr - so how did I fritter my day away yesterday, you ask?

Well, I drove into town with my dear daughter Brinna, but only after Brinna made sure we were outfitted in style - green sparkle bead necklaces, green felt hats, and of course our green eyes! First we made a stop at the wonderful recycling place to leave all our treasures (that's green, right?). Then we stopped at Varsity Donuts for a Pistachio donut (those were definitely green). We watched as hundreds of people in green flooded the 'Ville for the 34th annual St. Patrick's Day parade and 10K road race to benefit Special Olympics. Not being a huge fan of crowds, we high-tailed it out of there with our green donuts. Besides I had other parade plans this day.

A stop at Hastings (which by the way has a green sign) to see if they had Darby O'Gill and the Little People - a classic Irish movie with Sean Connery - which would have had much green within it. Alas, they failed me.

Next stop was to the grocery store for a bit more greenery - asparagus, lovely salad mixings, a green spiked pineapple, some faintly green bananas chosen by Brinna, some petite zucchini, and a host of other things to fill the cupboards. I had to laugh at the check-out stand, when the cashier picked up my organic blue corn chips and asked, "I wonder why they can't make green chips for St. Patrick's Day?" Ha, my feelings exactly. My retort was, "I'm not sure if I've ever seen green corn."

A speedy drive home through lovely green hills was my mission so Brinna and I could watch the home town Kansas City parade over the Internet. Despite the slow streaming over satellite, overall it was much better than I anticipated and we had a grand time watching, from the comfort of our prairie perch 150 miles away, all the families, trolleys, tractors, bands, horses, revelry and inflatable green shamrocks. Ah, memories of my lovely hometown and all the Irish-ness. Saw the O'Connor clan - hhmm, wonder if they are related? No, O'Gleason's though. Sad - we're fading away, I guess. Maybe some day I'll journey to the parade and ask if I can walk with the O'Connors. I'll probably have to show them my "green" card or something of that sort to be admitted.

The green day just wouldn't be complete without one of my favorite songs that came to mind yesterday. I'm gonna post it here for you . . . I hope you enjoy the scenes from Ireland and the lovely Celtic beat. So sorry for the video quality - someone uploaded it to YouTube from the original video and it's not too grand. However, it's Rich Mullins - an Irishman, a gentleman and a poet - we all miss him.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 23 (Remembering Mom)

Today's post is not going to be pleasant. I've known from the very beginning of Lent (Ash Wednesday) that March 16th would come.

And, while I don't normally, annually lament over this date, having to write about it is a totally different matter. For when we put down onto paper or computer screen our most intimate thoughts, then they tend to live with us longer and more deeply. And, I also wondered how those few of you who do read some of posts would react to my random thoughts on this issue.

So, I'm sure you're beginning to wonder what all the drama is about March 16. Actually I've been thinking off and on about the entire week leading up to it as well. It's been merely a few thoughts circulating in the chamber, not intense feelings. Anyway, here it is. Let's get on with it.

March 16, 1998 was the day I became an orphan. While many people might not traumatize over it, I mean I was 37 after all and a mother myself with two little girls. However, there's nothing quite like living through an illness with your parents and then watching for a week while life wanes away, watching their bodies give up. And, frankly, most people enjoy their parents well into their 60s or even 70s. My parents were 42 and 50 when I was born so I knew early on I would have to let go much sooner.

Within the space of 10 short days, I walked with my Mother through an upper respiratory infection, pneumonia, cardiac arrest, and then death. I camped out at Research Hospital in the waiting room for several nights while my husband watched over our girls with all faithfulness. His support and understanding will forever be appreciated for he understood on many levels and had walked the same path only as a very small child.

My oldest daughter, Meghan, messaged me today remembering her Grandma, missing her and sending me a hug. {{hugs}} are so special. And, I'm so glad that my daughter is remembering her grandmother after all this time. My children had only two grandparents and for such a short time - it does grieve me sometimes.

Maybe that's part of why I write. Given they don't have a face-to-face history, maybe I can provide a bit of oral and written history that will be treasured into the future. And, what would more history be without photographs? I ran across this one the other day and just had to share it here because it so speaks to the "lady" my Mom was.

Well, dear reader, thanks for allowing me to share my memories. I just hope my daughters some day will remember me with affection and grace. It's been a Happy March 16th once again. Happy Re-Birthday Mom! Heaven rejoices in your presence, I just know it!

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 22 (Yellow is the Color of Spring)

What's been goin' on with the weather this winter? I still can't get over the 80 degrees every day this week in Kansas. Really? I know it's lifted spirits and helped many of us think of an early summer. Even the trees and the flowers are confused. They are blooming in droves. Yellow is the color of Spring, I think.

Yellow daffodils and forsythia spindles sprout up from the brown winter barrenness. Bright sunshine sparkles through the branches ushering in warmth and promise of new life. Spring surprises abound tucked away in every corner of God's 80 acres.

"And why are you anxious about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not clothe himself like one of these. But if God arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:28-30, 34)

So with all the said, it truly is amazing to view the intricacies of a simple daffodil, watching its delicate petals flutter in the breezes. It only blooms where it is planted - it's at its very best when still rooted and grounded. Much like I need to be.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Lenten Experiment - Day 21 (Potatoes Forever and Amen)

Potatoes served at breakfast, at dinner served again; potatoes served at supper. Forever and Amen. --Pennsylvania prayer

Growing up, St. Patrick's week was always very special in our house. And, not just because my Mom was a red-haired, second generation Irish lass. No, my German/Scots/British Dad believed there was no better day to plant his potatoes than St. Patrick's Day. He saw it as a serious tradition and nothing could deter his commitment to do at least some planting that day whether he started earlier or finished days later. He loved growing potatoes. Many times over the years, I've wished I'd thought to ask him why he loved potatoes so much. I mean the man fried them up for breakfast nearly every day and he'd even cut into a raw one, sprinkle some salt on it and call it "lunch." But when you look at the goofy grin on his face, it really doesn't matter much. It made him happy.

I still wonder though,"Was it the wide range of varieties available? The Memorial Day thrill of digging for the first elusive spuds deep in their musty mountains? Or, the continuous challenge & hard work so indigenous to potato growing? I guess I will never know for sure. However, year after year he tackled it despite all the odds. You see, potatoes don't savor heat--they relish the cool breezes of Idaho and Maine over sweltering summers in Missouri.

I'm so glad my Dad thought to chronicle his potato farm--cutting seed potatoes, planting, digging, harvesting and bagging. I have a treasure trove of photos mostly from the 1940s and 1950s to relive the joy of his farming life--long before I was ever on the scene.

In our modern world, potatoes are forever associated with the Irish and I'm guessing it relates to the Potato Famine of 1845 when more than 1 million people died of starvation in Ireland. Another million and a half emigrated from Ireland within the span of five years, decreasing the country's population by half. Who knows? Maybe that's why Dad HAD to plant on St. Patrick's Day--it was to honor his Irish brothers of old.

If beef's the king of meats, the potato's the queen of the garden world. --Irish saying Addendum: Found this great article from the Kansas City Star with my Dad when he was 65 (1975), talking about the St. Patrick's Day tradition. Fun stuff - so I've added it here.