A plea

A graveled path smothering
the weeds with measured stones.
Measured stones, each shape,
granule, thrown for me to go.
Go, upon the graveled path,
open your eyes to see majesty,
squalid scenes, drab mundanity.

I go upon the graveled path
upon the enumerated stone
where hairs are counted, lilies
clothed, and heads are bound
to roll. I hear voices moan in
the bordering weeds, moaning plight,
sight, moaning helplessly.

Oh, Stone-Layer, please wind
your path around. Wind around some
wrists. Wind to help them out.

Wind, wind, until you flow like wind
to rustle out those pained
and in the bushes hid.

I go upon the graveled path where
you've placed me to be.
But, Father, Stone-Provider,
pave some paths, I plead.

TWW 7/15


Notes:  This is not a perfect poem; some of the rhythm is off. But, I wrote it when I was wanting God to do more to alleviate suffering. It's kind of a "Where are you? Show thyself, more, please" poem.  A little bit demanding underneath, but it's okay to be this way. There is a lot of suffering, groaning, and it gets tiring; you feel helpless; you call out for God to do something. But, does he? I guess he provides a path, but a paved path could be the not-promise. Yet, still, I would love to perceive more presence at times, but this could be my own blindness, distracted by much.

Should I in 2012

Should I in 2012?

Write the usual Christmas poem?

All within me doesn’t want to express

The fragments and make them a whole

Infant which carries the world’s weight.

Much has raveled out: the church,

The massacres, the cousin who is

Suffering in another county.

I can stay upstairs and read my book

Of essays; I can fix my Christmas eve

Chicken; I can look forward to travel.

But still the hush creeps into me, and

I think of the baby who changed

Everything and who introduced a

Tear into this universal shroud which

Speaks death all day long and maybe

Tomorrow.  The baby slit a hole

For us to escape and for us to consider

A Love that we’ve never known. A

Purported Love for even me.

While others are enraptured over

The true belief in this, I must still

Be quiet. I must still go to the “stable”

And look and stare. I must put all

Peripherals in a drawer, and I must

Bow and see in order to worship and believe.

And so I sit, typing out a nativity re-enactment

But one in which the baby reaches out,

Through  time-encasement, through historical

Decay, through modern disillusionment, His

Little human finger, sparked with love, to me.

In 2012, despite all, I know the touch and choose belief.

TWW

August earliness

"In this day's labors or trials say, "The LORD God will help me." Go forth boldly. Set your face like a flint and resolve that no faintness or shamefacedness shall come near you. If God helps, who can hinder? If you are sure of omnipotent aid, what can be too heavy for you? Begin the day joyously, and let no shade of doubt come between thee and the eternal sunshine."

Charles Spurgeon admonishes so early in the morning as I wake up in a distraught August state.

I learned last night that the board at my school is not taking any action to help struggling learners. They received a message to "be in the Lord" this season without needing to change anything. But, their students still attend, so there's no reason for rush (a skeptical outlook). I heard last night a fellow, trusted colleague compare us to autistic people as we pray erroneously to God -- in stilted language with barriers (others laughed). I reacted emotionally, in front of a group.

I am shamefaced and disappointed, feeling like a failure. Charles Spurgeon reminds me, as an individual with her mission pitted against a group and their mission, that God will help. I am carrying too much, feeling like it's all my load. I'm supposed to quit clutching and avoid grief, skepticism, unforgiveness -- bad fruit not reflecting a solid trust.

Father, let me rest in Your knowledge without being deterred from the path you have set me on. Allow me to walk in peace, knowing you are with me and will help me, even in the delays and the disruptions and the rejections. Help me to have the guidance of your Holy Spirit which comforts me even in distress. Help me not to react in dismay which doesn't account for the hope in you. Help those struggling children find help. I know you care and that you want good action from those responsible. Thank you that I can hand off to you when I am incapable. Amen.

Prayers, not so easy

"We are not here to prove that God answers prayer, but to be living trophies of God’s grace . . . . When prayer seems to be unanswered, beware of trying to place the blame on someone else. That is always a trap of Satan. When you seem to have no answer, there is always a reason— God uses these times to give you deep personal instruction, and it is not for anyone else but you." Oswald Chamber

Prayers. Yesterday, I begged for my son, for all kids with developmental disabilities. I prayed for coverage, for full force grace duing this school year, for a break, for goodness, for kind people. Mid-way through my prayer I thought, "What if my prayer goes unanswered like many have seemed to before? Can my faith handle the disappointment of feeling ignored, feeling like God doesn't involve, feeling alone in it all, watching my son sputter, watching the tide roll over him?" So, I stopped begging and prayed for the grace to be able to let my son learn lessons even if the situtation was difficult on him. I prayed that my son could love God and keep on going, being faith adaptable and not so dependent upon answered prayers that life magically smooths itself. We still live in this rumpled, rumbling life. There will be issues. After I prayed that, I continued begging again.

However, I like what Chambers says above =>  "We are not here to prove that God answers prayer, but to be living trophies of God's grace. . . .  When you seem to have no answer, there is always a reason."

Yesterday at church, our pastor said that there's one side of the ledger in which we keep reasons, grievances, lists of times and places where God doesn't seem active or alive. The shootings, the sicknesses, the pain, the seemingly unanswered prayers. However, there is another side of the ledger to acknowledge -- one that shows His loving activity in the small things, in the help that comes, the smile that is given, the things that align to truly give you encouragement or aid, the gentle movement towards a fuller Christ life in which you become freer from certain strongholds.

Acknowledgement -- a theme. Grace can be stared at and mirrored.

Amen.

Leaning and believing

O Lord of hosts, blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) is
                the man who trusts in You [leaning and believing on You, committing all and
                confidently looking to You, and that without fear or misgiving]! (Psalm 84:12 AMP)

A good verse for an early morning fearfest when a teacher frets about her oversized class, and lack of compensatory pay. When mothers talk about their sons' growth all week, and again, I look upward and ask, "Why not my son? Why one more big thing on him?" When I start a business, and I worry about my one client and the clients who will come. Will I know enough? Will they come? Will I help the nonverbal young man turn a corner? Who else should I serve? Why doesn't my school pick up this mission to help struggling learners? My mind and heart are in a knot, around and around it goes, tightening.

The above verse does not apply right now. But, it should. But, how? How does a person trust in God, leaning and believing, committing all in confidence without fear or misgiving? There are battles to be fought, steep grades to go up, huge challenges of worry and action.

"Looking to You" perhaps is the answer. "Looking to God." Not looking at the fear, trusting God in the hard stuff, in the battles, in the advocacy, in the shadows, in the Light. Help me to do so, O God!  Thank you for the blessings, but the long nights are tough. May perspective be illuminated and good choices made. Amen.

Running fully

William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, as he was interviewed near the close of his life. This is what he said: “God had all there was of me. There have been others who had greater plans, greater talents and greater opportunities than I; but from the day I got a vision of what God could do, I made up my mind God would have all there was of William Booth.” 

What would it take for God to have all of a person? We can see the example of Mr. Booth above and a few others we've heard about. But, what about in our own lives? I should probably ask, "What percentage am I at now? How can I make it higher? What does this truly look like anyway?" At times, the quest for a greater percentage seems to be another excuse to wallow in guilt. How do I go beyond the need for guilt, goodness, purpose, comfort, control, false humility, peace, distraction, and give all to God? Do I even want to or am I content serving him as I do now? Right now, there are flashes of intense giving and goodness, but what would it mean to serve God fully? I'm sure it would look like much more.

I remember the codependency class taken at church in which we examined the ill-effects of the savior complex, the need to fix, the desire to control God or others through actions. At times if I "gave fully to God" the codependency tendencies might be unleashed despite my sincerity. One must be rational and proceed with caution.

Yet to be used fully. A bumpy road. Sacrifice. Conflict. A full outpouring of resources.

A better question might be: what prevents me from fully being used by God? Today, right now. Can I admit that some of these things might not be purposeful -- they might be time-wasting -- they might reek of vanity and smooth highways? Sins?

Father, help me to give more of myself daily. I know that I can't be like William Booth or Mother Teresa; I know that daily life as a mother, wife, teacher looks a certain way. However, help me to cast off restraints that prevent me from running fully and joyfully in your service to make this world a better place -- to show you -- to become more like you. Help petty mindgames explode into rain which waters and grows.  Amen.

Haunts of violence

Have regard for your covenant,
because haunts of violence fill the dark places of the land. (Psalm 74:20 NIV)

Shakespeare couldn't have said it better. Our morning news is splashing with the same kind of language especially today as 12 were killed and 32 wounded when a shooter opened fire at an Aurora, Colorado movie of Batman (the Dark Knight) early today.

Truly, evil trails good. Evil overcomes earthly good. We have cries and cries coming up from our ruptured, ruined world.

Optimists believe that the world is our oyster; the benevolent Universe will work things out for our good.

Yet for those who bought tickets for this movie and sat in the line of fire, evil felled them, and the personified "Universe" was puzzled and passive.

David asks that God remember his covenant with the people of Israel. They are being whipped up by evil-doers who want their inheritance, who want their lives, their land. They are wicked without regard for God or for those who are oppressed. They carry evil like a backpack full of grenades, tear gas, quarrels.

In our country, "haunts of violence fill the dark places of the land" all over the place. Our human nature is capable of doing good or doing evil. Those who are planning attacks on others are planning attacks -- have given in to the dark forces inside of them which reap despair and destruction.

Father God, have regard for your covenant. Remember that you will take us if we delight in You and trust that you have a ticket for us out of the mayhem which is sometimes called this Earth. Thank you for those who follow you and do good; may we step it up in your Name and forget the little quibbles which distract us and which promote small violences. Thank you for your covenant which is true. Amen

A David re-work

But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
I had nearly lost my foothold. For I envied the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. They have no struggles;
their bodies are healthy and strong. They are free from common human burdens;
they are not plagued by human ills. Therefore pride is their necklace;
they clothe themselves with violence. From their callous hearts comes iniquity;
their evil imaginations have no limits. They scoff, and speak with malice;
with arrogance they threaten oppression. (Psalm 73:2-8 NIV)

Envy of those who have.

Yes, my eyes and heart trail along.

When I look at my poor garments

My poor endowments

My stumblings up a hill as

I view others going the other direction,

Smiling on the downward slope,

Gliding well-toned in gossamer.

No one seems to be shouting "Push!"

on their side. I seem to serve an

imaginary Giant who lives to dangle

thoe who agree to be dangled.

Yet going in a lateral direction

isn't a gravitational choice.

If I turn directions to glide,

I become subject to a tripping

game from one to another. One

can't be outshone in the rivalry

of prosperity. Those moving upwards

focus on their own push and, at

times, encourage those they pass.

Intermittently, one will give in

and slip and, inexcusably, try to

knock others off the path. One

must be alert at all times.

One must ask the question too of

"What kind of Giant do I serve?

Is the effort worthwhile? Why

do they on the other side

smile with the luxury of ease?

What kind of Master will I meet?

"When I tried to understand all this,
it troubled me deeply till I entered the sanctuary of God;
then I understood their final destiny. Surely you place them on slippery ground;
you cast them down to ruin. (Psalm 73:2-8, 16-18 NIV)

Needy

For he will deliver the needy who cry out,
the afflicted who have no one to help.

He will take pity on the weak and the needy
and save the needy from death.

He will rescue them from oppression and violence,
for precious is their blood in his sight. (Psalm 72:12-14 NIV)

I sat at a table last night with other swirling mothers. I had a good cold green chili beer and a smoked salmon pasta dish in front of me. All seemed good. Yet cries of the needy reverberated in my head and spirit as I listened to the moms talk about life with their autistic child.

Sad, worried. Resolutely hopeful within hopelessness. Trouble, crisis. Loneliness. Marriage tension. Smiles, tears. Adrift, adrift, anchor casting and pulling in.

When I see the above verses, I can't imagine being God. Just think about all the cries of the needy. I had one table; God has a whole world. Yet the claim that "precious is their blood in his sight" attests to His especial care for the needy, for these stricken with autism, for those who fight for dignity in every corner of their lives. God gives them dignity and love. But a wall is up between this fact and recognition.

I lift up my table of swirling mothers, Lord, of the children they represent, help us all to know without a doubt your true character and interest, that we can rest in your care and loving regard. Please help all practical needs. Please rescue. Please stabilize. Please, please, take pity. Amen.

Unnamed birds

The wind is coolish, pleasant on the deck this early morning. A couple of birds are cawing, chortling -- but they're not crows. I wish I knew the names of birds like I do plants. But, unfortunately, I am an ignoramus to who they are! I thank them, though, for making my backyard more alive, along with the leaves rustling, chasing away the bowl of record heat which has been here in the Midwest for about a month.

I wonder what my Compassion International kids are hearing around them in nature, in school. One of my kids, a 15 year old from Hondorus, just became my Facebook friend, which is probably against policy. She seems like a fairly typical teen, instead of one of those starving children on the World Vision commercials. But, showcasing can be truth and manipulation -- it is that bad in select places. But in others, a typical teen struggles with poverty and opening her heart to Jesus first, despite the boys, despite the home life, despite, despite, so I pray for her on that. And, I hope she prays for me. One of our children, a boy from Rwanda, wrote and told me he has my picture taped on his bed so that he can remember to pray for me. I'm grateful! It goes both ways, from Africa to the United States and vice versa, in all of our poverties. The bird sings on.

Yesterday, I had coffee with a mother who has two children with chronic life conditions. Her 14 year old son has brain bleeding and, thus, strokes -- he's wheelchair confined at the moment, recovering, recovering from another bout which has been a life plague. Her eight year old is a nonverbal autistic child. We talked, laughed, commisserated for a couple of hours even though we were strangers at first. We're both trying to figure out and accept the spiritual layer of suffering; she has been hurt at the hands of Christians; she's often at limbo in trust. It was good to share the complexities of the eternal questions of "Why?" "Where?" and the realities of the shake-fisting, apologies, repenting, releasing, tiring, rejuvenating cycle of the spiritual life. We can't shake Jesus because he won't shake us (sang a knowledgeable songwriter I heard recently). I saw the true warrior in her. I pray she keeps marching, stumbling, leaping toward eternal hope and glory.

Regarding good works mentioned in yesterday's writing, here's an excellent quote which puts the topic in better perspective, taking it from self to the transcendent:

Self-realization only leads to the glorification of good works, whereas a saint of God glorifies Jesus Christ through his good works. Whatever we may be doing— even eating, drinking, or washing disciples’ feet— we have to take the initiative of realizing and recognizing Jesus Christ in it. Oswald Chambers

Perhaps in doing so, we can name the Singer of the chorus that takes us outside of ourselves as the all-source for companionship and love which we can sing for the benefit of others.  The unnamed is named and identified. The good bird sings on, and we know His tune. Amen.

One hand

As for me, I call to God, and the Lord saves me. Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice. He rescues me unharmed from the battle waged against me, even though many oppose me. (Psalm 55:16-18 NIV)

Last night I watched a Barbara Walters news show in which the idea (or reality) of heaven was investigated. Most Americans actually believe in heaven (9 out of 10). A collective hope and recognition truly seems to me to make the intangible understood. Barbara, of course, covered the wide varieties of heaven belief.

I found the Muslim belief to be the strangest, with the waiting virgins, which is not only a terrorist-martyr's claim, but a scholarly and non-extremist Muslim acceptance too. Of course, the virgins could be male or female depending upon our own gender. For myself, I really don't want countless male virgins! I think one man, like my husband, is way enough anyway. Why would sex be catapulted into the more-the-merrier realm in heaven? Bizarre (unless the belief was written by a lustful, young man . . . ). The Hindu belief too of reincarnation, the ascension into higher human form or lower into animal form, was strange as well. I love animals, and am imaginative and compassionate enough to think of them as "human-like" but I can't really see them as "bad" or "good" based upon their past lives. It's our duty to treat them with respect, though, for being living creatures. (I must confess to helping stranded worms get off drying sidewalks as if truly does matter to save them. Guilt grabs me if I walk by without helping them when I could have. Shouldn't I apply that to humans moreso?)

While the  religious representatives above were a bit grim, the Dalai Lama of Buddhism was an engaging person who seemed to embody sweet and attractive qualities, like compassion and humility and a giggle which delighted. Yet the philosophy was strange, and I wondered about the leaps of faith this belief requires. Many leaps, many hoops. Of course, I'm a western Christian without much understanding or training.

When Barbara interviewed the Christian representatives, I noticed a difference in their affect. They had light in their eyes -- grace, truth, fervor, hope. A devoted Christian's eyes are quite different. Yes, Joel Olsteen looked like a crazed-out vacuum salesman, but he had the light going too. The light validates the story, enflames it as other-worldly reality.

In the above verses, I can see David solely focused upon God, upon a relationship with an Entity who "saves," "hears," "rescues." The Personal is a trademark of Judaic Christian faith. When death occurs, the individual meets the individual Father, the Groom, the Friend, the Comforter, the Judge, the Word, the Redeemer, the Shepherd. Many words designating a One.

Much is based upon what David models: in this life, one hand can hold another, one voice can be heard by one outside our consciousness, one can relax into the battles the one Lord will fight for us . . . until we are reconciled in Heaven one day to meet the One who has been designated for each one of us. And, why not?

Flourishing fullness

But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever. (Psalm 52:8 NIV)

A fresh, yet still wind, blows upon my deck where I'm sitting. Somewhere, somewhere it is raining on parched corn fields, on spotty grass grazing pastures, on pines ready to burst. I have confirmation of this from farmer parents, from Facebook posters. Ah, precious water falling; you have been on retreat for too long. Come into the steaming, parched world now and minister to the thirsty!

(A little poetic apostrophe there for you:)

I copied the above verse which caught my heart. Much resonates in it. Last night, as we attended the wedding reception of my husband's high school friend, he heard about everyone's successful children. The men measured themselves against one another in this area or jobs or even physical fitness.

One daughter is a doctor. Many fathers are coaches for their athletic children. Scholarships have been offered. Talents and smoother roads abound.

But, we are especially chosen parents, I told him. We know new dimensions of courage, individuality, challenge, suffering, joy that other parents are unaware. We are blessed, and my husband knew it to be true. We love our son tremendously; we sometimes just grieve for him and are not comforted by those things that other children can hold onto as normal rites of passage. Yet everyone has their pain, their path to hoe, their droughts amidst hot winds.

I like that we can all be "an olive tree flourishing" because of "God's unfailing love." We don't have to succeed like the world says to succeed, or my private Christian school, or a group of parents who do not have second sight due to experience-lived. We can all be a flourishing olive tree, full of fruits, full of favor.

With the parenting of my son, I feel full of favor. I pray that he will also feel this fullness in his life, knowing that he has been infinitely blessed by being who he is. Please God help him find purpose and, especially, your unfailing love. I pray for every reader's child too that they can be kind, compassionate, and also one which waves in the wind, well-watered, bearing fruit, and praising your name in all they do. Amen.

A maze to exit

But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine. (Psalm 33:18, 19 NIV)

A maze is embedded in the verses above -- a maze of the mind, a maze of relinquishing up the knowledge that one is lost, a maze of trusting that Someone will provide the way out, a maze of expectation.  I read these verses knowing how difficult this is, especially under duress. When things get tough for me, I often want to blame God. I become mad, bitter, and my eyes are downcast upon disbelief. I think about all those Haitians who died under the rubble, Christian and non-alike. I think about the raw course of nature which consumes people. I think of children who are routinely abused in our evil world. I think, "Where was God then? Is He something we make up during our times of reflection and comfort? Is He nothing but a creed?"

The act of faith, though, obliges me to believe in the confusing presentation of hope seen in the above verses. I must choose, and I must choose with admittance which disbelieves in the opposite of what the verses proclaim. I must choose to believe that:

a) the eyes of the Lord are on me, because I do fear him
b) He has unfailing love which provides me with hope
c) that He will deliver us from natural death
d) that He is our hope and shield.

Why does my spirit still doubt? I think of my friend's husband who died of brain cancer; she believed in healing and rescue more than anyone I know. Yet she still preaches on the hope and the love of God. I wish I could reconcile my doubt and my choice and my longing of belief. But, I must choose because I want to and because I love God. I must trust Him with all answers to hard questions.

Lord, I am allowing your words to enter into my spirit. Please torch and let my confidence become enflamed into a bright light. Today, I will meditate on these verses in belief and confidence. I will seek understanding and trust.  Amen.

Placement

You have not given me into the hands of the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place. (Psalm 31:8 NIV) I really like this verse as it has room for interpretation. Room, get it? Relates to "spacious places." I think about my own life and how God has not left me in the hands of the enemy. My enemy would be worry, fear, passivity, non-engagement, wrong loves, but God has known to plant my feet in spacious places when I sought him. In these places, I can roam freely, like I can in my girlhood home in the woods where I don't have to worry about men-predators, where I am safe, where I can enjoy my thoughts and the beauty around me. I also think of fields where I've roamed. God can lead me to see the beauty in the summer heat, in the droning of the crickets, in the subtle designs of nature. I also think that God places my feet in spacious places because I can be free to move in His direction and in the direction He has for my life. I've been lifted from the tangled path and placed more purposefully upon good ground. My enemies have been thwarted; God has seen to my needs and safety. Grateful.

Bubbles and Darwin

As I'm reading about Charles Darwin's voyage aboard the Beagle in which he observed all kinds of geology, cultures, animal life, and more, I can't help but think how limited our scope is inside our own worlds. We live in a glass bubble in which we're quite concerned with our own language, dress, relationships, beliefs and modes of life. We can become fixated on these as the sole vistas of truth.  I know for some of my kinfolk in the Ozark hills, the act of reading Charles Darwin would be seditious; they would scoff; they would maintain the safety of their views, shaped by their worlds, by where they drink their own knowledge and worldviews. Some alternate views are considered dangerous. Often, from my Christian texts at my school, the name of Darwin is spitted out by editors who present him as the arbitrator of foul and erring lies which go against God as creator. Although, like Darwin, I will connect life to God, I also believe there is much wiggle room in our interpretations. Especially wiggle room given our glass bubbles which block the views we seek mainly from our own chairs. Darwin didn't intend to undermine God, but he went out and looked and expanded his view away from his home country, away from his town. Yes, conclusions can be wrong from any vantage point, however, why do we limit what there is to observe? The book inspires me to look for and know more and piece together the amazing picture called life.

Greater joy

"You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound." Psalm 4:7

Ah, the teaching year is over, and I can make time for contemplation, reading, and writing. My year was the best one yet; it first started with anger and grief over exclusion of children with learning disabilities, but it ended with purpose and plans to counter this in my school. Change currents have been released; God is working. I was able to let go and grow even closer to my students, nurturing them, giving to them, loving them. Although I had a bit of resentment for their and parents' inability to give much back, I've grown in my ability to just give without thinking or expecting. Typically, a person like me, a recovering codependent too, gives more, and that's just that. As a matter of fact, I must guard against giving, but I follow my heart much and give -- this year, I monitored my expectations of what people return and why I gave. I tried to be very mindful of that and was, thus, not full of resentment but just happily gave. It worked out fairly well, and I have such fond memories of loving and nurturing my students this year and receiving love back, especially from the wonderful senior class. I will miss those students!

I'm finally through with Job in my reading and have entered, thankfully, into Psalms. The above verse jumped out at me. Last night, we went to our neighbor's house; they wanted us to come over to see their new patio and remodeling. Just one house over, we saw the difference between those who spend money on their living comfort and us, who save our money more than spend it. I saw the beautiful pots, plants, water pool, lights, outdoor seating, and when we went through their house, I saw the lovely attention, care, new fixes that their interior had. I came home with desire to spend our own money; I came home looking critically around me.

It's such human nature to compare what we have with someone else. If someone who is poorer came to my house, they would feel inferior too. I truly despise that inside of us we can easily become unhappy for what we don't have or to showcase to others what we do have. In the United States, we love to show what our money can buy.

I know our neighbors lack faith, and the man thinks it's a bunch of nonsense. And, even though he sat in comfort, we realized he was getting soused in front of us. How often does that happen with his collection of fine wines and beers? We heard details of trips, things, but nothing higher. Their focus was on what their money could buy. I am tempted by that too. I came home dissatisfied with the little money we spend. I envied them and their carefree but comfortable lifestyle. Yet I know I must see beyond --  into their greater need. I don't want to say that I have something of greater value for the sake of comparing and making myself feel good. Rather, I want to know what is truly valuable and hold it dear to my heart -- so as I read Psalms this morning, this verse helped me focus on why one should eschew material pleasures as the end-all, be-all.

Grateful. May I not be judgmental, Lord, but discerning as to where true joy really resides. May my neighbors also be aware. May we live for you and others rather than for ourselves. May we grasp your true joy which only you can give. Amen.

The Beauty of Shyness?

The Beauty of Shyness

"There is something beautiful about shyness, even though in our culture shyness is not considered a virtue. On the contrary, we are encouraged to be direct, look people straight in the eyes, tell them what is on our minds, and share our stories without a blush.

But this unflinching soul-baring, confessional attitude quickly becomes boring. It is like trees without shadows. Shy people have long shadows, where they keep much of their beauty hidden from intruders' eyes. Shy people remind us of the mystery of life that cannot be simply explained or expressed. They invite us to reverent and respectful friendships and to a wordless being together in love."

A lovely reminder from Henri Nouwen. Shyness was once my painful burden to bear, and I'm sensitive to those who also are afflicted. It may be beautiful to those who wish to peer through the shy person's leaves and see potential wildflowers there, but to the shy person, fear grips them like a tight-paw-clawed monster who knows no countryside boundaries. Even though I have fought off this monster and can speak words fairly easily now, I still have a dream which indicates stuck language in my throat as a mucous-like mass which I attempt to pull out and pull out and pull out. I still have memories of being unable to speak, of fear, of words which bite me back upon utterance, upon a terrible self-consciousness which grabs my throat, upon the inability to ford a bridge, get upon a raft, approach another wanderer in the woods, tell anyone my name, have an opinion to be verbalized, speak. I always felt like an object to be looked at, one which puzzled and sometimes, like the above, intrigued. I much rather would have liked to have had words to fend off others or to be known.

But, God is a Word-Spirit, thankfully. He helped me write, gave me phrases-inside, pushed me to love language and to try, try, try to speak until that inside mass thinned, pounding on chest and back until I could clear myself, my throat, and utter exquisite speech. Today, I read in Luke chapters 7 and 8 about all the healings Jesus gave to those, all the hopes realized, and I feel healed from this monster of shyness. It was a process but God wanted me to be able to not hide one day. May I remember that when I want to shift into timidy on important issues pressed into my heart which need to be articulated for good effect.  Amen.

Generation gap and bridge

My last post was rather sad, but it captured a feeling and a regret and a hope. This weekend, we're going to be traveling to see my daughter, and I'm looking forward to that quite much. She is such an independent and private young lady -- which makes a mother worry. I'm glad I have God helping me with my anxiety and helping me recognize His work in her life. May she receive and be blessed with peace. She deserves a full dose of a loving and trustworthy Father in her life.

I've been reading Chronicles in the Bible, and the opening phrase when introducing a new king:  "He did right in the eyes of the Lord" is powerful. If a king does "evil in the eyes of the Lord" then ruin and problems happen throughout the entire kingdom. What I can't understand is when a God-seeking King, like Hezekiah who was rewarded both in wealth and victory for his devotion to God, has a son like Manasseh who did "evil in the eyes of the Lord, following detestable practices . . . ." Was he not properly trained by his father? Was he blinded to the work of God in His kingdom? How can the foundation of faith established with the priests, etc., during his father's reign be altogether rejected by the son? I just can't fathom it, yet time and time again, this pattern of good-to-evil happens from one generation to the next. Sigh -- it doesn't bode well for the rest of us. However, other places in the Bible, like in Proverbs, tells us to raise a child in the way they should go, with expectations that they will choose to seek God. And, lots of evidence points to the fact that children continue on with the faith of their parents.

I simply pray that my children know that I seek God and am rewarded with hope, relative peace, and love. I pray that those fruits will be ones that they also desire to open their hands to receive. Amen.

Children are strangers

"Children are their parents' guests. They come into the space that has been created for them, stay for a while - fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five years - and leave again to create their own space. Although parents speak about 'our son' and 'our daughter,' their children are not their property. In many ways children are strangers. Parents have to come to know them, discover their strengths and their weaknesses, and guide them to maturity, allowing them to make their own decisions." Henri Nouwen

"In many ways children are strangers."

I don't like that statement, but it's true. It was especially true of my daughter (and still is).

From watching excellent mothers at my school, I live vicariously through mother - daughter relationships which are good. Based upon mature parenting and wise choices, unwavering biblical foundations, tremendous engagement. I stare and am happy and am sad --  always happily sad that it's possible, and it's happening for some.

I was always there for my daughter, yet complications and forces grouped to batter.

I have many wonderful, close moment-memories of my sweet, shining star. Early on, we were a loving, inseparable pair, engaging and holding on. For what I could offer, I offered. Good choices, solid, foundational, guided my love for her.

Yet I did not parent perfectly, correctly. My hands were tied in some cases.

In other cases, I underestimated and underused my hands.

Some people say that you stop maturation at certain moments of abusive crisis. I wonder if I remained at 23 and 24 too long.

I wonder if I learned anything beyond my parents.

I look at those teenage daughters who do not run away, do not, do not, do not, and I see who I was at their age. Loving, God-entrenched, parent-respectful. I see expectations of unrealistic duplication given her circumstances.

I wonder what happened, but I know, and much was as it is. A wandering child. A pit and a climb. Both.

Now my daughter and I love each other, but there's a span of hurtful years, and there's a divide, and I wonder did I learn anything beyond my parents, beyond mistakes and pain? Is halting remedy enough.

I don't think she wants to know me truly and really. Maybe she isn't capable of that yet. Are any of us? Will she learn beyond her parents, beyond mistakes and pain?

God has been a parenting anchor for me even though the sail has whipped in the wind. Even through my inadequacies and blunders. Even through remedial rewiring. Even through, even through.

Bless this relationship and her, dear Lord. Thank you for new doors of grace and understanding and repair. Fracture happens but you, O good Father, restore beautiful light for shining.

Amen

Ever-present

It's 6:16 in the morning, and I should be tying up the fabric of my day's lessons plans.

But, my throat feels rawed by sand paper, and I'm in a tired-sick stupor.

If I can't focus now with these minor symptoms, I wonder how someone can who is really sick, who is chronically sick.  Yesterday I read an article about Ed Dobson, a once (well-known) pastor who's now chronically ill. He said that he found it hard to pray at all, to access that common devotional life which girds us during the day. Yet he's managed somehow to weakly walk the path (and to write a book about it with the help of his son!).

I, rawed-throat-only, believe in the challenge.

In so many aspects, it must be a difficult thing to have one's health taken away. I pray that those sick today can be, even if vaguely cognizant, aware of the following oft-repeated biblical promise:

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

Ever-present sounds like a feathertop mattress we can ride upon the turbulence.

Grateful.