The drama of daybreak, a dead bird and "what ifs"

This morning, of their own volition, my peepers popped open at exactly 5:45 am.

I got up, put the coffee on, chatted briefly with the other early risers in our household, and then headed out the back door to my studio to read my e-mail.

It seemed an ordinary sort of beginning to an ordinary sort of day....

Within a matter of minutes, I was happily reading my brother in law's email; when suddenly, to my absolute horror, I had a dead blue jay plopped into my lap.

Unbeknownst to me, my four year old had slipped out to visit me in the studio. Somewhere between the five feet that separates the house from the studio, she had found the "present" which the cat had left for us over night; and joy of all joys, had carried it in for me to see!

Well, when that dead jay hit my lap, I shrieked, "Get it off! Get it off!" which totally freaked out my four year old, who was soon crying just as hysterically as I was screaming "Get it off! Get it off!"

My poor husband, who is already more sleep deprived than the law should allow, staggers out and in that half scary, half silly voice of someone half asleep he literally shouts, "What's going on out there?"

About that time, the light in our neighbor's kitchen window pops on and I hear our neighbor shout through the screen, "Jerri, is everything ok over there?"

I'm still so transfixed by the jay's lolling head and death glazed eyes that it is all I can do to reply, "Uhhh, we're fine. Everythings fine."

Ugh.

The last thing I want to do before I've even had a sip of my morning coffee is to deal with a dead bird, and a big one at that. Of course, judging from my reaction you'd think that I'd just had a maggot infested bald eagle dropped into my lap. Oh well, let's just chalk that one up up to a lack of adequate sleep, a lack of caffeine and mid life hormones, shall we?

Anyhow, by 6:15 am we were holding an informal bird burial. Not an elaborate affair mind you, just your garden variety, dead jay wrapped in royal purple tissue paper tied with raffia, kind of funeral.

Was I naive to think that this would be the end of our family's dead jay tragedy? Oh but I must have been, because for the next two hours, I had to listen as my 7 year old son fussed and worried that we had buried "that poor bird" while it was still alive. "But Mom," he kept repeating, "I don't think that poor bird was dead. I think it was just in a coma."

He staunchly proceeded to advocate for the bird's immediate exhumation; while I of course refused, very much desiring to just let the dead jay stay buried. Of course, the price I paid for that decision, was having to listen to an endless barrage of "what ifs".

What if "that poor bird" wasn't really dead?

What if "that poor bird" woke up and couldn't breathe?

What if the worms tried to eat "that poor bird" alive?

What if, what if, what if....as if all the other "what if's" in my life aren't enough to drive me crazy?

So, that was the beginning of my day.

How was yours?

Old Testament Flashbacks

I'm not a big fan of bible studies.

I've tried a couple of different studies in a variety of settings and I have rarely felt challenged or inspired. I think it's pretty safe to say that I am neither blessed with extraordinary brain power, nor am I particularly learned in all things biblical. So that isn't the problem.

The problem is this. I just don't like those canned studies where you read a verse(s) and then beat the darn thing to death trying to pick out whatever the study guide author intended for all of us to pick out. I guess I prefer questions that are more open ended and maybe that's why I enjoy the parables of Jesus so much, because to me they seem so open ended.

Right now, I'm participating in an evening bible study at a neighbor's home and we are examining the book of James. Previous to this study, I hadn't spent a whole lot of time in James, so when I sat down a week ago and read the book (it's blessedly short), I almost felt like I was having an Old Testament flashback. This book has some pretty stern stuff, very plainly written and I think it fair to say that I wasn't grooving on James a whole lot...

The book of James starts out like this: Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
NIV James 1:2-3

See what I mean? I guess I'm just not spiritually evolved enough to consider my sorrows and trials pure joy. I think I'm more like that bruised reed Jesus talks about in Matthew 12:20. Should I suppose that Jesus will restore me by heaping more trials? Does Christ require still more perseverance from me?

I don't think so.

I think the only thing Jesus requires, is that I share this journey with him, and that I let him shoulder the sorrows of life so that I may discover life's deeper joys.

Yes, well now I'm digressing from my original point, aren't I?

I guess I just thought that a bible study should be more engaging, more exciting somehow. Maybe my expectations are the problem here too?

Oh well, on a positive note, the other people in this bible study were each fairly open in admitting that they experience a variety of problems in their lives. I found that refreshing. After all, we church folk seem to excel in looking good...and if we mention our problems at all, it's always in the past tense. We say things like, "Oh yes, I struggled with that once too...."

I also liked that at the end of our evening together, the people who prayed didn't ramble on and on with flowery prayers that always sound good but in actuality say nothing at all. That was refreshing too.

So, while I may not have been quivering with theological excitement the entire evening, it wasn't a complete waste of time. I think I'd be very much out of my depth in theological waters anyhow, so it's probably best that I not go looking for those particular troubles to sharpen my faith.

Bible studies, who needs them?

Me. I'm raising my hand. I need them and I'm praying:

God, dear God, please give me a teachable spirit.

I need that too.

What's your blogging type?

Every now and then it is kind of fun to take one of those silly little internet tests.

Here's one for all of you bloggers out there!

What's your blogging style?

Your Blogging Type is Confident and Insightful

You've got a ton of brain power, and you leverage it into brilliant blog.Both creative and logical, you come up with amazing ideas and insights.A total perfectionist, you find yourself revising and rewriting posts a lot of the time.You blog for yourself - and you don't care how popular (or unpopular) your blog is!

What's" Your Blogging Personality?

Funny thing is...I must care how popular my blog is. Why else would I put a counter on the page?

Insanity by Sunrise.

God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.
~Martin Luther

This morning I watched the sun rise.

It's been a long while since I've taken the time to simply watch as morning mysteriously breaks through the quiet darkness of night.

Today, I was struck by one thing.

This entire world is a love message from God.

I'm sure some of you have seen the movie, "The Matrix". Do you remember how the world which everyone believed to be real, was actually a computer program(s)? Do you remember that when people were unplugged from the matrix they began to see the world not as the visual images they had assumed to be real, but as the computer code it really was?

That's what my experience was like this morning.

In the stillness of the early morning and in the quiet of a world just stretching into wakefulness, I saw, heard, smelled and experienced the world as a love poem from God.

His love was encoded in every splash of color, in every bug, squirrel and bird. It was as if the things themselves ceased to exist and I was literally surrounded by the love of our Creator.

I am convinced that God's love is encoded in us as well. Listen closely to the beating of your own heart. Feel the pulse of life as it throbs through your veins. Still your mind and let the quiet voice of God whisper his love for you.

Unplug your own mind and cease viewing this world through the eyes of popular science and culture. God's love is encoded everywhere. We ourselves are ablaze with it, washed in it and born out of God's great love.

Sound crazy?

Maybe...but I've been called worse; and this is a crazy I can live with!

5 Simple Things

There's something kind of fun that is making its way around the blogosphere. I call it, "Five Simple Things."

It's self explanatory, so here goes:

Jerri's List of Five Simple Things

5 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Organize my studio.
2. Get naked for peace
3. Plant an herb garden
4. Learn the art of silversmithing
5. Experience life on a tropical island

5 things I can do:
1. Curl my tongue.
2. Help others to believe in themselves.
3. Listen with my ears and my heart
4. Make good soup~especially potato corn chowder.
5. Dream

5 things I cannot do:
1. Sing in tune.
2. Sit for long periods.
3. Parallel park
4. tolerate cruelty
5. Like George Bush

5 Things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. A sense of humor
2. Kindness
3. Intelligence
4. Sensitive/deep/loving/bright eyes
5. Cleanliness

5 things I say most often:
1. I'm sorry.
2. I love you.
3. No way!
4. What a freak!
5. I'm so tired!

5 celebrity crushes:
1. Hugh Laurie
2. The blonde dude on Lost, no not hobbit boy, the hunky Southern stud muffin.
3. Jack Black
4. Shrek
5. Viggo Mortensen

5 people I want to do this next:
1. Mendi
2. Debb
3. Michele
4. Bob
5. ???

Sabbath

Right now, there is a whirlwind of activity in our house as all five children begin the task of dressing for church.

With all five pressing for bathroom space, I can hear their voices growing shriller by the moment. I hold my breath and wonder, "Will this be a day when our tempers flair, when harsh words are exchanged and some of us are reduced to tears?"

It's odd perhaps; but I feel such tenderness and compassion for my children in this moment. I hear the urgency they each feel to dress themselves, to style their hair, and to prepare themselves for their weekly public debut in church.

As I sit here, I cannot help but wonder if we spend too many of our days lost in the urgency of preparing, of looking good, and fighting for bathroom space.

I think we do.

So today, there will be no church this fine Sunday morning. Instead, I am using my executive power as reigning Queen of my castle to decree that all seven of us will hop in the van and drive to one of our favorite nature trails.

It's a short drive and once we reach our destination, we will spill out into a wild place where there's no need to impress anyone. The birds won't care what we are wearing or whether our hair is fashionably styled.

Today, God's presence will be experienced through the warm sunshine on our faces, through the stretching of our muscles, and through the shrieks and laughter of five children unleashed.

Today, we will set aside the traditional, and experience a different kind of worship. The glory of God will still be ours to behold, to experience, and to treasure.

When we return from our adventure, I have no doubt that we will each feel the tired fullness of a day well spent.

We will have done what we set out to do.

We will have experienced the Sabbath.

Blog plug of the week!

I'm going to keep this short and sweet today.

If you would like to visit one fantabulous art blog, then check out Keri Smith's "Wish Jar Journal"

Be warned however!

Reading this blog might just inspire you to do something crazy, like engaging in a free spirited dance on a street corner in your community!

Confused?

Stop by Keri's blog and then you will understand what I mean!

Mental Masturbation~part 2

Recently, one of the blog writers whom I very much enjoy, launched a massive, full scale, acerbic assault upon the writing and beliefs of another blog writer. It was delightfully wicked, highly intelligent, and incredibly unkind.

To my shame, I actually found myself enjoying the writer's blistering insults. It was all so beautifully and masterfully written that I almost missed the underlying ugliness.

When people use their wit, and their incredible intelligence to tear down another person (deserved or not), it just plain sucks. It's wrong and I won't engage in this unconscionable form of mental masturbation again.

After all, that's what this whole thing really was. The blog writer was mentally masturbating himself through his clever manipulation of the written word; and we, the readers became so stimulated by it all, that we couldn't resist joining in on the orgy.

I'm guessing that we've all run into the kind of intellectual elitist who likes to focus upon some obscure idea and then mentally stroke themselves into a frenzy of frontal lobe activity until every brain cell explodes in self aggrandizing waves of orgasmic delight.

These individuals truly are smarter than the rest of us. The fact that they know they are so much smarter is what makes their form of mental masturbation so darn pleasurable for them. They don't have to be mean to heighten their own pleasure.

No, it's people like myself that you have to watch out for. You see, we understand that we aren't all that bright; but we also know that we have a gift to create and appreciate acerbic humor. Sometimes out of our own smallness, we just can't seem to help but to cut some poor soul to smithereens whether they deserve their own dissection or not.

As I have mentioned in my previous post, both the blogosphere and the world itself are becoming increasingly smaller. We have the power to choose whether these environments are warm and nurturing, or cold and inhospitable.

Today, I'm suggesting that we strive to make all of our communities, loving communities. I'm suggesting that we choose to treat one another with compassion, understanding and kindness. I'm suggesting that we don't just love the people who most closely resemble our own selves and our own beliefs; but rather, that we love and respect all people, especially those who are most different from our own selves.

I just can't help but wonder how much better all of our lives would be if we spent less energy self pleasuring and more energy loving one another. I know for a fact that doing this improves life in the marital bed; so, it stands to reason that it's got to work in other respects, right?

I like to think so anyway...

Mental masturbation~part uno

I've mentioned before that I enjoy reading the blogs of other individuals.

Sometimes I read a blog because the writing is so sharp, so cutting, that it challenges my lazy brain to think "higher", more intellectual thoughts. Other times I read certain blogs because the words and ideas soothe my soul like the healing balms of Gilead.

The thing I've noticed as my blog addiction has deepened, is that each blog, if the author is faithful and writes daily, (or is particularly talented/relevant/entertaining/famous) begins to build a kind of community.

Blog communities seem to begin like this.

When a blog author is particularly adept at communicating their ideas, a readership develops. Day in and day out, these various individuals (the readership) will return to read, to digest new information, and to post their comments.

In surprisingly little time, an intimacy begins to develop between the blog readers and the blog author. As this community deepens and grows, the readership naturally begins to build relationship with one another. These relationships may become so intertwined and so natural, that the cyberworld will actually cross over into the real world, as these various individuals seek to solidify their relationships face to face, in real time.

Once upon a time, cyberspace was a very vast, and cold place to be; but, like the real world, cyberspace has warmed and grown surprisingly smaller. It would appear that both cyberspace and planet earth have been successfully colonized and populated by human beings.

The question now is, how will we choose to treat one another as we share these two worlds?

I know that some of you are probably annoyed because I haven't even touched upon the title of this post, which is of course, "Mental Masturbation". Don't worry. I'll get to the masturbation part tomorrow and together we'll work ourselves into an intellectual, orgasmic frenzy!

The invisible exhibitionist

One of my passions, is Christ centered recovery work.

For the past four years, I've facilitated small groups of women who desire to heal, and to recover the broken pieces of their lives. Over the years, I've been continually amazed by the resiliency of the human spirit. It has been my sincere privilege to explore a variety of topics and to share the recovery lives of so many wonderful women.

This year however, I've stepped completely outside that area of passion and service. I miss the work, the people, the excitement of having a new group. I miss the challenges. I miss it all; but I don't regret the decision to temporarily withdraw from service.

Yesterday, a friend asked me why I have decided to leave an area of ministry, in which I am so passionately invested. My response was simple: "Because I no longer fear being invisible."

You see, when I was a child I learned that the best way to survive my family of origin was to become invisible. In my family, visible people were targets of rage, of bitterness, sometimes even targets of violence. If I had any hope of preserving any part of my true self, I had to become invisible...and I did.

Of course, once I reached my teenage years, I no longer needed to remain invisible. I was old enough, and savvy enough to protect myself. I didn't need my invisibility cloak to dodge the brutality of ugly half truths and lies that were always flying within my childhood home. I was able to protect myself.

Instead of invisibility, I experienced a need to be seen. Predictably, I acted out in all the standard teenage ways. Like so many others, this was my way of saying "Hey world, here I am. Take a long look at me. I dare ya!"

By the time I had reached my mid-30's I was already the mother of three. I'd been married for over 15 years and I was absolutely, abjectly miserable. My means of self preservation then was to slip into the invisibility of addiction, and despair.

When I recognized my own pattern of addiction for what it was, I sought help immediatedly and I found recovery in a traditional, secular 12 step program. That was when both my recovery journey, and my spiritual journey began.

One of the things I've realized recently, is that somehow my childhood need to become invisible has been transformed into a deep and pervading belief that I actually am invisible. I exist, but I do not. No one, not even God, sees me... not really. I am nothing. I am invisible.

On some level, all the ways I have been serving within the church and within my community, have really been my adult way of saying to myself, to God and to others, "Hey! Look at me! I am not invisible. I am important. I am here."

Several weeks ago, I was enjoying a coffee date with Christ, which is something I try to do at least once a week. I was rambling on about my many trials, when Christ quietly took my hand and whispered into my hair, "Come to me!".

Strange things like this often happen when I meet with Christ, but this moment seemed so peculiar that it caused me to pause in puzzlement; and then, as if the moment had never even happened, I continued to ramble on.

It wasn't until much later that I truly understood what had happened. That morning when Christ leaned in and beckoned, "Come to me.", it was actually God himself whispering, "Jerri, my beloved child, I see you. I've seen you all along and none of this is necessary. Come to me and allow me to share who I am with you."

What I experienced in that moment, was my own personal invitation to move into deeper relationship with the creator of our universe and I almost missed it.....almost. I wonder how many other invitations I've missed over the years. How many other times has this vulnerable and loving God beckoned, "Come to me."?

Well to make a long story somewhat shorter, I no longer fear being invisible. I have finally touched upon the truth that all along my life's journey, I've been seen, and held, and loved by the One who made me.

It is a daily choosing to believe this, and for now, it requires both enormous discipline and effort for me to explore and to understand this new way of seeing, and believing, and being in the world.

This is why I've stepped back from all of my service work. I need the time, and the space to claim my place and to discover who I am through God's eyes.

I am grateful that God has used me all these years, in spite of my own impure motives and failings; but right now, I am most grateful for the gift which God gives in sharing himself.

How can I ever I thank God for that precious moment when I finally heard Him as He whispered into my hair, into my life, and into my very soul, "Come to me."?

I don't know; but it is both my hope and my prayer that I will live my way into the answer.

Live along the line

photo~j. N-L

The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
alexander pope

What does it mean to "live along the line"?

Do you feel at each thread and live along the line?

Is your touch exquisitely fine?

memories

Years ago, when my oldest son was about three years old, we were passing by the meat department in a grocery store when he suddenly stopped and seriously announced, "Mom if I were a farmer, and you were my cow, I would never send you to the slaughter house."

Oh my goodness! I remember everyone within earshot chuckled over that one!

Ok, so what's the point of sharing this little journey down memory lane?

It's simple.

Tell the people you love, how much you care about them. Do it today. Don't wait. E-mail, text message, send a card or a letter, pick up the phone; it doesn't really matter how you do it, just do it!

We also need to remember that expressing love through language is only a beginning. Be sure to follow up your loving words with loving actions.

Years ago, in his own way, right in front of the rump roasts and filet mignon, my young son was telling me how much he loved me. His love for me was so great that he was willing to violate the primary rule of farming, which was, and still is, to eat what one grows.

Everyone should know how it feels like to be so sincerely and passionately loved; and yet none of us would ever know if we did not, in some way, affirm our love for one another.

So, go ahead! Dare to love! Don't be afraid, just do it!

Dreams and the secrets that bind us~part 2

Yesterday I shared a dream that has been troubling me this past week.

It's funny how various people in my life have responded to reading about this dream. My fifteen year old said, "Mom, when you write about things like this, aren't you worried everyone is going to think you are a freak?" My laughing response was, "As if they don't already?"

My husband just shook his head and said, "You have always had the strangest dreams..."

My friend Debb, hit the nail right on the head when she said, "Let the cats out into the daylight, feed them & heal them, in doing so you can heal yourself."

What "cats" have you hidden away from the light of day? What unnamed secrets cause you shame?

My biggest fear, and greatest shame, is that I am unloveable. This concept was literally pounded into me by my parents, and it is a lie that I have chosen to believe, and to sustain, and to hide, just like I have hidden all those cats in the basement of my dreams.

Over the years the lie that I am unloveable has reproduced and begat still uglier lies. Six toed, two tailed lies...evil untruths that have rooted and nested in the basement of my own soul.

Yet there is hope.

There is hope, because I have this sense, that God deeply desires to reveal, to release and to heal what I cannot. He is not afraid of, or shamed by my brokenness. He does not reject what is unloveable within me. Through the eyes of His compassion, God sees my "cats" for what they really are...broken, unloved, half truths about myself.

Don't you see? Don't you see how God aches with determination to love and to reveal love in us? It is His purpose, His unrelenting and timeless purpose, to pull us into His whirlwind of relational love.

In the light of day, I see now that God's love for me is remorseless. He will reach me through dreams, through His word, and through the words of others. He will do whatever it takes to convince me, to draw me into His light, to fulfill His love and His higher purpose.

I am left breathless, believing and grateful.

Thank you Father God, thank you!

The dreams that haunt my waking hours~part !

****disclaimer****
This was only a dream. I have never harmed a cat or any other animal; nor do I intend to!

Imagine a dank basement filled with innumerable cats. They've been locked away and hidden from the light of day. They are half starved, emaciated, and covered with fleas. They are hideous, hissing caricatures of their formerly healthy feline selves....unloved, half wild, and victims of horrific neglect.

I sometimes have dreams about such a basement.

The cats are there because I've hidden them there. For days on end, I leave them in the damp darkness, without adequate food or clean water. They reproduce, and they bear six toed, two tailed kittens...wild, half minded creatures, shockingly grotesque in appearance and behavior.

But, I do nothing to rescue these poor creatures. I feed them enough to keep them alive and I hide their existence, just as I hide my soul numbing shame deep within myself.

I cannot risk releasing these animals. If I did, everyone would know how horribly and cruelly I have mistreated them. Everyone would know that I am not who I pretend to be; and more importantly, I would no longer be able to deny my own evil doing.

When I dream about these creatures, the dream always follows a similar pattern. I usually dream that I am alone in my own home, when I suddenly notice smoke and flames shooting out of the wall sockets. The house is on fire and I know that I must leave; but I can't.

What am I to do about my basement full of cats?

I am paralyzed. I find that I am unable to leave those cats to perish in the smoke and flame; but, releasing them is also out of the question. I cannot risk being revealed as the crazy, cat torturing woman I know myself to be.

I would be lying if I did not admit how deeply this dream troubles me. In fact, this is the kind of dream that haunts my waking hours.....

One thing I've learned in recent years, is to pay close attention to my dreams.

I believe that our dreams sometimes tells us things about ourselves that we need to know. I also believe that God sometimes speaks to us in our dreams.

When I began having this dream about my basement full of cats, I had to ask myself, "What do I have to learn from this vivid and unsettling imagery?"

I've spent time in prayer, asking God to reveal this dream's meaning, if in fact there is meaning to be found. And, I believe that God has answered....

Check back for part two of this post if you would like to know what I have discovered!

Be still

In his book, "Everything Belongs", Richard Rohr shares a prayer that he encourages those seeking a contemplative life to pray. It goes like this.

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've entered a season in my life where I am consciously striving to be less of a "human doing" and more of a "human being".

I don't think I was prepared for how difficult it is to simply "be" in this world.

Everything, and I mean everything, conspires against a life that involves being present, being aware, and being still. There are so many distractions, so many needs and so many internal voices that judge, nag, whine and demand.

The moment by moment opportunities to smile, to speak kindly, to sit quietly and pray...these things get so easily lost in the daily busyness of "doing".

I am finding that it takes planning, practice and perseverance to slow things down long enough to "be".

That is why I am praying Rohr's simple little prayer several times a day. Doing so, serves as a tangible reminder to both myself, to God and the universe at large that I am determined to live in the here and now.

It helps, it really does.

Don't believe me? Give it a try!

If praying this prayer doesn't slow your breathing and still your mind, e-mail me and tell me about your experience. Or better still, leave a comment and let everyone know! Perhaps what you share will help all of us to stretch and to grow.

Book of the week!

This book is being panned by the critics; but I rather enjoyed reading "Eldest"

Of course, I enjoy the sci-fi and fantasy genres more than the average 50 year old probably should....

Having said that, this was a good read, pure and simple.

I enjoyed all 704 pages.

Well done Christopher Paolini. Well done!

Dreams....

Last night I dreamt that I was sitting on a park bench in the middle of a city in ruins. The landscape was devoid of sound, of sun, and everywhere I looked, I saw only the silent grayness of desolation.

Then, quite unexpectedly a young girl appeared wearing a crimson jumper. She had pigtails, freckles, bright blue eyes, polka dot knee socks and patent leather shoes.

"You know Jerri," she said, "every moment in this life has meaning."

"What does this all mean then?" I asked.

She shrugged and smiled her little girl smile.

"Does it matter?" she replied.

"Of course it matters. It has to matter." I answered.

"Whether you see it or not, whether you understand it or not, all that matters is for you to know that each and every moment has meaning."

As she said this, she brushed her fingertips across my cheek, laughed and then danced away into the blurry gray of my city in ruins.

I am awake now, and I am struck by how sweetly strange my dreams sometimes seem even to myself.

Pay attention to your dreams. Sometimes our dreams will whisper quiet truths that somehow manage to survive the burning reality of our own wakefulness.

Pay attention! Who knows? Maybe even in our dreams every moment has meaning.

Unexplainable joy

I woke up this morning to find that a sweet and seemingly untraceable joy had taken nocturnal root in my soul.

Gone were the doubts and the nagging fears from previous days.

Don't you see?

God, in his infinite mercy, is allowing me to experience his presence. Like a slow, and steady heart beat, I am beginning to feel the pulse of life. Do you feel it too? Can you hear the throbbing heart beat of God?

Oh listen, I beg of you! Open the ears of your own soul and allow the joy of God's life to flood through and around you! Surrender to the mystery! Embrace and accept the tender moment of hearing your creator's heart beat for you!

Whether you hear or not, I give thanks for the joy that is ours today!

I give thanks!

The me I is...

How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something, but to be someone.
Coco Chanel

All of my life, I've been a care burdened "something". I've been a crappy assed daughter, a passionate lover, a blackout drunk, a semi-sane mother, a devoted wife, and a back door Christian; but, I've never truly been that unique and special "someone" God has created me to be.

I am pleased to announce however, that all of this is about to change.

Even now, I am taking the steps, albeit baby steps, that will allow me to take better care of myself. I am purposing time for prayer, time for exercise, time for daily worship, time to bake bread, (yes bread made with real, living yeast and unbleached flour). I am slowly reordering my life in order to claim the identity which God breathed into existence long before time even began.

And yes, Coco was correct. The cares do begin to slip away when a person makes the decision to actually be someone.

The trick I suppose is to choose the right someone to be. The best, and perhaps the only choice, is to just be ourselves. After all, "if you aint who you is, you is who you aint."

I'm ready to lean into the me I "is", and leave behind the me I "aint". I no longer need to worry that I might fall or fail. God is my safety net.

So, if you see some woman looking outrageously courageous and carefree today, say hello! That's me being the best me I is.

Snort alert....

In my own humble opinion, this post deserves a snort alert! In other words, put down your coffee before you read or you might just snort hot coffee through your nostrils.......

The other day, I'm drinking a cup of coffee and scrambling a half dozen eggs for my three youngest children when my four year old walks into the kitchen and nonchalantly announces,
"I know what my own butt hole looks like."

Startled, I stopped stirring the curdling eggs and asked, "Oh really, how could you possibly know what your own butt hole looks like?"

Her response, "I just do and that's all I can say right now." and off she flounced!

Should I suppose that my darling four year old took one of the many mirrors from around the house, laid it on the floor, parted her cheeks and took a peek, or what?

Of course, that pre-kinder conversation was topped by my oldest daughter (age 15), who recently asked if it were true that the latest craze in body alteration/beautification is anal bleaching. I wasn't sure whether I should be proud that my 15 year old brought this question to me in the first place or whether I should be somewhat chagrined that she would think I would even know the answer.

I love my children...they crack me up!

(No pun intended!)

The God Machine?

What if you lost everything today?

What if your home, your family, and all of your possessions were suddenly swept away by hurricane force winds, storm surges and flood waters?

How would you react?

Would you collapse under the weight of your own grief; or, would you rage against the injustice of such soul crushing loss? How would you respond?

Would you find solace in God; or would you blame God?

If it were me in New Orleans, bereft and alone, I certainly wouldn't be praising God in the midst of my own agony and sorrow. I just wouldn't. I'm not sure what this says about me as a Christian, but I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't be singing, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow..."

I also know, that I am I'm sick to death of this gospel of health and prosperity that is being preached day in and day out in some of our Christian churches and on Christian television. Since when did God become some grand blessing machine with coin slots labeled "prayer", "faith", "trust" and "tithing"?

I think too many people truly believe that if you put a little faith in the God machine, a blessing will magically pop out! Yes indeed, if you just pray hard enough, trust long enough, have a little faith and tithe to your neighborhood church, the God machine will bless you with a big bank account, a gorgeous spouse, a beautiful home and healthy children.

I guess all those people who are suffering as a result of Hurricane Katrina didn't plug the God machine enough, did they?

Seriously folks, what if God's only blessing is the gift of Himself? Would Christ be enough?

I suspect if most American Christians were honest, the answer would have to be, "No, Christ is not enough for us. We want all those other "blessings" too!"

You see, we Americans tend to want the health and prosperity gospel more than we want the genuine relationship God invites each of us to experience through Christ Jesus. At best, we want our cake and to eat it too!

So, what's my point? I'm not sure. My thoughts and feelings are chaotic today.

I only know that I desire to lay down my own health and prosperity gospel* at the foot of the cross. I long for Christ to be at the center of my very being.

If everything I know and love were to vanish this very moment, would I be able to grieve, and to mourn, and in the end be able to say, "It is well, with my soul." ?

I don't know; but asking myself these things begs the more important question.

Is Christ be enough?

And to that I must say, "I honestly don't know, is he?"


*Manning introduces the gospel of health and prosperity in his book, "The Signature of Jesus". Credit should be given where credit is due...it's a marvelous phrase and an accurate assessement of what's being preached in too many religious arenas.

Beach Haikus, part deux

Our sandcastles melt

into salty mist and waves,

reclaimed by the sea.

Yesterday I began the process of simplifying my life.

I've taken the first necessary steps to begin the process of withdrawing from several time consuming areas of church leadership. Too much of my life has been wrapped up in the "doing". Now has come the time for me to simply "be" in the world. No more agendas, no more look good service work, no more hob nobbing with the senior pastor...it's all being whittled out of my life.

I'm literally carving space and time into my own life; time for God, time for my family and perhaps most importantly, time for myself.

Yesterday, someone asked me why I was being so selfish. I don't see what I am doing as a selfish thing at all; but it occurs to me that many I know are still too entangled in the dance that moves between the worlds of doing and being. Too many draw their value and self worth from their doing. I want to be, to simply be. For once, I choose to draw my value and self worth from my growing understanding that I am God's beloved child.

I desire to be reclaimed by the sea of God's love. Transform me Oh God, from this uncultivated state! Draw me into the tumultuous ocean of your love, shape me, transform me....I am ready.

Beach Haikus, part 1

My fifteen year old daughter thinks it is lame that I write haikus.

She doesn't think everything I do is lame, which is a good thing I suppose, but apparently writing haikus is as great a faux pas as wearing knee socks

Knee socks I can understand, but what's so wrong about writing a haiku? Oh the mystery of the teenage mind.....

Anyhow, here's one of my recent haikus.


Crashing tidal waves

wash sand fleas out to sea in

quiet surrender.


Ok, so I'm clearly not the world's greatest haiku poet; but just take a moment and consider the theme of "quiet surrender".

Has there ever been a moment of quiet surrender in your life?

I'm not talking about the surrender of desperation. I'm talking about the quiet and purposeful yielding of one's inner self.

I don't do much quietly. I don't eat quietly. I don't cry quietly and if I am to believe my husband and children who claim I snore, I don't even sleep quietly!

Recently however, I experienced a moment of quiet surrender.

At long last, I have surrendered to the knowledge that I cannot continue living my life as I have been.

Don't get me wrong, I love my life. The problem is, I spend too much of my life doing and not enough time being. I need to take time to be alone with myself. I need to spend more mornings alone with Jesus. I need to fully experience the blessing of God's gift of Himself.

I cannot do this, if I am constantly doing for others.

I've made the decision to relinquish some of my service commitments. I will eliminate some, curtail others; but the point is for me to let go, if only for the time being, and surrender.

God is calling me to himself. I feel it. With every fiber of my being I feel it and I wish to surrender, to yield to Him.

The first step is to simplify my life and to make room for Him in a real way.

How often do any of us really make room for God in our lives?

I mean, have you ever really spent an hour alone with God?

Most people I know would go insane after five minutes and they are good, faithful Christian men and women!

Who knows? Maybe I will go insane myself? I'm certain that some of my friends and acquaintances will wonder if I have drifted into some peculiar insanity...but the decision has been made and my surrender will continue as a daily choosing.

This much I know...for the time being at least!

Famous by Proxy

I've been out of town for the past few days.

I took some much needed time for myself and abandoned hearth and home. (Never fear, I will write more on that in the days to come!)

Imagine my surprise when I returned to update my blog and I see that none other than Rick, from A New Live Emerging, has stopped by and that he was even courteous enough to leave me a comment.

Now, being Rick's devoted blog groupie, simply knowing that Rick has stopped by, has left me feeling almost as famous as I felt the year I met Patrick Duffy. Of course, I was candy striping teenager back when I met Mr. Duffy; but dang it all, I really had a thing for the "man from Atlantis". (I've since met other "famous" people, but Mr. Duffy really touched me in a way that was memorable...I'm not sure if it was his kindness toward my awkward teen self or his dastardly good looks!)

Most of you are probably waaay too young to remember Patrick Duffy; so you will have to trust me when I say that back in the day, he was quite the hottie!

Ahhh, but I digress from the object of my adult devotion.

Rick, if you happen to read this, I feel I must apologize to you publicly. When I wrote to you several weeks ago, I specifically stated that it would not be necessary for you to reply to my e-mail. At that time, I merely wanted for you to know that I believe you have an extraordinary gift for writing and that what you write has a beneficial impact on the lives of others, myself included.

I never meant to imply that you rudely ignored my e-mail; although I certainly can see where that might have been inferred. I suspect you "get" that this has all been tongue in cheek, but in the event that I have inadvertently offended you, I ask forgiveness.

In the midst of all the hub-a-loo I remain your devoted blog groupie, famous by proxy!