Let it go

Let it go.

But what if it does something I don't want it to do?

You can't control what it does anyway.  Let it go.

But I've held onto it for so long!

Then it's time.  Let it go.

It's going to be so hard!

I know.  I'll be there.  Let it go.

But I'm afraid!

I'll be holding you and I'll never let go of you; you can lean on Me.  Let it go.

But if I let it go, it'll be like saying I don't care - and I DO care!

I know. The best care you can give right now is to yourself.  Let it go.

But if I let it go, it'll be like I am saying that what happened is okay, that I'm okay with it - and I'm not!

I know how you feel in your heart.  Really.  Let it go. 

But I CAN'T!!

I CAN.  Trust Me.  Let it go.

From THIS SITE

Faith is ...

"Just believe, just have faith."  So often these words slip from between our lips.  But what do they mean?  Are they platitudes or are they real?  And if they're real, how do they work? what do they look like in practical terms?  

I believe that faith is paradoxical.  It is most active when it insists upon being passive, and it is most impotent when it insists on frantically acting ... because after all, we can't just stand there; we have to DO something!  

Of course by passive I don't mean lazy.  I mean that there is a desire, a deep desire to let God be God and not to hinder His work.  There is a determination to trust when there may seem to be nothing there to justify that trust.  

Source (via Google Images):
http://www.revelife.com/757008876/father-and-son-lessons-in-trust/

Faith is falling. (By falling I don't mean into temptation!)  It's that moment when you know that you can't save yourself from falling flat on your face if you pursue His presence ... and there's nothing there that you can see ... and you fall anyway, let yourself go, knowing in your deepest heart that He'll catch you. 

Faith - if you can feel it emotionally - is very comforting.  Millions of people are comforted by believing that God is with them and sensing His presence.  But it's also frightening.  Believing, trusting, having faith - takes a lot of courage!!  Or is that desperation??  Especially when the emotion just isn't there, when the heavens seem like a giant quonset hut roof, words echoing back and making a big noise... signifying nothing.  When prayer seems to go unanswered.  When the circumstances are oppressive.  

It's those times when - as one songwriter wrote - "believing becomes my victory."  When all strength is gone, and there is nothing left, faith is content to rest - to relinquish all that is not conducive to the spirit-life within and to simply focus, moment-by-moment, on that which is good, pure, praise-worthy, and virtuous.  To shove aside all that detracts from that determination and to lean against His shoulder, to relax into the loving care of God - and let Him carry you.

Blizzard Day

I'm looking out my window at what's supposed to be a blizzard.  It doesn't seem that bad out there!

Yet the local radio station has announced a few cancellations of events planned for today, from skating events at rinks to funerals.  

I guess I'm comparing this blizzard to some of the ones I've experienced here on this little jut of sand sticking up out of the Atlantic.  Most notable of these is White Juan, which happened slightly before this time in 2004.  

Source (with link):
http://digitaljournal.com/article/303179

We have power; we have snow tires on our car; our snowblower person was just here to blow out the driveway.  And we can see the road.  White Juan? wow. We were DAYS digging out of that one.  Seventy-six centimeters of snow fell across our province back then - that's about 26 inches for folks on the imperial system (like me), and that was after it had dumped 91 centimeters (34 inches) on the rest of our area before it got to us!  With all the wind causing massive drifting - it was one lulu of a storm... the snowbanks were that high that it was a danger to get to an intersection since they prevented people from seeing what was coming!  I felt worst, though, for the winter birds whose source of food was now three feet or more under the surface.  Or was it? 

As I write, the snowfall warning has been announced as having ended. (Chalk another fizzled blizzard up to El Niño.)  Well - I guess that plans can go forward pretty much as normal.  

I can't help thinking about those birds out there.  They have absolutely no control over the elements, and take one moment at a time, as it happens, without fretting about where the next grub is coming from.  They just survive - and thrive!  Yesterday I saw a family of bluejays in one of the trees next to our house.  They all seemed pretty well-fed.  I even heard what sounded like a cardinal the other day. The jays eat hibernating grubs from the pine and spruce that rim our property.  Cardinals are seed-eaters, and could eat the meat from the pine and spruce cones - those very same trees.  There is plenty of food for the birds - they don't have to dig through all that white stuff. And they endure (and survive - and sing through-) the cold... with far less warm clothing to wear than I have. And no roof over their head except the occasional branch.

The well-known words come back to me afresh - "Look at the birds... they don't sow or gather into barns but God feeds them.  If God feeds the birds of the air, how much more will He feed you, who have such little faith?"

Merciful goodness!

I'm recovering from a cold that I caught yesterday when I was at the walk-in clinic.  I was fine when I was there - now I caught this little kid's cold who was in the waiting room with me, across the room from me, even. Ugh.

Be that as it may, I'm not writing to vent about doctor's offices, or little kids, or any of that.  I'm writing to express my gratitude. 

For the last several months, my husband and I have been watching this little quarter-inch sore on his arm refuse to heal - I'll spare you the details but bodies are supposed to heal and this thing didn't behave ... normally.  Over time it gradually got a little bigger until it measured almost a third of an inch across and was puffed out.  Anyhow - yesterday morning he finally went to get it seen.  I just so happened to have the day off (planned two weeks ago so no, yesterday's doctor's visit wasn't planned by me; it just was what it was. )

After his name was called, I decided to go in with him because I was there, and I was curious.  And I was also a little scared because I knew something was amiss.  The doctor confirmed my niggling little fears - it was indeed basal cell carcinoma - and she was quick to point out (seeing the look on my face, no doubt) that this is the harmless kind of cancer. All that would be required was its excision at the hands of a plastic surgeon.  

She made the referral to a good plastic surgeon, and today his receptionist called and booked a date for April to have it seen to. Just like that. 

Found this photo (through Google Images) at:
http://radical-church-history.blogspot.com/
2011/10/lost-art-of-gratitude.html

After checking with a friend in the know, I've come to understand that all of these carcinomas are sent to the lab to be analyzed after they are removed; this is quite a relief.  

All the research we've done since the diagnosis shows that 98% of these cancers are localized and benign - and that of those that are malignant, there is an extremely good recovery rate.  The doctor did check his back for more spots - there were none - and said that if ever he had a 'friend' that hung around longer than it should without getting better, it would be best to have it checked - a mild rebuke for waiting so long in the first place.  Yet she didn't seem too awfully concerned about it, which gave us the message again that it wasn't of the "oh my goodness it's cancer!" variety.

When I think of what this MIGHT have been, though - it makes me extremely grateful for the mercy of God.  It reminds me that life is so very short, and that every day is precious, and that especially so are the people in our lives.  I find myself taking little moments aside to just thank God - no agendas, no manipulation, just pure gratitude.  I thank God for being merciful to us. For showing His goodness to us.  For taking pity on us.  I also am thanking Him for the wonderful gift He gave me: the gift of this my best friend in life -- my very loving, very thoughtful, yet very ... human ... husband -- and being all the more determined to enjoy every moment with him.

Thank You again, God.

The Gift of Giving

This time of year, it's all around us... the idea of gifts and giving, presents and receiving.  

When we're small, we get very excited about the receiving part.  Okay, it's fun to get gifts, especially those ones that show that the person put some thought into it.  There's no denying it!

Source: (through Google Images)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/ethicallivingblog
/2008/dec/04/christmas

But as we grow up, we start to understand that there is a real gift in giving. There is such intrinsic reward in watching someone receive and appreciate a gift we've taken the time to pick out for him or her.  Whether it's the wonder on a child's face - or a tear of joy from a lonely old aunt - we start to learn the truth behind the saying, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."  

Not the obligatory kind, of course.  There's no enjoyment in that, only the repayment of an unspoken but very real debt.  Folks that use the gift-giving as a means of one-upmanship spoil the whole idea.   But real giving - the kind the other person doesn't expect and can't repay - is thrilling. It's a gift that gives back to the giver a hundredfold in satisfaction and happiness.  We were designed to enjoy it by One who knows the joy of giving.  

I could preach right now.  But I won't.

To thine own self be true

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
                      -- Polonius, in Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act I Scene III

Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being,
   And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.
                      -- King David, Psalm 51:6 (NASB)

One of the things I've been learning in the last couple of years has been the concept of honesty.  In the past, I've been accused of being "too honest" with people, to my own detriment, so I never thought that I had a problem with being honest.  But the honesty that I mean is not the kind that makes you not cheat on a test or not tell someone a falsehood.  No, this is the kind of honesty that is brave enough to look where few dare: inside.  

When I started my own healing process, one of the first things with which I was confronted was this concept of honesty with the self. I was very much afraid to delve too far into this idea, but more and more I became convinced that as far back as I could remember, I had been lied to, I had lied to myself, and I continued to lie to myself and sell myself short on so many things, based on lies I had been told ... and believed ... all my life.  These things were told to me by my family members, the members of my church, my classmates, even radio and TV. 

The lies were insidious and they sunk down past what I did into who I was.  The statement, "That was a dumb thing to do" became quickly translated by my psyche into, "I'm dumb."  When I heard, "That's the wrong way to do that," my belief system incorporated the message, "I can never do anything right" into its framework.  And on and on the list went.  Everyday occurrences, little off-handed statements, were the bricks and mortar of my wall of self-told lies.  

When I started to expose these lies, they squirmed; they hated the light. Then when I turned up the light by telling the truth - over and over again - they protested loudly.  At first.  After several weeks and months of drumming messages of encouragement and life into those dark places, the accusing voices weren't quite as loud.  The wounded child that was inside of me started to think that the things she believed and was told were not true and that there was a better way to live, that she was worth something just the way she was.  There were setbacks of course, but overall, things started to turn around on the inside.

That was the beginning of miracles, the sunrise on a new day.  I can't explain how it started to change things for me, but I do know that it did.  I slowly grew in self-confidence, and over time realized my opinion mattered, that I could say what I thought and felt without fear of reprisals.  It's still a work in progress, but it's happening in increasing measure and frequency, the more honest I am with myself.

Power to Choose

In the last couple of days I have been thinking about the bad rep that God gets. What I mean is that He gets blamed for a whole lot of stuff that people choose to do, whether done by the ones who say they believe in Him ... or not.  

Found through Google Images at
http://indianajones.wikia.com/wiki/False_Grail

I am a self-admitted Indiana Jones fan.  Especially the first and third movies.  There are so many images in those films that are supremely symbolic - they remind me of important lessons that often get either overlooked or pooh-poohed. There is such a thing as right and wrong. There are things that are beyond our understanding.  Actions have consequences.    And people are responsible for their own actions. 

One poignant scene is the one in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" where Donovan, the bad guy, gets dibs on choosing a cup from which to drink the water from the fountain of youth.  The knight warns both Indy and Donovan to choose wisely, for only when the water is in the Holy Grail does it bring life to the drinker. The same water in a false Grail will bring death.  With the help of an expert, he chooses a beautiful chalice which he deems "befitting the King of kings" - and drinks.  The results are not pretty (click here to see this classic clip and I hope you've turned up the volume; the video will open in a new window).  Some call this scene funny or corny.  For me, it's a reminder.


When Indy chooses the correct Grail, things are not suddenly sunshine and roses for him either.  Yes, he doesn't die - and yes, he's able to save his dad's life as well.  But his struggles are not over either.  Neither are his temptations to choose poorly.

We were created with the ability to choose, something upon which God places a great deal of value.  We could have been automatons, but what would have been the point? He wanted us to WANT Him. 

Sometimes bad stuff happens to us and there seems to be no reason for it.  Bad things - and good things, for that matter - do happen to ALL people.  But much of the bad stuff that happens to us is of our own making.  Many of us make bad choices and the consequences are ... let's say they're unpleasant. The irrevocable law of the harvest, "You reap what you sow," kicks in.  The tendency we have at those times is to question God, to question His goodness or His love, when in fact it is our own choices that have led to the outcomes and ... God is just a handy scapegoat we use to avoid taking responsibility for "choosing poorly." I've heard people do it all the time: blame God for for famines and poverty, for wars, for religious persecution. But in most cases whatever horrible thing for which folks blame God arises out of a poor choice, or a series of poor choices, made by people who have the power to choose.

That 1989 movie reminds me that choosing wisely MIGHT bring consequences I might not like.  Yet it is still preferable to choosing poorly. 

Thanks - for outer space

One of my interests is astronomy.  I have always been fascinated by the intricacy and beauty of outer space, by the interrelationships of the sun, moon, stars and other amazing phenomena out there, and their impact on our little speck in the universe (and us much smaller specks on that bigger speck.)

Instead of writing a whole bunch, this time I thought I would let the pictures speak for themselves about the marvelous and breath-taking sights that have existed for millennia with no humans at all able to fully appreciate their beauty - and in some cases, not even to be aware they existed until only recently. 

and finally, Home Sweet Home ....

 

Winding down

When I was a child, perhaps about 10 years old, my family used to go and visit my mother's uncle who lived about two and a half hours' drive from us.  Aunt Sue was probably my favorite aunt.  She and Uncle Ernie lived in a quaint little house that reminded me of a doll-house.  The pantry-style kitchen spilled out into a parlor, and I spent my time in the large living room where they made up a bed at night on the sofa.  In that living room there was a clock - one of those old mantle clocks that chimed, and you had to wind up the chimes when you wound up the clock.  It would chime on the quarter hour, half hour, three-quarter hour and the hour.  

I loved it.  There was something comforting about knowing that every fifteen minutes this thing would just keep reminding us that time would pass at the same speed whether we thought it did or not.  

I could hear it ticking faithfully in the night as well, a soothing reminder that I was not alone.  Others in my family thought it quite annoying.  They weren't used to the sound it made, it woke them up.  That was part of its charm for me as a child who was terrified of the dark - it gave me something to focus on, something that was constant and reliable.  

Every so often the movement would slow down, the chimes would become lazy, and the clock would lose time. It would "wind down." Sometimes the ticking would hesitate - a sure sign of loosened springs on the inside.  So it wasn't long before Aunt Sue would get out the key and wind the clockworks up again.  She'd have to do that first, and then slowly move the minute hand forward, stopping at the 15, 30, 45 and hour positions to allow the clock to chime and keep track of where in the cycle it was.  It was such fun to observe her doing this - a little woman not much taller than I was at 10 years old - and so intent on keeping this valuable machine in good shape, crucial in the days well before cell phones were even invented, much less pick up the correct time from a satellite during or after a power outage.  

I guess I started thinking about this as I pondered the tendency I have to "coast" sometimes in my recovery and in my daily relationships with God, myself and others.  When I start to coast like that, I become less reliable, more likely to mislead myself or others into a false sense of security.  It feels "loose" inside.  My reactions start to hesitate - I become unsure, insecure, obsessive.  I wind down in my motivation to maintain those crucial relationships.  

So that is when I need to take out the Key of prayer, meditation and self-examination and tighten up the primary relationship (with God) and the secondary one (with myself).  Then it's easy to wind up the third relationship (with others) and before long I'm "keeping time" .... and the hesitation, the insecurity, and the obsession are all gone.

It's official

It's official.  I am now a published author.

The words look strange to me.  I've been writing ever since I was a teenager ... songs, poetry, journals.   I have been writing on this blog for over a year - yet - now I have not only written a book, but it is now published.

To purchase your own copy, go to:
www.smashwords.com/

The title is the same as the title of this blog; in fact, I started the book and named it, even finished the first draft, before I started this site.  

It's exciting, to be sure.  Yet there is a feeling of incredible vulnerability.  

The experiences God has brought me through have healed me, made me whole and happy, and I have been waiting to share those things with the world; you've seen some of those things on this blog and my book just gives the complete story.  

But ... there is such a feeling of being exposed in this newest step.  It's like this is my own child, borne out of a lot of pain: a vital part of me, my life, my place in the world.  And now it's out there, a struggling, squalling infant ... and the world can be a scary, dangerous, and overwhelming place at times.  

That being said - I would rather launch this new venture with you, my faithful readers, than with any stranger.  So with this in mind, I present to you the fruit of my labour and God's empowerment.  Just to to the link in the artwork above... which, I am proud and pleased to say, was done by a very dear friend of mine.  Lisa Bulman Taylor - thank you so very much.  It's been an absolute pleasure working with you.  

Deep breath.   Onward!

Purging

I like to watch the show "Hoarders." (A&E)  It makes me feel better about my own clutter... and folks, yes, I am a slob.  There, I have said it in a public forum.  Slobby and proud of it - well - sort of.  

Sometimes my place is even too much for me to take.  Usually it is too much for my hubby to take long before it gets on my radar, but odd times I get the purging bug and go on a rampage.  

Most times it's the prospect of someone coming to visit that does it for me.  So - I begin.  And seeing the difference that my efforts make really does something for me inside. Unfortunately it only occurs occasionally.  Like today - and I allowed myself this break to write about it.... ;)  

But be that as it may ... 

I was thinking (while cleaning - no, my hubby wasn't there to take a picture for posterity, although if he had been, he might have been tempted) about how the process of inner healing is a lot like purging clutter.  

First, there has to be the realization that there is a definite problem, and that it is too much for one person to handle. (I've tried handling my own personal life-experience purging and that just led to me sitting in front of the TV with a bag of chips in one hand and a tub of chip dip in the other.  And oh yes, the bag of chocolate bars on the end-table.)  So the first action step is to ask for help. The only one who could help me (believe me, I've spent my life asking others to fix me - they couldn't either!) was God.  So I asked Him, invited Him in to the mess.  

Then comes the actual process of purging.  Separating things out together - categorizing this and that, like piles of garbage to throw away, good things to put away, nice things I've outgrown to give away.   Being an emotional hoarder (that is, I hang onto past hurts much longer than is necessary to deal with the emotions and let them go) I had to go through every piece of inner garbage of course.  But that's part of the healing process.  And God is so patient.  He allowed me time to rest, to catch my breath - and gently reminded me to keep at it.  

It took a long time.  But eventually I started to see order emerge from the chaos that was my life.  (Gratitude? OH yeah!!)  Once the inner garbage was taken care of, and the good memories put away inside, and the nice things passed along, it was time to clear the path to my outside door (figuratively speaking) - some refer to this as sweeping my side of the street:  the wreckage I had left in my relationships because of my own stuff on the inside, things that spilled out onto others.  Those things I had to put right - and it took some time.  In some cases it's still ongoing.  

Only then, once my own spiritual house was clean and inviting, could I help someone else by sharing my experience.  I could not go to them and clean their house for them.  I just told people how awful my own was - and how I had come to the end of my rope and asked for help, then busied myself going through all that emotional clutter and getting it out, and sweeping my own relational sidewalk.  The process works: it's beautiful to experience and just as beautiful to witness.  I've seen it work in my life and I've been privileged to see it work in the lives of so many other people.

Now ... I know I left that mop and pail somewhere...

On the Cusp

In a discussion with my hubby last night, I told him that I felt like I was at the beginning of a new phase in my life.  I outlined some of the things I mentioned two posts ago - how there are changes happening in my life and I'm not really sure where they will take me.  

I feel as though I am on the cusp of a transformation.  

It's exciting. It's uncomfortable.  It's terrifying.

I like the word "cusp" to describe this feeling because it means "sharp point" - and carries with it the idea of (1) not being able to go back, (2) not being able to see what's next, (3) not being able to stay still (since it's sharp, it's not all that comfortable a place to stay), and (4) requiring a great deal of faith to take the next step into what appears like nothingness.  
 

Photo taken from this website:
http://andrewsidea.wordpress.com/2011/02/04/
indiana-jones-and-the-last-crusade-new-testament-imagery/

Like Indiana Jones did in The Last Crusade.  The defining moment in the film for me is when Indy (having passed two of the three challenges) takes off his hat, clutches it over his heart, takes a deep breath, puts his foot out in mid-air, and takes a step out into what appears to be a deep chasm.  

Talk about a leap of faith.  All Indy had to go on was a dusty old book with some cryptic instructions as to how to safely reach the room in which the Grail was kept.  "Only in the leap from the lion's head will he prove his worth."  

It's hard to escape the symbolism - but I won't go there today ... ;)

It is a scary and somewhat heady feeling, being on the cusp of so many new things all at once; I've noticed that at least in my life, this is what God does.  He lays groundwork for months, sometimes decades.  Then, as He gets closer to putting it all together, there's a feeling of anticipation, of uncertainty.  One step of faith at the right time, and then bang-bang-bang - all of a sudden I'm facing in a totally different direction than the one I thought I'd be facing ... and marveling at how He has caused things to fall into place.  Well, I am pretty sure that very soon, things are going to be at the leap of faith juncture.  I can feel the anticipation, the hesitation, the sense of not knowing how it will all turn out. Before, that feeling would drive me NUTS because I had to have things planned out 5 years in advance - and the "not knowing" (lack of security) was quite maddening.  In the last couple of years though, by means of this process of healing that I've been going through, my faith factor has increased.  As I trust God more, I find I'm better able to let go of my need to control the outcome - even if I AM scared.

I guess I don't need to know what's ahead anymore.  But I'm sure glad He does.

I don't Juan no more

September 29, 2003 dawned just the same as any other day for us.  We hadn't listened to the news or seen a newspaper for nearly a week, so we had no idea what we'd see when we looked out our window.  That's strange, we thought as we lay in bed and saw that the alarm clock showed no display.  The power is off. There must have been a storm last night.  In fact, it was still raining hard - and man-oh-man, was it windy!

The leading edge of Hurricane Juan had whirled through our picturesque Island in the early hours of that morning, already having left devastation in his wake in Nova Scotia, to wreak havoc here.  The scene out our picture window, which only the previous day was comforting with large mature maples, a lilac tree, and an uncluttered lawn, was transformed into a wasteland.  The large maple in the centre of the yard - an old friend who had sheltered my privacy and kept me company when I went sunbathing, who had bounced my children on its strong limbs as they learned to climb, was twisted like a matchstick, two-thirds of the tree lying on its side ... heavily and helplessly.  Similar scenes awaited us as we looked out other windows.  

The rain was still coming down in what seemed like cupfuls.  The gutters were overflowing.  We headed out into the elements - I held the ladder to keep it from being blown over, and hubby went up to the eaves and dug out the leaf and dirt-filled metal gutters, which he'd only cleaned about a week or two previous. We were both drenched when we came in ten minutes later.  

We were blessed not to have had more damage considering that we had a total of eleven shade trees on our property and any one of those large branches could have come flying through that picture window.  One almost did reach it, snagged about four feet away from the living room window, about seven feet off the ground, by the crook of a branch that was in the tree closest to the house.  And as the sun came out and we surveyed the damage, grief at losing three of those trees mixed with gratitude that we hadn't lost more - much more.

Fortunately for us as well, the Tim Hortons about 3 minutes down the road from us was open and had a generator - and the road was relatively clear between here and there.  We had not yet been hooked up to the town water and sewer, so we were relying on our well and (electric) pump.  We were therefore unable to use our own bathroom.  So we became Timmy's most frequent uh, customers for three days until the power came back on.  And - in spite of the loss we felt - we considered ourselves fortunate.  Some people in nearby Nova Scotia lost parts of their homes - washed away in the storm surge - and were without power for well over two weeks.  

The Public Gardens after Juan: Sept 29, 2003
Source of this photo:
http://emblogificationcapturedevice.blogspot.com/
2010/09/juan-another-hurricane-um-no-thanks.html

Since that time, during hurricane season, I regularly visit a site I never knew existed before Juan.  It's The National Hurricane Centre - (here's the link).  

I found myself wondering at some point what useful purpose could be served by hurricanes anyway.  So I did a little research. The results made me appreciate even more than I already did, the way our world is designed.

Meteorologists tell us that during the summer months, the sun beats down on the tropical waters.  The water absorbs the considerable heat.  A hurricane is a huge heat-reducing mechanism by which the excess heat mixes with the nearby moist warm air and transfers it back up to the atmosphere by condensing enormous amounts of water vapour.  As it does, the heat is mostly released upward in the core (the eye of the storm), which lowers the air pressure very quickly, and speeds up the wind around it.  In essence, it is the earth's way of getting rid of a fever.  Unfortunately, it also has the side-effect of causing a lot of destruction if it comes in contact with people or the things with which we've surrounded ourselves.  

I don't want another hurricane to come that close to us again.  I hate the devastation that such a storm can leave behind, the lives that are lost or turned upside down because of one.  However, I understand that these things happen and that they do have a larger purpose - making the planet more liveable in general.  So when I see that one is headed in our general direction, I like to make sure we are as prepared as we can be - and trust the outcome to the Master Designer. 

Serenity - Courage - Wisdom ... part three

"God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference." 

I was reading in a daily devotional book this morning; the topic was on watching where you go - something about paying attention to your path.  But it was a verse shortly before that which caught my attention most.  It also happens to be one of my favorite ones in this healing process I call 'recovery' - which is simply another word for 'restored sanity'.  It said, "Above all, guard your heart, for out of it flow the well-springs of life." (Proverbs 4:23)   

(I think I've said before that) I used to think this meant that my heart had to be watched like a hawk, because it couldn't be trusted as far as I could throw a Mack truck.  But it doesn't mean that at all.  It means that my most important relationships are the ones I have with God and with myself (both out of which flow my relationships with others).  It means that only in right relationship with God and with myself (and it is essential to have a nurturing relationship with oneself) can those daily paths be attended to, the ones Solomon told his son to pay attention to.  

"The Creation of Man" detail (God's hand is on the right, man's
on the left) - Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel ceiling 
Source of the image above:
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/rayortlund/2011/03/28/
depending-solely-on-god/

It boils right down to this.  Wisdom to know the difference between the things I can't change and the things I can ... has only come for me with a dedicated focus on my relationship with God, and a commitment to know myself as I truly am, not as others have painted me.  

It's in daily dependence on God.  I believe that this is the only "dependency relationship" that is healthy because it is the only one humans were created for.  The more time I spend with Him, the more grateful I am for His presence. The more I value His opinion and am aware of how much He loves me, the more I want to honour Him in all things. The more I depend on Him, the better I'm able to see what's true, right, and honest, and when I'm just deceiving myself.

He lets me know He is there.  Sometimes in the smallest of ways.  But when I am living in a "God-conscious" state of mind, nearly everything reminds me of His presence, His power to transform, His love.  He even reminds me to take care of myself when I need to do that (and of course, part of that self-care involves keeping my contact with Him close).  When I don't, there's a nameless feeling of uneasiness that creeps in, and sometimes it takes several hours, days, even weeks to pinpoint.  

Sometimes I even have had to be told by caring and loving friends that I am not "myself" lately.  (That's still a new experience for me, because up until a couple of years ago I didn't even know who "myself" was!!)  At such times I look first to that vertical plumb-line and see, yes, it's been shifted off centre and I need to be still and let Him come to the middle - my middle - the centre of who I am.  The less I do (in the sense of frantically trying to please Him with what I do) and the more I allow myself to be (that is, resting in His love, His grace, His power) the more 'opportunities' open up for me to share what He has done in me, and communicate that (or even a part of that) to someone who asks. 

Which reminds me.  I've discovered, in my Christian faith, that if I am not BEing, I might as well not DO anything because it will backfire. Every time. When I am living in daily and intimate relationship with God, it shows in my attitudes toward work, family, friends, leisure, ... everything.  He fills me up with an awareness of Him being with me - and in me.  Out of that automatically flows opportunities to be there, to be a friend, to be a conduit of healing and mercy to the most unexpected (and unexpecting!) of recipients - and for that I can't take one bit of credit.  Nor would I try.

God sets it up, He orchestrates the whole thing, and I'm simply left in awe of how He does it...  I'm just glad to occasionally be there when He does.

GIGO

GIGO  -  Garbage In, Garbage Out.  It's a computer saying, meaning that if you program a computer wrong, all that you get back is wrong.  I used to say this all the time to my kids when they were growing up, referring to the multitude of mindless kids' shows on TV which glorified mediocrity, applauded insolence, and condoned lying.  

Of course I overdid it, but that's another story.  

I was reminded of the principle of GIGO tonight.  I'd been somewhere talking to someone and our circumstances were not going according to plan and we had to wait for someone else.  I felt irritated, insulted by the people who were inconveniencing us when they knew we would be there at a certain time.  I started railing inside at these people, looking for someone to blame, looking to attribute motive to what these folks were doing, rather than take the incident at face value: they were delayed.  In the meantime, someone came in wearing a scented product.  Oh, this was just ducky.  Now a headache on top of it.

Once allowed to continue by this other group, the light blue funk I was in started to deepen in hue, especially since our own time was cut short, and then afterward, someone else assumed that we would do something we had neither the time nor the inclination to do; yet, we found ourselves agreeing to do it.  Then the requester found another person who was willing to do it instead. Instead of feeling grateful, I soon found myself talking about this person to someone else - none too flatteringly - and as I walked away from the whole encounter and got into the car, I felt disappointed, soiled, slimy inside.  Looking at my behavior the previous 2 hours it wasn't hard to see why.  

MY plans had been infringed upon.  MY space had been crowded.  MY position in the scheme of things had been supplanted.

It was all about me.  And then I realized that I'd been feeding garbage to my spirit, allowing it to snarf up a big pile of ego-led nonsense.  No wonder I soon felt like yesterday's trash.  

As we stopped at a local dairy bar for a small treat, we talked about something good, something uplifting.  I could feel my spirit getting lighter, more buoyant.  Finally I could see clearly to know what my problem had been.  As soon as I identified it out loud to my 'sundae date', there was an immediate sense of "rightness" that came over me.  Like Someone inside said, "Yeah....that's it."  And I could let the resentment go and focus on the positive instead of the negative.  As soon as I did, even the headache started to leave, all on its own.  

Well - sort of on its own.  I think it had Help. 

Still there

So after so horribly many days of rain and blech, (that last word said with a lot of phlegm - haha) the sun came out from behind the clouds and we enjoyed a few hours of unfiltered sunlight yesterday and today.

I'm told it will happen again tomorrow and all weekend. :D

Source:  http://www.photosfromfinland.com/

It's so nice to see the sun peek through the clouds or around a corner - or through the trees.

It lifts the spirits.  

Funny how such a small thing as the weather can affect how we feel.  The sun has such therapeutic properties and many of my friends - and I suspect I as well - suffer from a mild form of Seasonal Affective Disorder.  One of them says he's "solar-powered."  A warm sunny day can truly be a gift.  

It's hard to remember on those dreary, rainy, misty or foggy days that behind the clouds, the sun is still shining.  Even if we can't see the sun, the fact that there is daylight whispers the secret that the sun is shining on our side of the Earth.  (I'm reminded of Rowan and Martin Laugh-in's 'Hippie Dippie Weather Man' who stated, "The forecast for tonight is Dark - followed by scattered Light rays in the morning.")  

And it seems that with all the draining, erosive things that happen in our lives that suck the hope and the life out of us: sickness, boredom, situations that require a lot of our emotional energy, and so forth, it's so hard to remember that God is still there - shining His light into our lives and pouring out His love.  Yet the clouds of our lack of understanding, or of sheer circumstance that seems designed to siphon off our joy and hope, get in the way and we forget.  So when the sun breaks through the clouds - for me it's a reminder that things will be all right in the end, ... and if it's not all right, then it's not the end.

All I need to focus on for this 24-hour period is staying real, staying close to God, and doing the next right thing. 

To be ...

This morning on the way to work hubby and I were treated to a rare sight.

A bird - perhaps it was a robin - flew right toward us and within 10 feet of the windshield.  It was slowing down so the tail feathers were fanned out, and we could see the underside markings - an arc near the tip of the tail, perhaps an inch wide, of white against the dark background of the tail itself.  

We remarked to each other about it.  Not often one gets to see a wild songbird up close like that, from such an angle.  We talked about how God loves beauty so much that He thinks to put such a detail, rarely seen and even more rarely appreciated, on the underside of a bird's tail.  How He puts stars in the sky that have been there for longer than we can imagine - only now are we starting to see their light.  All because He wanted them there.

But that bird kept our conversation focused on how the bird doesn't try to have plumage that is this remarkable, grunting and straining to push the feathers to the surface or have them be this color or that.  It just IS.  It doesn't try to be something it's not.  It just is what it is and that is the end of it.  It just lives its life and goes about its business and ... on rare occasions, God ordains that someone just happens to be looking in the right direction, for that moment in time.  

Same with the stunning voices of the songbirds we hear.

I remember hearing meadowlarks calling to each other when I was a child - low, harmonious tones with almost a haunting quality to them.  It was such a treat when they sang.

One of my favorites is the common tree sparrow - such dizzying heights and depths of melody, seemingly effortlessly coming from a little throat less than a half-inch across in a little plain brown and beige body.  It boggles the mind that they don't have a vocal instructor, yet produce the clearest, sweetest music of the season.  

And the yellow warbler - once rare in the Maritimes but now more common as the summers are hotter and muggier - their melodious pipings (as with all birds) are not taught so much as they are caught from their parents.  They are who they are, easily recognizable by their song.  They don't try to be nightingales.  They're warblers. They bring joy just by being who they are.

If only humans....

Turning the Page

I remember when I was a kid my mother would never let me turn the calendar page before the first of the month.

Not even the night before. She was kind of obsessed about it.

Her fear stemmed from superstition that someone might die if the page were turned because "fate" would decide that tomorrow was taken for granted.

I just loved the idea of a new start - a fresh month with uncharted territory in it.

So now, I turn the page ... the night before, just before bedtime.  And nothing bad happens - and in the morning I can glance up during my busy morning routine and know just what day it is, what I have planned that week, and there's the little thrill of the brand new page.  Funny how that happens.

And the month I really love to put behind me is February.  For me it is the longest month of the year even though on the calendar it is the shortest.  Yet it happens in my least favorite time of year - the dead of winter.

I saw something a few days ago that gave me some hope that things would change, that spring was on its way.  

Icicles.

All winter long the snow has been piled high on everything and just the other day, I noticed that icicles had formed on the eave of our roof.  It meant that some of the snow had melted under all that white, and dripped to the edge of the roof.  As it hit the cold air it froze and formed ... bit by little bit ... icicles all along the edge of the roof. 

Then, just this past Sunday morning, I happened to spy a maple tree in our evergreen hedge, with the tiniest swelling on the tip of each little branch.  It's starting to bud. 


My heart leaped inside!

Only another month before I get to hear the mourning doves, see the geese fly back, and look for the first pussy-willows to emerge in the little garden spot outside where I work. 

It will be a while before I see my favorite spring flower - but who knows? maybe during that time I will also see that first crocus on someone's property ... not ours of course because we are up on a hill and pretty much out in the open - so the winter winds howl longer and harder here than they do in the more sheltered areas of the city.  But our turn will come.  

Spring always comes.

Turning pages, on the calendar, in the seasons, or in life - brings hope - hope that things will be better if they've been rotten, hope that things will be marvelous if they've been good.  

I guess I celebrated an anniversary of sorts yesterday.  Two years ago, I started on the journey that has begun to rid me of all the things that have bound me for so many years, bound me in slavery to the great god "Should" and its evil side-kick "shouldn't."  Such wounds from the past that I can't begin to describe how they scarred, marred me.  God enters into those dead places and brings hope where there was despair, sunshine and birdsong where it was only bleakness and silence.  

Which I guess is another reason why I turned the calendar page yesterday.   
Happy March!  

Marketing? the Faith?

I was reading a friend's blog and she was talking about a couple of men coming to the door to proselytize their religion.  Of course they called it sharing their faith.

Some of these door-to-door folks can be quite ... persistent.  I wonder if they're trained not to take no for an answer (or not to walk away until someone gets angry and yells at them, thus scoring a "win" by being persecuted.)


Somehow that reminds me of a brief stint I put in as a telemarketer several years ago.  Yes.  I was desperate.  Yes.  I hated the job.  And yes, I did sell stuff people didn't want to people who probably couldn't afford it.  That's why I hated it - and I quit as soon as I possibly could.  I think I lasted about 3 or 4 weeks actually.  Ughh!

In my telemarketer training, I was told that as long as a sales prospect (note, they are not people, they are prospects) had an objection, a reason for turning down the incredible offer-of-a-lifetime, we "had" them - for there was a scripted answer to every possible objection.  The only statement a telemarketer can't refute is "I'm not interested.  No, no reason.  I'm just not interested.  Goodbye."

Huh.  There's food for thought.

But I digress.  I was also thinking that sometimes we as Christians have bought into this whole "marketing" thing, to our own detriment and that of the cause of Christ. Maybe it's not telemarketing but it is marketing the gospel, making it palatable, pushing and pushing until people hate to see us coming.  (Last night my daughter answered the phone after the 8th time from it ringing with an 800 number on the caller ID; she yelled in frustration into the phone, "QUIT CALLING!!" We all cheered when she hung up!)  

We Christians, especially those in leadership but also those of us (and I can be this way too) who just can't seem to let God be God - do ourselves and the world a great disservice.  We seek the best platform, try to find the right program, buy into the right gimmick - and basically use the world's marketing methods to do something that (according to the Bible) God's Spirit is supposed to do: convince people of their brokenness and bring them to Jesus.  We treat human beings outside the church (at best) like sales prospects ... and forget that they are really people: people who have real lives, real circumstances, real feelings.  All we need to do for the world (and even for that, God is the One who enables us, for without Him we can do nothing) is love God, love each other and love the hurting ones without judging them.  

Melody Beattie says in her book, "The Language of Letting Go" - (©1990 Hazelden) as she speaks about letting go and letting God lead and guide in our lives, "We will know when to go, to stop, and to wait. We will learn a great truth: the plan will happen in spite of us, not because of us." (February 11 reading)

It's so simple.  At least that's what the Good Book says. We quit doing God's job for Him and let Him be God in our own lives, let Him love us, let Him love others through us. That will naturally spill out into the lives of those with whom we come in contact and change the world, one life at a time.  

Each one, reach one - with love.  God will take care of the rest.

An Awesome God

There's a little chorus that our kids grew up in church learning.  It was the first song that we sang together in harmony as a family and occasionally the kids still want to sing it with us.

Our God is an awesome God -
He reigns in Heaven above
With wisdom, power and love
Our God is an awesome God!

Such simple words.  


I was reminded of this little chorus one night last week as I gathered with a group of believers and listened to a song by Chris Tomlin called "Our God (is greater)" - it's from his new album I think.  If you haven't heard it yet - go to Youtube (yes, that's the link) and listen to it.  It is FABULOUS.  The message is much the same as that little chorus.  

I need songs like that.  I need to remember that God is bigger than me because even though I give lip service to it, sometimes my behavior and my attitude is that I'm bigger than He is.  

Nature itself screams that He is greater, bigger, higher than I am, a consuming fire against which nothing and no one can stand.  I'm not talking about a nice little campfire that people like to poke sticks at and roast marshmallows in.  I'm talking about a raging inferno, a wildfire that goes where it wants.  I guess this post is an expansion of my last one on God not being safe, that I ask Him if He will do something for me but don't assume that He will just because I follow a certain formula or say certain words or quote scripture or really get myself worked up.  (Didn't the prophets of Baal have much the same attitude on Mount Carmel? OUCH!)

And yet with all His incredible power and majesty, His awesomeness, He still cares about the little things.  He still wants to have a relationship with me.  Puny me.

It boggles the mind.  

Who am I that He should even think about me?  Yet He does.  Why should He care about what concerns me?  Yet... He cares.  He cares enough to have foreseen my bankrupt state without Him and sent a way for me to come into relationship with Him - my only hope.

There is a sort of credo that describes the unadorned Christian life, one which I have come to hold dear lately.  Part of that credo is that I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity.  The kind of life I was living, even as a Christian for decades, was so full of contradictions, doubts, fears, things that didn't work, resentments against "all-that-is-not-of-God", fault-finding, seeing demons in dishrags, that kind of thing.  It was insane!!  All the while, I was ostracizing the very people I wanted to reach, more and more becoming the object of ridicule - or pity, or contempt - by those who saw what I was doing to myself by toeing the Christian party line and having my head stuck in the clouds - or somewhere else, it could be argued.  SO out of touch with reality that even my speech was affected ... saying Amen after every statement and turning it into a question... Christianizing my everyday speech so much that nobody could figure out what the heck I was saying - I could go on at length but I won't, since that's another topic.  

But the word "greater" from that statement / credo jumped out at me recently, and it is that concept on which I've been meditating.  Someone put it to me this way - "God's got broad shoulders and good ears.  He's not deaf and He doesn't need you to defend Him.  He's got everything figured out.  So let Him be who He is!!"  At that point I realized (once again) that I was the god of my life and I was treating the God of the universe like a puppet, pulling strings to try to get Him to do my bidding.  It was time for me to decrease and for Him to take His rightful place as 'somebody bigger than you and I.'  When I gave Him back the strings, it was amazing how He grew in my life.

Sometimes I usurp His role; I end up flat on my face every time.  But when He is greater than I, He can be truly God - to me.