Something for the Soul and Something for the Stomach

The sun (!) warmed my skin as I walked from the back door to the car this morning. That glorious sun. I just wanted to stand there, close my eyes, and absorb the warmth. It's days like this that will make me recall western PA with fondness, days like this and dear friends. And sharing good things.

Something for the soul,

El Cielo de Canarias / Canary sky - Tenerife from Daniel López on Vimeo.

and something for the stomach, Crockpot Chicken Pie.

Have a lovely weekend.

Dancing and Counting

Our winter of never ending snow gave way this year to a spring of unrelenting rain. As I listen to the thunder booming and rain splattering, I think of my family in Texas in the midst of a drought. It's a strange, helpless feeling to be overwhelmed by so much, and wish for less, when you see others in the midst of great need, desiring more. There's a sense of guilt that arises.  And the questions.  Why me?  What should I do? What can I do? 

We set off in the rain Tuesday morning to venture into Pittsburgh for an appointment. I love the country, but the city has its own beauty. Especially in the rain.

We arrived just in time to catch a rare appearance of blue sky.



An hour and a half later, we emerged from the doctor's office to an all too familiar sight.



I watched the buildings go by through the blur of rain.  And I began to see the beauty there.



Rain is a soft lens that capriciously subtracts some details while highlighting others.







Color, form, movement caught by blurred brush strokes from the sky above, the wind around, the earth beneath.

We arrived home during a brief respite.  The earth waited in hushed expectation as the clouds held off only a moment or two,





then pummeled the soaked ground and fragile flowers again and again.





It was then I knew what I could do.  I could dance in the rain.

Dancing faces you towards Heaven, whichever direction you turn.  Terri Guillemets
 

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.  Author Unknown 

And so I did.

 I believe that we learn by practice.  Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living.... In each it is the performance of a dedicated precise set of acts, physical or intellectual, from which comes shape of achievement, a sense of one's being, a satisfaction of spirit.  One becomes in some area an athlete of God.  Martha Graham

And in so doing,  I practiced...becoming an athlete...of God.

I continue practicing with the community of gratitude by counting thanks for:
275. rain
276. getting there safely
277. getting home safely
278. time spent with my Dear Professor
279. his firm hands on the wheel
280. lunch on the road
281. blurred lens
282. seeing the old familiar in a new way
283. unexpected sunshine
284. unexpected beauty
285. dancing in the rain
286. His grace always there
287. everyday moments of awe
288. acceptance and the heart change it brings
289. a glimpse of the "shaping of achievement"
290. "satisfaction of spirit"
291. strength in weakness

To the Dandelion

How like a prodigal doth nature seem,
When thou, for all thy gold, so common art!
Thou teachest me to deem
More sacredly of every human heart,
Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam
Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show,
Did we but pay the love we owe,
And with a child's undoubting wisdom look
On all these living pages of God's book.

James Russell Lowell, excerpt from "To the Dandelion"

To My Children

You three brave souls.

You three brave souls made me a Mother.  I know, it wasn't easy for any of us, but we survived.  We all grew into it together, through the bumps, the broken bones, the meatloaf surprise, the tears and the laughter.  

My biggest regret is working harder on molding your behavior than listening to your hearts.  My biggest comfort is knowing you love me in spite of that.

I read these words before any of you were born, and tried to live by them:

"My child is a temporary trust from God.  He is 'mine' only in the sense that God entrusted me to love him, to discipline him, to train him.  He was not given so that I might boast about his good points any more than I should be ashamed of his failures.  I am temporarily watching over the development of another human being who rightly belongs to God, and whose destiny will be ultimately decided between him and God alone."

I cannot imagine what God was thinking when He entrusted you to my care.  I do know you all have given me many more opportunities to boast than to be ashamed.

Many more.

You enlarged not only my waist, but also the borders of my heart.  It is a  priceless treasure to be your Mom. 

And now there is a fourth brave soul that has joined your company, one who has made my firstborn a husband and father,

and me a grandmother. Four times!




Thank you for holding his heart well, and sharing yours with us.

Love you all lots,

Bright Wings

This is my life.

Some days are a blur moving past the car window.  Rushing to appointments, meeting deadlines, just trying to get it all done.

And when my body is pushed as far as it can go, there are the days of exhaustion and sadness.  The asking of questions.  The answers that never come.

The pity parties.

Sometimes, I just long for some sunshine,  some warmth upon my face.

But at the end of each day, I am called to the leaving. And the promise of the renewing.

The promise that the darkness will not have dominion because the Light has conquered it.

My life is but a fragile web, woven with moments of skill, moments of incompetence,  moments of brilliant beauty.

And moments of longing.  To be known.  And loved as I am. 

And to love. Holding nothing back.

Gerald Manley Hopkins wrote in "God's Grandeur":

"And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings."

Nature is never spent, and neither am I. Because, in the midst of the longing, He is longing with me. He is holding this flailing child close to his speared breast, whispering, "I know you." Whispering, "I love you."   Whispering.

"A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy." John 16:21-22

Something is moving inside me, being formed and transformed in the rushing, in the pity parties, in the longing. In the darkness. A new life.

When I glimpse this glory, His glory, and the joy that cannot be taken away,

my heart takes bright wings!

Can You Hear Them?

The bells of Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris, France

This is your personal invitation to join the celebration...it's never too late!  Read this.

Company of Courage

I stumbled upon the announcement on the grocery store bulletin board.  Lysa TerKeurst, in person, Spring Women's Conference.  It was the same bulletin board on which I had skeptically placed flyers many times before for events held at our former church.  Now, I found myself reading the words I was convinced no one ever would.

But I did.

I normally head for the hills when I hear the words "women" and "conference" used together. I suppose it's conditioning from too many years of listening to too many unimportant words at such events. 

But this was different.  I had been introduced to Lysa's voice on the radio while driving to work one morning.  Her words were substantial, filled with truth.  Life giving truth that stirred my heart.  I longed to hear more.

There was one obstacle.  The conference was to be held at our former church, the one we left six years ago.  I had only been there once since, for a friend's memorial service.  It was a place filled with many memories of serving, teaching, leading, following, sitting together in the pew.  One of my most cherished memories is just sitting next to my Dear Professor, his arm around my shoulders while we waited for the service to begin.

There are other memories too.  Memories of misunderstanding, injustice, anger, accusation, fear.  And betrayal.  We left when my heart broke under the weight of it all.  Yes, there are hypocrites in any church, but there are also the walking wounded, those whose fragile hearts have not been safely handled. Those who stand with their back to the wall, arms crossed, waiting, hoping.  I still weep for them there.  Leaving a church is like leaving a marriage.  Grief and recrimination follow.  Those left behind feel abandoned, can't understand,  and all too often find the wrong meaning on their own.

I know.  I was one of the left behind, too many times to count.

I struggled with indecision.  I wanted to hear the words of truth, I did not want to go where they would be spoken.  So I looked for courage in companionship.  I invited a friend, and she invited her cousin.  There is safety in numbers.

It was a divine appointment for us three.  We spent the night between sessions at a local motel, sharing our stories, our questions, our wounds, our healing, our snacks, and very little sleep!

I sat with my two sisters and listened to nourishing words.   Words of encouragement, shared sorrow, surprising strength.  But it was more than just words.  Behind them was the power that holds the world and us together.

Not new truths, but a new awareness of our heart's need for them.  We emerged stronger, more resolute, nourished by words.  Words of life.  The company of courage.

We vowed to quit marching fruitlessly around our mountains, to abandon the beaten paths of defeat, regret, fear, and head onward to a new place where God is our portion, our enabler, our strength for the challenges of each new day.  The challenges that are meant to refine, not define us.  Onward to a new awareness of the fragility of those around us, the power of our words to wield life.  Or death.


We moved together toward recognizing that each desire of our heart drives us to Him who alone can satisfy our hunger.

In Christ alone, my hope is found.

And peace.

There, in the company of courage, I went where I did not want to go, said goodbye to old friends, and found peace.

Peace with the past.  Peace with the future.  Because of Christ. . .and the company of courage.


My counting with the company of courage and community of gratitude
241.  grocery store bulletin boards
242.  courageous old friend
243.  courageous new friend
244.  hunger
245.  desiring truth
246.  radio interviews
247.  Made to Crave
248.  divine appointments
249.  saying goodbye
250.  hugs
251.  late nighters
252.  comfortable rooms
253.  homemade hummus and guacamole
254.  peanut butter m&ms
255.  safety in numbers
256.  a heartfelt thank you
257.  resolution
258.  a willing heart
259.  making peace with the past
260.  words of life

Learning Delight

 “A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore. Heaven may encore the bird who laid an egg.” GK Chesterton (See Part IV “The Ethics of Elfland” in Orthodoxy)

Upon my arrival a hoop and holler let out. Hugs were exchanged and then the requests began. "Can we play school? Can I tell you about the water cycle? Wead Mommo." Tiny feet made big noise on the living room floor as I was treated to dancing and skipping, twirling and tumbling.

The Sprittles were happy to see me, and I was delighted to see them. It had been a long day of driving with unexpected delays. Road construction had stretched the typical 9 hours into 11. But now, in this room, surrounded by these lives, my heart was bursting at its seams. With joy.

Grandchildren are a treasure. They are a blessing in our older years. They remind us that we are more than our wrinkles and weariness. In their presence we rediscover our child within,

lost in rapture at plastic toys at the farm store,

trying on cowboy hats,

sharing Tic Tacs with brothers,

being excited about our new marbles,

on the floor playing,

having a tea party with peanut butter m&ms,

wiggling in the seats during the church service, finding disguises in unlikely places.

My grandchildren teach me how to delight, in them, in life, in God. They inspire me to dance and laugh when the world is heavy on my shoulders. They help me rediscover awe in the processes of God's creation around me. They give love so easily.

My grandchildren teach me. . . how to be a child. . . of God.

We teach them God's fear, and they teach us His delight!
________________

My naming of one thousand gifts--
214. My Dear Professor's graciousness in granting me time away from packing to keep a promise
215. Safe travel both ways in an elderly vehicle
216. Beautiful weather
217. Music to pass the hours
218. Time to listen to God's heart
219. Remembering the good places to stop for fuel
220. Successfully navigating DC
221. Telling bedtime stories
222. Prayers for Lady Gaga to sing songs for Jesus
223. Hugs
224. Swings
225. "Mimi" Ryder guns
226. Brushing teeth on the go
227. Marbles
228. Finding miniature doggies at the dollar store
229. Small spoons in tiny teacups
230. Tiny tea sets
231. Tea parties
232. Watching a mother and daughter wash dishes together
233. Hearing my name called out in love and excitement
234. Learning about the water cycle from a 6 year old genius
235. Watching my son with his children
236. A 2 year old masseur armed with diaper wipes
237. Flowering trees
238. Sprittle number 4 growing in Beautiful Mommy's tummy
239. Sharing a book with a dear daughter-in-love
240. Being asked to stay longer

A Lifetime's Not Too Long

She has played many roles--wife, mother, foster parent, janitor's wife, church pianist, church secretary, choir director, prayer partner, pastor's wife, grandmother, teacher.

I have known her best simply as friend. 

It was music that brought us together, and for a brief time, working in the same office.  We call each other Thelma and Louise because of our shared innate ability to get into difficult situations together, none of which I will chronicle here.  (You'll have to wait for that until after the statute of limitations expires.) We are notorious for sharing a brain that has a mind of its own and spends most of its time on vacation at exotic locales far away from the both of us.

Thanks to a major confluence of events(or could it have been...God?!) involving a local radio talk show giveaway,  my acting on an impulse, a charged cell phone, uncharacteristic patience and perseverance (I dialed...8 times?) and a guess(!) that was the right answer, I ended up with two free tickets to a concert Thursday night.  My Dear Professor's chronic fatigue now prohibits long drives from home and attending late night events, and so the second ticket was offered to my dear friend.

It was billed as the "2 Friends Tour".  Michael W Smith and Amy Grant played together in the 80s when "Smitty" was the relatively unknown musical director/pianist for a young, rising star in Christian/contemporary music. They collaborated on several songs, but their careers and life choices caused a gradual, unintended separation.

Packing up the dreams God planted

In the fertile soil of you
I can't believe the hopes He's granted
Means a chapter of your life is through

The evidence of true friendship is that it never ends. It is an invisible connection that endures all things and can be picked up right where it left off,  regardless of the number of intervening years.

But we'll keep you close as always
It won't even seem you've gone
'Cause our hearts in big and small ways
Will keep the love that keeps us strong

The lasting nature of Michael and Amy's friendship was revealed in one beautiful moment Thursday night.  Amy was introducing a song Michael had written about the struggle he felt sending his daughter off to college.  Amy connected with that struggle, and spoke about how difficult it was to sing with the raging emotions in a mother's heart.  Michael said softly, "I've got your back."  Amy stopped, and in a moment of heartfelt realization, turned to him and said, "You always have."

And friends are friends forever
If the Lord's the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never
'Cause the welcome will not end
Though it's hard to let you go
In the Father's hands we know
That a lifetime's not too long
To live as friends

It was not a coincidence that at that moment, in the Benedum Theater, I was standing next to my dear friend for the past 20 years.  This was the first concert we had attended together, and will be the last we have opportunity for in western PA. In a few months, after 27 years in exile, my Dear Professor and I are packing up and moving back to our country of origin, Texas.

And with the faith and love God's given
Springing from the hope we know
We will pray the joy you live in
Is the strength that now you show

If ever there was one (other than my Dear Professor) who has "had my back" these long years of exile in a strange place, it has been my dear friend.

We'll keep you close as always
It won't even seem you've gone
'Cause our hearts in big and small ways
Will keep the love that keeps us strong

I pray that she can say the same. All I know is that her friendship, her modeling of Jesus, her wise counsel, and her wicked sense of humor have been a place of safety for my heart.  In being who she is,  she has given me a living, breathing picture of true friendship.  The kind that Jesus speaks of.

The "laying down your life for the other" kind.

Though it's hard to let you go
In the Father's hands we know
That a lifetime's not too long
To live as friends

Though miles will now separate us, our hearts remain connected through our shared love of music, our awe of the One who is our true friend,

Jesus,

and the memory of standing arm in arm, singing with Michael and Amy and the others in attendance,

"No a lifetime's not too long to live as friends"* 

(*Friends are Friends Forever, by Michael W Smith)

 

My counting with the Community of One Thousand Gifts:

190. my dear friend
191. 20 years of sharing a brain

192. radio station giveaway

193. perseverance

194. a charged cell phone

195. acting on impulse

196. an answered question

197. shared experiences

198. memories evoked by music

199. difficulties that forge bonds

200. laughter

201. joy

202. time together

203. a beautiful theatre
204. beautiful music
205. a testimony of real friendship
206. worshipping together
207. the child sitting next to me singing "Mighty to Save" with great gusto

208. a successful, talented man who is compassionate and humble

209. green rooms

210. generosity
211. finding my way to Pittsburgh and back without getting seriously lost

212. an offering of talent back to its Creator in praise
213. agape