First you have to catch the camel. Good luck with that one. Camels can be testy and they spit. Next you need to give the camel a bath. Let me know how that works out. Camels stink. I mean really, really stink. They also are very large and bite. You must clean, card, and spin the camel's combed hair. Let me know how combing a camel's hair works too. It is not that easy. Then with a thread of your freshly, combed and spun camel's hair...thread the needle. Camel hair is coarse so you will need a fairly large sized needle. That would still prove difficult for me...even with 2.0 reading glasses I can not see the eye of a large needle.
Yesterday, the gospel reading points out that Jesus thought threading a needle with camel hair was easier than walking into the kindgom of God. Lots of people (far smarter than I), get hung up on where Jesus' analogy about the camel and the needle comes from. In fact, the original source for this analogy is Jesus. It is so often used the meaning is understood to be about the kingdom of God. It is often taught that there is a small gate in Jerusalem called the needle’s eye and that camels laden with goods had to get rid of their loads in order to fit through the gate. Nice image, but apparently it has no basis in fact. Others point out that in Aramaic, the word for camel and the word for rope are the same, probably because rope was made from camel’s hair. They say Jesus’ was really talking about threading a rope through a needle made for thread. Personally, I think Jesus had an incredible sense of humor and loved hyperbole.
But in the end the message is the same. When our possessions increase, we lose perspective. Having a lot of stuff tends to make me think I have to protect this stuff. I need to protect it from the weather, protect it from "theives", protect it from threat. Stuff also makes me think I have to display it. All the while, I am ignoring the Kingdom of God right in front of me. I don't think having stuff is wrong by any stretch of the means...I think where I tend to lose focus is in the protecting. I tend to forget that ALL is really a gift from God anyway...and it is ok if I have to give it back. I tend to think that "I" actually need to protect...things (stuff) like my pride...my time...my heart...and I tend to think I have to "show" of my stuff..."look what I did...." I tend to fall into the comparison trap...and all the while...the Kingdom passing me by...
And he reminded me again today...
He said, "I have seen the worst and the best that will ever be in America. America has already seen her prime and I saw it all." He farmed tobacco during the depression. He knew hunger. He knew great want...but was never in great need...He has always had everything he ever needed. He has been married 62 years. He has buried a daughter. He has been a brakeman for the railroad. He has owned land and seen that land become wealth for him, in a time when tobacco was wealth and farming was lucrative. He has seen a brother not come back from the war, while he landed in Japan the day before surrender was declared and came home in a month. He has earned a fortune, lost a fortune, earned more, lost more...and still he says..."I am rich and very, very blessed." He remembers the day he married and that his daddy and their friends just got together with some lumber and built a two room house where he and his bride lived...no running water...no electricity...and they were and still are happy. He says, " the secret to styaing married...just be ready to give more than you take...resolve your fights and always say you are sorry. Resolve to just love each other and don't run away..." He says, "young people today don't know how to do that. That don't know what it means to stick things out and to have to wait to have something. The first thing he ever bought on credit....."a bed and I didn't even have a refridgerator...that came later after I paid for the bed." Back then people really mattered...."you took time to visit and really get to know your neighbor. Nowadays we don't even know who lives behind us." Back then "you took care of your neighbor and everybody was your neighbor." Of course, he says..."this was before TV...before everyone had a car...when you went to Church every Sunday and you just had two pair of overalls...one for farming....one for church. Of course, he says we didn't even dream of or even know to think of texting...social networking...(we actually spoke face to face and had real conversations)...and telephone at our constant disposal...we never dreamed of such...I was 30 years old before we had a phone in our house. And then he said the wisest thing of all and it made me think of camels and needles....
"The more stuff we have, the more preoccupied we become with things other than God...I don't think God keeps rich people out of the kingdom of God. I just think they have lost sight of where it is..."
All is grace and may I never lose sight of where the kingdom of God is...
grateful for today...
camel hair
needles
farmers
grass that was green last week and will be brown by tomorrow
100 degree heat
fresh blueberries
dinner with friends a priceless, priceless treasure
wisdom of 90 year olds
iced cold water
laughter
seeing friends you only really see on social networks but today you hugged them and smiled
cathching up
visiting
never be too busy to just stop and talk...and really we never, ever are that busy...ever
open hearts
blue eyes
balsamic dressing that I could drink from a cup
field greens
hot, yeast rolls with butter dripping from the edges
pesto so green and so fresh you can smell the basil from 10 feet
ceiling fans
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Last Breath
For the Shelton Family
Relationships are inherently risky. You can not control the outcome. It is the fertile ground of open-handedness, humbleness, selflessness, and loving well that relationships thrive. And our relationships at our endings are telling.
To lay aside you self requires interior resources that only come from one source...God...
As her great grandchildren, grandchildren, children, friends, family gather and listen to her last breaths they hear this...
Finding your life requires first loosing it...
And her family and friends are singing something better than a hallelujah this week...and they are learning through her that giving thanks is more than just folding your hands and saying thank you....
she is telling them to live not by just saying thanks but giving thanks...in is the open handed giving that we really begin to live...
She has lived open handed and given...
And in the dark of their pain they are finding what it is that she is telling them and blessing them with...the
wonder of a life lived well...and they are giving thanks for her...open handed giving her back to God...
.and it all goes back to God who is the giver of it all...and God is saying..."welcome home, my dear child and I still will hold their hands just as I am holding yours..."
Grace and peace for all who are saying the hard hallelujah of good bye this week...may they always know it is not the final word....
...
“He who has found his life will lose it, and he who has lost his life for My sake will find it.” ~JesusI wonder at the end what will my life amount to? I wonder what will be said of me at the end? And I know what can be said of her...I know because in her last breaths she is till blessing...still giving thanks...she is finding life in the loosing...
Relationships are inherently risky. You can not control the outcome. It is the fertile ground of open-handedness, humbleness, selflessness, and loving well that relationships thrive. And our relationships at our endings are telling.
To lay aside you self requires interior resources that only come from one source...God...
As her great grandchildren, grandchildren, children, friends, family gather and listen to her last breaths they hear this...
Finding your life requires first loosing it...
And her family and friends are singing something better than a hallelujah this week...and they are learning through her that giving thanks is more than just folding your hands and saying thank you....
she is telling them to live not by just saying thanks but giving thanks...in is the open handed giving that we really begin to live...
She has lived open handed and given...
And in the dark of their pain they are finding what it is that she is telling them and blessing them with...the
wonder of a life lived well...and they are giving thanks for her...open handed giving her back to God...
.and it all goes back to God who is the giver of it all...and God is saying..."welcome home, my dear child and I still will hold their hands just as I am holding yours..."
Grace and peace for all who are saying the hard hallelujah of good bye this week...may they always know it is not the final word....
...
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The only miracle there is
For Lyn
So very often we attempt to reduce life. Today is the longest day of the year and I hope you have enjoyed every minute of it. I heard Davis explaining to a friend today what summer solstice exactly was. He said ESPN was celebrating it today. He gets most of his news from SportsCenter. He said to his friend, "It has something to with gods because Percy Jackson talked about it." He told me, "This day has felt kind of long. Mom, I am really serious. I was sitting eating lunch today and I had sat down for what seemed like 45 minutes but I looked at the clock and it had been only like 15." Frederick Buechner (and if you have never read him...DO), said, when asked to define life:
The temptation is to always reduce it to a size. A bowl of cherries. A rat race. Amino acids. Even to call it a mystery smacks of reductionism. It is THE MYSTERY. As far as anyone seems to know, the vast majority of things do not have in them whatever life is. Sticks, stones, star, space-they just are. A few things are and and are somehow aware of it. They have broken into Something or Something has broken into them. Even a jellyfish. Even a butternut squash. They are in it with us. We are all in it together, or it is in us. Life is it. Life is with. After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specific of one. "There simply is only one miracle," he answered. "It is life."
I realized again today, and yesterday and the day before that most of the time I am not giving myself time to savor life. It is not that I need to simplify. Actually I need to engage more and more deeply. Like Davis. So enjoy my lunch that only 15 minutes have gone by when it feels like 45. I had lunch today with a dear, dear friend. I guess some would say we gossiped the whole time. But, I think not. We encouraged one another, pointed out to each other our "inner" voices were very, very accurate, ate pizza, laughed and generally shared each other's "pointless" drama. But I think it not pointless at all. That is our LIFE. I found myself fully doing "lunch." I was "fully" enjoying her company, laughing, listening (I hope well), and we both lamented we should do this more often and why don't we. The same reasons. We are busy moms, employees, wives, friends, daughters, etc. But in the taking time to enjoy a long lunch, I found my Self doing it. Take time this summer to be with the larger whole...the blades of grass, the lightening bugs, the butternut squash, the watermelon, the homemade ice cream, spending time with friends you don't see often enough, BECAUSE LIFE is really the only miracle there is...the whole of it.
So very often we attempt to reduce life. Today is the longest day of the year and I hope you have enjoyed every minute of it. I heard Davis explaining to a friend today what summer solstice exactly was. He said ESPN was celebrating it today. He gets most of his news from SportsCenter. He said to his friend, "It has something to with gods because Percy Jackson talked about it." He told me, "This day has felt kind of long. Mom, I am really serious. I was sitting eating lunch today and I had sat down for what seemed like 45 minutes but I looked at the clock and it had been only like 15." Frederick Buechner (and if you have never read him...DO), said, when asked to define life:
The temptation is to always reduce it to a size. A bowl of cherries. A rat race. Amino acids. Even to call it a mystery smacks of reductionism. It is THE MYSTERY. As far as anyone seems to know, the vast majority of things do not have in them whatever life is. Sticks, stones, star, space-they just are. A few things are and and are somehow aware of it. They have broken into Something or Something has broken into them. Even a jellyfish. Even a butternut squash. They are in it with us. We are all in it together, or it is in us. Life is it. Life is with. After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specific of one. "There simply is only one miracle," he answered. "It is life."
I realized again today, and yesterday and the day before that most of the time I am not giving myself time to savor life. It is not that I need to simplify. Actually I need to engage more and more deeply. Like Davis. So enjoy my lunch that only 15 minutes have gone by when it feels like 45. I had lunch today with a dear, dear friend. I guess some would say we gossiped the whole time. But, I think not. We encouraged one another, pointed out to each other our "inner" voices were very, very accurate, ate pizza, laughed and generally shared each other's "pointless" drama. But I think it not pointless at all. That is our LIFE. I found myself fully doing "lunch." I was "fully" enjoying her company, laughing, listening (I hope well), and we both lamented we should do this more often and why don't we. The same reasons. We are busy moms, employees, wives, friends, daughters, etc. But in the taking time to enjoy a long lunch, I found my Self doing it. Take time this summer to be with the larger whole...the blades of grass, the lightening bugs, the butternut squash, the watermelon, the homemade ice cream, spending time with friends you don't see often enough, BECAUSE LIFE is really the only miracle there is...the whole of it.
Monday, June 18, 2012
When mystery is more important than knowledge
Frankly, I don't understand it. Well, I don't understand a lot things, but particularly prayer. I have wanted to write several entries about prayer but I always get stuck with frankly, I don't understand it. I just know I am suppose to do it. And I do. I don't understand how it works and more often than not, if. And I am never quite sure what it is I am suppose to do either. I suspect some of difficulty in understanding prayer probably comes from my theology. More often than not how we view someone is very much how we will talk to them.
A couple of weeks ago I purchased a 1916 copy of "The Canticles of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States of America to be used with Morning and Evening Prayer," or briefly stated, "The New Hymnal". I collect prayer books (and bibles) of all kinds. This new purchase came out of the Episcopal church in Wilmington. Charlotte P. Bailey was the owner. She lived on 106 North Sixth Street. In case you are wondering, I only paid $5.50 for it. This fascinates me since a new BCP would cost much more and it is bound in paper not embossed leather. I wonder if Charlotte knew more about prayer than I. I wonder if she stared at her shoes.
During morning prayer Sunday at church, I found myself staring at my shoes. They were new. I have not had patent leather in a long time. And these were a very, very lovely nude color, open toed, open heel, stacked, wedges with a nice bow. I love those shoes. The pastor had instructed us to repeat, "Lord in your mercy," each time after the pastor said, "Lord hear our prayer." Now, I am very, very familiar with this liturgy, but I got a little lost on the first sentence, which I might add Faulkner would have been proud. I began staring and thinking about my shoes. How comfortable they were, how pretty, I can't believe that I only paid $12.50 for them and I might just have to buy another dress just to match the shoes. And then Davis poked me and said, "Mom are you even praying?" I felt properly chastised and decided it best to take my shoes off and place my feet on the cold, stone floor to stayed grounded and hopefully in an attitude of prayer. Actually, I felt like a novice who nods off during lauds (3 am), and the abbot comes by, hits him on the head and then chastises him to pray the Stations of the Cross until 6 am alone. And I have always wondered if the abbots were leading communal prayer how did they know the novice wasn't praying?
And I began to think as my feet touched that cold, stone floor that it is an awesome responsibility to give voice to someone else's prayers. How does a pastor decide exactly what to say on Sunday morning? Does he write it down? Is it ad lib? Did he get it from a website? What if he gets a name wrong or forget someone? Does he really know everyone he is praying for? Does it matter if he doesn't? Am I suppose to be listening to his words or saying my own? Is there a class on saying pastoral prayers in divinity school? And how do you grade that? Is he really praying or just talking? Clearly, my grounding technique was not working.
Prayer is a mystery. It is simply to big for us to define. It is not meant to be figured out. Like all forms of communication, it is based on relationship. Jesus clearly thought prayer so very important, he rushed to do it. In Mark, for instance, the word immediately is used to describe Jesus before he prayed. "And immediately he went away to pray..." John describes an incredibly realistic Jesus who prayed. For the better part of three chapters Jesus prays for his disciples...and the gist was this: "Guys this is going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, it will not be easy, it will hurt, but just hang in there..."
And the psalms just don't get any more real. Just read Psalm 22. The psalmists screamed at the door to heaven and demanded answers.
Perhaps this is where we all struggle. The mystery. You may think you really know someone. Think about your dearest friend, a spouse, your child. You may know all about them but something will always remain a mystery. It is not in the knowing that the relationship is built, it is in the experience.
We will never "know" God, but we can experience God. And I think perhaps this is crucial to how we pray at times. "As we believe, so we pray."
And I can be less than honest with God about what I believe to be true...If prayer is to mean anything at all...if I am going to have any sort of intimate relationship at all with God..then I can not self edit. I have to learn it is ok to say..."God, I am a bit more than disappointed in you." "God, you can not possibly be listening to me... because if you were listening..." "God, it hurts my feelings to feel this abandoned by you.." I think the thing to realize about prayer is this and this may be the most important thing of all...
God is the only one, the only one you will ever be able to be completely real with without fear...there will be no judgement, there will be no anger, there will be no rejection, there will only be one thing...and this is the one thing...and this is the only thing you ever have to know..the only thing you ever really need to believe about God is quite simply this...God will always meet you with...
GRACE...
all is grace,
beyond grateful that people actually read my words as if I had something important to say
nude patent leather shoes
duponi silk
clouds that collapse on one another
rental cars
friends
sunshine
cats curled on top of my feet keeping them warm
stone cold floors
prayers spoken and unspoken
iced tea
ice cold watermelon
bee balm
monarch butterflies
the first hummingbird of summer
ground hogs playing in the grass
the color turquoise
A couple of weeks ago I purchased a 1916 copy of "The Canticles of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States of America to be used with Morning and Evening Prayer," or briefly stated, "The New Hymnal". I collect prayer books (and bibles) of all kinds. This new purchase came out of the Episcopal church in Wilmington. Charlotte P. Bailey was the owner. She lived on 106 North Sixth Street. In case you are wondering, I only paid $5.50 for it. This fascinates me since a new BCP would cost much more and it is bound in paper not embossed leather. I wonder if Charlotte knew more about prayer than I. I wonder if she stared at her shoes.
During morning prayer Sunday at church, I found myself staring at my shoes. They were new. I have not had patent leather in a long time. And these were a very, very lovely nude color, open toed, open heel, stacked, wedges with a nice bow. I love those shoes. The pastor had instructed us to repeat, "Lord in your mercy," each time after the pastor said, "Lord hear our prayer." Now, I am very, very familiar with this liturgy, but I got a little lost on the first sentence, which I might add Faulkner would have been proud. I began staring and thinking about my shoes. How comfortable they were, how pretty, I can't believe that I only paid $12.50 for them and I might just have to buy another dress just to match the shoes. And then Davis poked me and said, "Mom are you even praying?" I felt properly chastised and decided it best to take my shoes off and place my feet on the cold, stone floor to stayed grounded and hopefully in an attitude of prayer. Actually, I felt like a novice who nods off during lauds (3 am), and the abbot comes by, hits him on the head and then chastises him to pray the Stations of the Cross until 6 am alone. And I have always wondered if the abbots were leading communal prayer how did they know the novice wasn't praying?
And I began to think as my feet touched that cold, stone floor that it is an awesome responsibility to give voice to someone else's prayers. How does a pastor decide exactly what to say on Sunday morning? Does he write it down? Is it ad lib? Did he get it from a website? What if he gets a name wrong or forget someone? Does he really know everyone he is praying for? Does it matter if he doesn't? Am I suppose to be listening to his words or saying my own? Is there a class on saying pastoral prayers in divinity school? And how do you grade that? Is he really praying or just talking? Clearly, my grounding technique was not working.
Prayer is a mystery. It is simply to big for us to define. It is not meant to be figured out. Like all forms of communication, it is based on relationship. Jesus clearly thought prayer so very important, he rushed to do it. In Mark, for instance, the word immediately is used to describe Jesus before he prayed. "And immediately he went away to pray..." John describes an incredibly realistic Jesus who prayed. For the better part of three chapters Jesus prays for his disciples...and the gist was this: "Guys this is going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, it will not be easy, it will hurt, but just hang in there..."
And the psalms just don't get any more real. Just read Psalm 22. The psalmists screamed at the door to heaven and demanded answers.
Perhaps this is where we all struggle. The mystery. You may think you really know someone. Think about your dearest friend, a spouse, your child. You may know all about them but something will always remain a mystery. It is not in the knowing that the relationship is built, it is in the experience.
We will never "know" God, but we can experience God. And I think perhaps this is crucial to how we pray at times. "As we believe, so we pray."
And I can be less than honest with God about what I believe to be true...If prayer is to mean anything at all...if I am going to have any sort of intimate relationship at all with God..then I can not self edit. I have to learn it is ok to say..."God, I am a bit more than disappointed in you." "God, you can not possibly be listening to me... because if you were listening..." "God, it hurts my feelings to feel this abandoned by you.." I think the thing to realize about prayer is this and this may be the most important thing of all...
God is the only one, the only one you will ever be able to be completely real with without fear...there will be no judgement, there will be no anger, there will be no rejection, there will only be one thing...and this is the one thing...and this is the only thing you ever have to know..the only thing you ever really need to believe about God is quite simply this...God will always meet you with...
GRACE...
all is grace,
beyond grateful that people actually read my words as if I had something important to say
nude patent leather shoes
duponi silk
clouds that collapse on one another
rental cars
friends
sunshine
cats curled on top of my feet keeping them warm
stone cold floors
prayers spoken and unspoken
iced tea
ice cold watermelon
bee balm
monarch butterflies
the first hummingbird of summer
ground hogs playing in the grass
the color turquoise
Sunday, June 17, 2012
His Eye is on the sparrow
If there is one thing I know, you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel if you are turned the wrong way. And how many times we get turned the wrong way and don't know and wander around in darkness, stubbing our toes, scraping our fingers, bumping our heads and feeling all cold and damp. We wander when we fail to see the beauty of everyday. We wander when we fail to be grateful for this life we live even when we don't understand it. We wander when we don't love others. We wander when we spend time complaining when mana is right there all along. We wander when we don't offer forgiveness. All of this will keep us in the dark, trapped at the end of a tunnel.
A bird was trapped in our tent today and was scared and panting and could not find her way out. I was coaxing and wooing her to no avail. And I remembered this prayer and it is so true for us sparrows..who wander and find themselves lost...
"Lord God — of all the world, You see the sparrows —
us with the messy nests who are welcome at Your altar,
us with the loneliness who are encircled in Your care,
us with the smallness who are remembered and held and never forgotten
before the God who has an eye for all the Sparrows.
So sparrows don’t stress. Because they trust. Your Will is better than our ways.
So sparrows don’t hurry. Because they don’t fear. Your altar is better than our agendas.
So sparrows don’t worry — Because they are Yours.
Your sovereignty is better than the skies." Ann Voskamp
A bird was trapped in our tent today and was scared and panting and could not find her way out. I was coaxing and wooing her to no avail. And I remembered this prayer and it is so true for us sparrows..who wander and find themselves lost...
"Lord God — of all the world, You see the sparrows —
us with the messy nests who are welcome at Your altar,
us with the loneliness who are encircled in Your care,
us with the smallness who are remembered and held and never forgotten
before the God who has an eye for all the Sparrows.
So sparrows don’t stress. Because they trust. Your Will is better than our ways.
So sparrows don’t hurry. Because they don’t fear. Your altar is better than our agendas.
So sparrows don’t worry — Because they are Yours.
Your sovereignty is better than the skies." Ann Voskamp
Saturday, June 16, 2012
The Good Stuff
I don't like country music but I think cowboys can be eye candy. I think it is the hat and the five day beard and the tight jeans. So, evey once in awhile I hear a country music song and it makes cry and think and pray. Not necessarily in that order. Yesterday I was roaming around my favorite antique shops and I heard two songs that just spoke to me. I have always wondered where shop keepers get there playlist from. Some are really good and clever. I always hear in antique stores, Mick Jagger singing "You might get what you want but if try sometimes, you might just get what you need'" Appropriate for shopping, don't you think? I wanted a large wide mouth jar to serve lemonade but I got a terrarium that will serve the same purpose. And I heard this song The Good Stuff while I was in my favorite Ideas store. It made me cry and pray and buy a cool old lime green frame with chicken wire for my party. And every time I hear John Maier sing "Say what you mean to say", I remember a time when that did not work out so well for me. But I love the song.
And so today was a good stuff day...remembering when we kissed so long on our sixth date....holding hands and eating lunch outside...hotdogs from Bill and Leahs...weeding our garden with the tiller and I swear a saw a snake curled up under my squash and now I be afraid the rest of the summer. Talking about all the funny business trip things. The smile on my face when he told me his boss has stained glassed windows and pottery on her wall and distressed signs with messages. I was tickled he noticed and talked about me. Big hugs from Davis. Sitting outside in our tent enjoying the weather. Painting furniture. Dancing with Davis in the yard. Watching hummingbirds and all manner of winged foul. Looking in your husbands face. Kissing your son's nose. Fresh squash from the garden. Steaks from the grill. Sunlight streaming in the bedroom. Planning a vintage party for beautiful bride The good stuff is in the simple things. Snuggling under an old chenille bedspread for a nap. Minty lotion all our feet. Knowing we are loved. Saying you sorry. That is the good stuff. Simplicity doesn’t mean we will live uncomplicated lives. Simplicity is a matter of Focus — the grace to focus our lives simply on Christ. ann voskamp
Dinners al fresco under candlelight, great glass of wine, the smell of charcoal. Talking to your son for the afternoon. That is the good stuff. Snuggling in bed with your husband after his return. Saying you are sorry to someone you hurt really bad from the past...that is the good stuff. Reading your bible when nothing but tears fall...yeah man, that's the good stuff....Sitting in the back yard listening to the birds and singing holy, holy, holy...that's the good stuff....
all is grace...the good stuff...and say what you mean to say
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYQZJ9NUzYU&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYQZJ9NUzYU&feature=related
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Marginalia
mar·gi·na·lia. noun pl \ˌmär-jə-ˈnā-lē-ə\ : marginal notes or embellishments (as in a book).
Apparently, the monks charged with copying the scriptures were prone to writing in the margins. Right there on the margins of illuminated texts is a running commentary of their random thoughts. To share a few:
New parchment, bad ink. I say nothing more.
Thank God it is getting dark.
It is cold.
The ink is thin.
I copied the it all, for Christ sake I need a drink.
And knowing this gives me pause. First it is down right funny. Second it does make one wonder if the monk in charge of passing out the gospel of Luke to be copied, said, "You know what, just copy Mark." It also makes me wonder if perhaps the words, "You brood of vipers," were maybe added or they left some parts out because they were just tired. Food for thought. The scriptures are inspired words of God, but I suspect some humor or misconceptions may have been woven in. And it also makes me realize once again that life...most of life is lived in the margins...and it is the margins that bring us the most joy....and the moments that take our breath...and the stuff that is really, really holy. We probably should give a little more attention to the margins of life than we do.
My margins have been rather full and complicated this week. With lots of cursing, do overs, humor and some tears. My margins really say alot about my life in general. What I give my attention to, what I love, what I hate, what really puts me in a twist, what makes me smile, what makes me laugh so hard I am wetting my pants, what makes me want to swallow six peanut butter cookies whole. And to be honest, I have been so sad this week, I have found it hard to concentrate on writing. Then I read about marginalia and saw Snowhite and the Huntsman (which is epic BTW).
Vance has been in New Hampshire since Sunday. What I miss most about him being gone is my laundry is not getting done, I am having manage Davis' sports schedule and my dishwasher is broken. I freely admit am one very spoiled wife. And while I always have known this, I am grateful not to be a single parent. Parenting alone this week has been a challenge. First, Davis lacks confidence in my parenting/scheduling abilities. I suspect the one time I took him to baseball practice in Mocksville and gotta sort of lost and we were late...made him a little wary of my ability to travel to unknown locations. First GPS can be somewhat of a joke and on my best days can be directionally challenged. Even at 7, he got yelled at for being late even though he can't drive and clearly it was my fault. Sports are just like that. He also has to be 15 minutes early for everything and I just have to be right on time. So, this week we when we learned that high school basketball workouts have started, I think he about had a nervous breakdown. First, his dad isn't here to sort this whole summer league basketball thing out. Second, he knows his mother very well and earliness is not her strong suit. Third, I did once forget to pick him up and while CPS wasn't called, he has never forgotten it. So, no less than 7 times a day he texts me to remind me what time practice starts and he tells me to be at the gym 15 minutes early to pick him up. (BTW, it is at the same time and location every day). Today, he text ed me 4 times in 3 minutes to see if I was coming to pick him up. He really has trust issues with my ability to chauffeur. He also had hitting practice for baseball this week. I think he reminded me about 6 times Monday as to what time we had to be there. Vance knows my limitations in keeping up with this insane sports schedule and leaves me a detailed calendar.
I about had a nervous breakdown when I dropped him off at high school basketball workouts and saw the size of varsity and learned that JV would be guarding them. Davis even said wryly, "I think I might be over matched." I said, "You think?" Davis is so sore he can't move and so tired at night he collapses after practice. My over active imagination of course worries that he might be "working" too hard. He did confess to me that he has this figured out. If you win your free throw or lay up drill, you DON'T have to run. He said, "Well, I just pick a partner I knew I could beat so I didn't have to run. I think the coaches figured it out though, 'cause on the third drill, they made me change partners." He also doesn't mind working out so hard it makes him vomit. He just gets up and keeps playing. I of course, think he needs a PICC line and IV fluids when he gets home, but this is all just worried momma stuff. If Vance were here, I would not even think about this stuff because he would be handling it. I guess I should realize that if Davis can figure out how to win a drill and NOT run and he doesn't mind vomiting during workouts and he doesn't care if every two steps his legs are killing him, I should let it go. Tomorrow he has to be at the gym which is five minutes away at 9 am. He has already set my clock for 7 am so I won't be late.
The dishwasher broke and has to be replaced. My husband must be having a seriously good time in New Hampshire, because he text ed me and said, "Just go pick one out and have it installed." HE has never NOT had an opinion on a major purchase. NEVER. So, I don't know what he is drinking or smoking in New Hampshire, but it must be good stuff. Of course, I am not entirely naive and there is no way I am buying that dishwasher till he gets home.
Vance does the laundry at our house. ALL OF IT. I do not even know my way to the basement to do laundry. Of course, my son knows this and has had to remind me that he has no clean underwear or shorts to wear to basketball practice. This would explain why I think he should own no less than 14 pair of shorts (he does not) and 21 pairs of underwear (he does not). If he did, we would not be in an underwear/short crisis right now. I have managed to wash all the clothes, but none of it has been folded. I seriously considered purchasing more just so I would not have to do laundry. I hate to do laundry. I should also mention that Vance loads the dishwasher because he does not like how I do it and I have been known to rerun it just because I don't want to unload it. This of course drives Vance insane. BUT, since I have 3 complete sets of flatware (8 place settings each), 2 complete sets of dishes (8 place settings each), dish washing has not entered into crisis mode yet, I still have plenty of clean dishes till Vance gets home.
I have also been known to park crooked. This apparently drives someone so very, very insane at the hospital, because when I got to my car this afternoon, the following bumper sticker was on my window:
"I park like an idiot.com" First, the dude who put this on my car, has no idea that not only does this NOT offend me, I take it as a challenge. If the dude does not like how I parked today, just wait till tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that. I will even purposefully park next to him the rest of the year just to annoy him. People with road rage and time to get angry over things like that amaze me. It also amazes me that they actually spend money on a bumper sticker, take to the time to feed their anger enough to put it on my car AND actually have deluded themselves into thinking I CARE and that it will embarrass or shun me into parking THE WAY THEY WANT ME TO. NOT SO MUCH. IN FACT, it challenges me to annoy them further. Do I know that people like that basically are small minded and very unhappy? Of course I do. But I love a challenge. I love to annoy people who think people really have to follow all of these imaginary rules. LOVE IT.
A patient made the mistake of crossing a line with me today. I suspect he won't be doing that again. And I suspect that he is treating his nurses a lot more kindly after the word of prayer he and I had today. Word to wise, it is not in your best interest to piss off the woman holding a 1 inch needle in her hand that she is planning on inserting in your chest. NOT AT ALL in your best interest. It will also never serve you well to invite me into your room at the hospital and ask me to help you AND then challenge my professional ability. SERIOUSLY not in your best interest. I won't share how the conversation started but I will share how it ended.
PT: "You really don't play do you?"
ME: "Nope."
PT: "Do you have any children?"
ME: "Yes."
PT: "How many, what kind and how old?"
ME: "A teenage son."
PT: "I am guessing he does not talk back to you much in your house, does he?"
ME: "That would be very correct. And just in case you are wondering, I consider this MY HOUSE too. You might act like this at home, but not here. This is my house."
PT: "I kind of thought so. You are pretty."
ME: "Dude that does not work for my son either. Charming doesn't cut it with me."
PT: "You are not as nice as the other one are you?"
ME: "No, I can promise you that BUT I am as good and you are not going to behave like this AND get my help."
He ended by saying he was sorry, thanking me, promising he would be nicer to the staff and asking me to tuck his covers in. I tucked him in. Most patients are really just very, very scared and need a momma. I am a good momma.
Davis and I had a very insightful conversation about why more perfect games are being thrown now than 90 years ago, Iverson REALLY was not the ball hog Vance thinks he was, the spiritual meaning and Christ motif in the new Snow white movie (and it is loaded with metaphor), and the only prayer you ever need is the Lord's Prayer, according to Davis that covers it all especially when you don't know what to pray, that no one will every understand your crazy family like your own cousins and family dinners at restaurants really do remind you just how strong family love is, how much white rice one family can really eat, how much more competitive baseball is now than ninety years ago and while baseball players love the money every single one of them plays BECAUSE they love the game and would play anyway, how hard it is for rising ninth graders to run set plays in basketball, that Duke players really don't practice THAT hard, and how hard do you have to practice when the top five players on in any position all are on your team and your bench is every coaches dream team AND when all five of your players are COMMITTING FOULS ALL at the same time, the referee really CAN NOT call five fouls at ONCE on the whole team so he just has to ignore it till blood is spilled, the reality show Mountain Men and it is really scary that people live like that, our cat really needs to be on diet but how do you really accomplish that when your cat pushes the bowl across the floor till you fill it up, can one man really fix the economy and why do people really think one man can, exactly where is Scandinavia and we can't wait to see the movie Rock of Ages and the Great Wall of Chocolate at PF Chang's really is as good as gets and how hard is it to divide 5 into 80? and even Davis knows people waste way too much time on being angry...as he says..."Really? Why not just keep playing ? Why be so mad all the time? Mom...being angry like that is just a waste of time. Oh and Mom...ball hogs...eventually everyone figures out they are selfish and won't play with em"
It is my margins that remind me how much life is meant to be lived, felt, experienced, seen, touched and loved...it is in the margins that real stuff is...the tiny, mundane things of life...it is grace...and it is to be wondered at...shared...commented on...remembered...lived...and always praying in the margins for people who hurt, who are grieving and whose world's are turned upside down
All is grace even in the margins...it really is how you live....
Kathleen
It's How You Live Video:
ttp://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=J9BJ2MNU
Apparently, the monks charged with copying the scriptures were prone to writing in the margins. Right there on the margins of illuminated texts is a running commentary of their random thoughts. To share a few:
New parchment, bad ink. I say nothing more.
Thank God it is getting dark.
It is cold.
The ink is thin.
I copied the it all, for Christ sake I need a drink.
And knowing this gives me pause. First it is down right funny. Second it does make one wonder if the monk in charge of passing out the gospel of Luke to be copied, said, "You know what, just copy Mark." It also makes me wonder if perhaps the words, "You brood of vipers," were maybe added or they left some parts out because they were just tired. Food for thought. The scriptures are inspired words of God, but I suspect some humor or misconceptions may have been woven in. And it also makes me realize once again that life...most of life is lived in the margins...and it is the margins that bring us the most joy....and the moments that take our breath...and the stuff that is really, really holy. We probably should give a little more attention to the margins of life than we do.
My margins have been rather full and complicated this week. With lots of cursing, do overs, humor and some tears. My margins really say alot about my life in general. What I give my attention to, what I love, what I hate, what really puts me in a twist, what makes me smile, what makes me laugh so hard I am wetting my pants, what makes me want to swallow six peanut butter cookies whole. And to be honest, I have been so sad this week, I have found it hard to concentrate on writing. Then I read about marginalia and saw Snowhite and the Huntsman (which is epic BTW).
Vance has been in New Hampshire since Sunday. What I miss most about him being gone is my laundry is not getting done, I am having manage Davis' sports schedule and my dishwasher is broken. I freely admit am one very spoiled wife. And while I always have known this, I am grateful not to be a single parent. Parenting alone this week has been a challenge. First, Davis lacks confidence in my parenting/scheduling abilities. I suspect the one time I took him to baseball practice in Mocksville and gotta sort of lost and we were late...made him a little wary of my ability to travel to unknown locations. First GPS can be somewhat of a joke and on my best days can be directionally challenged. Even at 7, he got yelled at for being late even though he can't drive and clearly it was my fault. Sports are just like that. He also has to be 15 minutes early for everything and I just have to be right on time. So, this week we when we learned that high school basketball workouts have started, I think he about had a nervous breakdown. First, his dad isn't here to sort this whole summer league basketball thing out. Second, he knows his mother very well and earliness is not her strong suit. Third, I did once forget to pick him up and while CPS wasn't called, he has never forgotten it. So, no less than 7 times a day he texts me to remind me what time practice starts and he tells me to be at the gym 15 minutes early to pick him up. (BTW, it is at the same time and location every day). Today, he text ed me 4 times in 3 minutes to see if I was coming to pick him up. He really has trust issues with my ability to chauffeur. He also had hitting practice for baseball this week. I think he reminded me about 6 times Monday as to what time we had to be there. Vance knows my limitations in keeping up with this insane sports schedule and leaves me a detailed calendar.
I about had a nervous breakdown when I dropped him off at high school basketball workouts and saw the size of varsity and learned that JV would be guarding them. Davis even said wryly, "I think I might be over matched." I said, "You think?" Davis is so sore he can't move and so tired at night he collapses after practice. My over active imagination of course worries that he might be "working" too hard. He did confess to me that he has this figured out. If you win your free throw or lay up drill, you DON'T have to run. He said, "Well, I just pick a partner I knew I could beat so I didn't have to run. I think the coaches figured it out though, 'cause on the third drill, they made me change partners." He also doesn't mind working out so hard it makes him vomit. He just gets up and keeps playing. I of course, think he needs a PICC line and IV fluids when he gets home, but this is all just worried momma stuff. If Vance were here, I would not even think about this stuff because he would be handling it. I guess I should realize that if Davis can figure out how to win a drill and NOT run and he doesn't mind vomiting during workouts and he doesn't care if every two steps his legs are killing him, I should let it go. Tomorrow he has to be at the gym which is five minutes away at 9 am. He has already set my clock for 7 am so I won't be late.
The dishwasher broke and has to be replaced. My husband must be having a seriously good time in New Hampshire, because he text ed me and said, "Just go pick one out and have it installed." HE has never NOT had an opinion on a major purchase. NEVER. So, I don't know what he is drinking or smoking in New Hampshire, but it must be good stuff. Of course, I am not entirely naive and there is no way I am buying that dishwasher till he gets home.
Vance does the laundry at our house. ALL OF IT. I do not even know my way to the basement to do laundry. Of course, my son knows this and has had to remind me that he has no clean underwear or shorts to wear to basketball practice. This would explain why I think he should own no less than 14 pair of shorts (he does not) and 21 pairs of underwear (he does not). If he did, we would not be in an underwear/short crisis right now. I have managed to wash all the clothes, but none of it has been folded. I seriously considered purchasing more just so I would not have to do laundry. I hate to do laundry. I should also mention that Vance loads the dishwasher because he does not like how I do it and I have been known to rerun it just because I don't want to unload it. This of course drives Vance insane. BUT, since I have 3 complete sets of flatware (8 place settings each), 2 complete sets of dishes (8 place settings each), dish washing has not entered into crisis mode yet, I still have plenty of clean dishes till Vance gets home.
I have also been known to park crooked. This apparently drives someone so very, very insane at the hospital, because when I got to my car this afternoon, the following bumper sticker was on my window:
"I park like an idiot.com" First, the dude who put this on my car, has no idea that not only does this NOT offend me, I take it as a challenge. If the dude does not like how I parked today, just wait till tomorrow, the day after that and the day after that. I will even purposefully park next to him the rest of the year just to annoy him. People with road rage and time to get angry over things like that amaze me. It also amazes me that they actually spend money on a bumper sticker, take to the time to feed their anger enough to put it on my car AND actually have deluded themselves into thinking I CARE and that it will embarrass or shun me into parking THE WAY THEY WANT ME TO. NOT SO MUCH. IN FACT, it challenges me to annoy them further. Do I know that people like that basically are small minded and very unhappy? Of course I do. But I love a challenge. I love to annoy people who think people really have to follow all of these imaginary rules. LOVE IT.
A patient made the mistake of crossing a line with me today. I suspect he won't be doing that again. And I suspect that he is treating his nurses a lot more kindly after the word of prayer he and I had today. Word to wise, it is not in your best interest to piss off the woman holding a 1 inch needle in her hand that she is planning on inserting in your chest. NOT AT ALL in your best interest. It will also never serve you well to invite me into your room at the hospital and ask me to help you AND then challenge my professional ability. SERIOUSLY not in your best interest. I won't share how the conversation started but I will share how it ended.
PT: "You really don't play do you?"
ME: "Nope."
PT: "Do you have any children?"
ME: "Yes."
PT: "How many, what kind and how old?"
ME: "A teenage son."
PT: "I am guessing he does not talk back to you much in your house, does he?"
ME: "That would be very correct. And just in case you are wondering, I consider this MY HOUSE too. You might act like this at home, but not here. This is my house."
PT: "I kind of thought so. You are pretty."
ME: "Dude that does not work for my son either. Charming doesn't cut it with me."
PT: "You are not as nice as the other one are you?"
ME: "No, I can promise you that BUT I am as good and you are not going to behave like this AND get my help."
He ended by saying he was sorry, thanking me, promising he would be nicer to the staff and asking me to tuck his covers in. I tucked him in. Most patients are really just very, very scared and need a momma. I am a good momma.
Davis and I had a very insightful conversation about why more perfect games are being thrown now than 90 years ago, Iverson REALLY was not the ball hog Vance thinks he was, the spiritual meaning and Christ motif in the new Snow white movie (and it is loaded with metaphor), and the only prayer you ever need is the Lord's Prayer, according to Davis that covers it all especially when you don't know what to pray, that no one will every understand your crazy family like your own cousins and family dinners at restaurants really do remind you just how strong family love is, how much white rice one family can really eat, how much more competitive baseball is now than ninety years ago and while baseball players love the money every single one of them plays BECAUSE they love the game and would play anyway, how hard it is for rising ninth graders to run set plays in basketball, that Duke players really don't practice THAT hard, and how hard do you have to practice when the top five players on in any position all are on your team and your bench is every coaches dream team AND when all five of your players are COMMITTING FOULS ALL at the same time, the referee really CAN NOT call five fouls at ONCE on the whole team so he just has to ignore it till blood is spilled, the reality show Mountain Men and it is really scary that people live like that, our cat really needs to be on diet but how do you really accomplish that when your cat pushes the bowl across the floor till you fill it up, can one man really fix the economy and why do people really think one man can, exactly where is Scandinavia and we can't wait to see the movie Rock of Ages and the Great Wall of Chocolate at PF Chang's really is as good as gets and how hard is it to divide 5 into 80? and even Davis knows people waste way too much time on being angry...as he says..."Really? Why not just keep playing ? Why be so mad all the time? Mom...being angry like that is just a waste of time. Oh and Mom...ball hogs...eventually everyone figures out they are selfish and won't play with em"
It is my margins that remind me how much life is meant to be lived, felt, experienced, seen, touched and loved...it is in the margins that real stuff is...the tiny, mundane things of life...it is grace...and it is to be wondered at...shared...commented on...remembered...lived...and always praying in the margins for people who hurt, who are grieving and whose world's are turned upside down
All is grace even in the margins...it really is how you live....
Kathleen
It's How You Live Video:
ttp://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=J9BJ2MNU
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Where is God when life hurts?
For the Townsend Family
Where is God when the world closes in and mothers are grieving over their children who died too young and people are hurting from life and are scared to say goodbye to the ones they love? Where is God when life does not make sense and people are hungry and broken and bruised and loneliness overcomes even grandmothers? Where is God when we fill graves and weep a river of tears over our loss and our grief is never ending? And I will always scream this question at the door of heaven: Where is God when bad things happen to the only kind of people there are- all of us? Where is God? "God is right where He always is: with us."
God is still sovereign and "He shows up with His scars and to hold the bottle to catch all our tears because He can't bear to let our grief spill hopelessly."
Ad midst all the tears, all the pain and all of our crying, we continue because we know we conquer by continuing. We still begn again and we work even though we weep and it is hard to take the next breath when our hearts our breaking. We tell our hearts that we must still be open and make room for hope to take root. We go on and try to hang on and as the pain threatens to swallow us whole and we bury our hope in that all painful things are not final things. We place our hope in knowing good will come out of graves and out of our dark places triumph will emerge. This keeps us breathing.
There is a special grace in waiting for the dark to turn to light. And we know as mothers that our capacity to love is endless and we are always reflecting that love to our children and we must believe in our ability to emerge from the kingdom of night.
Weeping may endure for the night but joy will come in the morning. And she knows what we all need to know that painful things are not final things and that death does not have the last word...And she clings to this knowing that it will bind her wounds and make her whole again...And she knows because I heard it through her tears that God will give her the grace to walk through this barren land called grief and she knows she does not do it alone...
May the God of all comfort surround you with peace and may you know each and every moment of the coming days that God weeps with you and that this is not the final word.
Where is God when the world closes in and mothers are grieving over their children who died too young and people are hurting from life and are scared to say goodbye to the ones they love? Where is God when life does not make sense and people are hungry and broken and bruised and loneliness overcomes even grandmothers? Where is God when we fill graves and weep a river of tears over our loss and our grief is never ending? And I will always scream this question at the door of heaven: Where is God when bad things happen to the only kind of people there are- all of us? Where is God? "God is right where He always is: with us."
God is still sovereign and "He shows up with His scars and to hold the bottle to catch all our tears because He can't bear to let our grief spill hopelessly."
Ad midst all the tears, all the pain and all of our crying, we continue because we know we conquer by continuing. We still begn again and we work even though we weep and it is hard to take the next breath when our hearts our breaking. We tell our hearts that we must still be open and make room for hope to take root. We go on and try to hang on and as the pain threatens to swallow us whole and we bury our hope in that all painful things are not final things. We place our hope in knowing good will come out of graves and out of our dark places triumph will emerge. This keeps us breathing.
There is a special grace in waiting for the dark to turn to light. And we know as mothers that our capacity to love is endless and we are always reflecting that love to our children and we must believe in our ability to emerge from the kingdom of night.
Weeping may endure for the night but joy will come in the morning. And she knows what we all need to know that painful things are not final things and that death does not have the last word...And she clings to this knowing that it will bind her wounds and make her whole again...And she knows because I heard it through her tears that God will give her the grace to walk through this barren land called grief and she knows she does not do it alone...
May the God of all comfort surround you with peace and may you know each and every moment of the coming days that God weeps with you and that this is not the final word.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
How to like your own skin and find the perfect weight...
At prayer today: Truthfully I never got past Worship the Lord in the beauty...
Lord who lives in heaven and used to live in skin:
Did you ever worry about your weight and the fine lines and the sagging skin that flaps like a chicken under your arms? I am and do. I know I am fearfully and wonderfully made. And no - dear God, I have no idea what fearfully means. Absolutely no idea. Wonderful I get- fearfully no. Right now I hate my skin. It is too dry and flabby and my eyes look like raccoon's that have permanently squinted. And I feel bloated and I am in a bad mood because the sun is not shining at the beach and has not for the last two days and won't today either. At least it is not terminal. I know terminally bad mood people, Lord and please help to at least tolerate them because I do not like them. And I really need to loose 7 pounds. Not 5, Not 10, 7. So, since I am a little overwhelmed right now and in the middle of a breakdown because my baby is going to high school and does not need me much anymore and I know this is all normal and all of his favorite coaches won't be coaching him anymore at baseball and I love them and their craziness too and I will miss them and it makes me teary...I mean who is going to make me laugh all Saturdays now - "HIT THE BALL. THROW STRIKES. DO YOUR JOB!!!!" ...I am eating way too many carbs in the form of peanut butter cookies and bread. TAKE THIS AWAY. Not the sad, THE TEMPTATION to EAT. GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN. ALSO if at all possible and you have an extra miracle or two to give away today...the oil of olay products for mature skin are suppose to take ten years away...make them at least worth the 60 dollars I paid for them so I will not feel so guilty about not sending the money to Hati. And yes I am very sorry I don't have a heart for the poor. You could work on that too. And now I am crying because my friends are having to say goodbye to people they love and they are scared and I know people who are in constant pain and they can't find a way out and my car is totaled and we really did not want to buy a new car this year and I still harbor huge amounts of anger toward certain people who best I can tell were crazy in the first place and I really need to let that go...But I bet you are kind of mad at them too or at least I need you to be. And my shoulder really, really is bothering me again AND I am refusing to claim that AND I do not want to do PT anymore...so heal that too...AND I AM SO SORRY FOR WHINING....BUT then again you fearfully made me so you are not surprised at all...
KATHLEEN: I have already been over this with Solomon but I will do a repeat in case you missed the first memo:
Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 (NRSV)
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 (NRSV)
So basically, Kathleen- this is the season for leaving...this is the season for aging...7 pounds REALLY? Get just a little perspective. ENJOY what I created...it is perfect...and give thanks for it all because it all is for good...the all of it...wrinkles, flab, the last season, saying goodbye, people that get on your last nerve, bad moods (please do not stay in one and no that is your job to work that out not mine-I gave you emotions for a reason-just do not let them control you), and do you really know anyone past the age of 30 who has bore children that does not have wrinkles and flab? REALLY? TRUST ME: THE HUMAN RACE can be a discouraging lot to work with and they can give me pause from time to time and make me permanently scrunch my face up...
LOVE,
GOD - (I know sometimes I am just plain hard to get...And thank you for sticking it out with the Daily Office-it really is good for you. I told you I would show up).
One would think that I would get it by now but here is what I know to be true about me and I suspect it is true about you:
I am afraid of saying goodbye to ones I love because sometimes I get hard because of the hurt...GOD already knows this- after all Jesus did it too.
I find it hard to find faith to ask for daily bread...clearly Jesus did too...he prayed 7 times a day...
I think sometimes Jesus forgot all about us when he flew away...but I have memorized every word he said and I still get scared and I hold my breath...
I do not have a love that is patient as his...but I do manage to love now and then...
I forget sometimes he knew loneliness, need and BARELY hung on while his friends all fell asleep...
I know he bore our sorrows, I know he bore our pain, I know it would not hurt any less even if it could be explained....And I am only lashing out at the one who loves me most...
And even after I figured all this out...I still need to know...
Does God who lives in eternity hear the prayers of us who live in time?
I can not see what is ahead of me and I guess you led me here to where I am lost enough to let myself be led and I guess it is your ways and you are just plain hard to get...attributed - Rich Mullins
Grateful today for a thousands blessings,
enough food to eat that I worry about 7 pounds
alive long enough to have wrinkles
stretch marks from giving birth
coaches
wind and rain
sweatshirts found at the bottom of a drawer
feelings
the music of Rich Mullins
as always the BCP
ALL REALLY IS GRACE,
KATHLEEN
Lord who lives in heaven and used to live in skin:
Did you ever worry about your weight and the fine lines and the sagging skin that flaps like a chicken under your arms? I am and do. I know I am fearfully and wonderfully made. And no - dear God, I have no idea what fearfully means. Absolutely no idea. Wonderful I get- fearfully no. Right now I hate my skin. It is too dry and flabby and my eyes look like raccoon's that have permanently squinted. And I feel bloated and I am in a bad mood because the sun is not shining at the beach and has not for the last two days and won't today either. At least it is not terminal. I know terminally bad mood people, Lord and please help to at least tolerate them because I do not like them. And I really need to loose 7 pounds. Not 5, Not 10, 7. So, since I am a little overwhelmed right now and in the middle of a breakdown because my baby is going to high school and does not need me much anymore and I know this is all normal and all of his favorite coaches won't be coaching him anymore at baseball and I love them and their craziness too and I will miss them and it makes me teary...I mean who is going to make me laugh all Saturdays now - "HIT THE BALL. THROW STRIKES. DO YOUR JOB!!!!" ...I am eating way too many carbs in the form of peanut butter cookies and bread. TAKE THIS AWAY. Not the sad, THE TEMPTATION to EAT. GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN. ALSO if at all possible and you have an extra miracle or two to give away today...the oil of olay products for mature skin are suppose to take ten years away...make them at least worth the 60 dollars I paid for them so I will not feel so guilty about not sending the money to Hati. And yes I am very sorry I don't have a heart for the poor. You could work on that too. And now I am crying because my friends are having to say goodbye to people they love and they are scared and I know people who are in constant pain and they can't find a way out and my car is totaled and we really did not want to buy a new car this year and I still harbor huge amounts of anger toward certain people who best I can tell were crazy in the first place and I really need to let that go...But I bet you are kind of mad at them too or at least I need you to be. And my shoulder really, really is bothering me again AND I am refusing to claim that AND I do not want to do PT anymore...so heal that too...AND I AM SO SORRY FOR WHINING....BUT then again you fearfully made me so you are not surprised at all...
KATHLEEN: I have already been over this with Solomon but I will do a repeat in case you missed the first memo:
Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 (NRSV)
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
I (God- italics mine)
have made everything suitable for its time; moreover have put a sense of past and future into your minds, yet you cannot find out what I have done from the beginning to the end. There is nothing better for you than to be happy and enjoy yourself as long as they live; moreover, it MY gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. Whatever I do endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; I have done this, so that all should stand in awe before ME. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and I seeks out what has gone by.Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 (NRSV)
So basically, Kathleen- this is the season for leaving...this is the season for aging...7 pounds REALLY? Get just a little perspective. ENJOY what I created...it is perfect...and give thanks for it all because it all is for good...the all of it...wrinkles, flab, the last season, saying goodbye, people that get on your last nerve, bad moods (please do not stay in one and no that is your job to work that out not mine-I gave you emotions for a reason-just do not let them control you), and do you really know anyone past the age of 30 who has bore children that does not have wrinkles and flab? REALLY? TRUST ME: THE HUMAN RACE can be a discouraging lot to work with and they can give me pause from time to time and make me permanently scrunch my face up...
LOVE,
GOD - (I know sometimes I am just plain hard to get...And thank you for sticking it out with the Daily Office-it really is good for you. I told you I would show up).
One would think that I would get it by now but here is what I know to be true about me and I suspect it is true about you:
I am afraid of saying goodbye to ones I love because sometimes I get hard because of the hurt...GOD already knows this- after all Jesus did it too.
I find it hard to find faith to ask for daily bread...clearly Jesus did too...he prayed 7 times a day...
I think sometimes Jesus forgot all about us when he flew away...but I have memorized every word he said and I still get scared and I hold my breath...
I do not have a love that is patient as his...but I do manage to love now and then...
I forget sometimes he knew loneliness, need and BARELY hung on while his friends all fell asleep...
I know he bore our sorrows, I know he bore our pain, I know it would not hurt any less even if it could be explained....And I am only lashing out at the one who loves me most...
And even after I figured all this out...I still need to know...
Does God who lives in eternity hear the prayers of us who live in time?
I can not see what is ahead of me and I guess you led me here to where I am lost enough to let myself be led and I guess it is your ways and you are just plain hard to get...attributed - Rich Mullins
Grateful today for a thousands blessings,
enough food to eat that I worry about 7 pounds
alive long enough to have wrinkles
stretch marks from giving birth
coaches
wind and rain
sweatshirts found at the bottom of a drawer
feelings
the music of Rich Mullins
as always the BCP
ALL REALLY IS GRACE,
KATHLEEN
Monday, June 4, 2012
What to do with endings
And he taught me how. He taught me what to do with endings. I have been at a lot of endings and I will confess that I have never seen a physcian do what he did. Ever. No before and not since. And the healing that came from that one act of kindness is eternal. It healed them. We so often think that our healings must come in certain packages, looking certain ways, but God sees it differently. God is always making a new thing, especially out of endings. She had exceeded all expectations and her name was Joy. And she should not have been able to do what she did, but she did. She lived in the midst of her ending and when her ending came, he stood by her bed and wished her peace. She thanked him and smiled and died. She died within hours of her father. I visited the family at the funeral home and it was all they could talk about...how he wished them peace in the midst of their pain and to them he gave them everything they needed to begin again despite the ending. He was present. And there is no greater gift we can give each other than our presence in their pain. And Nouwen said it best but he did it best:
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with the reality of our powerlessness, that is one who cares.
And May always feels this way to me. May always hurts me a bit. I always want what is going on now to go on. I want boys to stay boys and play and run and complain how they hate school even when they don't, and to hate girls, and forget to take showers and to eat only starches and drink only Mt Dew, and to wake up every morning at 6 am just to watch the top 10 plays on Sports Center and to run downstairs and tell their dads, and to still need mom to tuck them in and make their breakfast and pick up their towels and to give hugs. But boys grow and as they grow they leave us. Tomorrow Davis graduates from middle school and I do not where the time went. It was just yesterday I was hiding the tears as I watched him walk into kindergarden by himself and it was just yesterday he finished the fifth grade and I did not hide the tears that day and now tomorrow he finishes the eighth. And I can not hide the tears. And joy and saddnes are always like that. Twin sisters always coming together. And I want to treasure every moment because the present is all we have.
So as I watch the ending tomorrow I will remember all those moments and I will look for new beginnings...for that is what you do...give thanks for the past, bless it and give it back to God and look for the new....which in the economy of God always is good...
And so tomorrow between the tears I will whisper thanks for all the endings and I will give thanks that there are always, always, always beginnings...
the last of Thursday packets
the last of bus rides
the last of tucking boys in
the last of boys sized clothes
the last of little chubby hands
the last of baby skin
the last of knowing everything about my child
the last of him telling everything
the last of me knowing everything
first day of high school
first day of summer break
first day of sleeping in
first light every day
first lightening bug
first watermelon
first sweet corn
first fresh tomato
first sunflower
first hummingbird
and always remembering what the prophet Isaiah said:
“See, I am doing a new thing!
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.
all is well and all matter of things will always be well and full of grace,
kathleen
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with the reality of our powerlessness, that is one who cares.
And May always feels this way to me. May always hurts me a bit. I always want what is going on now to go on. I want boys to stay boys and play and run and complain how they hate school even when they don't, and to hate girls, and forget to take showers and to eat only starches and drink only Mt Dew, and to wake up every morning at 6 am just to watch the top 10 plays on Sports Center and to run downstairs and tell their dads, and to still need mom to tuck them in and make their breakfast and pick up their towels and to give hugs. But boys grow and as they grow they leave us. Tomorrow Davis graduates from middle school and I do not where the time went. It was just yesterday I was hiding the tears as I watched him walk into kindergarden by himself and it was just yesterday he finished the fifth grade and I did not hide the tears that day and now tomorrow he finishes the eighth. And I can not hide the tears. And joy and saddnes are always like that. Twin sisters always coming together. And I want to treasure every moment because the present is all we have.
So as I watch the ending tomorrow I will remember all those moments and I will look for new beginnings...for that is what you do...give thanks for the past, bless it and give it back to God and look for the new....which in the economy of God always is good...
And so tomorrow between the tears I will whisper thanks for all the endings and I will give thanks that there are always, always, always beginnings...
the last of Thursday packets
the last of bus rides
the last of tucking boys in
the last of boys sized clothes
the last of little chubby hands
the last of baby skin
the last of knowing everything about my child
the last of him telling everything
the last of me knowing everything
first day of high school
first day of summer break
first day of sleeping in
first light every day
first lightening bug
first watermelon
first sweet corn
first fresh tomato
first sunflower
first hummingbird
and always remembering what the prophet Isaiah said:
“See, I am doing a new thing!
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.
all is well and all matter of things will always be well and full of grace,
kathleen
Sunday, June 3, 2012
I never thought of tomorrow till my baby hit the floor
For my beloved Dirt bags...on any given Sunday...you make us proud...and we love you...
More than likely, my car was totaled Friday and I knew it was going to happen. Or at least I had this really weird premonition Friday morning. I was driving to visit a friend and thought to myself, "if I was to be hit by another car right now, I would not survive the crash." I have no idea where that thought came from. But I quickly prayed for angels to guard me the rest of the day. Funny when things like that happen. We are always grateful for being spared and credit the angels, but we rarely bless God for each and every breath we take or at least give thanks in the morning for seeing a new day. I am like most people who never think much of what tomorrow could look like till my baby hit the floor or pray ardently till somebody is about to die. Sad but true. I also don't think it is healthy to live in fear of the unknown but life really does begin when you live grateful.
This very, lovely man who had just come from his chemo treatments T-boned me in the Lowe's parking lot with a diesel truck. He said he had never hit another car before and he blamed it on his mind being kind of foggy from chemo. I am guessing he had a point. I was delighted to see, however, the band aid over his port a cath. Had I been traveling above 10 miles an hour, I would have been seriously injured. As it worked out my car was only moved about 10 feet. I kind of felt like I was being run over by a bulldozer. It was a tremendously huge truck. Land yacht comes to mind or a small rolling aircraft. I think besides both of us being unharmed, the beauty of the moment was quite simply this, I was not the slightest bit irritated or angry when I got out of my car. There was a time in my life when this would have ruined my day and probably my week and I would not have responded kindly and found out all the details of my new friend Edwin's life, who clearly has bigger dragons to fight. And to be honest, that kind of illness really makes my crushed car look insignificant. Pretty much and it humbles me to think and say thanks. Cars can be replaced and are relatively easy to fix. Cancer not so much.
I went on to enjoy the most delicious dinner with a friend while watching a storm roll in over the Virginia mountains. Champagne Chicken. It melts in your mouth. Butter, champagne, tarragon, capers and cream. It really does not get any better. And I don't know why but fresh pasta is the bomb. And I can really taste the difference. And food always tastes better when someone else cooked it.
And I would love to say it was all uphill from there but not exactly. I went to Morganton to watch summer's favorite past time - baseball. I forgot: my deodorant, a clean change of underwear, my shampoo, lotion AND TERVIS CUP. I did however remember to pack my Kindle, MP3 player, peanuts and sunscreen. Fortunately, I am never above borrowing Vance's, his deodorant not underwear. And the detergent that is called shampoo by hotels, well let's just say Justin is going to kill me. I spent enough time one summer in the rain forest of Costa Rica to know how to wash out underwear and get to semi dry over night. BUT forgetting my TERVIS cup (purchased for just this purpose-watching baseball), about was my undoing. I was whining about it, when Davis reminded as only an about to be freshman in high school can, "Really!?! Mom?!? I forgot my cleats. Exactly how I am suppose to play baseball?" Fortunately for Davis his coach keeps a spare size 10 cleats in his car at all times. Unfortunately for Davis, he wears a size 8.5. However, he is my son and he made the best of it. Not once did he round third and lose his shoes.
I also sort got a little food poisoning. I spent the night hugging the porcelain god. Felt better by noon, so all is really well. My intestines feel as if they have been turned inside out. But I'm good.
And our second game on Sunday did not go so well. But what those boys do better than anyone is keep playing, knowing that all the fixing only comes in moving forward. I think most are only about 13 years old, a few 14. And I can get all teary eyed when I think about what they looked liked yesterday when they were small. And it is a God thing how you come to love a bunch of middle school boys. And because they have hair on their face and deeper voices and most wear size 11s, we forget they are not quite grown yet. But they kept working. They have learned and I don't know many adults who ever quite get this...even when we are broken...battle onward. Standing still never works.
And they rarely make excuses because they know your excuses will accuse you.
And they know this too...life is a lot like a piano...whole songs can be played only on the black notes...to name one...Amazing Grace...but the thing is and I pray they know this and never forget...sad songs can choose joy too.
Your days never fail to betray your priorities. Make them good, make joyful, make them count, and always remember as to begin again...
Counting a thousand tiny and big graces,
cars that can be fixed
healthy bodies
bodies that heal
summer winds
trees that bend their leaves in humility
bright moonshine
champagne chicken
fresh as in just made from scratch pasta
boys that never give up and always believe that nine runs is not all that many
Old Spice deodorant
the Edwins of this world
smiles
butterflies that remind us their is life always
the black notes
safe travels
breath
moving forward
disjointed thoughts
conjunctions
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