It is only 7:30 AM and already my day has been blessed! My daughter and son-in-law have just left with a pickup truck loaded with construction debris for the dump. By construction debris I mean old, deteriorated sheet rock, tar paper from the garage roof tear-off a year ago, as well as small pieces of rotted, unusable shingles. The junk is now gone. I can't believe it. Hooray.
And to think they did all that work while I was still sleeping. I got up in time to make a pot of coffee for them, then they were off do get their own work done. I am truly blessed.
Saturday was a great day. I continued my blackberry battle along 15 feet of my fence line and won. The berries are cut back, the weeds are pulled, and the grass along the road is mowed. It looks great. The best part is I lost no blood in the process. Two long-sleeved shirts and two pairs of gloves worked wonders.
My garage door is primed! I did that Saturday, too. Now all that is left to prime is the North side of the garage that was cleaned out this morning. The light at the end of the priming tunnel is getting brighter all the time.
Sunday's worship service was good. God's ways of working always amaze me. Pastor started off talking about forgiveness. I had to laugh because I wrote on my blog last week about forgiveness, depression, etc. I was curious about where Pastor was going to go with the topic.
He ended up talking about Jesus' not going to Bethany when Lazarus' sisters sent word that their brother was ill. Jesus did not go until Lazarus had died because God's plan for raising the dead was much greater than the sisters' desire for healing.*
Pastor said that there are times, even when there is forgiveness, that relationships have to die so that God can restore. God is sovereign. His plan is perfect. His timing is perfect. We are the ones who mess things up.
What Pastor said confirmed what my therapist and I had discussed just a couple days previously. Yes, I did go see my therapist about my depression. I put off seeing her because she makes me dig into places I would rather avoid. Anyway, during our time together I had to admit that contact with my husband, whether by letter or in person, impacts me negatively. I won't go into any details now. I am still sorting it all out, but I know this for sure, I need to let a sick relationship die so that God can raise up something new.
Will that be hard? Yes, of course it will. First off, I excel at wanting to make everything OK. In this case, no matter what I do, I can't make it OK. Only God can do that. Only God can do it in the way it should be done. Yes, it will be hard for me to step away.
Secondly, I excel at taking on guilt that isn't even mine to start with. I feel guilty about letting go, but I need to remind myself that letting go isn't doing something wrong. I have nothing to feel guilty about. It is not a failure on my part. In fact, letting go isn't dropping and losing something. It is removing the sickness from my inexperienced hands and placing it into the hands of the Healer. He knows what to do. I don't.
So, that is where I am today. I feel the Lord's leading in this matter, but want to be sure before I do anything final. That is why I am sitting on a letter I wrote to my husband yesterday. I pray for absolute clarity before sending it. Maybe that is a cop out on my part, an excuse for disobedience. I don't know. At least I wrote the letter.
*John 11
Monday, July 30, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
A Sunny Saturday. Hooray!
Saturday morning, July 28
What a glorious morning. I woke up to sunshine. I almost had to pinch myself to see whether or not I was dreaming. I decided not to do that since I might end up with a bruised arm. It didn't take long to discover that the sun was really shining!!! Hooray, I'm really awake. Hooray, the sun is out. Hooray, I didn't bruise my arm.
I've read the paper, done the puzzles, eaten breakfast, done the dishes, eaten a lemon bar, and am all psyched to get outside and work. I don't know exactly what I will do yet, but it will be something exciting I'm sure.
Knowing myself, I will probably get a lot of things started, but nothing totally finished. We'll see. As I see it, any accomplishment is progress and that is what I like to see--progress.
I had a grandson here for most of the day yesterday. He played and read most of the day. His presence gave me the excuse I needed to bake some lemon bars. After all, isn't that what grandmas are supposed to do, bake? Chocolate chip cookies would have gone over better with him, but I wanted to try the Lemonade Brownie recipe I found. NO, they are not actual brownies. The bars are made with powdered lemonade mix. They were too sour for my grandson, but I think they are rather tasty. I've eaten enough of them to make that declaration without any reservation at all. I can also proclaim that a glass of cold milk goes well with them, especially at midnight.
I've got to start going to bed at a more decent hour, like 10 PM maybe.
I will leave you all now so I can go brush my teeth, put sturdy shoes on my feet, fire up the weed eater, start the lawn mower, get out the paint brush, and put on my weeding gloves--not all at once of course.
Have a God day all. I plan to. I also hope to see the doe with her twins sometime today. They were grazing out by the barn yesterday. On second thought, mowing might scare them away. Maybe I won't mow after all. Just kidding. I'm going to mow. Really.
What a glorious morning. I woke up to sunshine. I almost had to pinch myself to see whether or not I was dreaming. I decided not to do that since I might end up with a bruised arm. It didn't take long to discover that the sun was really shining!!! Hooray, I'm really awake. Hooray, the sun is out. Hooray, I didn't bruise my arm.
I've read the paper, done the puzzles, eaten breakfast, done the dishes, eaten a lemon bar, and am all psyched to get outside and work. I don't know exactly what I will do yet, but it will be something exciting I'm sure.
Knowing myself, I will probably get a lot of things started, but nothing totally finished. We'll see. As I see it, any accomplishment is progress and that is what I like to see--progress.
I had a grandson here for most of the day yesterday. He played and read most of the day. His presence gave me the excuse I needed to bake some lemon bars. After all, isn't that what grandmas are supposed to do, bake? Chocolate chip cookies would have gone over better with him, but I wanted to try the Lemonade Brownie recipe I found. NO, they are not actual brownies. The bars are made with powdered lemonade mix. They were too sour for my grandson, but I think they are rather tasty. I've eaten enough of them to make that declaration without any reservation at all. I can also proclaim that a glass of cold milk goes well with them, especially at midnight.
I've got to start going to bed at a more decent hour, like 10 PM maybe.
I will leave you all now so I can go brush my teeth, put sturdy shoes on my feet, fire up the weed eater, start the lawn mower, get out the paint brush, and put on my weeding gloves--not all at once of course.
Have a God day all. I plan to. I also hope to see the doe with her twins sometime today. They were grazing out by the barn yesterday. On second thought, mowing might scare them away. Maybe I won't mow after all. Just kidding. I'm going to mow. Really.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Late Night Musings on Tuesday 's Events
It's 9:50 pm on Wednesday night. I didn't write this morning because...I don't know why. I didn't write this afternoon because I went outside and primed some of the untreated siding used on the garage repair work. Then I brought in a dozen filthy, muddy, slime covered canning jars that were in a disintegrated, cardboard box among my collection of old plastic buckets by the garage. I washed them up and they are now sitting in a new cardboard box waiting to go to their new home with a daughter-in-law (mine, not theirs.)
By this late hour I have eaten dinner, washed dishes, watched "This Old House" and "American Pickers" on Hulu, and talked on the phone to the lucky recipient of the canning jars about my being ticked off yesterday. She was just wondering how I was doing. I told her.
If you didn't read my blog yesterday, I said I was ticked off because of a note in the card from my husband. I didn't know why I felt the way I did, but that is what I felt. What you feel is what you feel. It isn't necessarily right or wrong. It is what it is. The question is, "Why do you feel what you feel?" I've given it more thought today and realize that I still have unresolved anger I need to deal with. I would think that after four years of living a life as a wife with her husband in prison, I would be "over it". Well, I guess I'm not.
Let me clarify. I am pretty much over living alone. That is my life, my norm. I'm used to that. I think I am pretty much over having a husband in prison. That is my norm for now and I'm used to it. OK, I tend to ignore that fact or not think about it or him. What I am not over is the fact that he molested his/my/our granddaughters. That is not and will never be my norm. Yes, it happened. Yes, it has to be dealt with. But whenever these girls, now teenagers, exhibit any tears, anger, defiance (independence), or other so-called "normal" teenage behaviors, I immediately wonder if it is because of the trauma their Papa put them through. Even when everything is going smoothly, I still wonder about their emotional well being. My wondering then turns to anger and sadness at the very thought of that possibility.
As a result, any letter that come to the house in an envelope with the stamped message, "This is mailed by an inmate...and may not be censored" causes me to take a deep breath before opening it. Usually, it is just a short letter from my husband telling about his job, a sermon he has heard on the radio, Christian music he has listened to and likes, and a smattering of scripture verses. He closes the letters with expressions of his love for me.
I don't mind hearing about his job. That is fine, as is sharing a sermon. He can tell me about the music although I am not "hip" when it comes to contemporary Christian music. But I know my heart is still in a dark place because it causes me to say in anger, "Who are you to throw scripture at me? Don't try to manipulate me with sweet talk after what you have done to your family. I don't want to hear it."
In addition, my anger often make me want to run, not as in jogging, but just escape. I might go to town like I did yesterday. I might go out in the yard, not to work, but to just stand there and listen to the birds and the wind in the trees, to let the rain fall on my head, or to stand in awe of the beauty in the clouds. Or, like tonight when I felt my anger while talking about the last letter, I want to eat something rich and sweet and gooey. Most times I can resist that desire. That is why I chose to write now. I'm resisting temptation. So far, so good. Actually, I can't succumb tonight because I don't have anything rich, sweet, and gooey in the house.
So, here is where I am at this point. I need to go up to the prison and have a heart-to-heart talk with my husband. There are issues that need to be addressed, feelings that need to be expressed, concerns that need to be stated. I don't like conflict. I don't like saying things that might not be welcomed or understood. But he still doesn't fully understand the ramifications, the consequences, the damage, or whatever you want to call it, of his actions. He still doesn't understand my range of emotions after all this time. I believe he thinks life on the outside is just as it always has been. I also believe he imagines a loving, adoring family eagerly awaiting his release by planning a celebration party, even inviting all the old friends to join the festivities.
Of course, I could be all wrong in my presuppositions. He is probably living in the fear of complete rejection by his loved ones. He probably fears getting out only to find himself without family, friends, or church to turn to. He probably fears getting out only to be assaulted in his own yard because his photo, name, and words, "child molester" were spread across the front page of the newspaper along with his address.
I don't know where the truth is. I don't really know his feelings and thoughts. He doesn't really know mine, That's why we need to talk. We need to talk not only about feelings and thoughts, but also about one truth I have not written about before, at least not in this forum. It is the proverbial elephant in the room. I feel strongly that our marriage is not sustainable, but I don't completely feel the Lord's release at this point. My husband knows how I feel on this issue. He understands where I am coming from, but doesn't want our 48 years of marriage to go down the tube. I believe him when he says that he has truly repented and God has forgiven him. I wish I were God at this point, but as you all know, I am not. Forgiveness isn't easy for me to live out. It is so much easier to say it or tell others to do it than it is to practice it myself. That is probably why I still have anger issues.
The question in this whole thing is not entirely about anger or forgiveness, it is, "What is the Lord's ultimate plan?" We both need to do some serious praying. We also need to talk to each other, listen to each other, and try to understand each other. Many of these things are difficult for me to do, especially face-to-face--especially when some anger might arise.
Now, at 12:15 AM, my bedtime prayer is this, "Lord, help me truly forgive my husband. Rid me of, or help me understand and control the anger that tarnishes, dims, and distorts my eyesight. Let me see him for who he is as your child, and not for what he did to our granddaughters. And Lord, help us both not only hear you loudly and clearly as we go forward in your perfect plan, but also act on what we hear you say. Amen"
By this late hour I have eaten dinner, washed dishes, watched "This Old House" and "American Pickers" on Hulu, and talked on the phone to the lucky recipient of the canning jars about my being ticked off yesterday. She was just wondering how I was doing. I told her.
If you didn't read my blog yesterday, I said I was ticked off because of a note in the card from my husband. I didn't know why I felt the way I did, but that is what I felt. What you feel is what you feel. It isn't necessarily right or wrong. It is what it is. The question is, "Why do you feel what you feel?" I've given it more thought today and realize that I still have unresolved anger I need to deal with. I would think that after four years of living a life as a wife with her husband in prison, I would be "over it". Well, I guess I'm not.
Let me clarify. I am pretty much over living alone. That is my life, my norm. I'm used to that. I think I am pretty much over having a husband in prison. That is my norm for now and I'm used to it. OK, I tend to ignore that fact or not think about it or him. What I am not over is the fact that he molested his/my/our granddaughters. That is not and will never be my norm. Yes, it happened. Yes, it has to be dealt with. But whenever these girls, now teenagers, exhibit any tears, anger, defiance (independence), or other so-called "normal" teenage behaviors, I immediately wonder if it is because of the trauma their Papa put them through. Even when everything is going smoothly, I still wonder about their emotional well being. My wondering then turns to anger and sadness at the very thought of that possibility.
As a result, any letter that come to the house in an envelope with the stamped message, "This is mailed by an inmate...and may not be censored" causes me to take a deep breath before opening it. Usually, it is just a short letter from my husband telling about his job, a sermon he has heard on the radio, Christian music he has listened to and likes, and a smattering of scripture verses. He closes the letters with expressions of his love for me.
I don't mind hearing about his job. That is fine, as is sharing a sermon. He can tell me about the music although I am not "hip" when it comes to contemporary Christian music. But I know my heart is still in a dark place because it causes me to say in anger, "Who are you to throw scripture at me? Don't try to manipulate me with sweet talk after what you have done to your family. I don't want to hear it."
In addition, my anger often make me want to run, not as in jogging, but just escape. I might go to town like I did yesterday. I might go out in the yard, not to work, but to just stand there and listen to the birds and the wind in the trees, to let the rain fall on my head, or to stand in awe of the beauty in the clouds. Or, like tonight when I felt my anger while talking about the last letter, I want to eat something rich and sweet and gooey. Most times I can resist that desire. That is why I chose to write now. I'm resisting temptation. So far, so good. Actually, I can't succumb tonight because I don't have anything rich, sweet, and gooey in the house.
So, here is where I am at this point. I need to go up to the prison and have a heart-to-heart talk with my husband. There are issues that need to be addressed, feelings that need to be expressed, concerns that need to be stated. I don't like conflict. I don't like saying things that might not be welcomed or understood. But he still doesn't fully understand the ramifications, the consequences, the damage, or whatever you want to call it, of his actions. He still doesn't understand my range of emotions after all this time. I believe he thinks life on the outside is just as it always has been. I also believe he imagines a loving, adoring family eagerly awaiting his release by planning a celebration party, even inviting all the old friends to join the festivities.
Of course, I could be all wrong in my presuppositions. He is probably living in the fear of complete rejection by his loved ones. He probably fears getting out only to find himself without family, friends, or church to turn to. He probably fears getting out only to be assaulted in his own yard because his photo, name, and words, "child molester" were spread across the front page of the newspaper along with his address.
I don't know where the truth is. I don't really know his feelings and thoughts. He doesn't really know mine, That's why we need to talk. We need to talk not only about feelings and thoughts, but also about one truth I have not written about before, at least not in this forum. It is the proverbial elephant in the room. I feel strongly that our marriage is not sustainable, but I don't completely feel the Lord's release at this point. My husband knows how I feel on this issue. He understands where I am coming from, but doesn't want our 48 years of marriage to go down the tube. I believe him when he says that he has truly repented and God has forgiven him. I wish I were God at this point, but as you all know, I am not. Forgiveness isn't easy for me to live out. It is so much easier to say it or tell others to do it than it is to practice it myself. That is probably why I still have anger issues.
The question in this whole thing is not entirely about anger or forgiveness, it is, "What is the Lord's ultimate plan?" We both need to do some serious praying. We also need to talk to each other, listen to each other, and try to understand each other. Many of these things are difficult for me to do, especially face-to-face--especially when some anger might arise.
Now, at 12:15 AM, my bedtime prayer is this, "Lord, help me truly forgive my husband. Rid me of, or help me understand and control the anger that tarnishes, dims, and distorts my eyesight. Let me see him for who he is as your child, and not for what he did to our granddaughters. And Lord, help us both not only hear you loudly and clearly as we go forward in your perfect plan, but also act on what we hear you say. Amen"
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Get up...Check
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
7:00 AM
Get up to answer phone Check
Talk to daughter, make bed Check
Take shower, wash hair Check
Dry and curl hair, do make up Check
Enjoy breakfast and coffee at daughter's home Check
Come home Check
Make grocery list Check
Check out usual websites Check
Day looks promising thus far
10:00 AM
Start blog Check
Leave laptop on couch to start spaghetti sauce Check
Return to couch and laptop Check
Think about what to write Check
Go to kitchen to take pills Check
Wash up cutting board, think about blog Check
Put away last night's dishes Check
Return to couch and laptop Check
Think about what to write, go outside to sweep off porch Check
Return to couch and laptop Check
Think about what to write Check
See mailman drive by, get mail Check
Notice that the sun just came out Check
Read junk mail, check grocery adds Check
Remember I had forgotten to take pills, take them Check
Read note and card from husband, get ticked off, wonder why. Can't figure it out. Check
This was not on the radar when I got up this morning
10:45 AM
Don't want to think about writing any more, decide to go to town now, not later Check
Shut down computer. I'm still ticked. Check
Lord, I don't like feeling this way. What's up?
7:00 AM
Get up to answer phone Check
Talk to daughter, make bed Check
Take shower, wash hair Check
Dry and curl hair, do make up Check
Enjoy breakfast and coffee at daughter's home Check
Come home Check
Make grocery list Check
Check out usual websites Check
Day looks promising thus far
10:00 AM
Start blog Check
Leave laptop on couch to start spaghetti sauce Check
Return to couch and laptop Check
Think about what to write Check
Go to kitchen to take pills Check
Wash up cutting board, think about blog Check
Put away last night's dishes Check
Return to couch and laptop Check
Think about what to write, go outside to sweep off porch Check
Return to couch and laptop Check
Think about what to write Check
See mailman drive by, get mail Check
Notice that the sun just came out Check
Read junk mail, check grocery adds Check
Remember I had forgotten to take pills, take them Check
Read note and card from husband, get ticked off, wonder why. Can't figure it out. Check
This was not on the radar when I got up this morning
10:45 AM
Don't want to think about writing any more, decide to go to town now, not later Check
Shut down computer. I'm still ticked. Check
Lord, I don't like feeling this way. What's up?
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Three Weddings in a Month?
Three weddings in a month's time! What's up with this? Three little boys who used to run around playing every game imaginable with their cousins during family reunions and school breaks are now entering a whole new "game" in life with brand new team mates. Two of these amazing young man are my grandsons. The third one is my sister's grandson.
I say "amazing" because each one of these Christian men is considerate, polite, motivated, honest, loving, and, as a bonus, quite charming and handsome--not that I'm biased or anything. What has been so fun in this whole engagement/marriage adventure is seeing answer to prayers.
From the time each boy was born, parents and grandparents prayed for his future wife and help-mate. Finally, after twenty plus years, God's answer has been revealed in three beautiful, loving, Christian, young women. Both woman in my grandsons' lives love family get-togethers, and so do my grandsons. They each have been involved with church ministries of some sort, and so have my grandsons. Each has an entirely different personality, but so do my grandsons. I love both these gals who God raised up for my grandsons. They have been "family" from the first moment we all met them.
As for my grand-nephew's bride, I met her only two weeks ago at my first grandson's wedding, and was instantly aware of a gentleness and sweetness about her that was not because of any shyness. I believe that is just who she is. Yesterday, this young couple was pronounced husband and wife in a beautiful wedding ceremony an a gorgeous sun filled day.
As I have already said, each woman is beautiful. But more important than their obvious outer beauty is an unassuming beauty each woman possesses. The most masterfully applied make-up cannot begin to produce the beauty and glow that comes from within a woman of God.
As a result of these past weeks of hustle, bustle, and weekend road trips, I have become more and more aware of God's answers to our prayers. I have become more and more aware of the faithfulness and obedience of these young couples as they sought and followed guidance from above and beyond that of men. They listened to the Lord of their lives. I am so thankful.
Two weddings down, one to go. Final touches are being put on programs, decorations, rehearsal dinners, the bride's "something borrowed", etc. Then, in two short weeks, my second grandson well be a married man. Unbelievable.
It seems like only yesterday I sat in my parent's yard with my brothers and sister watching our children and their cousins play. Then in a wink and a blink, my grown children and their grown cousins were sitting in my parent's yard watching their children play the same games they had played. I know it is now only a wink and blink until my just-married grand kids will be sitting in the yard with their just-married cousins watching their little ones toddle around. Life goes on, and we will all be praying for the spouses of another generation of kids, prayers that he has already answered.
I say "amazing" because each one of these Christian men is considerate, polite, motivated, honest, loving, and, as a bonus, quite charming and handsome--not that I'm biased or anything. What has been so fun in this whole engagement/marriage adventure is seeing answer to prayers.
From the time each boy was born, parents and grandparents prayed for his future wife and help-mate. Finally, after twenty plus years, God's answer has been revealed in three beautiful, loving, Christian, young women. Both woman in my grandsons' lives love family get-togethers, and so do my grandsons. They each have been involved with church ministries of some sort, and so have my grandsons. Each has an entirely different personality, but so do my grandsons. I love both these gals who God raised up for my grandsons. They have been "family" from the first moment we all met them.
As for my grand-nephew's bride, I met her only two weeks ago at my first grandson's wedding, and was instantly aware of a gentleness and sweetness about her that was not because of any shyness. I believe that is just who she is. Yesterday, this young couple was pronounced husband and wife in a beautiful wedding ceremony an a gorgeous sun filled day.
As I have already said, each woman is beautiful. But more important than their obvious outer beauty is an unassuming beauty each woman possesses. The most masterfully applied make-up cannot begin to produce the beauty and glow that comes from within a woman of God.
As a result of these past weeks of hustle, bustle, and weekend road trips, I have become more and more aware of God's answers to our prayers. I have become more and more aware of the faithfulness and obedience of these young couples as they sought and followed guidance from above and beyond that of men. They listened to the Lord of their lives. I am so thankful.
Two weddings down, one to go. Final touches are being put on programs, decorations, rehearsal dinners, the bride's "something borrowed", etc. Then, in two short weeks, my second grandson well be a married man. Unbelievable.
It seems like only yesterday I sat in my parent's yard with my brothers and sister watching our children and their cousins play. Then in a wink and a blink, my grown children and their grown cousins were sitting in my parent's yard watching their children play the same games they had played. I know it is now only a wink and blink until my just-married grand kids will be sitting in the yard with their just-married cousins watching their little ones toddle around. Life goes on, and we will all be praying for the spouses of another generation of kids, prayers that he has already answered.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Depression Again! Really?
Here is a riddle for you. It's not one my grand kids tried to stump me with, nor is it one I read on face book or anywhere else. It is a riddle straight from me. What starts as a wispy, quiet grey, turns slowly into a darker, sobering gray until, before you know what has happened, it smothers everything in inky darkness? Did you guess it? The answer is depression.
That's right, depression; and it inched in here sometime over the past week. Yesterday, when I began realizing what was going on, I was somewhat surprised because I didn't think it would happen again. But is has, and the battle is on, once more.
Here are the events in the downward spiral as I now see, but don't understand, them. First off, I had a couple days that I was totally energized and eager to get some work done around here. I did some priming of the new wood trim on my garage--not a lot, but some. I got some blackberries cut back from my fence along the road--not a lot, but some. I got some much-needed cleaning done inside--not a lot, but some. I was on a roll. At that rate, I could have everything looking good in a few weeks.
Then came that fateful morning of complete calm and serenity. I slowly ate breakfast and savored my coffee, enjoyed writing a post for my blog, then curled up on the sofa to make out a to-do list. Half way through my list, the calmness turned to complacency and the serenity turned to tiredness. Actually, it felt good to put my list aside and do nothing for the entire day but rest. I didn't even care that I could be getting a lot done on this day of little or no rain. "I didn't care" continued all day and into the evening. Eleven P.M. rolled around and I was still playing computer games. I didn't care. One o'clock, still up and not sleepy--very tired, but not sleepy. I didn't care.
Thus the spiral began. The rest of the week I did absolutely nothing but stare at my computer screen. I would write for the blog. That took a couple hours. I'd checked my e-mail every few hours and face book every few minutes. I'd play computer games for hours on end and listen to Bibi Bird continuously. I'd fix my meals and not care that I was doing my dishes once a day instead of after every meal. I didn't care that some of my cleaned off spaces were starting at accumulate miscellaneous papers again. I could always clean tomorrow, but probably wouldn't. I didn't care that I was staying up until 1-2 A.M. each night, waking up at 6:30 and not falling back to sleep. Oh, yes, I hadn't showered for several days, fixed my hair, or put on make-up. What difference did it make anyway? Thankfully, I still brushed my teeth.
On Sunday, I didn't go to church. I watched the service on-line instead. On Tuesday I turned down an invitation to a movie with my son and his family. I watched a movie on-line instead. On Wednesday I didn't call my daughter to say, "Have a wonderful time" as they prepared to leave for a four day adventure. I read her kids excited posts on face book instead. I also begin figuring out how to stay home from a long anticipated wedding. In addition, when and if my phone would ring, I cut the conversations short. I didn't want to talk to anyone. My downward spiral was sucking me into a vortex of darkness and isolation.
I not only began withdrawing from people, I began withdrawing from the world. For the first days I only went outside to get the mail in the morning and the paper in the afternoon. I didn't go for a walk. I didn't go to the store. I didn't visit my kids. I stayed home. But even worse, I stayed inside. In fact, even though I went out and collected the mail each day, I began collecting the paper every couple days. It seemed like too much work to walk all the away across the one lane road (maybe 12 feet) just to get the paper. I knew I needed to get outside, but I chose to stay in. And I didn't care.
Then yesterday, when I didn't blog and didn't care that I hadn't blogged, I began realizing I was truly depressed. I wondered if I should make an appointment with my therapist just to talk. I wanted to know and understand what triggered this change. Was it the build up of depressing local news? Was it my reaction to my husband's recent letters? Was it my visit to him? Was it feeling overwhelmed by the jobs to be done around here and the reticence to use my hands and wrists because of the pain I get after 1/2 hour? Or is it spiritual? Is it Satan's way of keeping me from moving onward and upward? I think the answer might be "All of the above." Talking to Dr. B. could definitely help me. She forces me to think about areas I ignore and also helps me recognize those things I care about, which in turn, helps me know better how to pray.
Without her council, here is what I do care about. I'm not in this pit alone. Remember my blog a couple days ago when I wrote about the chipmunk and young buck who visited me during the day? Those were truly my "Thank you, Lord" moments that day. They brought unexpected smiles to my face and a sense of awe and wonder to my heart. God is good and is keeping light shining in this pit.
He also shined additional light into the pit when he caused my daughter-in-law to make me talk on the phone yesterday. She sensed that I didn't want to talk, but kept me talking anyway. She has her way of asking how things are going, then later in the conversation asking, "So, how are things really going?" despite my previous assurance that everything is OK. I admitted I had been going to bed quite late, even straightening out a cupboard at 2 A.M. Then, I finally told her I thought I was depressed. That's an understatement if there ever was one. Thinking I might be depressed is one thing, but actually saying it to someone else puts flesh on the bones of my thoughts. I AM DEPRESSED. There, I've said it.
I'm feeling better today. I got over 8 hours of sleep last night--the first time in over ten days. I washed this morning's dishes as well as yesterdays. I cleaned my bathrooms. I'm writing this blog. I have a wedding gift to wrap (a great-nephew is getting married this weekend), clothes to pack for another weekend at my son's house (going to the wedding together), and the "trip" across the road to get the mail and yesterday's paper.
Have I called Dr. B. for an appointment? Not yet. Will I? Possibly. I don't like talking on the phone even if it is just for setting a date. I will probably send her an e-mail asking her read this blog. That way I won't have to talk, but still have told her a lot. I'll see.
There you have it, not in a regular nut shell which is too small, but in a coconut or two. I have recognized symptoms, named it for what it is, spoken to to you, and now stand firm while the battle is fought. "The Lord is a warrior, The Lord is his name."* El Gibbor
*Exodus 15:3
Note
After looking at my old posts, I realize it has taken only one week for these events to transpire. That's scary. "Thank you, El Gabbor, that I have recognized what is happening. I give Depression all to you. Show me what I need to see, embolden me to do what I have to do, and reveal to me your hand in the victory. Amen!"
That's right, depression; and it inched in here sometime over the past week. Yesterday, when I began realizing what was going on, I was somewhat surprised because I didn't think it would happen again. But is has, and the battle is on, once more.
Here are the events in the downward spiral as I now see, but don't understand, them. First off, I had a couple days that I was totally energized and eager to get some work done around here. I did some priming of the new wood trim on my garage--not a lot, but some. I got some blackberries cut back from my fence along the road--not a lot, but some. I got some much-needed cleaning done inside--not a lot, but some. I was on a roll. At that rate, I could have everything looking good in a few weeks.
Then came that fateful morning of complete calm and serenity. I slowly ate breakfast and savored my coffee, enjoyed writing a post for my blog, then curled up on the sofa to make out a to-do list. Half way through my list, the calmness turned to complacency and the serenity turned to tiredness. Actually, it felt good to put my list aside and do nothing for the entire day but rest. I didn't even care that I could be getting a lot done on this day of little or no rain. "I didn't care" continued all day and into the evening. Eleven P.M. rolled around and I was still playing computer games. I didn't care. One o'clock, still up and not sleepy--very tired, but not sleepy. I didn't care.
Thus the spiral began. The rest of the week I did absolutely nothing but stare at my computer screen. I would write for the blog. That took a couple hours. I'd checked my e-mail every few hours and face book every few minutes. I'd play computer games for hours on end and listen to Bibi Bird continuously. I'd fix my meals and not care that I was doing my dishes once a day instead of after every meal. I didn't care that some of my cleaned off spaces were starting at accumulate miscellaneous papers again. I could always clean tomorrow, but probably wouldn't. I didn't care that I was staying up until 1-2 A.M. each night, waking up at 6:30 and not falling back to sleep. Oh, yes, I hadn't showered for several days, fixed my hair, or put on make-up. What difference did it make anyway? Thankfully, I still brushed my teeth.
On Sunday, I didn't go to church. I watched the service on-line instead. On Tuesday I turned down an invitation to a movie with my son and his family. I watched a movie on-line instead. On Wednesday I didn't call my daughter to say, "Have a wonderful time" as they prepared to leave for a four day adventure. I read her kids excited posts on face book instead. I also begin figuring out how to stay home from a long anticipated wedding. In addition, when and if my phone would ring, I cut the conversations short. I didn't want to talk to anyone. My downward spiral was sucking me into a vortex of darkness and isolation.
I not only began withdrawing from people, I began withdrawing from the world. For the first days I only went outside to get the mail in the morning and the paper in the afternoon. I didn't go for a walk. I didn't go to the store. I didn't visit my kids. I stayed home. But even worse, I stayed inside. In fact, even though I went out and collected the mail each day, I began collecting the paper every couple days. It seemed like too much work to walk all the away across the one lane road (maybe 12 feet) just to get the paper. I knew I needed to get outside, but I chose to stay in. And I didn't care.
Then yesterday, when I didn't blog and didn't care that I hadn't blogged, I began realizing I was truly depressed. I wondered if I should make an appointment with my therapist just to talk. I wanted to know and understand what triggered this change. Was it the build up of depressing local news? Was it my reaction to my husband's recent letters? Was it my visit to him? Was it feeling overwhelmed by the jobs to be done around here and the reticence to use my hands and wrists because of the pain I get after 1/2 hour? Or is it spiritual? Is it Satan's way of keeping me from moving onward and upward? I think the answer might be "All of the above." Talking to Dr. B. could definitely help me. She forces me to think about areas I ignore and also helps me recognize those things I care about, which in turn, helps me know better how to pray.
Without her council, here is what I do care about. I'm not in this pit alone. Remember my blog a couple days ago when I wrote about the chipmunk and young buck who visited me during the day? Those were truly my "Thank you, Lord" moments that day. They brought unexpected smiles to my face and a sense of awe and wonder to my heart. God is good and is keeping light shining in this pit.
He also shined additional light into the pit when he caused my daughter-in-law to make me talk on the phone yesterday. She sensed that I didn't want to talk, but kept me talking anyway. She has her way of asking how things are going, then later in the conversation asking, "So, how are things really going?" despite my previous assurance that everything is OK. I admitted I had been going to bed quite late, even straightening out a cupboard at 2 A.M. Then, I finally told her I thought I was depressed. That's an understatement if there ever was one. Thinking I might be depressed is one thing, but actually saying it to someone else puts flesh on the bones of my thoughts. I AM DEPRESSED. There, I've said it.
I'm feeling better today. I got over 8 hours of sleep last night--the first time in over ten days. I washed this morning's dishes as well as yesterdays. I cleaned my bathrooms. I'm writing this blog. I have a wedding gift to wrap (a great-nephew is getting married this weekend), clothes to pack for another weekend at my son's house (going to the wedding together), and the "trip" across the road to get the mail and yesterday's paper.
Have I called Dr. B. for an appointment? Not yet. Will I? Possibly. I don't like talking on the phone even if it is just for setting a date. I will probably send her an e-mail asking her read this blog. That way I won't have to talk, but still have told her a lot. I'll see.
There you have it, not in a regular nut shell which is too small, but in a coconut or two. I have recognized symptoms, named it for what it is, spoken to to you, and now stand firm while the battle is fought. "The Lord is a warrior, The Lord is his name."* El Gibbor
*Exodus 15:3
Note
After looking at my old posts, I realize it has taken only one week for these events to transpire. That's scary. "Thank you, El Gabbor, that I have recognized what is happening. I give Depression all to you. Show me what I need to see, embolden me to do what I have to do, and reveal to me your hand in the victory. Amen!"
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Morning's "Thank you, Lord"
There he sat all bright eyed and bushy tailed on top of a post on my front porch when I first looked outside this morning. An adorable little fellow he was. After seeing me in the window, that little chipmunk scurried down the post and, in a blink of an eye, was off into a world overgrown with ferns, heather, hens-and-chicks, shrubs, and weeds--an untended world that is my flowerbed, and as wild as he. I have no idea where he came from or where he ultimately went. All I know is he lives around here somewhere and gave me the thrill of seeing his visit.
Those few seconds of time resulted in my first, "Thank you, Lord" for the day.
The second, "Thank you, Lord" came about an hour later when I finally ate breakfast. It was nothing fancy, but took time to prepare because I am trying to eat more healthily. For my spinach frittata and fresh salsa I had to chop onions, garlic, tomatoes, cilantro, and thaw the frozen spinach,. I had to separate three eggs, then whip the whites with two whole eggs, and finally grate some mozzarella cheese. Oh yes, I had to preheat the oven and saute the onions and garlic. After all the prep work was done, I had to clean up my big mess. Finally, I opened the oven door and swooned at the sight of that frittata. It looked heavenly. Half of it went on my plate to be topped with the fresh salsa. As I inhaled deeply, savoring the aromas, I said, "Thank you, Lord". I thanked him not only for his provision, but also for the senses he has given me--the ability to see, smell, and taste. I hadn't even tasted it yet, but I knew it was going to be good. It was. I'm already looking forward to eating the rest of it tomorrow.
That's my third thank you of the day, "Thank you, Lord that I don't have to cook breakfast Wednesday."
What will my fourth "thank you" be?
UPDATE
1:30 PM "Thank you, Lord". I just glanced out my dining room window and gazed upon a beautiful young buck. His two little horns were still in the velvet. He looked up from eating my dandelion flowers and blinked his big brown eyes at me. Then he flicked his ever-alert ears, licked his itchy flank, gave his black tail a little flip, and hopped away into the trees at the edge of my lawn. As my grand kids would say, "How awesome is that?"
Monday, July 16, 2012
But, Lord...
Do you ever have dollar signs spin round and round in your head? I do whenever I leave my house and head to town. Actually, it starts before I head to town. With gas at $3.50/gallon I hesitate even driving out of my driveway. I buy only groceries that are absolutely necessary or for sale cheap, unless I have company coming. I avoid clothing stores and malls in general. Lunch with a friend, or a fancy coffee treat are few and far between. Part of that is good. It keeps my spending under control. On the other hand, it is not so good because it leads toward miserly living.
I can afford to treat myself and a friend to lunch once in a while. I can afford to occasionally buy a new shirt. I can afford to go to a movie or play if I want to. I can because I have been blessed by generous kids and an even more generous Lord. I have been blessed with the financial means to pay my obligations and to save for taxes, gifts, medical expenses, etc. I have never given tithing a second thought. That is something I have always done. Where the challenge comes is in responding to "above and beyond" giving. That takes faith. It also takes obedience.
A "still small voice" pops us every now and then with the suggestion that the money in my purse could be a real blessing to the church member who just lost a job, or the youth leader who has teens wanting to go to camp, but no money to do so. "But, Lord...", I start to argue. "But, Lord..."
There have been times I have initially ignored that "voice", climbed into my car, and started it, only to return with money in hand and give it to the church secretary to deliver. It brings me great joy to give, but even more joy to give freely, without arguing with God first.
While I find great joy in giving, I know first hand the joy and blessing of receiving. That unexpected money, gift, or service touches the very core of my being. I feel truly blessed by friends' and family's generosity and obedience. I am thankful I have experienced God's hand working in this way. The problem is I forget the blessing too soon. I not only forget what it is like to receive, but I also forget what it is like to give. That is sad.
As I live each God-given day, why am I not seeking out people in need? Wait, that isn't quite the right question. I should ask instead, "Why am I not seeking God's direction in being the blessing he want me to me?" Here is why. God's leading often requires sacrifice from me. I'm not necessarily talking just dollars and cents. I'm also talking about time, energy, and self. I'll be honest here. I tend to be selfish. I want to stay to myself, to do my own thing in my own time, but I need to be willing to sacrifice.
I could easily sacrifice my idle time for prayer time. (Oops, that wouldn't actually be a sacrifice would it?) I do want my Lord's guidance, victory, wisdom, etc., but don't readily seek it. Then comes the sacrifice of my time and energy to obey the answers I receive. As you can tell, I talk like God will be unreasonable in his desires for me. Of course that is not true. After all, he may want me to just make a phone call. How hard is that? I don't like to call people, but he equips me for whatever he requires. He blesses me so I can bless in return.
Let me say this, though. The things I do easily, the things that I enjoy are also tools God uses to bless others. I don't have to be struck to a lightning bolt and changed in a blink of an eye from this quiet lady who keeps to herself into a social dynamo who moves mountains with her organizational skill. At this point, that is not where God has me. So, for now I will continue writing. That, for me, brings joy into my life and, from what I've been told, joy to others. I just ask for the ears to hear God's voice, the willingness to obey even when it requires change or sacrifice, the humility to give God all the glory, and the ability to do it all without arguing, "But, Lord...".
Sunday, July 15, 2012
A Present Tense God
Isn't it funny how the Holy Spirit can take just a couple sentences from a sermon to add a whole new dimension to what you already know and understand? That's what happened to me today
I think we all know that God never changes. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. That is basic to our/my faith. God is God. I also know that God is not caught in time as we know it. He is omnipresent, always present everywhere. In addition, I have an understanding that God is as present in the future as he is in the today, and is in yesterday--all at the same time. How? Only he knows because that is who he is.
In John 8:58 Jesus says, "I tell you the truth...before Abraham was born, I am!" At these words, the people picked up stones to stone him. I understand the reason the people were so upset Clear back in the third chapter of Exodus when Moses asked God who he should tell the Hebrew people sent him to be their deliverer, God said, "Tell them I AM has sent me to you." The people knew exactly who Moses meant, just as the hearers in Jesus' day knew who he meant, he was claiming to be God.
Here is my "aha" moment. Notice Jesus didn't use the past tense "I was" in his reference to Abraham. That is what we would do. Instead, he said, "I am", present tense. He is the great "I Am". That is his name. He is not the "I Was" or "I Will Be" God. There is only present tense for our Triune God.
Sure, he says he will (future tense) never leave us or forsake us*. The word "will" helps our understanding of God's faithfulness as we live out our lives. Our future, that time of uncertainty we all know is out there somewhere, is something we all face. That chronological time is where we live, but not God. He is (present tense) already there. It isn't someplace he is going someday when we get there.
I think it is awesome that God is a present tense God.
Ouch!!! I just had a very painful question shoot through my mind. If my God is a present tense God, why do I slip into being a past tense, future tense believer? Think about that one a minute.
Deut. 31:6
I think we all know that God never changes. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. That is basic to our/my faith. God is God. I also know that God is not caught in time as we know it. He is omnipresent, always present everywhere. In addition, I have an understanding that God is as present in the future as he is in the today, and is in yesterday--all at the same time. How? Only he knows because that is who he is.
In John 8:58 Jesus says, "I tell you the truth...before Abraham was born, I am!" At these words, the people picked up stones to stone him. I understand the reason the people were so upset Clear back in the third chapter of Exodus when Moses asked God who he should tell the Hebrew people sent him to be their deliverer, God said, "Tell them I AM has sent me to you." The people knew exactly who Moses meant, just as the hearers in Jesus' day knew who he meant, he was claiming to be God.
Here is my "aha" moment. Notice Jesus didn't use the past tense "I was" in his reference to Abraham. That is what we would do. Instead, he said, "I am", present tense. He is the great "I Am". That is his name. He is not the "I Was" or "I Will Be" God. There is only present tense for our Triune God.
Sure, he says he will (future tense) never leave us or forsake us*. The word "will" helps our understanding of God's faithfulness as we live out our lives. Our future, that time of uncertainty we all know is out there somewhere, is something we all face. That chronological time is where we live, but not God. He is (present tense) already there. It isn't someplace he is going someday when we get there.
I think it is awesome that God is a present tense God.
Ouch!!! I just had a very painful question shoot through my mind. If my God is a present tense God, why do I slip into being a past tense, future tense believer? Think about that one a minute.
Deut. 31:6
Saturday, July 14, 2012
About Bookcase Stuff
As I have been sitting here thinking about what I want to write today, I have been looking at my floor-to-ceiling bookcase. It does contain books as it should, but it also contains various pieces of memorabilia. As I looked it all over, the question came to mind, "What do those things say about me and who I am?"
First of all, they say that I tend to be a sentimental pack rat. Some of the things might have some monetary value, but most have value to no one but me. Take for example the foot tall, hourglass shaped, clear glass, marble filled vase sitting on the top shelf. To any visitor in my home, the vase is just a common, ordinary vase. To me, that vase brings back special memories, memories of a delivery van pulling into my driveway with a package for me. Inside were a dozen beautiful roses plus the vase, a token of love and support from my brother and sister-in-law soon after my husbands crime had been discovered. The flowers have been gone for years, but the vase and the memory of my family's love remains.
Then there are the marbles inside the vase. Oh the school day memories they bring back. Those agates, puries, cat-eyes, and steelies were my pride and joys when I was in the fifth and sixth grades. You see, I had outgrown the game of "Wild Horses" we used to play at recess. Let me explain. I grew up in Nevada. In "Wild Horses", the cowboys (boys) chased the horses (girls), caught the slow ones (some of us were slow on purpose), and put them in a "corral" in the corner of the playground. The cowboys tried to capture as many horses as they could before the recess bell rang. In the mean time, some of the still-free wild horses would try to rescue the captured ones. So, by fifth grade, "Wild Horses" had become kids play and I had changed to the game of marbles; and I was good.
Now, all those memories of my family's love, and of beating the boys at their own game are sitting in a glass vase in my bookcase along with the memory of my Dad's phone call soon after I was married informing me that I had no excuse for forgetting things. I hadn't really lost my marbles like I had thought. He had found them in the basement and was mailing them to me. "Very funny, Dad."
On the next shelf down are three plaster-of-paris figurines that some of my grand kids painted with tempera paint several years ago. There is one fish and two turtles. Are they valuable art pieces? To me they are. I actually tossed out them earlier this year, then retrieved them because of the memories they evoked. They were Thanksgiving memories when the usual crowd of family and friends filled the house. The usual noise of adults playing cards and kids playing other games filled the air along with the lingering aromas of turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie. In the middle of all the hubbub was the newspaper covered table surrounded by a cluster of kids with paintbrushes. Their concentration and creativity was palpable. These kids were future Rembrandts at work, or Van Goghs or Michelangelos. Thus, I have three, hand painted, unique, colorful works of art created by three wonderful, creative artists--my grand kids.
I could go on and tell you about the large blown-glass pear that belonged to a friend who died at the age of 89, or the teddy bear belonging to my husband's aunt who worked for a Hollywood movie studio, or the large, carved, wooden leaf that sat on my father-in-law's dresser, or the menorah I got when I lived in Israel, or the origami tulip a grandson made, or my mother's music books, but I won't.
Yes, my stuff shouts out loudly and clearly that I am a pack rat, but they also shout out that I am blessed. You see, they are daily reminders of my blessings, the people I love and who love me, the adventures I have been given, the sights I have seen, and the lessons I have learned. I will unashamedly say that my sentimental collection is my way of saying in unspoken words, "Thank you, Lord. I'm blessed."
First of all, they say that I tend to be a sentimental pack rat. Some of the things might have some monetary value, but most have value to no one but me. Take for example the foot tall, hourglass shaped, clear glass, marble filled vase sitting on the top shelf. To any visitor in my home, the vase is just a common, ordinary vase. To me, that vase brings back special memories, memories of a delivery van pulling into my driveway with a package for me. Inside were a dozen beautiful roses plus the vase, a token of love and support from my brother and sister-in-law soon after my husbands crime had been discovered. The flowers have been gone for years, but the vase and the memory of my family's love remains.
Then there are the marbles inside the vase. Oh the school day memories they bring back. Those agates, puries, cat-eyes, and steelies were my pride and joys when I was in the fifth and sixth grades. You see, I had outgrown the game of "Wild Horses" we used to play at recess. Let me explain. I grew up in Nevada. In "Wild Horses", the cowboys (boys) chased the horses (girls), caught the slow ones (some of us were slow on purpose), and put them in a "corral" in the corner of the playground. The cowboys tried to capture as many horses as they could before the recess bell rang. In the mean time, some of the still-free wild horses would try to rescue the captured ones. So, by fifth grade, "Wild Horses" had become kids play and I had changed to the game of marbles; and I was good.
Now, all those memories of my family's love, and of beating the boys at their own game are sitting in a glass vase in my bookcase along with the memory of my Dad's phone call soon after I was married informing me that I had no excuse for forgetting things. I hadn't really lost my marbles like I had thought. He had found them in the basement and was mailing them to me. "Very funny, Dad."
On the next shelf down are three plaster-of-paris figurines that some of my grand kids painted with tempera paint several years ago. There is one fish and two turtles. Are they valuable art pieces? To me they are. I actually tossed out them earlier this year, then retrieved them because of the memories they evoked. They were Thanksgiving memories when the usual crowd of family and friends filled the house. The usual noise of adults playing cards and kids playing other games filled the air along with the lingering aromas of turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie. In the middle of all the hubbub was the newspaper covered table surrounded by a cluster of kids with paintbrushes. Their concentration and creativity was palpable. These kids were future Rembrandts at work, or Van Goghs or Michelangelos. Thus, I have three, hand painted, unique, colorful works of art created by three wonderful, creative artists--my grand kids.
I could go on and tell you about the large blown-glass pear that belonged to a friend who died at the age of 89, or the teddy bear belonging to my husband's aunt who worked for a Hollywood movie studio, or the large, carved, wooden leaf that sat on my father-in-law's dresser, or the menorah I got when I lived in Israel, or the origami tulip a grandson made, or my mother's music books, but I won't.
Yes, my stuff shouts out loudly and clearly that I am a pack rat, but they also shout out that I am blessed. You see, they are daily reminders of my blessings, the people I love and who love me, the adventures I have been given, the sights I have seen, and the lessons I have learned. I will unashamedly say that my sentimental collection is my way of saying in unspoken words, "Thank you, Lord. I'm blessed."
Thursday, July 12, 2012
One of Those Days
Oh, no! I'm afraid it's going to be one of those days today. Let me explain. It is eight A.M. I've made a to-do list and checked off: get dressed, fix my hair, make my bed, and clean the bathroom. I also listened to the local news, so I added it to the list just so I can check it off. I have checked these off also: eat breakfast (mushroom-green pepper omelet, V8 juice, cheese stick, and coffee), wash, dry and put away breakfast dishes. I've checked out face book, my email, Bibi the Parrot, and the Big Fish game of the day, and checked those off. Here is what remains: write blog,eat lunch, clean top of my fridge, cut back blackberry vines, and cut down the ferns by my front door. This evening I will go to my son's house for a barbecue they are having for a group from church. That is my day on paper.
On paper it looks very productive. But here is why I said, "Oh, no! I'm afraid it's going to be one of those days today". Outside the temperature is in the mid fifties. There is a dense overcast which might burn off by late afternoon. There are intermittent showers which my flowers love, but I don't. I don't want to go outside today. In my book, it is an indoor kind of day.
A year or so ago I would have sat here in my living room feeling guilty about not doing the work that needs to be done outside, and, at the same time, ticked off that my husband wasn't around to do his part of the work. Today is different. There is still work to be done. I did some yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, and enjoyed it. I will do some more in the coming days. Will it ever be all finished? No. Do I have to feel guilty about it? No. Will my husband be here to do "his part"? No, so I do what I can, when I can. What doesn't get done today, this week, or this month will still be here tomorrow, next week, or next month. I will do some, my kids and grand kids will do some. At least I will never have days that I have nothing to do.
As for today, I might get outside later--when it gets warmer and isn't sprinkling. In other words, I probably will stay inside all day. I have a good book to read as well as a crossword puzzle book containing the puzzles I love figuring out,diagram-less.Neither of these are on my to-do list. I'll add them. Neither is polish my finger nails or make a rhubarb crisp--add them.
Now, I will check off "write blog", then I will make the crisp and clean off the fridge while the dessert bakes. By then it might be lunch time (a green salad with tuna) or at least time for a snack like rhubarb crisp. This afternoon I will polish my nails, do a couple puzzles, then settle into my chair in the sun room, read my book, and think about future blogs. I'll do all this without feeling any of the guilt I used to feel. That is so freeing.
I often thank God I am physically able to cut berry vines, pull weeds. mow the lawn, and mop floors. I thank him that I have a home I love in a beautiful setting, but I am equally thankful that I can have some "me" time to enjoy a day of mental stimulation as well as physical idleness. But most importantly, I am thankful I can rest without feeling guilty. I can do it with peace of mind.
"Oh yes, Lord, I think it is going to be one of those days today. Thanks"
On paper it looks very productive. But here is why I said, "Oh, no! I'm afraid it's going to be one of those days today". Outside the temperature is in the mid fifties. There is a dense overcast which might burn off by late afternoon. There are intermittent showers which my flowers love, but I don't. I don't want to go outside today. In my book, it is an indoor kind of day.
A year or so ago I would have sat here in my living room feeling guilty about not doing the work that needs to be done outside, and, at the same time, ticked off that my husband wasn't around to do his part of the work. Today is different. There is still work to be done. I did some yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, and enjoyed it. I will do some more in the coming days. Will it ever be all finished? No. Do I have to feel guilty about it? No. Will my husband be here to do "his part"? No, so I do what I can, when I can. What doesn't get done today, this week, or this month will still be here tomorrow, next week, or next month. I will do some, my kids and grand kids will do some. At least I will never have days that I have nothing to do.
As for today, I might get outside later--when it gets warmer and isn't sprinkling. In other words, I probably will stay inside all day. I have a good book to read as well as a crossword puzzle book containing the puzzles I love figuring out,diagram-less.Neither of these are on my to-do list. I'll add them. Neither is polish my finger nails or make a rhubarb crisp--add them.
Now, I will check off "write blog", then I will make the crisp and clean off the fridge while the dessert bakes. By then it might be lunch time (a green salad with tuna) or at least time for a snack like rhubarb crisp. This afternoon I will polish my nails, do a couple puzzles, then settle into my chair in the sun room, read my book, and think about future blogs. I'll do all this without feeling any of the guilt I used to feel. That is so freeing.
I often thank God I am physically able to cut berry vines, pull weeds. mow the lawn, and mop floors. I thank him that I have a home I love in a beautiful setting, but I am equally thankful that I can have some "me" time to enjoy a day of mental stimulation as well as physical idleness. But most importantly, I am thankful I can rest without feeling guilty. I can do it with peace of mind.
"Oh yes, Lord, I think it is going to be one of those days today. Thanks"
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Attitude
This post will be short today. For the past weeks I have been using Fly Lady for my house cleaning. Using her system, there are things done routinely every day like cleaning the toilet, then there are daily chores that focus on a different room of the house each week. This week is the kitchen. So, I have cleaned my stove top to perfection, moved everything on my counter tops and cleaned under them, cleaned under my kitchen sink, and cleaned off my island area that collects all sort of stuff. Tomorrow I'll clean off the top of my fridge and Friday I'll give the floor a thorough cleaning.
Anyway; while cleaning the rubber bands, paper clips, old grocery receipts, granddaughters' hair clips, and a recipe or two off my kitchen island, I came across the following clipping someone had given to me. I don't know what publication it came from or who wrote it, but it always brings a smile to my face and reminds me again of my blessings. Enjoy.
Anyway; while cleaning the rubber bands, paper clips, old grocery receipts, granddaughters' hair clips, and a recipe or two off my kitchen island, I came across the following clipping someone had given to me. I don't know what publication it came from or who wrote it, but it always brings a smile to my face and reminds me again of my blessings. Enjoy.
Attitude
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head. "Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today!" So she did and she had a wonderful day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. "Hmm," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today!" So she did and she had a grand day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. "Well," she said, "Today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. "Yea!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"
Attitude is everything.
Be kinder than necessary for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Shifting Shadows
The
afternoon was quite warm, hot in fact.
That was why picking the perfect parking place at the shopping center
was important. As with all parking lots
around here, this one had the few scattered trees and shrubs required by zoning
laws--those green zones for added beauty. The question we needed answered was
this, “Where is the shade going to be in an hour or so?” We certainly didn’t
want to finish our shopping excursion by climbing into an auto-furnace for the
drive home. In a matter of seconds we
had determined which way the sun was going and which trees had parking spaces
on the east side of them. In a blink of
an eye we had pulled into the perfect parking spot. Much welcomed shade covered
the entire hood of the car and part of the windshield. We were set.
You readers
are probably thinking that we returned to a car that was now in full sunlight
and boiling hot. Wrong. The car was in complete shade, and relatively
cool inside. We were happy girls. Not
only was the car nice and cool, but we had also accomplished what we had come
for. We had bought some clothes.
All the way back
to the house I thought about shifting shadows, changing shadows, and moving
shadows, as well as shadow-less days. So many shadow analogies swam around in
my little brain, bouncing into the sides of my skull and ricocheting off each
other that they made me dizzy. So, I am not writing about clothes or, for that matter,
shopping. I’m writing about shadows, not
all shadows, that would take too long. I will just share my thoughts on some shadows.
James 1:17
says, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father
of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” Hooray. I can depend on God to be who he says he is.
The Alpha
and the Omega
The Good
Shepherd
The Bread of
Life
The Living
Water
The Great
Physician
The Rock
King of
kings and Lord of lords
My Provider
The list
goes on and on. Sorry I’m not putting in
the Scripture references for these characteristics of God. That is a good project for each of us to do
on our own. Anyway, these help describe
our indescribable God and Father. They are who he is;
and he is unchangeable. I never have to wonder “IF” God will come through. For me the question is always, “HOW”. How will he answer my prayer? How will he work in specific situations?
Although I never know how he will answer or work, I do know without a
doubt that he will answer and he will work. That is who he is.
Here is
something to ponder about shadows. Shifting shadows do
not come from the source of light; they are caused by something blocking the
light source. Now, pretend you are a tree. And ask yourself, “What is there in
my life that blocks the Son light. Have my branches become so overgrown with anger,
jealousy, lust, selfishness, and other sins that God’s light cannot even reach
my heart? Is it time for a good pruning?”
Now, let’s
look at this from another angle. We are
no longer trees. We are now just people
who are intentionally hiding from God—modern day Adam and Eves. We seek out
places that keep God’s light from reaching us, or we take refuge in the company
of others who provide deep, shade where no light gets through. We
can hide all we want, whether out of guilt, peer pressure, or believing lies
about ourselves or about God, but God continues to seek us out. He doesn’t give up as we try to hide in self-imposed shadow.
Lastly,
there is a shadow that God places before us, a clef in the rock he puts us in, a
shade that protects us from his full Glory.
As sinful people, we cannot behold that Shekinah, that Glory, that radiance,
that blinding light that is GOD and live.
Yes, We live
in a world of shifting shadows. Just when we think we have everything figured
out and life is great, the shadow shifts and darkness comes through. Or, as in
my case, the sun shines through even brighter to reveal new truths that are extremely painful. On the other hand, when we think the ever
darkening shadows will kill us off, the sun breaks through and brings new
life. No matter what the case, God is not
the shifting shadow. He is the steadfast, unchanging, dependable, faithful
one. Shifting shadows are just part of the
world we live in.
So, we are
caught in a conundrum for which we need wisdom and discernment. Are the shifting
shadows in our lives from sin that is preventing us from seeing and experiencing
who God is and what he wants to achieve through us, are they the deception of
the evil one, or are they placed there by God because we are spiritually unable
to look upon him in his full glory.
For me, the
answer is yes to all the above. So, I'm off to the pruners. I don't want to live in shade caused by anything I have allowed to grow and block the Son light. I also don't want to be in self-erected Son blocks or in darkness provided by anyone else. My desire is to be in only the glorious shade and shadow that God has given me.
Have a God day, all.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Daily Decisions
Decisions, decisions, decisions. What do I want for breakfast? Do I wear sandals or tenny runners, shirts with long sleeves or short? Do I fold clothes first or do my flylady.com cleaning (Fly Lady's suggestion for the day is dust the ceiling fans and remove cobwebs from the corners of the dining room). Do I weed-eat or mow, pull weeds or cut down 5' ferns? Do I write for the blog now or later?
I have made some decisions already. I had a mushroom, broccoli, red pepper omelet for breakfast as well as coffee and a V8 (low sodium) . I'm wearing sandals because I was too lazy to put on other shoes, but will have to change when I go out to work in the yard--that shoe decision probably wasn't the best. And I am writing at this very minute--writing about making decisions while I make decisions. If I wait until later to write, I might forget that I made the decision to wait to write, thereby not writing at all.
So here I sit and write while my clothes are piled in the middle of the bed (which, by the way, is made) and the dust continues to decorate the top of my ceiling fan blades. My weed eater is in its usual place--charging up in the corner of the entryway, and my mower is waiting at the starting gate, ready to charge out as soon as the garage door is opened. My stylish, green, garden-tool bag filled with a pruner, spade, dandelion digger, hand rake, holey gloves, and baseball cap sits next to the weed eater and is ready for some fresh air.
Now for more decisions. In what order do I tackle these projects? How do I prioritize them, by length of time to complete or by urgency? By complexity or by ease? By inside or outside? By...(tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. I'm thinking, I'm thinking! OK?) by visibility or by "who-cares or even notices"?
Tada! My decisions have been reached, and you are the first to know. Inside tasks will be first, so I will fold the clothes and put them away because I don't want them getting more wrinkled than they might be already. Forget about dusting the fan blades and chasing away cobwebs in the dining room. Who sees them anyway. Then I will put on my tennis shoes and head outside with the weed-eater. Mowing is actually my first priority outside because it is the most visible to anyone driving down our country lane. (It's actually a road, but lane sounds more romantic) My yard and field are rapidly becoming unsightly. If I put off mowing much longer, my neighbors will have to close their eyes when they drive by. Well, not really, but almost. They will be fine as long as they keep their sun glasses on.
Now, before I mow, I will have to weed-eat around the fence and trees by the road. That could take over an hour. Thankfully, the charge on the weed-eater lasts only 15-20 minutes. About the mowing, if I bag all the clippings, it will take at least 3 hours. Thankfully, my son-in-law is having his neighbor fix the bagger and it won't be done for at least a week. So, all this means that I can do the weed eating and mowing in about 2 1/2 hours. Then, my place will look real nice. As for the weeds and gigantic ferns? Most of those can't be seen from the lane/road anyway. See, Jones's, I can keep up.
Well there you have it from here. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to make my decisions about my day's work right here before your very eyes. So I'm off to fold the clothes, but should probably eat some lunch first. Let's see, do I want a green salad with tuna or a ham/lettuce wrap with green peppers? Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Notice I have not even prayed about these so-called mundane, everyday, live-my-life decisions. The Lord might have had something entirely different in mind for me today, but I had other plans. Ooops.
"Lord, if I have goofed up big-time with all my decisions, do what ever you have to do to get my attention. My plans are never in concrete and seldom have to be done when I have planned them. Your plans for me are so much more important. Help me be your servant."
I have made some decisions already. I had a mushroom, broccoli, red pepper omelet for breakfast as well as coffee and a V8 (low sodium) . I'm wearing sandals because I was too lazy to put on other shoes, but will have to change when I go out to work in the yard--that shoe decision probably wasn't the best. And I am writing at this very minute--writing about making decisions while I make decisions. If I wait until later to write, I might forget that I made the decision to wait to write, thereby not writing at all.
So here I sit and write while my clothes are piled in the middle of the bed (which, by the way, is made) and the dust continues to decorate the top of my ceiling fan blades. My weed eater is in its usual place--charging up in the corner of the entryway, and my mower is waiting at the starting gate, ready to charge out as soon as the garage door is opened. My stylish, green, garden-tool bag filled with a pruner, spade, dandelion digger, hand rake, holey gloves, and baseball cap sits next to the weed eater and is ready for some fresh air.
Now for more decisions. In what order do I tackle these projects? How do I prioritize them, by length of time to complete or by urgency? By complexity or by ease? By inside or outside? By...(tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. I'm thinking, I'm thinking! OK?) by visibility or by "who-cares or even notices"?
Tada! My decisions have been reached, and you are the first to know. Inside tasks will be first, so I will fold the clothes and put them away because I don't want them getting more wrinkled than they might be already. Forget about dusting the fan blades and chasing away cobwebs in the dining room. Who sees them anyway. Then I will put on my tennis shoes and head outside with the weed-eater. Mowing is actually my first priority outside because it is the most visible to anyone driving down our country lane. (It's actually a road, but lane sounds more romantic) My yard and field are rapidly becoming unsightly. If I put off mowing much longer, my neighbors will have to close their eyes when they drive by. Well, not really, but almost. They will be fine as long as they keep their sun glasses on.
Now, before I mow, I will have to weed-eat around the fence and trees by the road. That could take over an hour. Thankfully, the charge on the weed-eater lasts only 15-20 minutes. About the mowing, if I bag all the clippings, it will take at least 3 hours. Thankfully, my son-in-law is having his neighbor fix the bagger and it won't be done for at least a week. So, all this means that I can do the weed eating and mowing in about 2 1/2 hours. Then, my place will look real nice. As for the weeds and gigantic ferns? Most of those can't be seen from the lane/road anyway. See, Jones's, I can keep up.
Well there you have it from here. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to make my decisions about my day's work right here before your very eyes. So I'm off to fold the clothes, but should probably eat some lunch first. Let's see, do I want a green salad with tuna or a ham/lettuce wrap with green peppers? Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Notice I have not even prayed about these so-called mundane, everyday, live-my-life decisions. The Lord might have had something entirely different in mind for me today, but I had other plans. Ooops.
"Lord, if I have goofed up big-time with all my decisions, do what ever you have to do to get my attention. My plans are never in concrete and seldom have to be done when I have planned them. Your plans for me are so much more important. Help me be your servant."
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
El Gibbor--The Lord Is A Mighty Warrior
While wondering what to write on this Independence Day, 2012, I remembered a series of cards given out at a Bible study last year. Each card had a Hebrew name used in reference to God in the Old Testament plus various scripture references. One of the names is El Gibbor--The Lord is a mighty warrior. "How appropriate", I thought since independence and freedom are often the result of a war, a battle, or a conflict of some kind. That is especially true of the freedom that was won in a very bloody battle, the battle fought on a cross and won by the death and resurrection of the Son of God. In Christ we have been given victory and freedom.
Whether we are aware of it or not, we are constantly in the middle of some sort of battle with myriad enemies who are all under the command of one commander, Satan himself. That's the bad news, but here is the good news, the daily headline, the proclamation we can shout from the housetop, "The war has been won. The victory is the Lord's. Freedom reigns."
Here are just a few scriptures to meditate on this July 4th.
Exodus 15:3 The Lord is a warrior; the Lord is his name.
Exodus 14:14 The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still.
Jeremiah 1:19 They will fight against you, but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you declares the Lord.
Jeremiah 20:11 But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not prevail.
Zephaniah 3:17a The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
II Chronicles 20:17 You will not have to fight this battle, take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be discouraged; do not be afraid. Go out and face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you.
Praise God. The battle belongs to the Lord.
Whether we are aware of it or not, we are constantly in the middle of some sort of battle with myriad enemies who are all under the command of one commander, Satan himself. That's the bad news, but here is the good news, the daily headline, the proclamation we can shout from the housetop, "The war has been won. The victory is the Lord's. Freedom reigns."
Here are just a few scriptures to meditate on this July 4th.
Exodus 15:3 The Lord is a warrior; the Lord is his name.
Exodus 14:14 The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still.
Jeremiah 1:19 They will fight against you, but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you declares the Lord.
Jeremiah 20:11 But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not prevail.
Zephaniah 3:17a The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
II Chronicles 20:17 You will not have to fight this battle, take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be discouraged; do not be afraid. Go out and face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you.
Praise God. The battle belongs to the Lord.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A Dog Tale
A couple years ago each of my kids had different plans for the 4th of July. Two of my kids live within ten miles of me and the other one lives a couple hours away. One family was staying home. One was going to an in-law's home in another town, and I planned on going out of town to my son's home to celebrate. I drove up to their house on the 4th and came home on the 5th. When I returned and pulled into my drive that morning, I was greeted by one of my kid's dog. She was muddy and extremely happy to see me. I was confused.
Where had she come from? She lives several miles away from me and had been here only a couple times in the car. Had her family left her off when they left town and assumed I was home? I didn't think so. I had never kept the dog at my house before. Had they stopped by with the dog, she had gotten out, and didn't return when they called her? Possibly, but not likely. Then, what in the world was she doing here and how did she get here?
These questions began being answered when a couple fireworks went off close by. The poor dog freaked out and tried to get into the house. Ah ha. The dog had been home alone and was frightened by the ear-splitting explosions shaking her area. I felt so bad for her. But, how did she get to my house? As I looked at the muddy dog, I began to understand. She had swum the river at low tide! I was amazed.
I was even more amazed later that summer when my kids left on vacation. The dog was to remain at home and I would go ever every day to make sure she had food and water, pet her, throw her tennis ball for her to retrieve, and just keep her company for awhile. Right. The first day went as planned, but when I got up on that second day and stepped outside to enjoy the fresh air, I was met by one wet dog--not muddy, just wet and so very happy to see me. That was not to be the last time I would find a dog on my door steps.
Now, when my kids are going to be gone for more that a couple days, I go get the dog and bring her over. She is well mannered and good company, so I don't mind having her around. Well, last weekend they were again gone. It was just for overnight. I was gone also. In fact, we were all at the same place--my grandson's wedding. On my trip home I was accompanied by a granddaughter. As we got close to home I suddenly thought, "I wonder if I have a dog at my house?" Instead of taking my young passenger directly home, I went by my house first. You guessed it, there was one special dog, jumping around, wagging her tail, and excited for me to be home.
Why am I telling you all this? Here is why. As I lay in bed last night, I heard some fireworks being set off and immediately thought of the dog and the fear that sent her to the safety of my home that first time. I then thought of the other times she made that trip, the times she was alone and wanted company. A smile came across my lips as I remembered those time in my own life when I was afraid or lonely. What did I do? I sometimes lost sleep or cried. I sometimes refused to think about the situation and kept my mind or body busy. I did so many other things before I finally did what I should have instinctively done, seek out the one place I knew I would be comforted, protected, and reassured--the arms of my Lord.
I can learn so much from that smart, lovable dog who knows exactly where to go in her times of need. Thanks, pooch.
Where had she come from? She lives several miles away from me and had been here only a couple times in the car. Had her family left her off when they left town and assumed I was home? I didn't think so. I had never kept the dog at my house before. Had they stopped by with the dog, she had gotten out, and didn't return when they called her? Possibly, but not likely. Then, what in the world was she doing here and how did she get here?
These questions began being answered when a couple fireworks went off close by. The poor dog freaked out and tried to get into the house. Ah ha. The dog had been home alone and was frightened by the ear-splitting explosions shaking her area. I felt so bad for her. But, how did she get to my house? As I looked at the muddy dog, I began to understand. She had swum the river at low tide! I was amazed.
I was even more amazed later that summer when my kids left on vacation. The dog was to remain at home and I would go ever every day to make sure she had food and water, pet her, throw her tennis ball for her to retrieve, and just keep her company for awhile. Right. The first day went as planned, but when I got up on that second day and stepped outside to enjoy the fresh air, I was met by one wet dog--not muddy, just wet and so very happy to see me. That was not to be the last time I would find a dog on my door steps.
Now, when my kids are going to be gone for more that a couple days, I go get the dog and bring her over. She is well mannered and good company, so I don't mind having her around. Well, last weekend they were again gone. It was just for overnight. I was gone also. In fact, we were all at the same place--my grandson's wedding. On my trip home I was accompanied by a granddaughter. As we got close to home I suddenly thought, "I wonder if I have a dog at my house?" Instead of taking my young passenger directly home, I went by my house first. You guessed it, there was one special dog, jumping around, wagging her tail, and excited for me to be home.
Why am I telling you all this? Here is why. As I lay in bed last night, I heard some fireworks being set off and immediately thought of the dog and the fear that sent her to the safety of my home that first time. I then thought of the other times she made that trip, the times she was alone and wanted company. A smile came across my lips as I remembered those time in my own life when I was afraid or lonely. What did I do? I sometimes lost sleep or cried. I sometimes refused to think about the situation and kept my mind or body busy. I did so many other things before I finally did what I should have instinctively done, seek out the one place I knew I would be comforted, protected, and reassured--the arms of my Lord.
I can learn so much from that smart, lovable dog who knows exactly where to go in her times of need. Thanks, pooch.
Monday, July 2, 2012
A Different Kind of Bucket
As I was reading about the Samaritan woman at the well in the book of John this morning, I was interested in some notes I had written in the margin during a sermon a year or so ago. Beside 4:28 where it tells about the woman leaving her pail and going into the city to tell the town's folks about the man who had told her everything she had ever done, I had written, "She was now the bucket." You see, she left behind what was designed to carry well-water because she was now the carrier of Living Water. The water that would quench her thirst forever was now within her.
As I thought about that whole idea for awhile, I began wondering what kind of a bucket I was. Was I capable to carrying water or was I like the blue milk bucket that holds flowers on my front porch, decorated nicely on the outside, but completely rusted out and unusable underneath?
I came to the conclusion that I wasn't rusted out and unusable, but I probably had a few leaks here and there that need to be fixed. I want to share the convoluted path my mind took this morning as I processed, "She was now the bucket." All analogies fall apart at some point, but I think many of these ideas hold water. Please excuse my pun.
As I thought about that whole idea for awhile, I began wondering what kind of a bucket I was. Was I capable to carrying water or was I like the blue milk bucket that holds flowers on my front porch, decorated nicely on the outside, but completely rusted out and unusable underneath?
I came to the conclusion that I wasn't rusted out and unusable, but I probably had a few leaks here and there that need to be fixed. I want to share the convoluted path my mind took this morning as I processed, "She was now the bucket." All analogies fall apart at some point, but I think many of these ideas hold water. Please excuse my pun.
- A bucket cannot remain full when it is filled with holes.
- Water is meant to be poured over the lip of the bucket, not drip out from the bottom or sides.
- Holes in my bucket would come from pollution which James speaks about in 1:27, "The religion that God finds acceptable is this, to take care of the orphans and the widows and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
- Since I am supposed to be prepared to give a reason for the hope within me, my bucket needs to be full of Living Water that can be poured out over my lips to help others find hope.
- Once some water has been shared with another, I need to be refilled by the source of living-water, that well-spring of life, Jesus.
- Water lost through leaks can be replenished, but the water was not used the way it was intended--to keep me living for and glorifying him, and helping others find that same well of Living Water.
- I want to be so full of Living Water that it splashes all over the place as I go about my business, getting everyone I meet a little damp.
- I don't want to become a spiritual miser who hoards what I do have because I'm afraid there is not enough for even myself, what I do have is slowly diminishing, and I am thirsting for something I am having trouble finding.
- Jesus is not only the Living Water, he is also a healer, mender, and re-newer who can fix the holes in my bucket.
- A new bucket needs to be added to my silly bucket list I created a few posts ago--myself. This bucket may have a few leaks, but basically is in good repair. A note on my handle reads, "Valuable. Do not toss out."
So there you have my morning thoughts, led by the Spirit who took me to surprising places. The idea of worldly pollution fascinates me. I need to explore it further to more fully understand and be more watchful for it. Here are some forms of pollution that affect me. I am saddened by the world's pollution whenever I try to find a television show or movie to watch, a book to read or even a magazine to scan through. I am saddened by pollution when I overhear conversations filled with profanity, innuendos, gossip, and vicious or angry words. I am saddened by... The list is endless. Just as acid rain and air pollution damage everything they come in contact with--inch by inch, so too, the pollution of the world damages each of us in some way and puts holes in our buckets.
I don't know about you, but I need to be ever watchful that I am not exposing myself to the corrosive pollution of the world that will slowly put holes in my bucket. I do not want to let that happen because I AM A HOLDER OF LIVING WATER WHO NEVER WANTS TO THIRST AGAIN.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)