What? Friday Already?

Where did this week go? I was at an out of town cross country meet yesterday afternoon, but home all morning. Most of today I did laundry and worked on writing for my class. I do mean work, too. I finished the assignment tonight, but still have some exercises to do. The instructor set the scene of a baseball game which included a single mom, her six year old son who is the catcher, a close score, and a helicopter reporting on an accident on the adjacent freeway. The mom had a name, so did the boy. We had to write a paragraph in the first person point of view where I am one of the people in the story and am telling it. Then I had to write it in the third person(he, she, they) I am the narrator and not a character of the story, but know what the character I am talking about is thinking and feeling. Then I had to write it as if I were a camera taking it all in--just the facts, maam. As if that weren't enough, the instructor, Ann is her name, set the scene of a woman named Martha who is waiting for the bus on a stormy winter night. As she gets on the bus, her ex-husband gets off. We had to write several paragraphs about this setting, but each from a distance. We started off in Martha's head and what she was feeling (up close). Then we moved a little further off and wrote as Martha again, but instead of her feelings, her observations.(not quite as close) Last of all we wrote about the scene from above it all, comparing it to similar experiences we might have had. (far off) And these were only the exercises.

The assignment was also about Martha. We had to chose a point of view, a tense, and how close we were. Then we had to write a five sentence paragraph using what we had chosen. I will post mine below if anyone wants to read it.

This entire lesson was hard, especially when I had to express the emotions and feelings of the strangers I supposedly knew intimately. Writing as an observer was much easier. One thing I discovered was I kept writing from pain, not joy. Got to work on that.

I am taking my laptop into the shop tomorrow. It is doing crazy things. Thought I had better get it checked out before it crashes. So, there will probably not be any blogs for a few days. Hope everyone has a great weekend. We have a flood warning for the rivers around here because of the expected heavy rains. We'll see how accurate the weather people are this time around.

So, I'm shutting down and going off to sleep in my freshly made bed, a granddaughter is sleeping on my couch, and a pregnant cat naps under my house, or as my granddaughter says, a cat about to have children.

Be blessed,
Jan

Assignment 4

First person point of view
Present tense
Close location

Martha?

"Jack Frost nipping at my toes" I sing to myself as I slowly turn into an icicle, but nothing is going to stop me from enjoying the snow I love. At least that is what I think until the bus glides to a stop and the warm air from the opened door hits me in the face. Looking up the steps and into my purse at the same time, I don't see him, but he has already seen me. "Martha?" he asked in amazement as I push by and he steps out the closing doors. Tears fill my eyes, not from cold but from pain, as I recall that night so long ago and the word he whispered as he heard me say I wanted out of our marriage,"Martha?"  

TooTired to Finish This

The e-mail I opened yesterday afternoon asked if I would be willing to share during this morning's Bible study. Loving Beyond Yourself was the topic for the day.  Isolation, depression, sorrow & grief, brokenness, and self-centeredness were areas of discussion. They are obstacles we need to overcome if we want to freely love others. I could choose any area I wanted to speak on. Brokenness called my name. I answered.

After mulling over a few ideas, I decided to get up early this morning and head into McDonalds to finish thinking, put some notes down on paper, then time what I wanted to share. The challenge was keeping the presentation to ten minutes. To make a long story short, I didn't get up early, I didn't go to McDonalds, but I did finish thinking, putting notes down on paper and timing what I wanted to share. Fifteen minutes, ooops, time to edit.

My prayer through all this was, "Lord, show me what to say about my own brokenness and how you have been helping me overcome it so I can once again love others. Give me something that will touch the heart of at least one person. Amen."

Several thoughts that were new to me rose to the surface. I shared them because I thought they were relevant. Other thoughts that have been with me from the beginning were also shared. I have decided to share a few of them here.

First of all, when something I love gets cracked, chipped or broken, I do all I can to put it back together again. Likewise, when something of great value, such as a Ming vase, is broken, experts do all they can to restore it. That is the way God is with us. Each of us is of great value and we are loved. God does all we will allow him to do in restoring us. We aren't thrown on the trash heap.

In addition, I shared about moving from the "poor me" mind set to the "God didn't put me here for me, but for Him" mindset. In has been a slow process of listening to the Spirit speak through scripture, sermons, music, journaling, conversations with family and friends, and observing life around me.

(I'm not sure where I want to go from here or how to get there. My body is tired and my mind muddled. I have more to share, and much editing to do, but for now, I just want to go to bed. Please try to make some sense of what I've written so far. Much of what I shared, I have posted in previous entries. Tomorrow is a new day. Let's see what it brings.)

By the way, several ladies talked to me after the Bible study and thanked me for the encouragement they got from what I shared. Thank you, Lord.

Have a great night.
Jan
 

Loss Again

After more than a year in therapy learning to get in touch with my emotions, I just spent the past month refusing to face the emotions that today would bring. I didn't want to think about the upcoming separation, so I didn't. This may seem silly to some, but others will understand what I am talking about. Ready?

My hair stylist just fixed my hair for the very last time. Once every six weeks for 35 years we have met and she has transform a disheveled, shabby me into a chic, classic new me. Now, after all those years of trimming me up, changing styles as my hair has gotten grayer and thinner, and occasionally waxing my brows and chin she is moving away. Having to find someone else to do my hair isn't the problem because my appointments weren't just about getting my hair done. They were about developing a friendship. As we got to know each other, we began sharing the ups and downs of rearing kids, playing with grand-kids, and taking vacations. We shared hurts and joys, hopes and dreams. We not only encouraged and rejoiced with each other, we also shared our faith. Today we said goodbye and tried to hold back tears. I'll miss her.

Although we never did lunch, went to coffee, called, or sent texts, we were friends, better friends than I had realized until I started thinking about her leaving. As friends always do, we told each other we would keep in touch. Will we? I hope so. But life has a way of interfering with the best laid plans. She and her husband are opening a Bread and Breakfast with her sisters and their families. They are excited. I am spending more and more time writing, not leaving my chair for hours on end. I am excited. New adventures lay ahead for each of us. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but pray for the best for each other. Our Lord has plans.

Not wanting to feel loss again, but I do,
Jan

Thoughts of Rain, Plus Her Blackness (A Bonus)

Getting up close and personal to waterfalls makes my heart beat fast and my knees feel weak. The cool spray, though refreshing, causes my brain to say, "You're too close, too close, move back!"  But today, with a calmly beating heart, I stood on strong, straight legs and watched in amazement as fresh water cascaded from above. Clear as glass in some places and opaque and foamy in others, it plunged to the ground as spray rose up. I wanted to leaned with outstretched arms and feel is power strike my fingertips, but fear overcame desire. Falling out my bedroom window into a muddy flowerbed wouldn't have been life threatening, but it certainly would have been disastrously messy. I'll just watch for now.

I needn't watch for long. The deluge of rain overflowing the gutters slowed to drips in a matter of minutes, then quite altogether. The gutters were once again able to control the flow; and the shrubs below the eaves rejoiced in their nice drink of water. The sun now shines and the temperature rises, but more Days-of-Noah rain are on their way. Aaaah, Fall has arrived with the wonderful smell of rain.

That is my descriptive writing for this morning.

As I wrote that last sentence, I reached for my cup of hot coffee with hazelnut creamer and took a sip (almost burned my tongue, I did.) I love an occasional cup of coffee, especially in the rain.

Where was Her Blackness in this downpour? Her Blackness=feral cat=mother-to-be. That's right. The once-skinny, pretty, black kitty with a huge appetite is pregnant. At least that is what it looked liked to me a few days ago. Since I didn't want to accept my observations as reality, I asked myself, "What do I know about cats anyway? She probably just ate a mouse...or two...or more"

Well, Sunday evening came around and so did my daughter-in-law. I had been waiting for her to come pick apples. I watched her work for awhile. A yellow plastic bag sat on the ground. She wore bright blue tennis shoes, dark sweat pants, and a red, hooded rain-jacket. With her arms held high, she reached for the yellow apples (I have no idea what kind they are) with a blue-tined  rake. I loved the colors.

She heard me open the door and started talking before she saw me. "I saw your kitty and gave her a little food. Hope that was okay. She seemed really hungry, and friendly. Looks like she is pregnant."

Thanks daughter-in-law. That is just what I didn't want to hear.

So now I have a dilemma. She sleeps under my house (Her Blackness, not my daughter-in-law) and that isn't where I want a litter of kittens residing. (The occasional raccoon and possum that come around at night won't mix well with cat and kittens.)  I know she sleeps under my house because she starts talking to me as soon as she hears my footsteps in the morning. Her muffled little meows greet me from below as I walk around the kitchen above. When I finally open the front door while holding her food dish and call out, "Here kitty, kitty." she comes around the corner of the house within seconds, jumps onto the porch,and stands on her hind legs hoping her head will reach my fingers. She loves being petted. "Dang." I think she is growing on me.

What to do? What to do?

Help, Lord. Now that Her Blackness trusts me, gets some nourishment from my hand, and loves being loved, I can't cast her away because she is pregnant. Some people might say, "She is only a cat, Jan." I know that, but she is also one of your creatures that I have allowed into my life. What, what, what is the right thing to do? Do I let her in (she will come, at least she did this morning ) or let nature take its course? And then, Lord, there is always the possibility she is your provision for the long, dark, winter days ahead? I just don't know. Please send me a text with further instructions. My number is...Oh, silly me, you know what it is. Amen

I guess I sort of asked for this when Her Blackness and I first started talking in the blackberry patch.

Jan

What I Think When I Think

Ooops! I did so much writing for my class this morning that I thought I had written something for the blog. WRONG. If my writing had been for the blog, you would have read a description of the room I write in, not merely a physical description, but also an emotional one. Then I had to chose four items in my physical description and free write about them--just let my mind go.

If you had read those, you would have journeyed with glass bottles as they flounder in the ocean until they end up as bits of smooth-edged glass in a re-purposed vinegar bottle--no longer what they originally were, but still things of beauty. You would have wondered with me about the ancient, from the beginning of time, agates and stones I keep in a clear salt shaker. What native children have thrown them? What surfers have run across them?  What tsunamis have thrown them inland? I wonder.

My Blue Piggy Bank was the next victim. Oh, the money it has held and where it was spent brought back fond memories of Hawaii as well as the Elementary School Penny Drive.

The fourth and last item was my messily made bed that needed its sheets changed, its dust ruffle mended, and its nightstand dusted. Will the housework ever end?

After all that, I still wasn't finished. Those were just the exercises leading up to the actual assignment. "Light a candle" the instructions began. We were to then describe the candle in ways that would draw the reader into the mood we were feeling or into a mood the candle created. We wanted them to experience the lit candle with us. That was an interesting process.

When I finished with all this work, I was so thankful for the year and one-half I spent in therapy. This may sound silly, but if I hadn't been forced into finding my feelings, this lesson would have been terribly difficult. I clearly remember the day Dr. B. asked me what I felt or thought when I drove to the prison to visit my husband.. I had no idea. What did I feel or think on the way home? This is crazy. Here is the answer I finally gave. "I feel the same thing I feel when I go to the grocery store, nothing."

It took me months of consciously thinking about what I was thinking until I could easily answer those types of questions. Back to the candle assignment. I had little trouble putting into words what I was thinking because I was aware of my thoughts.  Here is what I wrote.:

A Lighted Candle
At first glance the candle gracing my table seems regal. Its height and straightness are impressive, and there is a hint of nose-in-the air haughtiness at its tip. It allows only a bit of golden light to enhance the table below. Though merely wax, it considers itself all powerful—a dispeller of darkness, one to be worshipped. But I won't be deluded by what I see. Though tall and straight on its own, it leans away from its silver holder. The melting wax, instead of cooling as it courses down the candle’s sides, falls like tears onto the gleaming oaken surface beneath it. The light moves back and forth with every unseen breath of air. I watch the flame struggle to remain upright as it fights a losing battle. I can clearly see that my tall, leaning, weeping candle is not haughty, nor is it regal and all powerful. It is a lowly wick-containing stick of wax struggling to bring light and hope into my darkened room. Burn on, lowly one, burn on. You are doing well. 

I have since made a note on what I wrote. "Haughtiness and pride must be thrown away when one struggles.A fight against the gusts blowing our way cannot be fought while we are trying to put on an air of  'all is well in my world'." Now, as an added thought, (see, I am thinking about what I am thinking) Though our fire for the Lord may be bright and strong, I am thankful that Jesus can shield us from the stormy blasts that try to blow it out. When the going gets too rough, he wants to  hide us under his wings just as he did Jerusalem.

 How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing! Matthew 23:37b

With that final thought, I'm off to house sit my son's dogs and cats tonight, then heading off to an out of town cross county meet with my daughter tomorrow. It will probably be Monday before I post again. 

Have a great weekend, a God weekend

Jan

Surprised by Surprise

I am always surprised that life surprises me. Take yesterday for example. I completed the first lesson of my on-line writers class, then submitted my assignment which was a paragraph of introduction for the Discussion Room. That was easy enough. All that was left to do was read what other classmates had written about themselves and add comments if so desired. Fair enough.

The next hour sped by as I met complete strangers through their own words. I was taken by surprise as I discovered such a diverse mix. They are soccer moms, commuting dads, librarians, and public relations folks. They are lovers of books, words, nature, and people. They are busy, funny, anxious, questioning, and coming out of dark places. They are from dozens of states and several other countries. Although each one of us of is unique in our own way, we have one commonality, the desire to explore the world of writing and improve whatever skills we have.

I don't know why I was surprised by what I found in the Discussion Room. I think I expected us students to be just a handful of seeking people from the Pacific Northwest. But here is the curious thing. I was surprised about being surprised.

Surprise--to take unexpectedly, according to Webster. Yup. That is how God works in my life. I should know that whenever He opens a door, such as the one leading into this class, that whatever is on the other side will be unexpected. What He has in store for me is more that I can imagine. (Sort of sounds like Ephesians 3:20 doesn't it) So, as the next six weeks proceed, I really should expect  God to have surprises for me. Buuuuuuttt, if I expect the unexpected, is it still unexpected?

This kind of thinking is too complicated for my finite brain. I guess I will just have to venture on with my newly found friends on our trip through cyberspace while enjoying cups of virtual coffee  together. I'll celebrate the surprises when they come. And if they don't come? I'll be surprised.

Welcome aboard,
Jan

A Thought From Today's Bible Study & Beyond

It has finally arrived--the first day of my writers class! I've learned two things already. First off, I love getting into my school clothes. Sweatshirt, jammie bottoms, and bare feet are all part of my back-to-school fashion statement for this class. Secondly, my California granddaughter suggested in a facebook post that I celebrate this big occasion with some ice cream. Duh! What was I ever thinking when I drove right through town an hour ago without stopping. Obviously, I wasn't thinking at all. Just so I don't forget to treat myself the next time I go to town, I am going to put a sticky note that reads "ICE CREAM" in the middle of my steering wheel. I glad I now have several days to decide what kind(s) of cold delight I want/desire/need.

So much for trivia.

Last Wednesday my church's Women's Bible study, Practically Speaking, started. It deals with the everyday in and outs, and ups and downs of living out our faith. Today we talked about the older women teaching the younger women. (Titus 2:1-15 & 2 Timothy 2:11-26) One of the points I really liked was made by a young mother who said that being invited to someone's home for coffee and seeing the gift of hospitality ministered with love, humility, and humor while the home and yard were in disarray spoke volumes to her. Their time together wasn't about nice furniture, lovely drapes, china cups, and weed-free flower beds. It was about relationship and conversation. What this young woman learned from an older woman wasn't taught in a class or small group, it was shown through thoughtful, Christlike actions. Good stuff!

Next week's lesson is sort of a continuation. It is called Living Beyond Yourself. Stay tuned, I might have something else to share.

After I sign off on this post, I am going to "hit the books" so to speak. My class assignment deals with free writing. Soooooo, for five minutes I have to write whatever pops into my mind. The idea is to not let my fingers stop typing during that entire time. If I have no idea what to write next, I write that I have no idea what to write next. I cannot correct spelling, punctuation, grammar, or anything else--I just write. When that is done, I have to spend one minute writing about whatever I am hearing or not hearing, then another minute about what I am seeing or have an awareness of. This should be an interesting exercise.

Since my mind is going around in circles with thoughts of missed ice cream, inviting women over for coffee, and analyzing the source of all the detritus (fancy word I've always wanted to use instead of debris) on the floor, I am really curious what I will end up writing. Who knows, I might get brave enough to reveal my jump down-turn around-pick a bale of cotton thinking to all of you. Get prepared.

Lord, I really don't care whether or not my thoughts make sense to a reader, just let them make sense to me. Amen.
Jan