THE VALUE OF SEED

         Once upon a time, a farmer was offered a choice piece of fertile ground.  The former owner had worked hard for many years to stock the barn with various seeds to produce more than ample harvests.  It was good soil and the purchase included everything for a successful farming venture….a barn full of seed, a partially dug well and general farm implements. 

         The new farmer borrowed money from the local banker for the purchase of the soil, the well, the barn full of seeds and the farmer pitched a tent.  Then the new owner began tapping the well for a deeper water table to sustain the crops and set about planting for the coming season.

         Along came a younger farmer who recognized the potential bounty and offered to share the tending of the fields, but the inexperienced share-cropper had no seed to plant.

         So, the new owner took half of the purchased seed from the barn and gave it freely to the younger farmer for the ground they shared.  Month by month, year by year, the younger farmer leased the land, tilled the soil and enjoyed the harvest from the seeds.

         As the young farmer's family grew, the older farmer came along side to “side-dress” the crops with fertilizer when necessary and continued to farm the land in the younger one’s absence. 

         The owner paid off the loans and the banker was pleased.  Folks from miles around knew the farm’s reputation from the produce of their harvests.  Other share- croppers came along to farm the available soil and they too, prospered.

         One day, after many years, the owner grew much older and weary of the responsibility of the farm.  The older farmer saw that the younger farmer had matured and was ready to master the farm alone.  An offer was made to sell the farm for merely half the cost of the first seed that had produced such a harvest every year, but the younger farmer was fearful and blind to the value of the farm and the investment of the initial seed that had been shared so long ago.

         The gentle older farmer spent time alone and waited to hear what the young share-cropper had decided.  It was a testing time of prayer and fasting, a time to remain humble, unselfish and mildly patient while waiting for the young farmer to commit to the purchase of the tents, barns of seeds, and now, the deeply dug well.  The other share- croppers were eager and strived to keep the harmony and oneness that bound them all together in peace.  They made allowances in their share of the crops because they all loved one another.

         Time passed and morning brought the answers.  The farmers, old and young, eventually came to understand, accept and embrace their temporary stewardship roles over the fertile soil and all the share-croppers were entrusted to dispense more seed and water from the well to benefit many generations to come…

(c) Copyright 2013-2016

BALANCE

      This post is dedicated to Dr. Bob & Nancy. I am forever grateful for the BALANCE you model for me... Thank you for always being approachable, available and lovable. KB

     I can see why older folks have a hard time with changes in their routines. Of course, I am referring to the “older folks” I hear about or see who are challenged by varying degrees of dementia related to Alzheimer’s and/or Parkinson’s disease. Any change seems disruptive to their sense of security. 

     That’s one thing about being in a service industry that builds a history with people. We are privy to observe a client’s physical body progress from walking independently to arriving at our door with care givers who chauffeur and tenderly assist them with their walkers, and eventually, their wheelchairs. Often without anyone noticing, our sweet friends migrate from spontaneity into routine before their time… and we dare to call it “prime!”

     One morning last week, I had a small dose of this reality as I got up and began my daily routine. I left the bed and bathroom, turned the grow light on over my violets, smiled and said, “Good morning, how are you?” to my kitty, popped open her can of cat food, put on the coffee, took my morning meds. I settled on the couch for my study and prayer time followed by making my bed, showering and dressing for the day. Hi-ho, hi-ho, off to work I went.

     Just the day before, I had returned from an impromptu weekend visit to my daughter’s house. As I unpacked from my trip, I remembered that as great as it was to see them and enjoy my grandson’s laughter, antics, and that special way he said, “Come on, GaGa,” it was equally good to be home and back in my routine again. 

     I especially enjoyed our dinner time together, all of us around the same table, sharing homemade chicken and dumplings that she had made. Well, all of us except my grandson who took one look and said, “EEE-uoooooooh, grroooooooooooss!” How does an almost 3 year old know “gross?” 

     We all made fond memories as we chatted over our meal. Our conversation jumped from casual topics to questions about my childhood feelings regarding siblings. My daughter and son-in-law wanted to know, “What had my parents done in their parenting methods that I wished they had done differently?” The fact that they even asked these questions of their family and friends, or of me, delighted my heart. (One learns a lot when you ask questions, but that is the subject of a later post.)

     I thought for awhile as we discussed sibling issues and birth order since I was the typical middle child. In response to their parenting question, I shared a memory that had taught me, hopefully, the value of parents who are “approachable,” parents who can be trusted with teenage questions, fears, dreams and ideas about life as only a teen girl might wonder and imagine… parents who are not afraid to foster a dialogue about things that might prove uncomfortable to talk about….parents who are not critical of smart kids who think outside their family’s box…parents who are willing to abandon their schedules, clocks, calendars and “to do” lists and be available to simply listen and “be in the moment.” I am still learning the value of this lesson since I seem to live my life by those same schedules, clocks and appointment calendars!

     A parent’s response to “when I grow up, I think I want to be….” can forever impact a kid. I had already won a scholarship to a piano conservatory and was performing and winning talent shows in my local community when I made my declaration. Afternoons after school were filled with homework, but only after an allotted time at the piano. I was practicing as my mother stood at the kitchen stove stirring a pot and preparing for dinner time. I noted from my peripheral view that she never took her eyes from the stove as she spoke “the words.” Yes, it was a time when women’s career choices were limited to becoming teachers, nurses or secretaries, and that day, I made a life decision based upon a mother’s insecurities. Not that there’s anything wrong with education, medicine or administration, but that day, I abandoned my natural, creative musical bent. I also learned the perils of spontaneously sharing my heart.

     Now, forty plus years later, I examine the same hands that belonged to the young lady who dared to dream of performing on a concert stage, and though I see the aging hands of a grandmother, I can still finger the scales of “do-re-mi,” and play “chop sticks” and “heart and soul” with gusto. I may forget some little ditty I just heard on the radio, but Für Elise and Moonlight Sonata will always remain in my memory’s repertoire! 

     Nowadays, my hands tickle the hearts and souls of people whom the Lord chooses. My response to this calling is listening for His Tuning Fork or perhaps the Metronome that helps me hear someone’s heart song. Most people are approachable…only a few are not. I admit there are days when I am unapproachable and “occupied at the kitchen stove.” But a smile and a question work just as well for people as it does for felines. “Good morning! How are you today?” is a simple gesture of kindness, an overture to influence and engage a person’s world. A soul’s answers are far from a routine if I have ears to hear! 

     I personally am very glad that God Almighty is approachable. I find it comforting to know I can approach Him at any time, for any reason, with any idea, dream, doubt, fear, frustration, disappointment or question I have about life. He wants and invites this communion and I never have to wonder about what He might have done differently in the circumstances of my life. Good is coming from all of it. He is, after all, Abba Father, a “Daddy” whose parenting style from beginning to end is simply LOVE spelled, T-I-M-E…time spent caring for us and pursuing us even when we are unapproachable, unavailable and unlovable.

     Now you may be asking, “What does this have to do with routine and spontaneity?” Opposites do attract and isn’t it just like God to give me what I really need to help me achieve balance? Like many naturally “stick in the mud” structured and calculated people, I am a routine lover attracted to the natural adventurous attributes in others, perhaps as much as they are attracted to the stability of my quiet life. 

     Relationship collaboration at its best is each person knowing his or her natural bent and finding balance. It is at that crossroads where every relationship negotiates a compromise in the battle of wills between routine and spontaneity. A life lived out of balance can be crazy making, exhausting, boring and silent. It’s a balance found only at the centering place where my vertical relationship with a holy God meets ALL my horizontal relationships with mankind to transform ME. For God to change my timid personality, I must exercise and risk peril again!

     Balance is “staying in the present moment” between living lives in the memories of one’s past and dreams for the future. I am not alone in the safety and comfort I find in my routine. But self imposed isolation is not the same experience for some older folks who just get “stuck” in their present moments and find themselves fed, dressed, and chauffeured around from place to place.

     Next time you see someone living life from their “padded chariot,” take a moment from your busy schedule to approach them. No matter how uncomfortable the exercise is for you, smile and ask, “How are you today?” You may be surprised by their answer, but then again, you learn a lot about a person when you ask questions, and it will definitely make your day far from routine…. They might even sing you their heart song!

(c) Copyright 2013-2016

BABY STEPS

      They predicted, whoever “they” are, that 12-21-2012 would bring the end of the world as we know it. The infamous date came and went, but also brought to mind a distant memory…12-21-1968, the day I married my Prince Charming. 

      It could have been the “end of the world” for a young girl marrying with a child on the way. My baby and the marriage miscarried and I began a lifelong quest pursuing LOVE and motherhood in other ways.

      After that first miscarriage, hormones ran amuck and endometriosis wreaked havoc in all the natural plans for birthing my own children. During a third marriage, a complete hysterectomy at age 26 permanently closed every door, even though doctors were titillating my dreams with artificial insemination as they wheeled me into surgery. Yes, it was shocking to wake up to that barren reality, and once again, I thought my natural world had ended…

      If you’ve read all the previous posts in my blog, first, let me say “thank you” and I pray by now, you’ve sensed the common thread I hope to convey. Whether I am writing from a painful memory or declaring a praiseworthy victory, my purpose is to share an intimate knowledge of God’s very real Abiding Presence in our world today, in your life and mine. Of course, not knowing you, the reader, I can only write about my experiences of His Providence in my life. Almost five years ago, as I sat with my Bible, pen and paper to outline my “goals” for the coming year, I read my morning devotion from the apostle Peter’s letter to us in 2 Peter 1:16.

“For we did not follow cleverly devised tales when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eye witnesses to His Majesty.”

      “They,” the apostles and other followers, didn’t have to make up stories about Jesus because they had seen Him, touched Him, walked and talked with Him. They KNEW Him and His workings in people’s daily lives…they had been eye witnesses.

      During the interim years of goal setting, I continued to take baby steps, but I resisted His call to write because I felt sorely inadequate and insecure. I was much more confident in the visual arts, but recently, I discovered that God’s purpose and desire for the writing does not depend on my clever “word craftsmanship.” He would rather that I merely share with others about His Abiding Presence in my daily life. Someone else might define or describe this as “His Faithful Working.” After all, He is faithful to me and to YOU even though we might not see or perceive it as so. I am an eye witness to His Workmanship in my life. I am still breathing and able to proclaim, “Jesus is Lord!”

      As for 12-21-2012 or some other calamity, and even if the world as we know it ends, He is still Lord of Life. As the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah wrote to us in chapter 31:2-4,

“The people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness—Israel, when it went to find rest. I have loved you with an everlasting love, I have drawn you with loving kindness. Again, I will rebuild you and you shall be rebuilt…”

      The rebuilding of my life (and yours) is a lifelong process. Along the way, God has fitted together several key relationships to fill critical gaping cracks in my edifice, primarily, my two adopted children who I know without any doubts, God chose for me and me for them. 

      One other miraculous blessing was birthed through another painful marriage, BUT GOD delivered another daughter to my life who will be 43 on her next birthday, the same age of the child I lost all those years ago. And today, we forge ahead as two women completing my chapter of loss and salving her painful recent miscarriage. Together we grieve the loss of a little boy she will never know…until God “fits” another boy into her edifice walls, or perhaps places a future son-in-law who needs mothering in ways that only she can deliver…successfully to term!

      Yes, God builds our lives in these ways…not just some times, most times, but ALL times. Character, integrity, trust, genuine love, and His Abiding Peace are being built in my life that could only have been built THIS WAY. Understanding, accepting, and embracing this truth has been a great challenge. Sorting through the world’s ideas, other’s opinions, my own stubbornness, making sense of it all, finding God’s purpose and searching God’s Word for a deeper meaning is a quest worth embarking upon.     

      As I read about King David’s despair in Psalm 40, I felt I was in good company. Here was “a man after God’s own heart” sharing about his deliverance from miry clay to a secure foundation with new songs of praise in his mouth for God who inclined His ear to hear his cries. I have no way out of the clay pit by myself. (God knows, I’ve tried!) The question is, “Will I trust God or man, my church, my family, my career or government?” The answer is, “How blessed is the man/woman who has made the Lord his/her trust.” Jeremiah again shows us a comparison in 17:5-8 of a shrub in the desert contrasted with a green tree. Faith in mankind reduces me to a mere shrub in my wilderness while faith in God makes me a SURVIVOR …even while taking “baby steps.”

“For he/she will be like a tree planted by the water, that extends its roots by a stream and will NOT fear when the heat comes; But its leaves will be green and it will not be anxious in a year of drought nor cease to be fruitful.”

     And so, I end the year as I began it, with my Bible, paper and pen in hand.  I find myself pondering about the fiscal cliff, drought, farm bills and the price of milk. Gun control legislation, mental health issues, social security, retirement, and most importantly, “Who will be in the Super Bowl?” But as Martin Luther wrote,

“Sola Fide” by Faith alone

“Sola Gratia” by Grace alone

“Sola Scriptura” on His Word alone

“Sola Christus” because of Christ alone

“Sola Deo Gloria” to the glory of God alone

Lord, chisel this on the doorpost of my soul and help me apply myself to LIVE this manifesto!

(c) 2012-2016

APPEARANCES

            

Though applicable to both genders, this post will appeal primarily to women. 

     Not a woman alive awakens in the morning without a check of her body’s profile in the bathroom mirror. We are obsessed with belly bloats, flat bums, fat cheeks, saddle bag thighs, saggy skin, droopy eyes, crow’s feet, turkey necks, flabby arms, thin hair, gray hair, “upper lips” and hairy chins…and that’s just at first glance!

     I recently discovered a rare find…about 10 of my mother’s personal diaries. One can only imagine how special but difficult it is to read these journals. Evidently, she, too, was consumed with her reflection since the first item in the daily entries was a record of her bathroom scale.

     Spa memberships, cellulite creams, body wraps, weight loss and nutrition plans, cosmetics, jewelry, clothing, shoes & purses, accessorized her “fashionable debt” giving her the appearance of prosperity. I say all this, not to dishonor my mother’s memory with this criticism, but to address our culture’s obsession with “image.” I wonder if she ever pondered “why” as she struggled with “losing her looks” and “hanging onto her man.”

     Now, someone might ask, “Aren’t you in an industry that helps people improve their appearance?” Yes, I admit I have made a comfortable living helping people feel good about themselves. I observe a definite change in a client’s countenance as they arrive and depart from my salon. A mirror’s reflection has an effect on both inner and outer realities, which brings the deeper message of my post. 

     “We are easily distracted by the superficial, pretentious details of living life while our inner soul hungers and thirsts to be fed.”

     Before I commit words to paper, I always pray and ask God what message He wants me to share in this forum. And it is always about the MESSAGE…not about me, I hope you understand. I am just willing to be transparent about how the message manifests in my life. That day, as I stared at my own “fluffy” reflection in the bathroom mirror, God was observing my shallow heart. With my human eyes, I can only see my external appearance, but He sees the inner intentions and discerns every motive for everything I do and say. God sees every insensitivity and judgment I make.

     Our small group from church discussed this subject not long ago after our pastor’s “Sermon on the Mount” series. It’s our custom to review the message from the previous Sunday and dig deeper as people share from their personal experiences. “Do not judge lest you be judged…” from Matthew 7:1-6 led to a time of sharing that I won’t soon forget.

     One woman told about an unexpected layover in the Atlanta airport several years ago while traveling with her young children in tow. Flight after flight was delayed and eventually canceled which meant an overnight stay. Frantic, distraught and frustrated conversations with gate agents were for naught against unforeseen circumstances. 

     While standing at the desk, a tattooed young man approached her and though he wasn’t the sort of person she ordinarily would have “connected” with, his words changed her entire outlook about the layover. 

     “Ma’am, it seems you have an opportunity here to make this a real adventure for these kids!” 

     And she did. They booked a hotel, ordered pizza, rented movies, jumped on the beds and probably enjoyed a pillow fight or two. Now, her children are grown and have a few tattoos of their own! So much for judging by appearances… I could write a book about the responses I’ve had to the tattoo on my wrist, even a few refusals to shake my hand!

       “Did you REE-A-ALLY want that on your hand?”

Or my personal favorite, “You don’t seem like the type to get a tattoo…”

     Okay, so what type do I seem like? What concrete details define someone? Is it clothing, expressions, characteristics or behavior that we base these judgments? What exactly does an artist look like anyway? For that matter, what does a pastor, teacher, doctor, banker, attorney, car salesman, secretary, homeless person, or an addict look like? Except for the aid of a mirror, none of us would ever really know what we look like or have any semblance of who we are to the world. 

     Relationally, we are mirrors unto ourselves. I can see the best or worst characteristics in others that I am unable or refuse to see in myself. I preach condemnation for acts against me that I seek mercy for! This is hypocrisy at my soul’s core and I perpetuate the lie when I refuse to be real with myself about myself. 

     God desires His Word to be The Mirror. Because He loves me, it is for Kingdom Goodness and for my benefit that He reveals my spiritual flaws and shows my greater need for His Time, His Wisdom and His Restoration. “Do I just give The Mirror an occasional glance only to step away and forget what I saw? Or fail altogether and truly see what is really there? Am I so caught up with my outward appearance that I ignore the spiritual condition of my sinful heart?”

     Religion is like this to some people. We unknowingly abandon our personal relationship with God and become more focused on the outward appearances of “doing” church with our attendance, giving tithes and teaching Sunday school. While these actions are vital for our growth, the apostle Paul compared them as “clanging cymbals.” I did all these things but with the wrong heart motive. I realized it was more about “being seen to be seen and speaking in the group to show how much I know.”

     God is not interested in my appearances of holiness as much as my willingness to repent and bow before His Holiness. To do this, I must have a devoted heart and a disciplined life to stand before the Mirror of His Word. If someone ripped open the curtain to reveal my inner walls, what would be written there for the world to see?

     These “walls of my heart” are ever before a Holy God to be exposed and examined. Isaiah 49:16 (Amplified) is a picture of Christ’s sacrifice unto death and holds an even more personal meaning for me. Feel free to plug your name in there, too.

     “Behold, I have indelibly imprinted (tattooed a picture of) you, Kate, on the palm of each of My hands; your walls are continually before Me.”

     This scripture has assured me at times when I felt so utterly lost and forgotten. Colossians 1:22 assures me that I can stand before Him blameless and without a single fault. Because of my belief and trust in Christ alone, His Right Standing with Father God is the only mirror I need. 

     Though I am reminded forever of the consequences of a tattoo that serves as a permanent marker of a time in my wayward life, I am finally able to like who I am becoming when I look in the mirror.…

   PASS THE BLUE BELL, PLEASE!!!!

           (c) Copyright 2012-2016

ARTFUL LIVING

      It began with a simple question, “How did Guatemala change you?” Our Thursday morning prayer group was a smaller, more intimate setting that allowed such a question and a wonderful time of testimony. While the usual attendance numbered 10-15, this day there were only six of us, three of whom had just returned from mission trips to Guatemala. Two were pastors who seemed hesitant as they pondered our leader’s question. I, too, had hesitated to attend that day, but after a few moments of their sharing, I was very glad I had made the effort to get up early…I was changed.

     In the days that followed, I pondered the question for myself. I hadn’t been on any international mission trips, but I had just returned from a family visit to north Texas. “How had Abilene and Munday changed me?” 

     I remembered one morning of my trip in particular. I was enjoying my quiet time using my Bible and a “Jesus Calling” devotional. The comfortable easy chair where I sat in my cousin’s living room faced opposite a beautiful view of their back yard. The patio enclosure was furnished with a typical outdoor table and chairs. I sat there slowly drinking in the peace of that moment and praising God for His Presence in the present, that day’s devotion theme. The author, Sarah Young, had written about “The Divine Artist,” the art of living a divinely artful life, and then, the Lord reminded me of His Presence in my cousin’s monetary birthday gift which provided my rental car for making the long trip safely. Yes, I was blessed, indeed.

     I opened my eyes and gazed around the room to see the patio again, but this time, a beautiful Blue Jay enjoyed flitting around from perch to perch on each chair as if he was purposely “showing off” his color to me! He captured my attention certainly when I realized I had not seen this northern bird since I had moved away from my home near Dallas 18 years ago. “The Divine Artist” had painted for me that morning! “Such a small thing” most people might say, but I knew God was restoring hope in my soul with the sighting of a small blue bird. His Presence manifested in my present, painting a day in the life of His daughter to help me on my way to “artful living.” To think that the Ruler of the Universe would create such an event, seemingly trivial, yet so significant in my heart…Yes, Abilene changed me.

     My cousins had also planned a short day trip to our small hometown. The agenda included a driving tour to see cotton crops, the former homesteads, and a family meal with relatives at the local Dairy Queen. It was scheduled after a visit to Johnson Memorial Cemetery where my parents, my sister, and her infant son, are buried. It had been three years since I had last visited the cemetery when my mother’s oldest brother was laid to rest in the family plot. But today, this visit to “Sorrow’s Monument” was different. I was with Linda, one of my sister’s best friends. It was just by coincidence that we would be there together to embrace the moment of change in both our lives.

     When Jann died in childbirth at age 22, my parents had flown her body from St. Petersburg, Florida where she had lived with her husband, Ken. There had been services there with his family and friends and again in Munday with our family, but there was no additional memorial with our south Texas community where Dad’s career had moved the family. Mom and Dad were so grief-stricken at her sudden death and felt they could not endure another emotional service. So, her high school and college chums really never had the closure they needed. To many friends, she had just moved away and never came home again.

     Now after 43 years, Linda had traveled to this small rural community to mourn and pay her final respects to her matron of honor. I can only imagine her grief since I had carried my own unsaid good-byes for the same years, but I'd had many opportunities to lay them down at the monument when I visited the family plot. My friend, Nancy and I had prayed that the trip to the cemetery would bring a complete healing to this chapter in Linda’s soul. 

     It brought a different balm to mine to see how beautiful the bouquets were on the headstones. I had ordered the flowers to be placed for the occasion and I was indeed thankful for God’s artful gift to "grace the moment" through a local talented florist. The enemy of my soul would have me blind and barren in that west Texas wilderness, but I am grateful the Lord gave me a desire to “dress up” the monuments. It was such a simple thing to call ahead and order the flowers, but through the colorful bouquets, the Great Physician gave me a fresh vision and prescribed a new mental picture for my chart in life!

     I discovered that this is the power of a simple photograph, a documentary of times to remember, people we love, places we have been, and things we cherish. All of these are evidence “we have lived, loved and been loved.” A photograph is a tangible mental picture held in my hand that proves I am fully alive to embrace life in the “then and now.” My memories still carry vivid colors and my artist’s imagination instantly transports me to places and times right along with them. I can close my eyes and visit “Sorrow” or “Dress Up with Joy.” I can continually replay the video of my painful losses and carry them laden with a heavy heart or I can choose to see Life showing off its divinely artful bouquet. Yes, Munday changed me.

     I had not realized when I heard the question, “How did Guatemala change you?” that I would soon use its inspiration to help me write another family eulogy. Three weeks after my trip to Abilene and Munday, I made two trips to Harlingen where my brother is buried. His sudden death two years ago left his wife a widow at age 49. She was unable to overcome her grief at “Sorrow’s Monument.”

     In preparing for her memorial, I asked myself, “How did knowing her change me? How had her life and her untimely death, her struggles, her failures and her accomplishments…how did her life lessons change me? How had our relationship and conversations, the prayers and scriptures we shared, how had the Lord used these events to affect change in me?”

     Yes, now I can say that Harlingen did, indeed, change me. I gave her eulogy and I, too, stand at “Sorrow’s Monument” again. It is still painful and vivid at times, but now, when the memories come, I choose to revisit that wilderness with visions of blue birds and colorful bouquets.

         Come quickly, “Dress up with Joy!” We have some artful living to do!

  

(c) Copyright 2012-2016

THE PICTURE FRAME

         The Lord’s extravagant Love will always continue to move us along in the greatest adventure of all…LIFE, even when our list of odysseys begins with merely getting out of bed!

         I recently urged a good friend, who was, in her words, “in a funk and going to bed,” not to spend too much time with her head under the covers because indeed, God could not use her there. Guilty myself, I had to ask myself, "How often have I buried my head under the pillow?" (Sometimes I still want to crawl under my quilt and stay there until the Rapture!)

         That "being in a funky place" lesson returned home to me just last night when I shared a poem I had written a few years ago with my teacher. He responded with how much he liked the earlier work… “It was much more pleasant and hopeful.” Yes, my writing has been a cathartic purging of sorts that few people would enjoy. It’s true of depressed, oppressed, repressed and suppressed people who live in dark places where “Pleasantville” and the “City of Hope” seem illusive and life seems to have dealt us another dead end. I am learning a truth for myself these days, “Life has no dead ends.”

         I cannot deny the search for ways out of my darkness has kept me plodding uphill, and I must admit, I am so ready to traipse through a lush meadow! 

         When I think of such a golden place, I am reminded of a relaxation technique I once used to help me fall asleep when insomnia was a frequent bedfellow. I don’t need those prompts anymore since art, “the writing life” and my faith occupy my late nights now. Here is one exercise that I fondly remember and helped me greatly.

         “I closed my eyes and imagined being at a small cottage in the middle of a wide open meadow….a rolling prairie kind of place with a meandering brook and woods whose trees towered alongside the water’s edge to shade an occasional picnic and a quick nap. 

         Once inside the cottage, I walked down a hallway to find my room with windows all around the east and southern exposure, ready to welcome the morning glints of sunlight. Bright white, loosely-woven curtains billowed from a fresh breeze that was softly blowing from the open windows. During these meditations, the prompter’s voice suggested that I get up to look out the window and describe what I saw. There were tall, swirling grasses, or corn stalks lush with pods ready for shucking, or fields of drenched sunflowers dripping from sunshine as far as my eyes could see. It became a game as I anticipated the view at the window sill, coppery, bronzed maize heads "topping out" across the horizon or rows of “high cotton” towering over my head! It seemed I could even smell fresh rain from storm clouds if I saw them approaching!  

         My bed was a wrought iron bedstead that seemed oversized for the room, but then again, maybe it was the freshly fluffed mattress, the matching white chenille spread and the brightly colored pieces of an antique wedding ring quilt lying over the foot that consumed the space. The prompter’s voice instructed me to turn back the covers, tuck myself in and lay quietly until Rest arrived, and I did this many times when I practiced the sleeping exercise.

         My eyes made a quick inventory of the room that included a large armoire staring back from the far corner, a small reading lamp on an end table beside an empty easy chair directly at my feet. I turned my head to the right and I saw it…holding up the wall was a beautiful upright piano with its manuscript propped in place and waiting to be played.

         Over time, a photo gallery of family and numerous friends decorated the top of the piano. I traced the faces of my mother and other loved ones pictured there and fingered the piano keys to pantomime a memorable recital or play my father’s favorites. In my dreams, he relaxed in the chair as I played “Clair de Lune” until he drifted into his Rest. Finally, the prompter’s voice guided me over to a beautiful, very ornate frame placed on the table beside the chair. Before picking it up, I sensed this was a picture of the most important person in my life, the person I could trust above all others, my beloved, the one who loved me most. I can still remember the shock and profound sadness when I saw that the exquisite frame held no one’s face…not even my own!”

         While this was merely a relaxation technique, I learned some valuable lessons when I analyzed this for myself. This dream-like experience described a life that was filled with GOOD things: a love of nature and God’s beauty, a safe and secure refuge, cherished, sentimental possessions, talents and meaningful relationships that created fond memories. My soul had painted a picture of an inner life that placed greater value on people, places and things. Later I came to understand these attachments as a form of worship, "idolatry," or a form of "spiritual adultery" that I had committed against the True Lover of my soul.

         I have wondered about the Face of God as He might appear in the picture frame or what the CITY OF HOPE will look like. There have been many artist’s interpretations of Christ and renderings of the throne of God, but someday, as Revelation 22:4 declares, “They shall see His face, and His name shall be on their foreheads.”  God WILL have a face and I will most assuredly, fully know the most important person in my life, Jesus Christ.

         What I have perceived as “dead-ends” have been God’s way to prove and test the genuineness of my faith in Him. These seemingly dead-ends challenge me, “shake me awake,” and help me realize the relationships I truly cherish. One of the most important lessons I am realizing is that there are countless others in dark places searching for a life in PLEASANTVILLE. I have been there.  It is only a vacation destination and truly, a dead end. Listen, trust and heed the guidance of the Prompter’s Voice and you will find the CITY OF HOPE….

and hopefully, a lush meadow or two along the way.

(c) Copyright 2012-2016

IT TAKES TIME

         I remember an interview I saw with Oprah Winfrey sometime in the mid to late 80's. When I heard her say that she always knew that she was destined for greatness, "something" leapt inside me. It was as if finally, I recognized that seed of greatness in myself and knew perhaps someday, someone might write books about me, too. I even dared to share this revelation with my friend, Shelly, as we camped in her Ford Econoline van under the stars in Taos, NM that year. As I remembered these memories years later, I thought about what an arrogant assumption this was!

         Fast forward almost 30 years...three more divorces, my parents and both my siblings gone, a distant relationship with my son, and a 42 year career standing behind my styling chair just to make ends meet…. Some greatness that is!

      And now, I am starting over again. No whining here, but at least, I CAN start over and "fix my life". PRAISE GOD that I have a skill to rely on, own a business that provides my livelihood, and that I have my health that enables me to stand there day after day and "eek it out..." I am grateful for my children, grandchildren, many friends, other family, and for this little apartment that provides a home and solace, a refuge to heal.

         Yes, the Great I AM is fixing my life. "It takes time..." as our little friend, Stanley, would say. As mentally challenged as he is, this was his typical response in most conversations at the Sunday dinner table with our family. Yes, even Stanley is destined for greatness. God's dream for all of us is that we would catch His Grand Vision...that somewhere deep inside of us, our inner spirit would leap to catch hold of that Truth for ourselves…. WE ARE ALL DESTINED FOR GREATNESS.

          Our life story is living out our dreams. Hopefully, my dream and God’s Vision are coming together now. I love photography, so thinking about a life’s vision and comparing it to photo images is easy for me. Just like shooting with an old film camera (remember those?) and forgetting to advance the film to the next frame results in multiple images overlapping, so is a life stuck in reverse. This kind of conflict has been my life’s experience focused on many unfulfilled dreams and past mistakes. What resulted is a temporary failure to “advance the film” of God’s vision. I forgot that “whatever the camera lens focuses on is what is developed for all to see!” And what is the solution for this overexposed life? Spending time in God’s Presence always brings His Vision for Life into sharper focus, and sometimes, it requires time spent in spiritual darkrooms to appreciate the Light. 

          “Yes, Lord, YOU are fixing my life and helping me to recognize the seed of greatness planted in me. It is this vision that I must grasp and clearly focus on for destiny to firmly root in my life. What I feed, water and tend, GROWS. “Seed, time and harvest….” is a message that still applies even when it feels like a season of “time waiting and whackin’ weeds.” Only You, God Almighty, can see the harvest ahead…. “It just takes time…”

         And yet, if given the choice of sitting in Your Presence or possessing my destiny for greatness, well, Lord, there is NO choice. The privilege of communing with the God of the Universe IS fulfilling my destiny for greatness.

AMEN.

(c)Copyright 2012-2016