And the gift goes on...

Looking back over the notes in the journal that I don't fling out into cyberspace, I came across the following entry. For some reason it touched me today as a thing to raise in concentrated memory.
"I am spending the evening reading in bed, an early bedtime, but not for sleeping...hot chocolate, piles of books sprawling all around me on the bed, my most comfortable pajamas softly hugging me...While reading, I heard my 4-year-old in the hallway. He was so excited a few minutes ago, as he came to tell me he was going to wrap a "present" for me. But now, as I hear him wrap, he struggles. He mumbles "hopelessly" to himself that he's no good at this. As he goes from the vision of the gift he'd give me to the actual preparation for the presentation of it, and as he notes his own ineptness, he grieves deeply. I grieve for him.
My heart turns up to You, God. If my mother's heart can see him, feel for him as he tries to give a gift--not for the sake of a return of praise, but simply out of his love for me--if I can look at him with a love even more tender because of this "imperfection" that disturbs him, how could I ever doubt that You look down on my clumsy, confused offerings with the same recognition of the heart-love that prompts the gift. Why do I assume that You demand excellence, when I myself will settle for love?
So I did what I know You will do: I went to His rescue. I "blindly" (so as not to ruin the surprise) wrapped my own present. Then opened my eyes and unwrapped it. We were both overjoyed.
May I always value this memory from my experience with parenthood.

How can I begin...

...to make you know how badly I miss you when you're gone, because I don't want to make you feel guilty.
...to avoid telling you anyway, because it would be worse if you never knew.

"My favorite dream" epilogue...

...today I discovered a verse in the words of the ancient prophet Zechariah that matches my dream...at least the component of the tiny passage leading to a palace so large that it can not be of the same "reality" as the closet/stairway, the impossibility of the largeness and beauty of the one place sitting above the small and grimness of the other:
"Rejoice, daughter of Zion, behold thy King cometh; he is just and having salvation."
The connection doesn't appear until you look into the Hebrew word origins for the King James here. The word translated in this verse as salvation is also applied in other references to convey the idea "broad, ample, spacious and opulent." Wow!

my favorite dream...

...begins dismally. I'm either climbing up through a false ceiling in a dark, cramped, rodent-infested closet or I am ascending a gloomy staircase into something like a turret, with tiny windows along the way giving a view that triggers vertigo. Chipped paint and cobwebs show that this route has not been recently taken, let alone maintained. In that respect, it is much like the condition of the closet. Both variations of the dream's introduction have me going through a tiny trap-door opening at the top of the closet/turret. I climb into what I presume will be an even grimmer attic. Every time, to my surprise, this "attic" is ridiculously more spacious than the underlying structure warrants. Also, it is lavish and beautifully prepared for occupancy: heavy and rich wood doors and floors, huge vaulting ceilings, Persian rugs and elegant furnishings. A strange but somehow natural light suffuses through the closed, frothy curtains covering rank after rank of tall windows. As I explore, I find that each room is more breath-taking than the last. I feel like a child who stumbled onto a fairy castle, a castle kept long, but spotlessly ready, waiting for its inhabitants. I am thrilled to have "discovered" the place, thrilled to have it all to myself.
In times past, I had this dream frequently...at least 3-4 times a year. After each occurrence, I'd feel light-hearted and unusually joyful the whole next day. One time about a year ago, I had this same dream, but this time other people found their way into the attic behind me. My initial reaction was disappointment. Having these people come to me and want me to help them find their own "places" in the castle took away the magic and made my own place there that of a servant. It was the last time I had the dream.
In time, I came to realize the dreams were a question: would I take the beautiful spiritual world I have indeed been given and share it with others? Apparently, my subconscious initially said, "no." Since then, my conscious mind committed my will to the challenge of making myself available no matter what my subconscious desires might selfishly be and no matter what the personal sacrifice of intimacy and freedom. Since then, God has orchestrated a series of unusual events, books, people--to bombard me with opportunity to strengthen this "will to serve" that I've committed into His hands. I've prayed to have the dream again, in the hopes of being a better "hostess" to weary climbers. I miss the dream enough now that I'd be happy to share it, if it means I, too, get a part of it again. Oh, to have it just one more time...but even that is a sign that I haven't quite "got there" yet. I'll probably have it again, the very day I forget to want it...Isn't it strange for a dream to be that powerful over my waking life?
Today, I think I hit a landmark of growth in the lesson of the dream. There is an interchange between Christ and Mary Magdalene in the book of John that has always stumped me. It seemed out of character to me for Christ to speak as He did to her. When Mary realized she is seeing Him back from the dead and responds by crying out "teacher--" and apparently reaching out to Him, He says to her "Don't cling to me..." I, in my insecurity, have always seen this as harsh, like He is pushing her away for being too needy. This probably explains why initially I could not "share" the attic. What if I were found to be too needy once others were also there? But today, for the first time, I can envision another possibility. Instead, might He be saying, "We are so close--and you are now so like me--that I want you to take the next step...really be like me by separating from me...even as I separated from the Father...leave the comfort of my presence and go address the needs of others in My name."
Chambers, in his book, Daily Thoughts for Disciples says it this way: "...our Lord would not allow Mary to hold a spiritual experience for herself, she must get into contact with the disciples and convey a message to them..." Not pushing away, but inviting an even deeper oneness. That I can see this now--is it a sign that I am growing into deeper truth? In my ongoing study of Crabb's book Inside Out, I noted today that "Christian growth requires that we surface the tendency to demand [things that we see as justifiably ours from the God who should provide them.] " He claims we must identify that "demandingness," look courageously at the ugliness of it (if we even have the capacity to see selfishness as ugly any more, rather than adopting society's penchant for embracing it as successful independence,) and by an act of will abandon it...then brace ourselves for the test of whether or not we really meant it. (grin) I think I'm coming along...but this one is not easy. Fortunately, I have the memory of a fairy-tale castle to inspire me.

it started with last night's blog...

which was titled from a Christmas carol. After that, Christmas hit at the fevered pace that we associate with the real holiday's anticipatory season, a "season" retailers put brashly in the face of every shopper: Christmas. The thing is, it's March. Apparently that doesn't matter...I'm having Christmas anyway. Here's the evidence, all accumulated in the course of about 12 hours:

! After the blog-title carol, my little one asks me to sit and watch a cartoon with him. It happened to be a Christmas episode. At that point, I thought, that's interesting, I used a Christmas carol for my blog title. Then...
! Playing a simulation-styled video game later, Christmas pops up randomly again in the computer-generated costuming of the character.
! Another sitcom droning in the background as I went to sleep. Different channel from the cartoon, but same subject: Christmas episode.
! This morning, a kid walks into home room singing Jingle Bells...(there was more, that's what I remember for now...)

Finally, I'd had enough. I asked this student to come over to my desk. Being a kid who is frequently in trouble, he assumed the worst and was preparing his best defense given he had no idea what he'd done wrong. I eased his mind, telling him the weird pattern of the "Christmas coincidence." I asked him what prompted him to sing a Christmas song. "Well, I was singing the stupid version, Mrs. Way...you know the one that goes, "tumbling through the snow, on a broken pair of skis..." It turned out he was to the "normal" chorus as he walked in the door. He had no idea what inspired him to sing the song, just came into his head.
Speaking of coincidences--which I leave the last one unresolved because it is unresolved--I discovered today that my 4th grade son's new teacher...the woman who replaced his former one as she went on maternity leave last month...this new teacher is a woman I've been praying over for about ten months, and I didn't even realize she was this same person. I prayed for her and her ex-husband at the request of the ex-husband's mother, who is a very dear friend of mine...a soul-sister, a woman of profound and devout faith. She shared with me that her son and his wife were divorcing at the unction of her son. We talked about the things God might be doing in the relationship; we talked about what would help them both to grow, maybe even to someday reconcile. But she left it that the son was in a phase of being unreceptive to spiritual appeals, and the daughter-in-law was still dear to them, but was obviously on the other side of the breach, and in ways unapproachable to them. I played flute in the couple's wedding...but that was 6, almost 7 years ago. I didn't recognize her, but she recognized me...the new teacher is the young man's bride. Today, she asked to talk to me. Even then, I didn't recognize her, until she talked about my playing in the wedding...until she mentioned her in-laws. She cried a lot. Her heart was in exactly the right place for me to begin to say to her the beginning of the things that her mother-in-law and I talked about last summer...back when we were wishing there was some way for God to get these ideas to her...wishing someone would have the opportunity to minister either to her broken heart or to his. What a wonder that I'm getting the honor of being that very person.
After a while, the "coincidences" get so blatant that you have to laugh when people choose to use that word...coincidence...seriously. (grin)

Adventures in Geekland...

...Most of my working life these days entails traveling to one place or another. In the last month, I have been to, among other places, Las Vegas, Boston, New York City, Memphis, and Atlanta. Tomorrow, however, I take my most ambitious trip to date. NYC's mean streets.....bah...Boston's maze of mystery streets....tish-tosh...the infamous Sin City....don't make me laugh....I'm going to Geektown.

Never heard of Geektown? Let me provide some background for you. A few months ago, a dear friend of mine informed me that the fantasy baseball league he plays in was short an owner or two, and wondered if I would be willing to fill in one of the slots. I already play fantasy football, and the idea of having a reason to look at the box-scores in the morning would be a fun diversion (mistake number 1....nothing about fantasy baseball is a fun diversion). I transferred my football team name to baseball, and the "Wayback Machine" was born.

Now I have participated in fantasy baseball before. Back in my college days, and for a few years after, a group of college friends and I ushered the fantasy baseball craze into existence with a game called Rotisserie Baseball (why it was called rotisserie we never discovered). One afternoon in the early spring, we gathered at someone's apartment, consumed a few adult beverages, and picked our favorite players to be on our team. The whole affair required about 20 minutes of preparation, a hour or so to properly lubricate our brains, 3 or 4 hours of actual player picking, and several hours of additional lubrication to seal the deal. No muss, no fuss. Fun to the end......

.....No more.

As I am to understand, many of the "owners" in this new league employ large staffs of underlings to process huge amounts of raw data, large university-sized computer servers to sort and file the information, teams of field scouts to confirm the findings, and ex jury selection consultants to advise them on the proper draft-day strategies.

All to find a reserve middle-infielder.

I haven't even bought a book yet.......And the draft is 2 days away.

It's not that I am not competitive. I have a long history of unreasonable competitive urges and practices. I guess it's just that I am more frugal with the limited energy I have with which to be competitive these days. Every day, in every meeting and consultation I have at work, the focus is how to outsmart and out-maneuver our competitors. Dog-eat-dog, if you will. That kind of activity, day after day, takes a large chunk out of your desire to compete in things that don't put food on your children's plates.

So, as I venture into the realm of the self-proclaimed "fantasy geeks", I proceed with my head held high, a stiff upper lip, determined to uphold the legacy of my original roto-friends. Don't take things so seriously, have fun, lubricate your thought-process, and most of all, under no circumstances, take any player from the Chicago Cubs.

After all, a man has to have his pride

Go Tell It on the Mountain

I work with a bunch of kids who meet daily for the purpose of exploring arts in ministry. This is part of my job, the same job that made me think I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown yesterday, which happens periodically when you work with kids, I've discovered. Fortunately, kids change like the wind, and two consecutive days are never the same.
This group is in the process of making a devotional movie taken from a Max Lucado mini-study. They decided on film, and found the material for the film all by themselves. I embellished it a bit with a plan to use an interchanging film/drama set-up for their production. The film part of this piece of performance-art ministry involves metaphor. Like the chains on Marley's ghost, trashbags are used to represent the psychic/spiritual junk that people carry around with them every conscious moment. These trashbags are eventually given to the "trashman" (Christ metaphor) at the end of the film. Sounds a little cheesy as I read back over it, but the book (and therefore the script) are a lot less cheesy than my summary here.
Today, during chapel, our principal spoke about the lack of distinction between "sacred" and "secular" activities/music/films/etc. in the life of a person who seriously gives his or her life to Christ, for Christ will make every moment a teaching/communing moment. It depends on the perceptiveness of the person. Well, today was our day to stuff our prop-trashbags for the film. It hit me that we could make this a sacramental act and give a deeper reality to the film and our performance in it if we stuffed them as though they were the real thing. So I put on some quiet music, read them a devotional about giving this moment to Christ, talked about the symbolism as they put wads of newspaper in the bags--that they were to visualize putting everything in the bag that would be in their "real" bags. Then after the bags were full, they took Bibles and found scriptures that spoke to whatever they "put" in their bags. They recorded these verses annonymously on a community list, and at the end of the session, we shared aloud what was on list so that we knew what was "really" in our bags.
Their honesty and trust in engaging in this activity and sharing their hearts touched me deeply. The verses spoke of all the right things, the things that would indeed fill their bags if they were genuinely examining them: things like feelings of remoteness from God, things like being brokenhearted, being too legalistic; things like worrying too much, lying; and things like expecting to be able to handle anything and then being mad when they couldn't. These and more were what really filled the mound of black trash bags. As we soberly stared at the pile, I told them. "Now, it won't be acting."
Some days, like yesterday, when I took my Calgon bath and--upon submerging my ears and hearing my pulse in the water--wondered that tectonic plates weren't moving all due to the thundering vibrations I was creating...some days I think I'm crazy to do what I do...could I ever possibly offer anything good? I am so far from "perfect."
And some days, like today...I find I'm at the top of yesterday's mountain, and I don't ever remember the climb. But I'm surely grateful for the view.

when will I ever learn...

...not to say "yes" when God says time to grow. Just this weekend, I "learned" that I am a peace-maker in part because it protects me from heavy feelings of responsibility whenever things aren't perfect. Conflict and being at fault in a contentious situation is extremely painful for me, so I avoid it, for my own sake alone. So....I offer it to God when He shows me this fact, I offer "Take away my peace if it is for no better purpose than to keep me shielded from pain." Standing at the foot of the mountain, looking up, packing all the best gear, confident about reaching the top, knowing once there I will stand firmly, staring out across the horizon, the wind in my hair, a conqueror's smile on my face...
Then I have a day like today: a day ending with me here: finally home, and that alone is enough to inspire tears of relief. I herded my children into opposing corners of the house, perked myself a pot of flavored decaff and retreated into my room to sit and wait for the tremors to stop--this day has included every type of "peace interrupted" that I can imagine; ok, nuclear holocaust would have been worse, but not much else competes. I've obviously tightly embraced again my bent for self-preservation. I've completely abandoned my mission. But my husband says--after hearing about my day--that my retreating with a cup of flavored decaff and a bubble bath instead of a bottle of tequila and a gun is a sign that I'm doing better than I think I am. So now, here I am, tumbled back to the foot of the mountain, looking up, lost half the gear, broken the rest, laughing at the image of myself at the top, thinking "no way in hell..."

My son and I dream...

...in tandem now, too. I posted that my husband and my other son dream together...dreams that have similar imagery, similar themes. Now my older son and I dream together. Last night when I dreamed of my mother, he dreamed of her, too. An unusual event for him.

I miss you, Mom...

I dreamed of my mother last night. I study myself today. I came to this passage in the book I'm currently using to explore first humiliation and then its thankful afterglow--growth:
"...we love so poorly. Why? The answer is as simple as it is profound. We refuse to come to God in our thirst [for ultimate goodness and love] by abandoning our commitment to self-protection. Instead, we read our Bible, burn our porno magazines, etc. We walk past the well of God to grab a shovel and begin digging for water in our relationships [with other humans.] How foolish! But worse, how subtly we dig our broken wells."
This is from Larry Crabb's book, Inside Out. He goes on to describe how our greatest seeming "virtues" can indeed be our most subtle means of self-protection against those things that we learned could hurt us. We don't realize we are using "virtue" for no other purpose than to avoid pain. Virtue is good, but not with that motivation. What a profoundly useful thing to consider. He uses the case study of a woman who was never beaten or molested as a child, but she also never felt truly cherished by her family. She couldn't recall a single conversation in which she felt warmly invited to share the things that mattered to her. Consequently, she went into adulthood with very efficient relationships, but none in which she would put herself out in a zone where she was not protecting her heart. Now after some time in counseling, this woman is more in touch with how disappointing life can be, for that is the inevitable consequence of accepting spirit-thirst for those deepest, un-meetable desires a fortunate few discover in this life. Still, even with that disappointment, she is also getting the gift that comes with it: she is developing the courage to experience more meaningful love and more purity in her purposes for relationship.
Two examples of "good" well-diggers that are on my mind today:
Last night, we watched the Constant Gardener. It, too, touched this theme from the perspective of a woman who displayed willingness to expend her self, her reputation, her very life. Self-protection was the last thing on her mind, and it showed in a rainbow of examples. Her husband grew into such a mind-set as well. He had the courage to believe in her and in his knowledge of her, no matter what others might say. His own self-protection might have caused him to abandon what he discovered was her mission. He might have even abandoned the honor of her very memory before he discovered her mission. Rather, he uncovered the truth and "completed" her work, and in so doing, completed her self...a noble example I think of what husband and wife being flesh of each other's flesh and bone of each other's bone really means.
The second example I find in another relationship: the one I had/have with my mother. My tribute to you, Mom (although it is late, but also is as early as I had the wisdom to give it) my tribute is that you were such a person as to teach me that broken-well truth deeply. I thought I was so short-changed compared to some of the other kids who didn't have to orchestrate life's joy around a mom so wounded by her own past. But I also knew I was uniquely blessed, sitting for hours on your bed with you, late into the night, or on the back porch in the dark, talking about the most mysterious things, the depths our souls were exploring. When you died, I felt first and foremost panic at that particular loss: my exploring-soul companion. I had never known anyone who was so touched by the depths of disappointment, and yet so full of courage and faith and tenacity...and especially so full of wonder at the possibilities of what is "supposed" to be. Dreaming of you last night made me remember what we had on the good days and nights and feel less horror at what we had on the bad ones--no, I should say appreciate the meaning I now see behind the balance between the good ones and those bad ones.
I guess it is because in the dream you were again guiding me: prodding me to go ahead and take that dive in the face of confusion, pressing me to be tenacious about letting God be anything He wants to be...you were so good at inspiring that kind of faith. You were telling me how to pick up and go on when I felt I was coming to an impasse. Self-protection parading as goodness was making me stodgy, and such a thing would have never flown with you. Even now you remind me to live larger than that.

spring...a season of growing

I am always amazed when God decides to put "coincidences" out of the realm of the coincidental. I had been debating whether much of the "strain" I feel spiritually is just me hanging on to a childhood habit of anguish, as could be reasonable since I had a childhood heavily laced with it. God was so kind as to give me my answer to the question of whether the "faith-strain" is real or simply foolish imagining. Once again, He used events in the real world to affirm that--whether strained or not--my perceptions have now and will continue to have their cooresponding realities. This is in the news today. I had my own experience of "inflation" of the universe (of the spirit) just a couple of days ago. Today's "real" news says this:

Scientists announced today new evidence supporting the theory that the infant universe expanded from subatomic to astronomical size in a fraction of a second after its birth.
The finding is based on new results from
NASA's Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe (WMAP) satellite, launched in 2001 to measure the temperature of radiant heat left over from the Big Bang, which is the theoretical beginning to the universe. This radiation is known as the Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB), and it is the oldest light in the universe.

Previously, I blogged about the quote recommending a person undress morally of everything that might be considered a possession, and present that to God. So, I did a visualization prayer of this very thing...stripping away everything that could be called "goodness" that I wore. It was like pulling off wet clingy clothes. I threw them down decisively in a heap beside me. Taking it a step further, I proceeded to point out to God all the now exposed "flaws" on the naked me: a "naturally" 42-year-old body, with a bosom and belly that have carried and nursed three kids. Spinning around I made much ado of the cellulite sea that is my rear end. Suddenly, and to my surprise since up to this point, I had been "in control" of the daydream but no longer, suddenly I shot up to be huge. I was outside my own body for a moment, seeing from ground level only foot, calf, thigh, of this huge woman that I had become. Then I was back "inside myself" again, noticing that the "age flaws" had softened into the plump dewy newness of baby flesh. I turned around and looked down at the little Christ at my feet and said, "What happened?" He grinned at me. "Get this--" And He shot up to twice the size of the "big" me. I looked up at the underside of his distant chin, then clenched my fists and everything else in an effort to join Him, like a child who thinks effort alone will speed growth (another lesson from the vision.) "I can't get any bigger." I yelled up. He shrank down to my same size. "That's why I come down to match you."
Then this morning, besides the news report of a suddenly expanding universe, shooting from something the size of a marble to what we know it to be now, besides that...I came across this quote in my daily devotional, although it is the quote from July 13 it sure works for today: "...Am I building up the Body of Christ, or am I looking for my own personal development only?...Whenever I want things for myself the relationship is distorted." Now, even as I have been blogging, my love, you call and say you blogged about me. I'll have to go back and see what you wrote, but this I'll say to you: you are showing quite profound signs yourself of being ever more inspired all the time to build that larger Body of the real, vital, passionate, exuberant, clever, and infinately appealing Christ.

Lord....

....she's tired....she's hurting.....she doesn't see a whole lot of light at the end of the tunnel. She hasn't had a lot go right the last few days. But she is surrounded by people who love her. And, with your will, one more will be with her tonight. Help her get through the day today, and help her to see a hint of good somewhere. I'm asking you to be with her because I can't, and it's killing me....killing me to hear the...tired...in her voice. Killing me to be so far away from her when all I want to do is to be there for her. So, I guess, be with me also, and point out not only the best things to do, but the right things to do also. She told me to write about things other than her, but as I write about the things on my mind, the only things that seem to be important are her, and the precious ones that she is laboring so hard to take care of...


....be with her, and help me get home...

God I love my friends...

...because while I may receive poetic revelations about the nature of the universe, when things in my personal world and my anticipatory soul-world begin to crash, a rational analytical voice breaks through to calm in a way that all that my poetic nature can't afford. One of my friends--to many she is remote and unapproachable, many have trouble seeing how deeply loyal and caring her heart is, she can seem bossy and angry, she can cuss like a sailor, she is impatient with ignorant and needy people, and I love her more than most any of my friends--she sent me this today, not having a clue that it was exactly what I needed.

Subject: Who Created Evil?Did God Create Evil?The university professor challenged his students with this question:"Did God create everything that exists? "A student bravely replied, "Yes, he did!""God created everything?" the professor asked."Yes sir," the student replied.The professor answered, "If God created everything, then Godcreated evil since evil exists, and according to theprincipal that our works define who we are, then God is evil."The professor was quite pleased with himself and boasted to the studentsthat he had proven once more that the Christian faith was a myth.Another student raised his hand and said, "Can I ask you question professor?""Of course," replied the professor.The student stood up and asked, "Professor, does cold exist?"The professor replied "Of course it exists. Have you never been cold?"The students snickered at the young man's question.The young man replied, "In fact sir, cold does not exist.According to the laws of physics, what we consider coldis in reality the absence of heat.Everybody or object is susceptible to study when it has ortransmits energy,and heat is what makes a body, or matter,Have or transmit energy.Absolute zero (- 460 degrees F) is the total absence of heat.Cold does not exist. We have created this word to describehow we feel if we have no heat.The student continued. "Professor, does darkness exist?"The professor responded, "Of course it does."The student replied, "Once again you are wrong sir.Darkness does not exist either. Darkness is in reality theabsence of light. Light, we can study, but not darkness. In fact we canuse Newton's prism to break white light into many colors andstudy the various wavelengths of each color. You cannot measure darkness.A simple ray of light can break into a world of darkness and illuminate it.How can you know how dark a certain space is?You measure the amount of light present. Isn't this correct?Darkness is a term used by man to describe what happenswhere there is no light present."Finally the young man asked the professor. "Sir, does evil exist?"Now uncertain, the professor responded, "Of course, as I have already said.We see it every day. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man.It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world.These manifestations are nothing else but evil."To this the student replied, "Evil does not exist sir, or atleast it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God.It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created todescribe the absence of God.God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when mandoes not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold thatcomes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes whenthere is no light."
The professor sat down.
The young man's name --- Albert Einstein.

Quotable Quotes

(Invocation: May Your divine foresight, rather than my own crippled hindsight be what fuels my...everything, God.)

What follows are a few quotes that ring like a tuning fork held against my eardrum these days:
"Of all the things we do, we have more freedom with respect to what we think of, where we place our minds, than anything else." Dallas Willard
"Give me 100 preachers who fear nothing but sin and desire nothing but God...such alone will shake the gates of hell and setup the Kingdom of Heaven on earth." John Wesley
"When we have a spirit of thanksgiving, we can hold all things lightly." Richard Foster
"What we call the process, God calls the end." Oswald Chambers
"Faith by its very nature must be tried, and the trial of faith is not that we find it difficult to trust God, but that God's character has to be cleared in our minds." Oswald Chambers
"We are created to be connected with others-- it is part of our God image, for He is 3 intimately, utterly connected beings in one." Larry Crabb
"There must be more to Christianity than well-managed pain." Larry Crabb
"The point of our lives in this world isn't comfort, but training and preparation for eternity." Lee Strobel
"Worry is most often a prideful way of thinking that you have more control over life and its circumstances than you actually do." Irene Hunt
"Do not be afraid. Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord which He will accomplish for you this day." Moses

Most significant quote in my face today: "Undress yourself morally before God of everything that might be a possession until you are a mere conscious human being, and then give that to God...Are you more devoted to your idea of what Jesus wants than to Himself?" Oswald Chambers.

It's not fair....

WARNING.......The National Weather Service has issued a SEVERE WHINE ALERT for the following blog....at 4 am, EST, Scott was observed awake in Boston, unable to sleep...you are advised to seek wisdom or insight elsewhere.....the following blog contains heavy pity and large, damaging sarcasm.....take shelter from the self-loathing that follows....stay tuned to this blog for updates, and hopefully a better mental-state tomorrow....

....it's not fair....I have been up since 3 am with a pulsing in my right elbow....same elbow that pulsed a few weeks ago...kinda hot, a little swollen, and hurts like hell....just took some Tylonol for it (all I had), but it still feels like at any moment, a small, slimy alien will come bursting forth from it, providing yet another classic moment for some future sci-fi movie.

I am not sure what this recurring pain means. I know, for the last 10 years or so, that I have been on a roller-coaster of health and fitness....weight up, weight down, working out like a fiend, performing a passable imitation of a 10-toed sloth....I wonder if the abuse I have inflicted on my body these last 41 years is finally catching up to me....take my elbow (please!)...I am not sure what is wrong with it...it was fine yesterday, and tonight.....BAM....no sleep....various body parts, at various times, seem to stop working right for no apparent reason....ankles, elbows, toes, etc...the litany of parts is endless....ironically enough, the one part that has been true blue, no warranty work needed, has been....oh well...never mind....

I try to exercise....reallllly I do.....and when I do, my body craves more, which is what is supposed to happen....so I really don't think it is a deficiency of the body....more a deficiency of the will....the mind....that, and my ever-changing schedule....well, and the fact that I can't eat what a typical Ethopian 3 year old eats in a day and not pack on the pounds....it's not fair that I see others throwing down boxes of sweets (no, literally throwing the food down their gullets), and it seemingly evaporating through their pores....I really don't eat that much....I have tried to be honest with myself on this point....yes, there are times where my diet is "corrupted", for lack of a better word, but for the most part, I eat relatively healthily...salads, lots of chicken and fish, etc...

...so here is what I want you to do, world....please hide all the donuts....just don't display them...no donuts, or cakes, to tempt me, and I will be fine....oh, and potato chips....hide the chips too please....no donuts, cakes or chips, and I will feel the pounds melt away. Oh, cookies too....chips, cookies, donuts, cakes, and french fries....cadbury eggs too....oh...and that damn chocloate....anything chocolate....is that too much to ask, world, to help me regain my svelte figure, and subsequent health? And time...gimme more time to exercise....and don't let that time interfere with my work schedule....maybe a few more hours each day...bump it to 26 or 27....that would make me happy....

....The NWS has cancelled the SEVERE WHINE ALERT for this blog...continue your normal activities....

...that is what I am afraid of.....

Moonlight Sonata

...actually more like moonlight theme and variations.
Definition:
a musical motive: a recurrent figure that is developed through the course of a musical composition.
The Great Composer's passing tones in my life have been showing themselves to be more a motive. Now, they are taking shape enough to warrant being described as a full-fledged theme. Variations are already making themselves evident. What is this contradictory little counter-melody set in the middle of this larger work, a work fraught with activity?
Wait...do nothing...be the audience.
So strange, because this Composer has spent months orchestrating a dramatic prelude, a display that sets me in place to fulfill an active calling. He saw to it that this larger musical work was carefully notated, and not just randomly created through the improvisations of the players, (for they had little awareness they were making music at all.) It is all by His design, inspired by the internal "ear" of the Composer Himself. And who can hear what is in His head?
So for the most recent variations that give verification to this new theme?

Variation #1: My husband dreams...he takes me to a resort the exterior of which is surrounded by many pools, each with a broken cherub-fountain gracing it. He repairs these fountains, while I simply sit and dine at a cabana. He sets them flowing again, except the one nearest the cabana for it works even when it is not upright, and after all, it is tipped to fill his glass. What this means for him, I do not know, but what it means for me is...sit and dine while another works.

Variation #2: My son dreams...he and his father repair equipment at a playground. Where was I? "You don't get to come there yet, Mommy. But Daddy and I have so much fun."

Variation #3: Interactions with a friend...in which God asked me to serve as the bread of His presence for this friend. But now He tells me it is time for this friend to discover that the bread of a friend is not sufficient...touching God deeply must ultimately be done by each alone.

Variation #4: A photo...of these three: the husband, the son, the friend. A photo that God burned into my memory as I went photo-surfing with the kids last fall...God said, "Remember this one...it will matter." Indeed it does, for these three variations are the three in the photo. Standing close, embracing the child, embracing each other: they are the epitome of what is best in brotherhood across the ages...and although it was my hands that produced this particular picture, I am not the subject matter.

Variation #5: A girl...with Down's Syndrome. She is a young woman not quite understanding her degree of impact (a girl who is also me on a different scale.) She becomes hysterical at a basketball game because the team she went to watch compete in the state finals in basketball takes second (as compared to first) place. When one of her mentors asks why she is so upset, she says the loss in this championship game is her fault. When asked how that can be, since she wasn't one of the players, she claims it is because she wasn't "there for them" enough. Although crowd support enhances performance, the players are after all the ones who ultimately win or lose the game. She didn't understand this concept. I'm beginning to.

Coda: A couple of days ago, I wrote a little poem, a soliloquy given by the personified moon. Looking back at it now, I am surprised, yet again, at how much I can teach myself, if I will only listen to what I have to say. For I am also her, I see. Bella luna. She sang wisely and joyfully about the time when the sun would rise. Are You saying that the horizon even now is growing light? Teach me to be a moon in the day light. For so long, You have allowed me to be a brightness standing relatively alone. Each of us, a brightness alone. But what is this sun? I need to know, for unlike Beethoven, I make this my sonata: A moon who, though not particularly romantic, still loves enough to make room. Will I disappear? Will I still share the sky with that sun, only to be happily, receptively, femininely less vibrant in the things that require strong and burning light? A "children's moon" they call it whenever it sits in a day-lit sky. Fitting name.

Recapitulation of the original theme: Even now, however, You do not let me forget that I may again be called into activity. Was it You who inspired me to use "the musical motive" as a blog organizer here? After all, another definition for motive: something (as a need or a desire) that cause a person to act. To act? What happened to "be the audience?" A whispered reminder that the score continues, counter-melodies end, new ones begin, turn the page.

One last request: sharpen my sight-reading skills. I sense a "hairy passage" might follow when I finish counting these measures of rest.

The Senses of Spring

Looking up...
Though the branches are still bare,
As they clatter together above me.
Is the wind that moves them not a bard of spring?
Do I not hear it?

And though I breathe no heady sweetness wafting from them,
No spring blossoms yet to fling their fragile, delicate scent upon the wind--
Still the spice of wet growing wood hangs newly in the air.
Is it not also a scent to drink deeply?
Do I not smell it?

And in those branches bare perch and sing birds
Newly returned, heralds of these welcome changes.
Especially with the trees still starkly bare,
Do I not better see them?

And looking down...
The grass so tragically fallen
A yellow heap of yesterday's glory, spawning sadness, yet
Are there not even now the moss and fern
Sprouting through, crying out "More green to follow."
Do I not reach down and touch them?

And looking out...
Though a winter's night still brittles the world
Is not the beauty of the chestnut horse
Standing in the sparkle of a dawning field a sign.
The sheen of his flank in full afternoon gallop
Even now evident in the flick of his morning tail.
Do I not know it?

So even as I take my last walk of winter...I gather my senses.
One remains, kept for another time, kept for hope.
The feast that brings all others senses into one?
Will I not taste it?

Songbirds learn to sing at night....

The deep is such a dark place...and cold.
Night and winter in this world are but hints of it.
Still we know to be afraid, even in our short-sightedness.
Out of whose womb came the ice, the terrible crystal, said Job.
The face of the deep is frozen, said Ezra.
Darkness was on the face of the deep, said Creation.

Is this the end, then? Cold, dark dormancy as we numbly drift into the sleep of death, never even knowing?
He makes a path to shine, said Job.
Rays of light flash from his hands, where his awesome power is hidden, says Habakkuk.
Bless the Lord, you servants who stand by night in the house of the Lord, say those who are brave enough to sing the Song of Ascents.

What is the reason for it all, then? We do not know, so we choose to think You, too, are ignorant...and that is in our gracious moments. More often, we choose to think You do not care. But if we listen closer, what will we hear in the cold dark?
I form the light and create darkness,
I make peace and create calamity...
Woe to him who strives with his maker...
I will give you the treasures of darkness, says God,
through Isaiah.
What I tell you in darkness, speak in the light, says God, through Matthew.

And so the moon sings, before she goes dim:

I will shine brightest just before the dawn...and I thrill at the breaking of day.
Am I jealous of the sun, who will come with so much brightness?
How can I be jealous, don't I know better than any that my brightness comes from him? Leads to him?
So I watch with much alertness, for the grey line at the horizon...the herald of his coming.
I sigh, knowing soon I will rest.
For brightening a dark, cold world is a lot of work
For reflected light to do.
Soon he'll have his day...and then
Even brighter light shall come.

For finally...John speaks his Revelation:
Behold, He is coming in clouds...(of storm and darkness, but then...)

"The city had no need of the sun or of the moon to shine, for the very glory of God illuminates it. The Lamb is its light," said John, as he saw the end of all things as we know them...and the beginning of things we do not yet know.

my husband (and my son) dream...

...in tandem sometimes, and I
don't know whether to be amazed...
...mystified...
...grief-stricken...
Whatever you are preparing them for, O God, make us stong and faithful enough to pour ourselves into it...each in our own way.
Remind me that everthing you do is good, and that you are kind and your "burden" easier than any alternative that may be in the playing field. Nolan sees it from the side of innocent childhood in his dreams. He thinks it will be great fun, this thing you have for them to do together...may he be right...whatever it is...

Late nite in Las Vegas...

10:52 pm in Las Vegas probably doesn't qualify as late night, but I guess it all depends on your relativity. 10:53 seems to my East Coast comfortable system as almost 2 AM, hence the late night moniker.

I have had somewhat of an epiphany on this trip to Las Vegas. 2 actually. The first is the dawning realization that I am a different person than the one that used to thrive in the here and there, hither and fro that is the constant life-blood of this 24 hour city. As I walk among the thousands of people here (most with the single minded intention of losing as much money as they can before their practical inner-banker over-rides their compulsion) I realize that there is, unfortunately, so much....false....here. False bodies, false bravado, false dreams.....false. I realize that at one time, I blended into that mind-set like a needle in a needle stack. But no more. I have evolved, I guess...nothing higher or mightier than these bewildered folks...just different. This gives me a great deal of comfort, as well as a profound sadness, both for those I observe now, and for the lost years I tried desperately to use the falseness as a coat of armor to block out the truths that were trying to gain my attention.....at least they have it now...and I am much happier...

The second revelation came as I read the tributes to Dana Reeve, the recently deceased widow of Christopher. Many wonderful words were deservedly written about Mrs. Reeve. She was held up as a paragon of virtue, womanhood, and humanity, all at once. But see, the funny thing was that the more I read, the more I was certain I knew the woman described within the accolades....and suddenly, much like an unexpected thunderclap on a bright, clear day, I knew who they were talking about...

...I've been married to her for almost 12 years.

Sometimes, it takes something outside your sphere of relativity to realize the specialness of those around you. Every trait described, every positive listed of a life well lived, mirrored the qualities of my special love. She would probably deny most of it, but it is undeniable (sorry honey). Her kindness, here selflessness, her beauty both in the physical sense as well as in her spirit, her special relationship with her children, her concern for others, her ability to see far outside her own circumstances, her ability to tolerate a sometimes trying husband.....all parts of her very essence. Times like this, I am struck how incredibly fortunate I am that she has been given to me, more so that she chooses to stay with me...I only hope my actions and words show her how incredible I feel she is, and that as the world holds Mrs. Reeve as an example of a live well lived, they will not overlook you, my love, as one that remains...

Sing it...

Words to one of my favorite spirituals, must be done a capella, 4-part harmony at least, in a haunting minor key:

Wade in the water...
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water...
'Cause God's gonna trouble the water...

(Was going to put in pics of you and the kids swimming that summer evening you guys had the lake all to yourselves, love, but the upload isn't working right tonight...sorry. Have to just trigger your memories of the pictures...Remember the one of Nolan, as noble-looking as fits his name...waist deep in water gleaming golden all around him, his fierce and powerful look, almost comical on one so young, as he turned his head just in time for his eyes to connect with the camera? That's one I was going to give you. Also one of you tossing them into the air, defying gravity at the powerful hands of their father...one of those, too. Remember from my words, I guess.)

"Maybe we should let me go..."

...a quote from Christopher Reeve's biography, Still Me. It is what he said to his wife soon after his paralysis. Just three years into marriage, with both their lives looking so promising,--so much more could have been shattered besides those pieces of his neck, his spine. Her response was that she would be there for the long haul. Nine years, it ended up being. Basically, she said that she didn't need it to be easy, she just needed it to be with him. In a later book, she spoke of the fact that they found hidden gifts in sharing hardship. When he died, she had been a faithful wife, mother, activist for his cause. Not that long ago, her mother also died...of ovarian cancer. Now she, too, is dead...of lung cancer. I grieve for their 13-year-old son who will have to finish growing up without them as active parents; but in the short time that he did have them, he may have actually seen more of these "hidden gifts" she spoke of than many others see whose parents live to be 90.
We watched Cinderella Man just the other night, and the same feeling hit me then that I feel right now. How many of us actually stood in a doorway like the children in that movie, watching, learning as our anguished parents spent themselves: their pride, their health, their hopes and dreams for their own futures...to make a better world for us, their children. So desolate, so pathetically noble...handing off a lone piece of balogna so that a child wouldn't go hungry, and lying that he was "actually full" so that the child wouldn't know he suffered hunger at her expense. The look that passed between mother and father in that moment was the highest expression of respect and love. Few other opportunities afford such a love exchange. Few can bear it. But how much more faithful to the goal of preserving something good for us is that piece of balogna given to the child than are all the Mustangs that we proudly toss the keys to into the hands of our teenagers.
Few of us have experienced such things, but not because our parents wouldn't have done it for us...simply because they didn't have to. I wonder how well we would serve if such a call were put upon more of us than just these few randomly "unlucky" ones, like the famous Reeves family? What makes one man the Cinderella Man and another the man too proud or maybe too weak, too idealistic to walk in that type of gritty nobility, so instead he dies as a nearly-unknown victim of Hooverville violence?
What signs remain in the Central Park of today that reflect its inglorious days during the Depression? I wonder if we should ask our grandparents, what few of them are left, to tell us the stories of the past one more time before they all die away and no one is left who remembers how to live in anything but "Happy Days."

...home alone

...well, not exactly. In spite of attempts to the contrary, I managed to pass this bug that is bedeviling me to my youngest son. I can't think of many things more gut-wrenching than seeing your offspring suffer from a sickness, even if it is temporary. He is in and out of "it", sometimes brimming with energy, and other times as lifeless as a rag doll. The doctor says to watch it, and if there is fever for 5 days to come in...small comfort.

One thing a change in your schedule does do is to provide you with a little time to think...to organize your thoughts. Many times it comes as a necessity, tying to juggle the tasks you were going to do into the time you now don't have. I have found that the "square peg" in "round hole" seems to be appropriate for these times. But, what cha gonna do?

I can't say that I am full of any deep thoughts today...no insight to the ill's of the world (or at least my part of it). Just a mandatory lazy day, the kind that drives a efficiency freak like me crazy....too much to do, no idea how it will get done, not a clue when I will figure it out....oh well...my little one needs my attention, and right now, there is nothing more important in my life....

my husband dreams (part 2)

...the most amazing things even yet.
Amazing in their content: us sharing our bed with the likes of two elephants and a Frenchman in a speedo. What?

Amazing in his having the temperment that he is not embarrassed to share such a dream.

Amazing in what I find when I "research" his dreams, as I have promised to faithfully do. For when I google elephant and Christianity (for strangely, elephants have been in my dreams lately, too) I discover an obscure blog in which the blogger has ties with another "yellow elephant" blogger who is deply engrossed in his own questions about war when it is "religion" based. A blogger who claims that his "internal Frenchman" recommends a documentary about the example of theocratic statehood that can be found in the state of Utah.
Amazing because we have been given notice within the last year or so that we are very likely going to have to move to Utah due to my husband's occupation. And with my name, Deborah, meaning "bee" in Hebrew and Utah being the beehive state, and...Well, we certainly will be renting the documentary to watch.
Amazing in that by our willingness to share things that feel idiotic, we discover the very oddities and unique qualities are the things that affirm a larger guidance than just our own random subconscious bubbles bursting (To use your own imagery, my love, I wonder if some of your bubbles are not just from your own memories!)
Now as to the big black laundry woman who startles the Frenchman out of our bed...well, that will have to wait for a google tomorrow. I'm still too freaked out by today's revelations!

"If anyone is thirsty...

...let him come to me and drink. " My favorite quote of the day plays with this verse.

"He did not say, 'Good I'm glad you admit it. Now stop being so selfish. Repent of your thirst and get on with loving others. Bury your hurt under renewed committment and stay productively busy, and by the way keep a safe distance from people. If you get too close you'll be hurt again and that could make you focus too much on yourself.' Nor does He say, 'Now that you're in touch with your thirst, I want you to explore it deeply. Get together with the other folks in your church who admit desires and study what can be done to feel better.' What He said was "Come!" Neither deny your thirst nor focus on it. Christ's invitation to come to Him on the basis of perceived thirst grants legitimacy to the longings of our soul."

I know I have already learned so much about these things, O God, but I also know I could continue to learn a little more about them every day for the rest of my life. Maybe I'd have the equivalent of a bucketful out of the ocean of what You have to offer me in these things.

How many Portuguese does it take to care what Columbus found?

Anything of note happen in my world today? Let me think....hmmm...nope, nothing.
On the other hand, if you were to ask about things of note in my "other" reality (my faith world) well there I experienced the usual confirmation of wild speculations that only make sense in that world. It is a place that exists larger than the random elements of this world, even though it is superimposed upon this world...but who wants to hear about that...and what I think and discover as an explorer there...for now are only for me...but maybe not for always...in fact, there may be a woman who already explores there and doesn't realize the land in which she travels. Maybe I am to speak to her. Maybe we are to wander a bit together. She thinks she travels in a country so remote from the one her husband travels. He knows he travels in this faith reality, but her world-- He calls himself Christian, and she calls herself Wiccan and although they are deeply in love, the faith breach seems to them to be utterly complete. Their one common belief: they want to do their part to rid the world of injustice. I wonder if their faith breach is really that complete? Could the common elements bring the mystery elements to light? Help me, God, as You whisper in my ear the things she needs to hear. Keep her alive until they find their common faith. Give them peace tonight as they get results on the breast cancer biopsy she had today. Let them live their "image of God" scripts well in this moment of climax. Show me what You want from me regarding this...if it be anything other than to pray.