Where Are You Christmas?

Two angels.  Top my tree.  Always.

Two very special angels ... one blonde ... one brunette ...
it's a family tradition.

Surprisingly, it wasn't my idea.  It was their father's idea.
It's important to give credit where credit is due.


There have always been an abundance of angels in our house.  My collection started when I was just a small girl and my own father lovingly called me ... Angel Fluff.

Once Abbi came along ... so did some delightful angels ... that belong to her.  One of them ... a blonde beauty in a velvet dress ... graced the top of the tree.

Each year, the tree was installed in it's stand ... and the lights strung on the branches ...then  the decorating was left to me.  Until it was time to put the angel up on top.  That was always Dad's job. He was taller ... and he took great joy in the specialness of the task.


He said something like "There she is ... my Abbi-angel!"... as he began to position her in the branches. And Abbi said, "What about Jess-A-Mine?"  (That's what she called Jessi that first year.)

Never missing a beat ... he wandered over to the counter where all of the Christmas pretties were spread out ... and spotted a sweet brunette angel.  Picking her up, he secured the angels together in what appears to be a sister-hug.  With a kiss on her cheek, he declared her ...  his Jessi-angel.

Together ... the Abbi-angel and the Jessi-angel ... were carefully perched on top of the tree.

In that a moment ... out of love & laughter ... a family tradition was born.

Christmas.  I've always loved Christmas.

The trimmings.  The trees.  Baking.  Old memories.  Making new memories.  And all of the traditions. Season after season ... full of hope, joy and love.

It's been many a year now ... since I've been able to feel Christmas. And I wonder, what are you supposed to do with those family traditions ... when that family no longer exists?

The first couple of years ... after the ice storm ...  the best I could do was put up the tree.  If it hadn't been for Jessi ... I might not have even managed that.  The last couple of years ... I have made the effort to at least rummage through ALL of the boxes ... shuffling ... sorting ... and selecting a few more things each year ... to bring out ... in an effort to recapture the joy.

A live tree kind of gal.  That's me.  There was never an artificial tree in my home ... not when I was single ... not when we were a young family ... no matter where we lived ... we always managed to find a great ... live ... tree.

The Arkansas years were always special ... we'd go tramping through the woods with Uncle Bill and Uncle John ... make our selection ... cut it down ... and bring it home.  Even that one Christmas ... early on ... that the girls and I spent alone, we went to the farm ... and we had a real tree.

I'm not sure why I've denied myself ... the real tree ...during these years.  Somehow it has seemed like too much trouble.  Of course, when I recount all of my humorous artificial tree stories I realize that none of my ... real live trees ... have ever been as much trouble as all of them!

Hindsight tells me that it's because I haven't really been ... living.  My heart's been frozen ... far from fully ... alive.

Heard a discussion on the radio a week or so ago ... about real trees versus artificial ones.  The numbers were heavily weighted towards fake trees ... for a variety of reasons.  One caller observed
that ... faux is the new real.

There I was ... sitting in traffic ... with tears running down my face ... as the reality of the situation set in.  I've been trying to ... bluff my way ... through Christmas.  Not in a full blown pretender kind of way ... not even in a fake-it-til-you-make-it fashion.

Just enough ... of the way we were ... to satisfy Jessi ... and not enough ... reason for the season ... for my heart to heal.

And, of course, right on cue ... came that song .... on the radio .. you know, the station that insists on playing continuous ... holiday ... music but no Christmas carols.  Guess they, too, are selling out to the whole ... faux is the new real ... concept.

Where are you, Christmas?

Why can't I find you?

Why have you gone away?

Where is the laughter

you used to bring me?

Why can't I hear the music play?

My life is changing

I'm re-arranging

Does that mean Christmas changes too?
Where Are You Christmas? Faith Hill

The song gets to the heart ... of my situation.  And, of course, that's it ... that's what you have to do ... re-arrange.  And, yes, MaryJane, that means Christmas changes, too.

In her own way, Jessi has been sharing her heart.  It's been a long time coming.  She's finally saying ... outloud ... the troublesome things that she's been carrying around ...
trying to figure out on her own.

In a moment of total distress, she emphatically stated ... that she was sad because ...
"I really love Christmas, Mom!"

With her words, the final shards of ice ... that have been holding my heart hostage ... splintered and shattered. It took me a day or two to realize ... that it wasn't actually my heart ... breaking.  Sure, it sort of felt like that ... there was quite a bit of pain.

Pain is a sign of healing. Healing means my heart is ... breaking ... free.  It's part of the process of getting my whole heart back.

For the first time,  Jessi & I are both being real.  Together we are grieving the loss of Christmas' past. We are accepting that things are never going feel the way they used to be.  And that's ok.

This Christmas has already taken on a life of it's own.  So I am going to simply go with the flow.

Each box will be unpacked ... we will pick & choose the things that make us happy ... that conjure up memories that make us smile.  And those things that hurt too much ... well, I'm not sure what we will do with those things.  

Maybe Abbi will want some of them.  Her life ... her memories ... aren't all tangled up with ours right now.  Or possibly we will share a few of them with their Dad.  There are bound to be some empty spots in his Christmas' these days, too.  

Next year ... I am going to have a  ... real ... tree.
And up on top ... will be a single angel ...
one that Abbi gave to me.

A new tradition ...

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) December 2012 

Do You See What I See?

For weeks now, I have been pondering a simple question.  It's a childlike one.

Why did God create the night sky ... to look like ... that?

The closer I walk with God ... the more I become aware that nothing is really as it seems.  Nothing is random either.  There are no chance creations.  The more complex it appears ... the more likely that it's simplicity holds powerful answers.

God is the master of ... simplicity.  It's people who make things so complicated ... and hard.

So on clear summer nights ... cool, crisp winter ones ... and all of the evenings in between ... I marvel at the beauty of the stars ... the planets ... the universe.  I am totally enamored with the moon .. especially glorious full moons.

The most recent one offered up a week of brilliant luminoisty.  Shining ... clear ... enlightening.

I see the moon.

The moon sees me.

God bless the moon.

And God bless me.

I look heavenward ... on any given night ... to find the moon ... the stars .. all of the universe ... simply there.  Sure ... the elements move ... re-position themselves ... as the earth travels through it's orbit ... it's continuous rotation ... season after season ...

... yet ...

... the heavens remain the same ... constant ... from everlasting to everlasting.

There is comfort in the knowledge that the changes in the stars ... really aren't changes ... simply new perspectives ... based on the the weather ... the time of year ... the wherever I am ... now.

Outside ... looking up ... all I see are the lights.  Shining.  

Behind the lights are stars ... and planets ... and galaxies ... and who really knows what life ... or lack of living ... is taking place ... on the other side ... of those lights.

There are also patches of sky ... that are a little less lit.  Dim flickerings ... can sometimes be seen ... if I look really hard.  And in some cases, there is nothing but ... dark.

Dark is the absence of light.

Imagine you are taking a plane ride at night.  Once the pilot reaches the correct altitude .. you are simply traveling along there amidst the clouds ... above the world as we know it.

From the window, you look ... down.  All you see are the lights.

Bright lights. Dim lights.  Lights that are flickering ... struggling to stay lit ... or to be seen.  Large clusters of lights ... random lights scattered across the landscape ... patches of dark in between.

Photo by Paul Henry

That's what God sees.  

When He looks down on us.

The lights.

He's not seeing the things we find ourselves so focused on.  It's not the villages or farms ... castles or caves ... updown or downtown ... or any of the things we've made so important ... the what-we-haves ... or the what-we-have-nots ... that He sees.

From where He sits.  It's all the same.  Either there's light ... or there's a lack of light. 

Pure & simple.  He delights in the light.  He grieves the darkness.

In the beginning God made from nothing the heavens and the earth.

The earth was an empty waste and darkness was over the waters.

And the Spirit of God was moving over the top of the waters.

Then God said, "Let there be light", 

And there was light.

God saw that the light was good.

He divided the light from the darkness.

~Genesis 1-4

Stars have cast light on the comings & goings of the universe ... since time began.  

God created the stars ... God created light ... then God created man.

Candles have cast light on the progress of man for centuries. Man created candles to cast out the darkness that surrounds him.

It's better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness.  All the darkness of the world can not extinguish the light of a single candle.

God created man. He placed His light within each soul. His light is love. Love is God within us.  

We are His candles.  The brighter the light ... the greater the love ... flowing through us.

From God's perspective ... the only thing that matters is ... the brightness of the lights.

When He sees a patch of darkness ... He lights a candle.  Thousands of candles can be lighted by one single candle flame.

God knows that.

So why did God create the heavens ... to look like a sea of lights ... shifting & adjusting from season to season .. dimming & brightening based on circumstances or conditions? Why doesn't He allow us to see the hustle bustle .. the energy ... the activity ... the wealth or poverty ... behind each star ... defining each galaxy?  Why does He tell us to ... look up ... when we are searching for answers ... seeking Him?

Possibly it's because  He wanted us to have a mirror image ... a living, constant reflection ... of what He sees when He looks in on us.  To give us a clear picture ... a simple visual reminder ... night after night ... of the purpose of our lives.

Clearly ... at the end of the day ... it's the brightness of our light ... the other candles lit ... the glow of the love flowing out from us ... that matters.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

We look up to the skies ... seeking God ... & we marvel at the lights.  

God looks down from the skies ...reaching out to us ... & He delights ... in the lights.  

Pun intended. No doubt.

For delight is ... something that brings great pleasure ... joy ... a high degree of 

gratification and satisfaction.  

Lights in the world ... delight the Lord.

From age to age ... He remains the same.  He's really not terribly concerned with material things ... or technology ... or money ... or power ... or creature comforts.  Civilizations come and go ... and kingdoms rise and fall..  Man continues to invent things ... real things ... intangible things ... creations that confuse & distort ... the simplicity of ... what is really important.  

Things destroy man ... time after time

The stars move across the heavens ... in deliberate rhythms & patterns ... that defy our understanding.  From beginning ... to end ... the celestial wonders of the night sky ... spin & twirl ... travel their paths ... dim & flare ... forever constant ... a reflection of God's perspective ... of us.

You are holy, 

great and mighty.

The moon and the stars

declare who You are.

I'm so unworthy

but still You love me.

Forever my heart will sing

of how great You are.

All glory ... honor ... and power is Yours. Amen.

~Cannons byPhil Wickham.

As I move towards .. what's coming next ... I am reflecting on ... the luminosity of my light ...

And it occurs to me ... that the light ... really isn't at the end of the tunnel.  It's right here. 

Where I am.  

It's now.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c)December 2012

Give thanks ...

It's Thanksgiving morning ... and I am drinking coffee.

There is no turkey in the oven ... there is no pan of cornbread dressing on the counter ... started last night ... waiting to be stirred a time or two more this morning ... before being slipped into the oven.

There's no collection of ingredients on the counter ... to be assembled into sides .. and there was no refrigerator shuffle & juggle last nite .. to make room for all of the good food ... to be offered up today.

Somehow it doesn't feel special ... you know .. it doesn't feel like ... Thanksgiving.

There will be an abundance of food later ... when I arrive at my brother's house ...  I will add my two simple dishes to the smorgasbord ... and call it a day.

Sipping my coffee ... I am reminiscing ... about dressing ... from the past.  Because you see, for me, the dressing has always been the centerpiece of the Thanksgiving meal.

As a child, we always went to Mimi's for Thanksgiving.  It was Gee's home, too, of course ... and he always had plenty of outdoor puttering around for us to do. He always made us feel like we were helping him in some tremendous way ... with whatever task was at hand.

Hindsight tells me, his task was to keep the children out of the kitchen ... and out from underfoot.

Every dish was carefully prepared ... dishes washed as she went along ... so that at the end ... there were only the plates & serving pieces to wash up ... to put away.
Dishwashing was always a part of the day.

The table was always beautifully decorated.  A special centerpiece ... exquisitely designed placemats ... napkin rings ...  good china ... and the polished silver that reverently
came out only on holidays.

I really don't remember much about the menus ... just that there was always plenty of dressing ... and pumpkin pie.

I've never cared much for pumpkin pie ...

Mimi's dressing was always yummy. Her's was a simple recipe with mostly just moist cornbread and a few other ingredients added for consistency ... perfect when smothered in rich turkey gravy.

Thanksgiving at Mimi's.  It was our tradition.  There was never any question about where we would be ... on the day of giving thanks.  Every single Thanksgiving memory ... with Mimi ... is tinged with warmth & acceptance.

Mimi loved us so well.

And some Thanksgivings we would venture out to Aunt Julia's later in the afternoon.  Not every year ... but enough years to have the childhood memories.

Smack dab in the middle of her party is where I always tried to be as an adult ... after Mimi was gone.

Aunt Julia loved me well, too.

Aunt Julia's was always a mayhem of friends, family & hospitality.  There was enough food to feed 12 armies.  And it was chaos everywhere!  There were two refrigerators jammed full of stuff she had been preparing for days ... maybe even weeks.  And whenever you opened the door of one, you were likely to discover ... one more dish ... that had been overlooked earlier.

All of the food would be ready by noon.  Some would be put out in serving dishes .... others were simply ladled up from the pots on the stove .. and Tom ... he was carved continuously from his resting place on the pulled-out rack of the oven.

It was pretty much an open house type of affair ... with people coming & going .. fixing a plate ... sitting down to eat with whoever was sitting down to eat at the same time.   Eat early ... eat often ... it has always been my idea of perfect holiday gatherings ... casual & cozy ...
without all of the fanfare.

Don't get me wrong.  Aunt Julia had good china ... and we used it.  She loved china ... and had several patterns ... and due to the parade of people who would grace her feast throughout the day ... often there were as many as 2 or 3 sets of beautiful china called into action .. gracing the table. Even with the continuous dishwashing.

She had gorgeous silver, too.  It was kept in a hand-carved chest with legs .. that was ornate and beautiful as well.  The REAL silverware was always used whenever there was a gathering ... because there were enough pieces to keep pace with even her most ambitious guest-count.

And more importantly, she loved to use it ... any ole time ... not just for special occasions.  Truth is, she would say it WAS a special occasion anytime her loved ones were there.

I am not sure how many items were on her holiday buffet ... it was heapings of goodness.  Fried eggplant patties, deviled eggs, Abbie's pea salad, turnips, cranberry sauce ... and the list would go on and on ... always including a pot of purple hull peas.

I don't think there was ever a time that I visited Aunt Julia's that there wasn't a pot of peas on the stove. It was her signature sign of hospitality.  Peas on the stove ... Jim Beam on the counter.

As far as dressing goes ... Aunt Julia's takes the cake. Pun intended.

A couple of days in the making ... no real recipe ... just a list of basic ingredients ... added to ... stirred ... seasoned ... and soaked .. then baked off just before serving.

The making of the dressing ... the time involved .. the attention to taste ...  and texture ... and the good company of ole Jim Beam ... is a holiday tradition all on it's own.

I remember the first time that Aunt Julia allowed any of us to help with the preparations. It was just a few years ago ... even though it feels like a lifetime.  My cousin & I were grown ... accomplished cooks in our own right ... jostling for favor.

Aunt Julia asked Abbie Anne to stir the dressing.  She's never let me forget that.  You see, she's sure that means she was Aunt Julia's favorite .. and it's ok with me ... for her to think that.

She's still my favorite cousin ... even after the dressing-stirring incident!

At Aunt Julia's there was always enough love to go around.

There was always one whole table of desserts.  Seasonal pumpkin pies.  Mincemeat pies.  Not sure if those were especially for my dad ... they were, however, his favorite.  My Aunt Merthyne would always bustle in with her signature cherry pies.

And pecan pies.  Several of them. 

In the last years,  Aunt Julia always made a pecan pie ... just for me ... my very own ... because I loved them so much.  When we cleaned out her two 6' chest freezers for the very last time ... there was a homemade pecan pie ... wrapped and frozen ... clearly marked ... "MJ" ...

A  pecan pie in the waiting ... for me ...proof positive ... that actually it was ME ... that was her favorite!

I miss those Thanksgivings.  At Mimi's.  At Aunt Julia's.  Because Thanksgiving was never really about the food ... it was about family ... and friends ... and love.  And no matter where I was living ... I always made a special effort ... to try to find my way ... to one of their ... homes ... for the holidays.

In the off years ... I always tried to make my home ... feel that same way ... to all who gathered there.

Maybe that's why I enjoy the cooking of the Thanksgiving meal ... so much.  It's one of my very favorite things to do.  I love planning the menu ... preparing  for days & days ... sharing the warmth of my home ... my hospitality ... myself ... with those I love.

It's been a good many years ... since I've had the pleasure ... the privilege ... of having a Thanksgiving meal at my house. Or any other special holiday gathering.

A couple of years ago, I chose to spend the day at the home of a friend who is like family ... and we cooked in his beautiful kitchen.  It came close ... but was not really the same ...

Because in the end ... all we had was a whole bunch of good food ... and random people.

And I was reminded ... again .. that Thanksgiving isn't really ... about the food.

Another cup of coffee ... and a little more pondering ... ruminating ... on the things for which I am thankful.  And they are many.

These years that my heart has spent in the wilderness ... have been lonely ... and healing.  And, yes, I am thankful that Jessi & I have had "places" to go ... for holiday meals.   I have allowed myself to be lulled into believeing that it really didn't make much sense for me to do all of that cooking ... since I don't have a family ... of my own ... anymore.  

It just doesn't feel like Thanksgiving ... without the smell of the turkey filling the house ... without breakfast casserole and mimosas ... without a counter full of ingredients ready to be turned into something wonderful ... without the stirring of the dressing ...

There's no one to blame ... but me.  For that feeling of emptiness ... in my heart.  I know it's because I have lost my sense of  ... home.

Jessi still bundles under her blanket ... and watches the Macy's parade.  It's one of the things we still share every year.  It's special to her.  She's special to me.

She loves me.  And together, we are a family.  The blessing of Jessi overwhelms me at times.

And each year, I have stubbornly made the dressing ... just like Aunt Julia's ... because it's my favorite ... and somehow it seemed important.

This year, I decided not to make the dressing.

Come to find out, no one who will be gathering with me today ... really likes it .. the way I do.    Everyone has their preference.   So I figured why bother ... if it's really ...only for me.

Not making the dressing ... has proven to be a BIG mistake.

So here I sit ... waiting for the parade to begin ... Jessi's singing along with some country music ... about love, luck and life ... it's feeling like it's just another day.

Sure there will be a nice meal ... and I am thankful that I have a place to go ... with people who are in my family.  That is a blessing for sure.

Somehow it's more about the food, though ... making sure no has to do too much ... about the doing it because it's what we're supposed to do ...

Every effort will be made to find some of the magic ... of Thanksgiving's past ... and who knows ... maybe this year will be the year that the magic ... shows up ... once again. 

We will talk about Christmas ... who's going to cook what ... the when & where of rattle gifts ... setting our sights on the next holiday ... which shifts the focus from just the food ...
to the presents ...

And again, I wonder ... when did it happen?!?  How have we found ourselves hiding behind the routineness ... the food ... the expectedness of the gathering ... the rigorous ritual of mandatory gift giving ... rather than the simple joy of giving thanks ... and the thanks in the giving?

Thanksgiving ... Christmas ... than a fresh start in the New Year ... somehow I will muster up the enthusiasm to face this holiday season ... unless the Mayans are right ... and then none of it really matters anyway.

Next year, though ... 2013 ... it's going to be the year I take my holidays back.

Most likely it's been a necessary part of the healing-of-MJ process ... to set aside it all aside ... for a while.  So that the empty holes in my heart weren't so obvious .. and there was chance for it to find restoration ... to be made whole again.

Enough, I say.  I want my holidays to feel like holidays ... celebrations of life & love .. friends & family.  No more coasting ... and simply getting by ... I am ready ... for my life to be full & overflowing with gratitude ... joy .. love.

I want to feel Mimi in the details ... I want to find Aunt Julia in the midst of my chaos.  I want to hear my father's laughter ... as he wanders through ... telling his funny stories ... gobble gobble gobble.

I want to share my traditions ... create new memories ... open the door of my heart to those who are important to me ... to bless others ... with the wonder of ... plenty of love to go around. I want my whole heart back.  I want to live life ... fully alive!

And I want awesome dressing ... and pecan pie.

Thanksgiving ... it's a day to honor God ... to thank Him for His blessings ... and His grace.  Humbly, I am learning to receive both ... neither of which  I deserve ... from Him.

Today I am thankful ... for blessings unseen ... that are already on their way.

Give thanks with a grateful heart ...
give thanks to the Holy One ...

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) November 2012

The Last Word

It was Sunday morning.  I was sipping coffee and reviewing my week.  Re-visiting emails ... status posts ... and other messages that I had received from various other sources.

Pondering ... I gradually became aware that I was not alone.  At some point, He had entered the room ... and was sitting nearby.  Close enough for me to feel His presence ... yet just enough distance to not intrude.

A warmth rushed over me ... a peace, if you will ... and it made me smile.

At the time I tried to turn a phrase ... that described it ... I was at a loss for words.

A quick look at Facebook ... and there on a friend's wall was one of those little sticker things ... it read:
  

True friendship is sitting together in silence & coming away feeling 
like it was the best conversation you ever had.

And I thought ... that's close ... but not quite ... it.

I went back to my reflection.  Have you ever had one of those times in your life ... when every thing seems to run out ... all at once?

That's where I am at.  Out of direction ... out of focus ... out of purpose ... out of sync ...

Do you see a pattern in your love life?  That's the subject line in one of the emails that I put in my  take-a-look-at-later folder.  It struck me as funny at the time ... even though I never even opened it.

You see, I was sure that it was either an invitation to an online dating site ... or for a reading with a cyber psychic ...  neither of which were really necessary ... to decipher my love life.

It's patternless.

That's not really a word ... according to Webster.  Again, I smiled.

Go a little deeper.  Look for the pattern ... in your love ... in your life.  It came as a whisper along with a gentle nudge.

So I did.  I spent some time there ... and marveled at all of the love ... in my life. 

Shortly I moved on ... to some more saved emails .. with subject lines that had caught my eye during the week.

Be enthusiastic about your work.  That was the next one.  Not really sure what caused me to save that one for a later read.  I try to embrace each day with positivity and  enthusiasm.  Even though I am not really sure at the moment ... what my work is ... my enthusiasm compensates for that lack of clarity.

At least I like to think so.

Maybe I simply saved it as affirmation of sorts.  A re-assurance that somehow I was getting something right ... on occasion.

It seemed like a natural progression ... that the next one was ... Success: Do You Have It?

Supernatural is probably more like it.

This season of indecision ... and uncertainty ... and endings with no obvious beginnings ... doesn't really feel like success.  I continue to remind myself that I have never measured success in the traditional sense of money ... and things ... and comfort.

Feeling successful to me has always been more about encouragement, challenges met, obstacles overcome, lives touched, differences made ...

On Sunday.  I wasn't really feeling  ... success ... by any definition.

Took another break from my pondering .... to scroll down my wall again.  And, voila ... there was another friend ... with another sticker thingy ...

“Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.”
~Maya Angelou

 

And, of course, there was another nudge ... another whisper ... What do you make of that, MJ?

 

It was hard to argue ... unsuccessful ... at that point.  The rewards might not be there ... by any stretch of the imagination ... and it may take a little more pump priming to get the flow started ... still ... all in all ... by that very definition ... I AM a success.

So I said it outloud ... quietly at first ... i am a success ... as if I wasn't totally convinced.  The prompting came immediately.

Say it like you mean it, MaryJane.

So I did.  I said it confidently.  And I moved on.

The room had become warm & cozy.  His presence was enveloping me.  It felt nice.  And safe. I had time for one more selection ... before I headed out to Grace. 

 Turn your work into worship.

Wow.  I had to re-read that subject line ... a couple of times.  And let it sink in.

For the record ... it's often not what's in the emails that show up ... in their timely fashions ... that are significant to me.  It's mostly the titles ... and the thoughts they provoke ... the questions they raise ... as I struggle to find my answers ...

This one hit a little close to home.  Somewhat defensively, I argued that I am already doing that ... well, aren't I?  I am determined to make a living out of giving. I am pursuing the positivity & possibilities of people ... rather than the systematic process of making money. My personal mission statement is touching lives and making a difference. 

Surely I am making the right choices ... 

There were no nudges ... or whispers on this one.  

It was time to be going ... and apparently during my justified rebuttal, He had taken His leave ... 

So my venue changed ... my pondering continued ... and the praise team began to sing.  I knew all of the songs ... there I was multi-tasking ... lost in my thoughts but singing along ... 

It's just you and me here now,
Just you and me ... here ... now.

That's it, I thought.  That's exactly how it felt this morning ... when He was sitting with me ... not saying a word ... just the two of us ... here ... now.

Stop making it so hard, MJ, when it's really so simple.  Give it ALL to me.

There He was whispering ... and nudging me ... during the service ... after I had spent quite a few minutes in the car ... explaining to Jessi & Donald why they needed to be more mindful of doing that very thing.

He does things like that on purpose ... to get my attention.

Take my fret, take my fear
All I have, I'm leaving here.
Be all my hopes, be all my dreams
You're my delight, be my everything.

It was a powerful ... emotional ... exchange.  I made a note of it in my journal ... so that I can come back to it ... a spiritual marker.

Worship Me ... through your work, MaryJane. It sounded so obvious ... and simple ... when He put it like that.

Over the last week, I have been writing down daily action steps in the morning ... and then recapping the outcomes in the evening.  It's part of an intentional process that's intended to help me accelerate a personal moving forward ... with my work.

It has been an interesting process.  Helpful in some regards.  Rigid and confining, in others.

Sitting there waiting on Del to began speaking, I decided that I needed to re-think my daily action steps ... based on the direction that He had just given me.  

It's ok since this whole thing has been an experiment of sorts ... therefore, this coming week I will find ways to incorporate worship in each of my action steps.

That's my intent.  Even though I have no idea how that's going to look ... or feel ... yet.

After worrying my way through some pretty troublesome and confusing thoughts ... I now had a plan of sorts.  It was a relief to know that whatever Del had to say was most likely going to be for someone else ...this time.

It was special ... (yes, the pun is intended) ... that Del was speaking without notes.  He let us know that before he began.  He said this was such a personal message for him that he was going to wing it ... and share whatever God laid on his heart.

Del spoke about the stronghold of a wounded heart.  And the need to discover our own specialness with God.  It was a great message ... and I found hope and encouragement there.  However, it was not aimed directly at me.

Time came to take communion.  I was a little distracted with reminding Jessi to take the tray with both hands if she wanted to serve the others. You see, holding the tray ... offering the sacraments to the others ... is a very real part of Jessi's worship.

After we settled back in our seats ... Del returned to the platform ... poised and ready to pray ... then randomly wandered over into what I would call an ... afterthought.  

"You have an incredible opportunity (MaryJane) ... to be an instrument of God ... \to use whatever talents & gifts you have ... to touch someone's life ... 
and make them feel special.
  I challenge YOU (MJ) to act on every opportunity 
to make someone feel special!" 

Just a little ... something ... that God ... laid upon his heart, I'm guessing. And I distinctly heard the "MaryJane" and "MJ" ... spoken aloud.

It happens a lot ... between God, Del & me. I never know for sure whether anyone else hears the words ... exactly the same way ... or whether He simply says them to me.

Make people feel special.  That's your work, MaryJane. It's really that simple. Turn your work ... into worship ... love people, love me.

The whisper turned into something more like a giggle as my mind wandered back to the direct question posed in an email earlier in the week ... "Did you ever meet someone who always had to have the last word?"

Well, yes, I do happen to know someone ... exactly like that. Always on cue ... He delivers the punchline ... time after time ...He is the master of the consummate last word.

Today is Monday.  I walked before dawn ... watching for the meteor showers ... for the second morning in a row.  There was no light show for me.  

All of my work ... beginning today ... will be worship ... and ...
I will ... worship ... you, Lord.  Only you.

www.lifelessons-mj-blogspot.com

(c) october 2012

 

Puzzling the piece ...

I carry the pieces ... to my puzzle ... around in a ziplock bag.

For real.  I wouldn't kid about a thing like that.

It started out as a practical measure ... a long time ago.

You see, Jessi's always been a puzzle-piecing kind of gal.

Before she could talk to us ... in a language we could understand ... she was putting together puzzles.  She'd dump all of the pieces out on the table ... arrange & re-arrange ... until the picture was complete.

She quickly became bored with the ones with fewer, larger pieces .. designed for a child's hands ... and mind.  It was obvious ... even at a very early age ... that she was a master puzzler!

Left to her own devices, she'd drag the 100 ... 500 ... even 1000 piece puzzles out of the closet.  After removing the lid ... she'd scatter those pieces out ... and start matching them up.

Proof positive that she's my daughter ... drawn to the challenge ... with confidence & enthusiasm.

It's amazing still ... how keen her eye is ... to the shapes ... the colors.  She can put together a whole section inside the puzzle ... while I am still trying to figure out how the border pieces fit together ... thinking that's the best place to start since they all have a common straight edge.


Thing is ... as adept as she is to the complexities of puzzle piecing ... she is a lousy box opener.  Figuring out how to lift the lid ... all four sides evenly ... is not a part of her skill set.

She has the same problem with opening gifts.

Consequently, she approaches all package opening in the same fashion ... she gets ahold of one edge ... and rips her way inside ... with reckless abandon.

Works great when you aren't planning to use the box again ... but not so great for puzzle storage.

Such was the beginning of the ziplock puzzle bag habit ... at our house.  All puzzles, after the first visit, are bagged up for safe-keeping.

I know you must be wondering how she tells them apart once they are all bagged up. I don't have a good answer for that ... except to say that Jessi can look at the bag of hundreds of shapes & colors ... and know exactly what picture is inside.

It's simple to her, somehow ... yet the challenge for those of us who sort of need the box lid as a guide ... increases in the process.

One Christmas, Jessi got TWO  500 piece Wizard of Oz puzzles ... different pictures but made by the same company ... so the characters and colors all looked the same.

Everyone who knows Jessi ... knows how much she loves the movie ... and the story ... and the characters!  

For years she added us all into her own storyline ... her dad was the Cowardly Lion, her sister was the Scarecrow, and Pete the Mighty Dog was Toto.  Jessi, of course, was Dorothy ... adventuring down her personal yellow brick road.

And I ...

I had the dubious honor of being the Icky Ole Witch.  That's like a cross between Glinda the beautiful Witch of the North ... and the nameless Wicked Witch of the West who was actually Elvira Gulch in disguise.  

Jessi would start her imaginary story ... and she would name off her cast of characters ... and every time she would get to me ... she would throw her head back and laugh uproariously ... and boldly declare that I was the ... Icky Ole Witch.

It's a family term of endearment ... that I treasure. When I have grandchildren ... it is my desire to be known lovingly as Icky ... by the next generation as well.

Back to the puzzles.

After ripping open both Wizard of Oz boxes ... at one time ... the pieces of the two puzzles were mixed together.  It was very frustrating to me ... anyone could see that it was going to be impossible to ever put either of them together again ...

Both gifts were ruined. At least in my eyes.

Those Wizard of Oz puzzles continue to be amongst Jessi's favorites.

From time to time, she still drags that ziplock bag out ... and puzzles them together ... the two separate pictures ... from pieces that all look the same ... even though many have been lost along the way.

Which brings us to ... MY bag of puzzle pieces ...

Over time ... through move after move ... those bags of puzzle pieces have seen a lot of action.  And each year ... new puzzles are added to Jessi's arsenal.

It's been quite common over the years for me to find ... missing pieces ... in random, obscure places. Under beds, in corners, beneath couch cushions, in pockets ...
 
A few years back ... things changed around here ... leaving just me & her ... to face life on our own.  And a lot of re-arranging began ... I have found myself gathering ... examining ... discarding ... bits & pieces of .. me.

The final boxes from our Outer Banks days were drug in and sorted out ... an assortment of cartons, bags & piles of stuff left by those who moved on to new lives were tackled ... it has been a never ending process of packing ... and unpacking ... boxes from the garage, the storeroom, the upstairs, the downstairs ... resulting in the discovery that lots of pieces ... to her puzzles .. have somehow been ... let out of their bags.

I'm not sure why ... or when ... I started picking them up ... and tossing them into a ziplock of their own.  It was most likely during one of my cleaning out ... re-organizing ... sprees.  An unconscious gesture ... possibly even thinking that somehow I would return the pieces to their rightful homes ... since some of them were obvious.

Yeah, it is obvious where some of the pieces came from ... which picture they belonged to ... once upon a time.  Others ... not so clearly defined ... are going to be a little harder to figure out ... and then to decide if they are worth keeping around ... or not.

One day ... I picked up the bag ... thinking I should decide what to do with all of the mismatched pieces ...  and in a flash ... it hit me ...

This bag of rag-tag ... random ... pieces ... belonging to pictures from the past ... long-lost stragglers ... is a reminder that once out of the box ... out of the bag ... it's impossible to go back ... to where you once were ... before.

So I have kept the bag ... and keep adding to it ... as the opportunity arises.  It's one of my favorite props when I talk to groups about change ... and possibilities ... and hope.

It's been awhile since I've found any stray pieces ... around the house ... and in my life.  This past year has been focused on sorting through my collection.

I dump them out and re-arrange them ... often.  Literally ... and figuratively.  And there's no doubt that just as these pieces are missing from their original puzzles ... MY picture ... of the life I want to be living ... is still missing some pieces, as well.


The other day ... I found one ... a long-lost piece ... on the floor of the bathroom upstairs.  Keep in mind that the floor has been ripped out for months & months ... waiting to have some water damaged boards repaired.

So it's not like it's been hiding out there ... for a long time ... or anything.

It just appeared one day ... right in the middle of the floor.

A well-worn, ragged ... puzzle piece.  It's generic in color ... and it's arduous journey has been such that the colored paper top is slipping off of the cardboard base ... giving it a totally disheveled  look.

As I reached down ... awed to find it there ... wondering where the heck it had been ... and how it managed to turn up ... right there ... right now ...
the giggle started ...

You see, I am once again in a quandary ... as to what's coming next .. and how everything is supposed to fit ... in my picture ...

"Pick it up, MJ!  Put it in your bag! Don't you get it?!?!"

The laughter became louder ... and deeper ...

"It's YOUR missing ... puzzle piece!"

Of course .. it is.  It's the part of me that's been through the battle ... wallowing in the mud ... drenched ... then left to dry ... battered ... scarred ... imperfect ...

Yet stubbornly intact ... ready for what's coming next ...

So I put it in MY bag of puzzle pieces.

It's my story, after all ...

... and I can choose to  believe that I have left a trail of puzzle pieces ... instead of crumbs ... to lead me back ... to myself ... the MJ that I really like ...

... if I want to ...

Jessi teaches me so many things. About life.  About love.  About myself.

... and one of these days ... I will spread my pieces out on the table ...
and every single piece will fit ... perfectly!

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
October 2012

Rat Killing

This summer will be remembered by many ... as the hottest ever... with weeks and weeks of no rainfall ... the drought of 2012.

For me, though, it will always be the summer of the rat killing.

Figuratively ... and literally.

My dad used to tell us that he'd been ... tending to his rat killing ... I always liked the sound of that.

There was something romantic and heroic about it.  And it is one of my favorite ways to say I am taking care of some unpleasant business ... that can't be put off any longer.

After my battle with ... the rat king ... and his gang ... I will never use the phrase casually ...
or lightly ... ever again.

Mice have always wandered in from time to time.  Easy to spot ... easy to trap ... just one of the challenges of rural life.  Rats, on the other hand, are something entirely different.

The rats showed up ... as soon as I started leaving food out for Macy ... the invisible cat.  Not sure where Macy got off to ... she was never actually seen after the day of her arrival .. she meowed her way through the night a few times ... than she was gone.

Maybe she was raptured ... and we were all ... left behind.

Hopeful that she would come out from her hiding place, we filled her bowl with food each night ... and each morning it was empty.

It didn't take long before there were scurrying noises in the walls and evidence of pilfering in the pantry.  And then the sightings began.

One would be spotted dashing along the baseboard ... or ducking behind the washing machine.  Flip a light on late at night ... in the kitchen or pantry ... and it was literally ... a rat race ... for cover.

Funny.  I've had my scare-rat on the stove for years.  It's a rubber rat that came home with us one year from a dirty Santa gift exchange.  Much like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, it obviously didn't scare much of anything!

Rats are bigger than mice.  And it is unsettling and disturbing to have them in your home.

In the old days, I think they used guns and dogs ... for rat killing.  I can only imagine what a field day Pete would have had ... ridding the house of the rats.

I called the professionals ... to find out what needed to be done. 

Poison was one option.  Not really a good one, though.  If the rats crawled back into the walls before dying ... then removal was going to be an ordeal ... and a mess.  All that  I spoke with advised against poison.

Trapping ... killing ... dumping the bodies ... was touted as the most effective method to rid the house of the rat infestation. For a price, I could let the ... professionals ... set traps and empty them.  Or I could man up ... and do it myself. 

So I went out and purchased a bunch of rat traps ... and let the rat killing begin!

Rats are highly adaptable and expert survivalists. According to legend & lore, rat "medicine" will teach you to be resourceful in the midst of  change. And the rat will give you strength and trust in the process.

That explained it. Why the rats were in my house.  The changes I have been pursuing ... simultaneous to the rat killing ... have demanded more courage and faith than
I could ever imagine.

And my rat research raised some interesting questions.

Have you accumulated too much emotional baggage?  
 Rat "medicine" will help you examine what is no longer needed and allow truth to come forth in the midst of worldly illusions.

Is it time to let go of thoughts, ideals, perceptions, people or places? 
Rat "medicine" will instill self assurance and transform fear into abundance.

There is much wisdom associated with rats in many cultures.
Watch and listen ... as the rat moves.  That was the advice found in the messages.

On one post, the question was raised ...  
"What does it mean when rats move into your house?"

And one responder wrote ...  
"Rats are clean, social, fertile and highly intelligent.  Like attracts like ... "

That made me smile. Somehow all of my rat research made me feel better
about the whole situation.

All in all ... there were 37 rats trapped ... that's a killing ... no doubt.
It has been an epic adventure.

When I finally brought down the King Rat ... I felt every bit the conquering hero.  He was the biggest rodent ... I have ever seen ... up close and personal.

Of course, there have been repercussions ... discovered after the fact ... of the rat invasion.

In the midst of the string of days ... topping 100 degrees ... there came the air conditioner leak ... from the upstairs unit ... through the ceiling into the downstairs bedroom.

Plaster fell ... the bed was soaked ... and if the new floor had been installed .. it would most likely have been ruined as well.

After three trips ... and two different heat & air guys ... it appeared that the problem in the drain had been fixed.  No more leak.  Than three days later ... part of the ceiling just fell out ... on the other side of the room.

Turns out the rats had eaten all of the insulation off the pipes running across the room ... above the ceiling.  So that required, yet another, visit from the heat & air guy ... and then a handy man to repair the hole in the ceiling.

Apparently the heat  ... along with a steady supply of food & water ... is what drew them into the house.  Once I quit putting their bowls down each night ... they became more creative.  Not only did they uncover the a/c pipes to get to the condensation ... for water ... but they also chewed a trough out of the dishwasher drain hose.

For the longest time, I thought the brand new dishwasher was just leaking ...
for no apparent reason.

Dealing with the home warranty company about the ceiling repair ... was almost as frustrating as the rat killing itself. The contractor selected to do the repair didn't seem to be motivated to get over here and do the job.  It took several calls ... and over a week ... for him to show up.

When he did ... he was ... well, he was delightful.

He shuffled in ... reminded me a bit of Fred Sanford ... full of self-deprecating stories and jokes.

As he entered the front room ... his eyes lit up ... when he saw the baby grand.   
"Wow! That's beautiful," he said.  "I was a music major in college."

Alrighty then.

He went on into the bedroom and got right to work.  Not only did he good-naturedly patch the hole in the ceiling ... that was covered by the home warranty ... but he cheerfully took care of the area where the original leak had caused some of the popcorn to fall ... that wasn't.

On his way out ... he stopped in front of the piano.  In awe, he reached to touch the rosewood lid covering the keyboard.

"May I?" he reverently asked.

I explained to him that the piano hadn't been played in ages ... was out of tune ... and had at least one broken string.  None of which I intended to remedy until the new floors were down ... and the piano moving was done.

Gently he touched the keys ... and instinctively began to play.  It was a jazzy melody ... then softly he began to sing ... it went something like ...

when you're down .. in times of trouble

keep on trying and you will discover a kind heart

no matter who you are

I was mesmerized.  It was as if he was singing ... straight to my discouraged spirit.
It touched me deeply.

He was lost in the song and the music.  Then suddenly he stopped.  And apologized.  You know, how truly humble people do.  It reminded me of all of the times Jessi would say ...  
"I'm not in trouble, am I?"

I told him that it was beautiful.  He was overwhelmed.  He asked me urgently if I really thought so.

Moved by him ... and his song ... I assured him that indeed I did ... think so.

He told me he wrote the song.  And that he had written many more.  He played bits and pieces of a couple of others.  You see, he was having a hard time remembering them ... exactly.  It had been over 15 years since he'd had a chance to play one.

I asked him if he'd ever done anything with the songs. "Oh yes, I've had them copyrighted," was his reply.

But no one's ever seen them ... or heard them ... because no one ever encouraged him ... or believed in him. 

Time stopped.  There in my front room.  As this humble, hard-working man ... who had shuffled in to do the most basic ceiling repair ... unwittingly revealed his heart's desire ... to me ...
a total stranger ...

It was a gift of the highest order.  And there he stood ... eyes averted ... waiting to see if I would receive it.  Or maybe it was the other way around ... because to ask is to open the door ...
to receive ...

"Let me talk to some people I know," I said.  
"I am positive they will want to hear your songs."

The transformation was immediate.  He stood a little taller.  His eyes were glowing.  In an instant, hope had been released into the mundane that was his life.

"Thank you so much, Ms. MaryJane,"  he said as he closed the lid on the piano.
"Did I tell you that I was a music major in college?"

Not only did he fix my ceiling but he lifted my spirits ... he restored my faith as well.

He's called several times.  It's taken me a little while to get it all lined up.  When I called to tell him that he'd be hearing from some folks next week who wanted to hear his songs, he told me that he'd pretty much given up on me.

I laughed ... because he doesn't know me well enough to know that ..
I always do what I say I will do.

It's hard to know whether the rats moved in ... to give me strength to face the giants.  Or whether it was the only way for Levi to show up & receive a little bit of hope ... a little bit of encouragement ...

Either way ... I reckon it doesn't really matter.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c)  september 2012

Wheels A-Turning

Wait and see how I fix this ....

I have been struggling with how to come out of the tailspin of the week ... caused by the daily unfolding of the saga of my wheels ... and this is the response I have been given.  

Somehow I have managed ... each day ... to not let the fresh challenge get the best of me.  And I have determined to not let the money worry get the best of me ... either.

 ... and I managed to get to Friday morning before a little bit of panic set in.

Cupped tires had been making noise for sometime.  Two had already been replaced and the second two were due.  Last week the left rear tire started making a new noise ... that involved an irregular thumping and at times a rattle.

So I called to see if I could bring it in for those other two tires last Friday.  It was a stock tire but on that particular day there weren't any handy.  So my auto guy said he'd have them there on Monday.  

Still, I was very worried about the new noise.  It just didn't feel or sound right. Figured it would be a good idea to switch it for the spare over the weekend. Those of you who have known me for a while may remember that my tires have a "key" ... I discovered that a couple of years back when I had my Flat Tire adventure.

Based on that experience, I figured I might need a little muscle ... to get that tire changed.  So I texted a good friend ... "I need a gosh-darnit-I-don't-have-a-man-in-my-life favor!" 

Of course, he said he'd be there for me.  First thing Saturday morning. And he was.

Thirty minutes in ... and absolutely no budge on the final lug nut ... the one requiring the key ... he defeatedly suggested we call around and see if there was any place open with a power tool socket thingy that would let us come over to loosen it.

As we drove the few blocks ... he heard all of the noises ... and agreed that it was a good thing I was getting that tire off .. pronto!

Took two attempts ... with the power tool ... for the guy at the garage to loosen the bolt.  He assured us that there was no shame or lack of masculinity ... in not getting the dagburn thing .. to turn!

Whew!  My friend's hero status was still in tact!

After that .. it was a cinch!  Tire off .. spare on ... and the noise was gone as we drove back to the house.  Except for an occasional troublesome rattle.

On Monday, I arrived for my scheduled tire appointment.  The shop was in chaos ... cars parked every where ... waiting for their turn ... and a service guy ... was pretty much running the office.

It was obvious that he was having a .... MONDAY!

"I have good news ... and bad news."  That was his opening gambit.  The good news was that my tires were there  ... he would get them on ... that day ... eventually.  But not right then.  Apparently there was an issue with the air compressor.

Everything was backed up.

Refusing to be fazed by the setback .. I smiled and said ... "No problem ... I put the spare on over the weekend ... would it be better for you if I came back tomorrow?

He looked so relieved.  And he promised if I came back at the same time Tuesday he would get me in and out promptly.

In a way that was a blessing.  Because  the money that I was going to use to pay for those tires ... didn't materialize as expected on Monday.  It was now going to be Tuesday.

I had to smile ... God had it all under control ... after all.

Bright and early ... Tuesday ... I went for my walk around the neighborhood.  It was dark when I left my house and the sun was barely showing as I was making the return lap.  I was a couple of streets over from my house ... and a man came quickly to the edge of his driveway ... and called out ... "You wouldn't happen to know anyone in the neighborhood who has an air compressor, would you?"

Hot and sweaty ...  I think the humidity was like 900% ... I stopped to speak to him.  It seems that he was heading out to work and the tire on his truck was flat.  So he quickly & efficiently switched it for the spare .. thinking he would drop it off on his way in and have it checked out or replaced ... only to find that the spare was flat, too.

He said he'd lived there a couple of years ... but really didn't know his neighbors.  I can relate to that.

I told him I was sorry that I really couldn't help him ... that I didn't know many people in the neighborhood ... or anyone with an air compressor.  I continued my walk ... leaving him there facing his problem ... alone.

As I walked the rest of the way to the house, I pondered on the disconnect of neighbors.  And how people become so busy ... living out the routines of their lives ... so guarded and protected ... never letting anyone close enough to be a neighbor .... much less a friend ...

Then one day there you are ... facing a situation ... AT HOME ... and you realize you have no one to call ... that you can count on to help you out ... or maybe ... there are people you could call ... but  somehow you don't feel like you do ...

Yeah.  Been there a time or two myself.

So I opened my trunk ... and dug out my mini air compressor ... the one that plugs into the cigarette lighter of the car ... that I use to put air into my tiny little lawn mower tires.  And on random other occasions ... has managed to push enough air into a car tire to get to a service station for REAL air.

It's one of the best $9.99 purchases I have ever made!

Feeling silly, I hopped in the car and headed back around the corner.  I had very little confidence that the little-air-compressor-that-could would be able to make an impact on that big ole truck tire ... but it was all I had to offer ... and it was worth a shot.

My neighbor was totally stunned when I showed back up.  And he looked with total skepticism at my solution.  Maybe it would somehow generate enough air to get him the few blocks to the service station ... just maybe.

So he hooked it up ... and let it whir.

He told me his name ... I told him mine.  He never got it.  I told him three times that it was "MaryJane" .... and each time he responded by calling me "Mary".

Time has taught me that somehow that's part of the disconnect ... people only half listening ... for fear of giving anything away.  When they don't hear the "MaryJane" ... I know they are pretty locked up ... afraid of being real and genuine.

He shared bits and pieces of his story.  Divorced several years ago ... two grown children ... moved here because it puts him mid-way between work and his aging mother.  I shared a little bit of mine as well.

The whirring continued .... and it seemed that a little bit of air was getting into the tire.

Somewhere in the conversation ... he thanked me for coming back ... for trying to help him.
He said, "I will be glad to pay you."

"For what?" I asked.  "For taking the time ... for caring," he replied.

It was obvious he was lonely.  He told me he hadn't really made any friends since he had moved into the neighborhood.  He knew the first name of his next door neighbor and that was about it.  He said that he had visited a couple of different churches ... but that neither had seemed to fit him just right ... he hadn't found one that gave him that sense of belonging ... yet.  I invited him to mine.

"It's non-denominational, isn't it?"  "Well, yes, it is." "Oh....."

I shared a little bit more ... about a place called Grace ... but I think it was kind of like me telling him my name was MaryJane ... he'd already stopped listening before I got to the third syllable.

By this time it was obvious that the little air compressor would have to work all day to even begin to inflate the extremely flat tire ... to add enough air to even wobble down the street.
So we discussed his options.

Enough time had passed that it was likely that someone was going to be at the tire place he was planning to go to all along.  So it was decided that he would give them a call and explain his situation.  Hopefully, they would send someone out with a BIG compressor to put enough air in the spare to drive on over ... for some new tires.

The sun was completely up and I needed to get on with my day.  I gave him my card ... it said
 "MaryJane Sawyer" ... and told him I would be working from home until about noon ... and to give me a call if he needed a ride anywhere.

"That's really nice of you, Mary.  And thanks again for trying to help."  That's what he said.  I guess it was really the best he could do.

Later in the day, I took my car back for my tires.  And things at my car place were still a little hectic but not as bad as the day before.  The shop guy was still running the office ... because the office guy was still out ...

On the drive home I was relieved that there was no longer any tire noise ... or the thump noise that had caused me so much angst.

All in all it was good day ... even though ... the money thing hadn't sorted itself out on Tuesday either.

Wednesday was a full day ... with a bit of highway driving.  That's not unusual.  I have to drive a distance to most anywhere I am going.  By Thursday afternoon, the occasional rattle ... had turned into a consistent, persistent racket.

And I was thinking this was probably not a good thing!

Stopped back by my auto place ... and things seemed to be back to normal.  Office guy was in the office ... and service guy was back running the bays.

"There's this really bad rattle," I said.  "On that wheel where the tire was replaced.

The office guy didn't look happy.  He said they'd take a look. Quickly my car was pulled in and put up on the rack.  And he returned with a somber look on his face. 

"It's not good."  That's all he said as he motioned me out into the bay.  There he showed me the rear strut ... dangling ... totally disconnected from the strut plate ... and the frame.

I had no idea what those things were until that moment.  But even I could see that it didn't look good.

After much discussion, he told me that there was no way he was going to let me drive the car ... anywhere.  It was simply too dangerous.  So he ordered parts .... expensive parts ... to be delivered that afternoon.  He dispatched a driver to take me home ... and told me he would call me the next day when it was ready ... and he would send someone back to pick me up.

So there I was ... deposited at my house ... forced to cancel a full day of productive appointments on Friday ... and facing an unexpected expense ... that wasn't going to be met easily ...

even if I opted for plan c. 

"Live in the moment.  Focus on today.  Trust me."  That's what my best friend, God,

Creator of the Universe had been telling me ... for weeks and weeks.

And I have been focusing on the daily choice of gratitude .... determined to only focus on the good things ... things for which I am grateful .. each day for the next 90 days.  And each day ... of this week .. I have somehow managed to be grateful for the setbacks ... and unexpected tribulations.

Friday morning I was up bright and early.  And I took my walk.  I was struggling with the gratitude thing ... the pressure of paying bills ... and now these "extras" ... creeping in ... I am ashamed to admit that I ranted ... just a little bit ... and that's when the whisper came ... 

"Wait and see ... how I fix this ..." 

I ruefully laughed.  As I walked.  I heard it loud and clear ... twice.  I could feel the truth in the words ... that were intended to soothe my jangled nerves ... to give me confidence to face the day.

I wanted to believe ... still there was an undercurrent of doubt ... as I told myself that I was going to focus on today ... as it unfolded ... and wait to see .. what was revealed.

Not long after I got home from my walk, the phone rang.  "Are you ready for me to come get you?"

I was stunned.  I had anticipated mid-morning at the earliest ... and here it was barely time for most businesses to be open ... and my car was ready.  It seems that they stayed into the evening on Thursday in order to have me back on the road ... first thing Friday.

What was wrong with my car ... wasn't their fault.  They showed the part to me ... out there on the floor of the garage.

Somehow .. over time ... the bolt that held the strut to the frame had become loose.  Over time it had rubbed and flopped ... causing the hole it was run through on the plate ... to wear ... growing in diameter due to the stress ... until the bolt WITH the nut attached ... simply fell through when the car had been put up on the rack.

Apparently ... the only thing holding it in place for .... who knows how long ... had been the weight of the car's body.

It was an accident just waiting to happen ...

Still, they felt a tremendous amount of responsibility for not noticing anything was amiss ... when they had it up on the rack ... on Tuesday ... replacing & rotating the tires.

I thanked them for caring about me as a customer ... and a person.  And both the office guy AND the service guy said, "No problem, MaryJane, you are important to us." What was really significant is that they got my name right ... this time ... after having called me "Miss Mary" all week.

That's how I knew it was real and genuine.

Sure there is still a pretty expensive bill ... but somehow I will get it covered ...

As the day unfolded ... some other unexpected, unplanned things happened.  Some were nice things ... others were, well, let's just say ... not good.

I have faced the weekend with a little bit of hope ... a little bit of faith ... because of the promise that came before the day had even gotten underway ...

It's amazing what God can do ... if we bring just a little hope .. just a little faith.  That's what Del said this morning.  And we sang that song that says ... all things work together for my good.

And at some point, He nudged me ... "You just keep showing up, MJ ... with your mini-air compressor ... what you're offering may not seem like much to you ... but to someone else ... just knowing that you care ... means everything in the world."

Tomorrow ... it's Monday ... again.  And I am  ...full of encouragement and anticipation ... you see, His promise ... on Friday ... it isn't just about my tires ... it's about a lot of wheels a-turning ... so I will face the weeks ahead ...

... waiting to see ... how He ... fixes ALL of this! 

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c)September 2012

Odds ...

It is estimated that there are 400 million doves on the planet ...it's a number that's often associated with abundance of stars in the night sky.

And one was waiting patiently for me ... to return home ... on Monday.

It sat totally still ... calmly & deliberately it stared me down ... as if it had an important message to share ... and I was reminded of the prompting weeks ago ... to pay attention to the birds. (For The Birds...)

It didn't even flinch ... when I pulled out my camera, opened the car door and stepped closer ... for the picture.

Odd ... that one was sitting in my yard ... basking in the 110 degree heat.  Doves are most commonly thought of as winter birds.  And odder still was the fact that it was alone.

It was an intense encounter ... between the dove and me ... and it left me wondering ... what to make of it.  So naturally, I did a little research.

When a dove appears there will be messages & opportunities for growth.

That's the first thing I found as I dug around.  I am always keen on messages ... and I was pretty sure that the dove sighting itself was a message of some significance.

As for opportunities for growth ... well, that generally means more challenges ahead.  And with my purpose for the week already firmly set ... that really wasn't too much of a surprise.

Doves hold the energy of promise.

I have been tired ... more like exhausted ... so much of the time lately.  The energy of promise sounds wonderful and refreshing.

That passage went on to say that when our inner turmoil is cleared, the possibility of good fortune awaits us and healing on all levels is paramount.

All good stuff. Healing ... on all levels ... seems to be taking such a very long time.

When a dove makes an appearance, one often finds unexpected, unseen support & assistance comes when it is most needed.

The week has been spent trying to unravel the morass of Jessi's Medicaid situation.  Actually, it's really pretty straightforward and clear ... yet all tangled up in conflicting interpretations of one simple word ... that reads one way in the federal law ... and is defined another way in the Arkansas policy.

The word is ... receive.

I am told that it is the first time anyone has come forward with this specific complication ... ever ... that somehow our situation is rare & unique.  Imagine that.

Actually ... it's not so uncommon ..  I continue to argue ... or there would not be a couple of clear & specific provisions lined out in the federal law to alleviate the confusion ... in situations like ours ...

And once again the interpretation factor comes into play.   What does it actually mean to ... receive ... that continues to be the question.

The thought of unexpected support & assistance is comforting.  And as the week unfolded, it became apparent to me that some behind the scenes activity is taking place as each day ended with tentative steps forward ... and ... no whammies!

When a dove appears ... prominently ... it signifies great change ... possibly even relocation to a new home.

Pretty sure that this appearance was a prominent one ... it was definitely noticeable.  Big solo dove ... sunbathing ... in front of the house.  And relocations ... and new homes ... have been the at the forefront of activities over here in my life ... for quite some time.

Sometimes a dove sighting is a forewarning of a death ... either physically or symbolicly ... and while it may bring grief, there is also a sense of relief & gratitude that suffering has finally ended ... and that peace will soon be at hand.

Pretty sure there is a message of symbolic death ... for me.  Once the ravel is untangled ... life as I know it will be undergoing a radical change.  All good ... but a symbolic death, for sure ... as we all step into the reality of what's coming next.

And the week, seemed to be full of physical deaths in families belonging to my friends.  Sure hope that peace will flow over on to them as well.

Another common meaning of a dove on the horizon deals with relationships.  A new relationship may begin ... or an old one rekindled.  That made me smile.

Sometimes I get a little myopic ... and there's that pesky friendship ... that continues to perplex and frustrate me ... lurking around the fringes of my life.  Not sure if it just vanished into thin air ... or is simply on hold ... once again.

When I ran across the idea of a rekindled relationship ... I secretly hoped for that one.

By the end of the week, I discovered that a very special NEW relationship was bursting forth ... spontaneously and unsolicited.  It's with a whole family ... of beautiful souls ... fun & interesting ... and I am positive that we are all going to be blessed ... from the friendship ... in the days ahead.

The essence of the dove ... appearing in one's life ... is that life is about to become much more peaceful & satisfying ... on all levels. And that one should let go of what has passed ... and be open to the promise of the future.

Hard not to like ... all of that.

Immediately following the bird's departure, I posted the picture on Facebook ... looking for identification.  I wasn't familiar with it ... and had never seen one like it in my yard before.  I thought it might be
a pigeon ... and sure enough, I discovered that doves are often mistaken for pigeons.
So I didn't feel totally bird-illiterate.

My friends, of course, came through quickly ... letting me know it was a dove.  And, quite possibly,
dinner ... depending on whether one was a hunter or not.

... and who knew there were so many types of doves?

It was thought to be a mourning dove by some.  One friend offered up a Ring Neck Dove ... that came up from Cuba ... followed by the observation that there was "no limit" on them in season.  And an older & wiser friend tagged it as an Eurasian Collared Dove ... that is known to range in the southern states from Texas to Florida.  He pointed out that the Ring Neck Dove doesn't come from Cuba ... but from Africa ... with the only known stateside flock being found in Alaska.

So I went looking for some pictures ... because ... I wanted a positive identification.

Photo evidence confirmed that it was the rarer ... Ring Neck Dove. And that it is NOT common in the United States. And upon researching the specifics of the Ring Neck Dove ... it is found that some camps believe it is a domesticated version of the Eurasian Collared Dove family ... others claim it as a branch of the African Collared Dove genealogy.  Obviously, there's a lot of native pride amongst doves.

The Ring Neck Dove is commonly referred to as the Barbary Dove.  And in some readings, it was also referred to as the Laughing Dove.

Cool.  The bird that was laying in wait .. for  me ... on a hot summer afternoon ... was laughing.

Once I had identified the origins and name of MY dove ... the findings became more interesting ... personal ... and powerful.

The dove has long been held as a symbol of peace.

According to the biblical account of the flood, Noah had sent out a raven first, which didn’t come back and then a week later, sent a dove that returned with an olive branch in its beak, which was a sign of land and of the peace that was to come.

In the Bible account, it was a dove that landed on Jesus when baptized by John the Baptist.  “At that moment heaven was opened and the Spirit of God came down in the form of a dove and landed on Jesus. And a voice from heaven spoke and said, ‘This is My beloved, in whom I am so pleased with!’ (Matthew 3:16-17).”

The Ring Neck Dove ... or the Barbary Dove ... is believed to be the dove ... of the Bible.  And the meaning associated with MY specific dove ... on page after page ... was always the same:

An appearance of the Barbary (Ring Neck) Dove is an encounter with the Holy Spirit.

Even as I write this .... days after the actual interaction ... with the dove ... and it's deliberate, steady gaze ... I become overwhelmed with emotions at the memory of the encounter.

Who am I?!?  That the Holy Spirit ... God ... would choose to reveal Himself to in such a
visible, physical fashion?!?

And what IS the message that He was so intently conveying?!?!

It's taken a few days ... and a lot of time spent talking ... out loud ... with no response from He who was listening.  Than in the wee hours of the morning ...  a couple of nights ago ... the laughter came ... the laughter of the Laughing Dove ...

"Who are you, MJ?!?  You are mine!" That's what He said. "Why in the world are you so surprised?!? I stop by ... all of the time."

Stunned ... I sat up and shook off the sleep ... all of my questions had been answered by my best friend, God, Creator of the Universe.

 ... and, silly as it seems,  all I could think was that the Native Americans believed that the sighting of a dove was a sign of rain to come.

"Is it going to rain?", I asked out loud.

The soft chuckle rolled into a side-splitting chortle ... and my Best Friend and I enjoyed a rip-snorting roll-on-the-floor ... laughing ... as the sound of thunder was heard in the distant ... followed by a flash of lightning.  Then for the first time ... in weeks and weeks ... the rain fell ... in my front yard.

Then the whisper came ... you see, the rain was an outward sign ... of the personal message that He came to deliver ... face-to-face ... to me ... because it was intimate ... and important ... He wanted to be sure that I was ... receiving ... it.

I love you ... THISSSS ... much!!! 

That's what God whispered in my ear.

The odds of a single dove ... waiting for you in your front yard ... are 1 in 400 million. About the same as your wish ... finding its star ... and coming true.

God has such a large sense of humor.  He laughs with me often.  And the Laughing Dove ... well, there's no doubt that the pun is intended.

Today ... the probability of 1 in 10 million ... somehow feels as if ... it's within reach.

Humbled, I am.  Amen.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) August 2012