Tag: God who sees me

Good swift kick

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Getting the boot

Getting the boot usually means…

The someone is getting kicked out. At our house lately the annoying little black kittens are getting the boot several times daily. They nave decided that warm, inside, and people must surely mean food. So like bungee cords, when then the door opens, in they spring. My husband doesn’t much like that behavior of cats whether they be a cute little kitten or not does not change his annoyance at such actions. So a good sweft kick as one walks out the door is helpful, but not entirely productive. They slip in faster than the cold air chasing them.

Getting the boot usually means…

One has lost his job, office space or other de-moting thing. While recently there have been a lot of “life” changes for some of my family members, the list sometimes keeps me prayerfully occupied for more than an hour. My sister was demoted when the large company she worked for did a sweeping restructuring of its financial management. While it may save them money in the long run, her pay cut and smaller closet work space, has left her with quite a financial challenge. My nephew had a life challenge change as he is battling brain cancer. This change has affected many people and the ripples in the pond around their family show that his life touches many people. My daughter recently got word that an internship that she has been planning for five years is now canceled for another year. The change was more than “the coins in the washing machine pump” to her livelihood. The “now what?” Has sent us all spinning like on the tilt-a-whirl at the fair. Then less than three weeks later, it may be that her car is totaled after a rear end collision with another SUV. What is happening in our family? Could someone please turn off the bad news reports.

Good swift kick in the rear

Feelings. is mostly what I have felt like Ineeded for the last few months. Some projects that I had wanted to do just seemed to be waiting for no other reason but to wait. Why did I put so many projects on hold all summer long? Waiting for someone else to do what I wanted seems like a never ending nightmare. Perhaps, I had decided, it was best just to do things myself.

After giving myself the “Good Swift Kick” talk one day, my beautiful antiqye recitation benches recieved timber oiled for the winter. The one day in the last two weeks that it did not rain, the benches seemed to call my name. After the benches were quick-sanded with some steel wool pads, that same day a paintbrush applied the oil. Then the wind came along at 50mph and tipped the one beach over four times! That was a swift kick to my own bottom each time the gust knocked it over. The bench was still wet that day, so out I ran each time to get it up out of the grass. Honestly, thoughts about Dagon the Philistine god fallen on his face before the ark of the covenant entered my mind several times. Miraculous moments do happen

The good swift kick in the bottom was not how I went about getting the boot in the picture above however…

Acrobatics at age fifty are not advised.

Cleaning is not my thing. Some piece of ceramic usually gets broken, or maybe a knick knack, or my toe. Well, after the tea cupboard was all organized and put back, it was my second toe joint next to the ball of my foot that took the hit this time.

Teasingly I had decided the best way to refresh the storage was to try each kind of tea. Which in the long relaxing run of the whole idea would have been better than jumping up and down off of the chair to put them all back. Pretty sure at one point that I had steeped on something sharp, I hunted on the floor for several minutes after the pain. No such sharp item. Just a bad landing. The second toe’s joint on my foot apparently wasn’t weight tested to handle all 108 pounds of me.

Pull yourself up by the bootstraps…

Is an old west saying to get up after a horseback tumble and get on with the chores at hand. To continue on life’s path no matter what lies ahead. The story of Job has always fascinated me. More in the response of his wife and friends than in his own. Many messages focus on Job’s response and God’s conversation with hime at the end of the book. While I understand the point of the book is that God is sovereign over all, and that our ultimate purpose is to praise Him whether in joy or in despair, I find meaning in a different thought process of the book. Yes, I know God gives and God takes and we are to bless His name always. Perhaps, another thought process for myself is in the care we give to others who are going through a Job-moment in their life.

How can I encourage my sister, my nephew, my daughter, and others during their moments of despairing? Am I acting any differently than Job’s friends, or his wife?

Good swift kick!

Giving myself the boot!

So busy trying to figure out how to care for the changes that have personally affected me. I have failed to really find the time to reach out and encourage others.Yep, now that I am down foor the count-literally, down, sitting far more than I think I should. Now, I once again am having to rely on others more. Perhaps now, I will get back to my real purpose.

Strap the stirrups on the boots and…

Get back in the saddle. Get back to your business. When Jesus was found in the temple by his parents, earthly father Joseph and mother Mary, His statement to them told them that he knew the truth. “I must be about my Father’s business.” Asking God to tell me His business for me is so important. It is my daily duty to ask.

Despairing of my inability to do has landed me in an even more inability to do. I shall be so glad to have my get-up-and-go back once this boot wearing is over, that my list is even longer now than it was before that invisible nail struck my toe joint.

Yes, Lord, I think I got this lesson loud and clear.

I have given myself a good swift kick in the rear, and I got the boot right out of my dull-drums. I’ll be moving along to the next lesson now, Lord. Hopping on one foot, wearing another two pounds (to add to my already gained eight), wheeling around in the kitchen chair instead of standing.

This boot thing…

Attitude adjustment by toe. Got it.

Epilogue… The day that I finished all the edits on this draft, accendentally deleting them all was not part of my plan. So I spent another hour fixing it all over again. Visits with my dad and my brother, who both live on the western side of my state, informed me about how much snow they had received. Today we are supposedly getting a few of the fat flakes in our area for a bit. That would be right in line with the homecoming parades that are scheduled for the day. My husband decided to take the other car to the mechanic the day after my daughter’s car went to the body shop. Feeling stranded and wishing the horse could pull a cart… but at this temperature the only positive outcome would be a natural icepack for my broken toe. Enough of the rambling. This fuzzy little furball found the piano, the plants, the spinning wheel, the top of my chaisse, and the bells on the door all in the matter of ten minutes indoors yesterday. I wish I could keep her on my lap.

When Mother Cannot Sleep At Night

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For my daughters from my garden of prayers, here’s a poem from the midnight hours by yours truly -love to all -mom.

When mothers can’t sleep at night

They pray until their hearts are broken

They sow seeds of tears

They write letters to hide away in drawers

When mother cannot sleep at night

She reads her Lord’s words

She whispers her cries for souls

She spreads blankets of love and mercy

She lifts her praise to the Almighty

When mother can’t sleep at night

She swaddles her little babies

She soothes her feverish toddler

She comforts her dreaming daughter

She consoles her fitful son

She sends heavenward prayers of hope

When mother cannot sleep at night

She weeps for dreams now lost

She aches for arms once filled

She writes lists of to-do’s and wish lists and gift lists and plans holiday meals

When mothers can’t sleep at night

They tend prayer gardens

Hold candle light vigils

Read old leather bond Bibles

And they hold fast their faithful watch

When Day Dawns Dimly

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The looking glass IV

When one hears a train whistle-there is a train.

When one hears “see-Bob white!” Ther is a quail

When thunder rolls, rain follows.

Warning signs are usually obvious. Like the flickering lights just before the symphony begins. What concert is about to begin in my life?

This morning the sky was ominously dark off to the northwest. The radio repeated its emergency weather signal twice already. The summer storm season has been here for a few weeks now. If my county is not on the list, it can be easy to ignore the signals. But there obnoxious blasts is still there.

While we enjoyed taking Honey for an evening outing with people a week ago, this week visitors kept us preoccupied. We also needed to prop up those wild tomato plants that the rain has so amply helped grow. One plant was already loaded with lots of little fruit. The visiting evening of the night before, got me to considering the path ahead.

There are signs for construction and signs for weather in abundance these days. But what about those dreaded signs of aging?

No one enjoys the hunt for grey threads in the upper levels. But the light seems to be gleaming off the top more these days than it use to. Would they be some platinum strands I detect , or can I just blame it on bad eyesight?

When the days dawn with darkened skies, finding humor in the mirror is more difficult than ever. Recently a relative of ours was pictured grasping for a good view of the television screen. Like a five year old trying to block out distractions from his favorite cartoon show, the man was seen less than five feet from the large picture visual. Remembering my grandma and grandpa with their television wars soon followed in my brains bunny trails. Grandma was always trying to get him to turn the volume down. The phone would ring and she had to yell over the sound to get the entertainments box sound reduced. I am always fascinated when an elderly person whispers something, when if you whisper back they respond with “what?”

A friend of mine use to respond to every catastrophic event with the declaration “The end times are coming!” The days of Noah… have they really returned?

When a child wears shades, we tell them: Your future is so bright. When an adult wears shades, we assume they have a hangover. When I wear shades, it is to keep what is left of my eyesight. Wearing orange shaded lens as a teenager gained me the nickname “pumpkin face.” I still don’t really care for anything Halloween related because of their taunts and jeers. There are multiple other reasons to avoid the candy shrine, but I will just try to keep mine mummified.

When Praise band Sunday rolls around these days, I am suffering from anxiety more frequently. This past weekend there were some major panic attacks that I dealt with even during the service as I attempted to play piano. It made me think that the day had dawned dimly, in-spite of the sunshine and the days’ celebration plans. The music/eyesight stress has clouded the morning over for me. Rather than enjoying the time to play piano, it begun causing me stress. Reminded me of the days I use to play for choir and left the events in tears and complete exhaustion. I am so not ready to quit playing piano. Something giant print could be ôdone, perhaps?

Knowing that God sees my plight does not always bring me comfort. Sometimes I just want to see what I used to be able to see. Like others who mourn the grievous plight of their bodies downward spiral I long for the good old days. God knows. He knows e more than I can know myself. He sees beyond the surface of the water and it’s dim reflection. God sees deep into the darkest places of my soul. And yet-he still longs for the day when I shall behold Him. Face to face, I will stand with my Maker. With My Savior in beloved embrace, we shall one day be face to face. No more dim whitted guessing of the things which I shall never know this side of the looking glass of eternity.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

http://bible.com/59/1co.13.12.esv

Minimum Maintenance

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Road closed ahead

This morning we find the cooler air inviting. It invites us to attempt that four mile walk again. The other day we left the yard and headed north only to have Molasses follow us and have to return with a cat in tow. At one mile he was tired of running to catch us and began crying. The next two days it rained and we had to do stay home.

The air is cool and damp. I find a reflective vest for myself and stuff my fanny pack with treats and my inhaler. Honey dances and prances trying to tug on the leash and pull me her way. This is her way of saying “Hurry Up! I have been ready forever.” She is so happy to go with me. We head north again and feel the gentle breeze on our faces. Her nose is very busy. The atypical light breeze is so lovely.

There are only two vehicles before we turn to go east. They see my vest and slow way down. I think I’ll tell Gavin to get me a smaller one that fits better. This one is the vest he forgot to take off at work the day he was angry at a supervisor. It really needs to be washed. It smells like EDM oil and burned plastic.

Heading east we pass the cat-tail bottom. There are no cat tails yet. The frogs croak quite loudly at us. Honey smells an animal track. I tell her to leave it. The rest of this mile is uneventful. We pass the neighbor’s driveway and the hay field. The silence is so peaceful. The traffic on the interstate two miles further east echoes over the tops of our heads.

We arrive at the corner to head south. Honey doesn’t even have to be told to turn right. She just does it. There are some birds arguing on this mile. The meadowlark, the whipporwhirl, the chickadees, the sparrows, and the killdeer all sing their song of warning to us. I always love the sound of the bird who says “I’m over here- don’t look over there!” And other favorite cry is the “Pretty bird! Listen to me-me-me-me!”

The north to south route seems to take forever. I don’t know why it seems like such a long mile. Probably because there are no groves or driveways or any thing to break the space up. The only thing to notice on the mile is sounds and the last truck tracks.

My daughter helped me tape up my two toes that like to slide under the other. But on this mile my pinky on my right food decides to slide under also. The needles that poke me because of this hurt. I stop to do some stretches while Honey smells a track. She is enjoying the walk better than I am at this point.

We arrive at the minimum maintenance road. They have added a large warning “Road Closed.” I decide that we should have gone south and the been able to turn around rather than have to wade through the puddle. “Poodles and Doodles don’t like puddles,” I say. Honey ignores me and marches west right towards the sound of the running water.

Yep, this road is definitely minimally maintained. The two culverts are in desperate need of repair. No one lives on the road however, so it is not a priority. The five inches of rain have done a much damage to the road. There are holes and running water in five different places. Walking the road is okay so far. We just go around the holes. Well, I do. Honey goes right up to them and checks out the sound.

I am thankful the snapping turtle that my neighbor saw the other day has decided the road is not place for her today. That would not have been a good encounter. I didn’t see Any tracks of hers. We saw some small prints of coyote or fox. We also saw the deer tracks in the bottom on the south road. But I was more concerned with how deep the mud would be. As we pass the old abandoned acreage, I see ahead the bottom is indeed wet. Oh well. Tennis shoes wash.

Honey is most interested in the deer tracks. They are quite fresh. Within the hour, I tell her that it is the deer who was eating our plum tree. She wags her tail at me for talking to her. No worries though if the deer tracks are still in the puddle ahead, it should not be over my toes when we plod though it.

The water makes it’s way into my socks as we take on the puddle. I really hate wet feet. The mud does not affect my girl. She just keeps moving forward. I look back at the water and am surprised at how wet it looks from the opposite side. For sure we would have turned around if I had chosen to go south first from the home place rather than north.

When the minimum maintenance turns into a closed road, what path do you take? Would you plod though the water to get to other side? Would you turn around and go back the long way home? Honey and I chose the short route and just push through the mud puddle.

Miry blog.

Isn’t there a verse about that? My mind searches my memory bank all the last mile. We are back on the black top and must listen for vehicle sounds again. There is one semi-trailer to interrupt my searching thought. I am home, have fed the dog, petted the cat and drank another cup of coffee before I remember the passage.

Psalms 40: 2 says “He drew me up front he pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set me feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.” (ESV) The miry bog.

Miry bog. Miry. wow- who uses that word these days?

Miry

For a total of 20 steps there was miry bog. I will not focus on the trouble that rainwater gave to our path. The rest of the walk is so enjoyable. In spite of the wet socks and the muddy feet. I feel secure walking with my friend. She keeps me plodding forward when the road gets tough. But more than a good companion, the One who pulls me out of the pit is the Lord. His deliverance from the “muck and mire” of life is more like rocks that rise above the mire. His stepping stones through the the miry bog keep me secure.

My faith cannot be minimally maintained. I need these therapeutic walks every few days. Time to reflect and just be. While it is fun to look ahead and look back, being in the moment while I walk with Honey keeps me sane. She sees and smells and warns me of holes and puddles. The Lord is my steady road through all the muck and the mire of life.

The Looking Glass

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Olde words and old sayings

“The wind blows where it wishes” -John 3:8

This morning after I hit my head several times trying to clean out the kitchen cabinets, I told myself, “self- go sit down a spell.”

Sit down a spell? What am I saying? Bother this getting old. Now I’m using the same phrases my grandmother did. Next thing you know I’ll be saying “Awe shucks!”

Playing Frisbee with Honey is a constant motion from the moment I go out the door each and every time that we go out the door. Considering the wind is priority if I don’t want to climb a ladder and retrieve it from the roof of some building. Clocking the gales of air is also important if I don’t want her to slam into some vehicle on her focus retrieve. There have been occasions that she has slammed into trees, or bricks or tires in her dive after the prize.

This exuberance is not just felt by her though. The other evening, she greeted Lennea with one of her discs and the cellist soon found herself nursing the fist that found the open car door. Considering space and aim before throwing often makes an impatient puppy. But our safety and wellbeing must be considered. Good thing Lennea has no weddings this week.

The other morning my mind could not help but focus on the gusty breezes that changed the disc’s flight in mid-course. I have tried to watch Honey while she runs only to loose her in my barrel-view. So now I try my best to follow the rainbow’s arch and be assured that the little pot of gold will be there to meet the end of it’s curve whenever it lands in her reach. Be it the ground, or 10 feet in the air, our flying fur buddy will not miss the end of the course. Often she returns to me like the boomerang before I even take a few steps forward. She’s so fast.

The wind in the winter time is my enemy. My skin simply can’t handle being cold and feeling the driving knives of air pierce through me. But the wind in the heat of summer? It is the friend that cools the world off a smidge. I love the sound that the trees make as their leaves rustle. I love the clapping cottonwood. I love the tinkling wind chimes. it is like the wind instruments of God in their finest composition.

The wind blows where it listeth. Wow, that’s an olde English word. What does it really mean? List making and the wind listing are not the same are they?

So many words in our languauge have lost their true meanings. We have digressed in our ability to understand the full meaning of something because we choose not to know where things come from. The idea of the wind listing or having a bordering edge like broad cloth or blowing in a particularly line or row across the earth isn’t something I generally think of. However, this weekend there were several situations that showed the power of the wind in it’s own pretense.

Friday as we drove across the Springfield area both in Nebraska and in South Dakota, the temperature dropped markedly. Only on a motorcycle could one experience this incredible listing of the wind. At one moment we are baking from the hot pavement and the dry wind. The next there is this defined cool breeze that makes one wish to stay there always. It felt so cool and refreshing. Then the heat returned in it’s blast of open-oven-door force. Uff. Let’s go back there, we both commented on the cycle.

We crossed the river and snacked at the Casey stop in Springfield and were pleasantly surprised by the return of the cool “listing” on the South Dakota side. Spring fed breezes! The idea of the wind being like a sheet of broadcloth with a border line hit me much when I considered all the dictionary meanings this word had to offer.

Do I listeth? Do I set up lists and boundaries and go where I plan to go, do what I plan to do? James chapter one says “As a wave of the sea is driven and tossed by the wind, so is the one who doubts. So have faith when you ask God for wisdom because He gives generously to all who ask without doubt” (verses five and six, a paraphrase).

Friday was our 27th anniversary. Sometimes it amazes me that it’s been that long, other times it only seems like yesterday. We were not even four miles from home when I first glanced into the cycle’s rear view mirror and thought of the looking glass. Who ever uses that phrasing for a mirror anymore? “The looking glass does not lie” is an old proverbial statement that mother’s used when telling there children to go wash up after they had already done so.

Many people take time to go to serene water settings that reflect the sky like a mirror. Our view on Friday however was the muddy Missouri washing up river moss on the somewhat sandy shores. The wind came across the river strongly enough to make the boating scarce. The wind was driving water from the south to the north across the surface of the river. Though the flow of the water is west to east in that area, the turbulence kept the fun at bay.

The most serene “looking glass” view of the water I discovered was in the rear view mirror of the bike.

And later the same weekend, we would stop the bike several times for the ornery wind. Twice for a bee sting, once to retrieve my cap. And when the bee stings, you do not automatically think of your favorite things. I tried to be a distraction for my dear spouse after the initial pain was over. But when the bee stings or the dog bites, one only thinks of getting rid of the pain! Just ask Gavin.

“I was looking back to see if you were looking back at me to see I was looking back at you when you were looking back at me.”

Most people are really just concerned about their own mirror. We might have a routine “list” of how we go about our mirror time. However, as I have sat staring into my little sleeping grand-child’s face I thought of the mirror that our children become of our lives. I praise God so frequently that He was the wind that blew across our lives and drove us into the people that we have become. Looking back, there were times we felt like the rocks on the shore were too harsh for us to ever feel peace and serenity again. But God is faithful and His driving force continues to be the looking glass in which we check our lives. His boundaries and His guidelines give us the feeling that we ride on the cool breezes of spring fed air. Just beyond the listing is the world’s heat and hot, and bothered stinging bees. We will continue to return to the looking glass of God’s word to be driven by His Holy Wind.

Sometimes we just have to take a break from the everyday.

So glad my husband of 27 years and I were able to take so time to reflect on the passing years and ask God for His wisdom for the years to come. May you too find faith to ask God for His insight into your lives.

While the dough rises

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First things first

This morning while I contemplated what the day should have in store for me, I remembered that someone in this house said that caramel rolls could be a daily occurrence at mealtime.  Seeings that it has been four days since the cotton-candy-like cinnamon roll melted across my tongue, I decided to get the dough going after the kitchen clean up.  So while the dough rises, I am thinking about all the quotes about bread.

While the earth’s voices can get you hooked on Panera bread, or sandwich shop commercials there is voice far more compelling.  Deuteronomy 8:3 comes in the middle of a narrative about the Israelites journey through the wilderness.  While I am not in a fourth year journey of desert land, there are days when I feel being blind and living in the country has given me a wilderness lifestyle that is akin to hermit living.  But if I really wanted to get the analogy correct I could say that I am stuck between the walls of a Sinai monastery.  But that’s pretty depressing.

Back to Deuteronomy.

When Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days, he was tempted three times.  The first temptation was food.  Issn’t that amazing? Most people find that it’s being alone that tempts them to eat the whole bag of chips.  Or the half-gallon of ice cream.  I’m not like that.  I’m one of those people that could easily forget to eat.  The day might stretch clear into the afternoon, before I realize that I haven’t had any lunch yet.  Food is not my driving motivator. Which is good, because I can’t drive, and I would probably going to every fast-food emergency food establishment at my hour of need.

“Man live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that proceeds form the mouth of the Lord.”  When bread is not the sustenance of the would, that what is?

This year at Christmas time, we were blessed to be ministered to by our daughter’s devotional from young adult retreat.  It was a three part letter that the Camp where she worlds sent out during the week leading up to the Christmas worship season.  While it was rather long, we did take the time to read each of the letter installments.  Her ability to lead us into the season in awe and worshipful reverence was such a blessing.  It’s that very thought provoking  devotion that made me think about my goals for the new year.

First things first.  Put first things first.

And the most important first thing in my life has been finding my sustenance in the words of our Lord.  Jesus is the bread of life .  He will be my everlasting manna during this journey into a visual wilderness that continues to make me feel lost.

When I look up to find a doorway or a wall instead of the way to where I thought I was going, I will remember that He is with me.  When the dog comes out of the darkness of my peripheral black hole, I will find solid in Jesus.  When my nose finally heels in its new crooked state, I will remember the brokenness that my Lord endured for me.  While Jesus set his eyes on the way before him, knowing that the cross lie in his path, this I will remember when my path is interrupted by an opened cupboard door.

Being visually impaired and on the journey to blindness, I will put first things first.  Though I refuse to use my walking cane in my own home, I will ask my Lord for grace to endure all the brokenness that comes from this journey.  This year the Bible verse that I chose to be our family’s theme verse is Luke 1:37.

“For nothing will be impossible with God.”

When we bow our heads

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What the flowers teach us

The sunflowers have bowed their golden heads. Not to the sun, but to the changing season. As the temperatures at night have dropped into the low fifties the large 14′ plants have dipped nearly to the ground. The sure sign of the coming fall is here. 

Last week  I gathered my helpers and we cut all the beautiful red headed ones off the plants. With lots of requests for some seed, hopefully the heads will dry and not mold. The volunteer plants that came up this spring from my daughters first packet of seeds a few years ago have multiplied quite beautifully. 

This summer we fed bees, butterflies, and a beautiful yellow finch. While others were filling bird feeders, our seeds and pollen kept a host of creatures quite happy. We knew the migration of the winged creatures was soon. Yesterday in the morning -when of course I did not have my phone-I witnessed five monarchs and three bees all in a one foot square area of the zinnias that are also product of saved blossoms. 

Though I was late on burying the wildflower seeds in my tire garden, but the winged critters still had time to enjoy them. We are not as excited about the insects that have found the vined fruit in the outdoor garden. Tomato beetles and such have devastated about half the crop. Next year I really am going to just toss the plant babies that I have no room for. Overcrowding in the garden creates a regular feast for the little bugs. 

As the world groans under the seize of hurricane winds, devastating floods and unimaginable earthquakes, some people   bow their heads in awe of the Creator. Yet others raise fists in defiance. 

Through all the seemingly business of taking care of plants my heart has been weighted down and my head feels the gravity of loneliness. Recently that weight has driven me to inventory my life and search out those who might feel it’s weight also. 

My first recourse is always to search scripture. The story of Hagar banished to the wilderness continues to draw me to a similar well. In Genesis chapter 16 she finds herself at a fountain. Her realization that God sees her prompts her to rename the spring: God Who Sees Me.  

While my eyesight continues to steal vision from me and I am now often missing seeing things, people, or the dog chasing a cat and running right into my legs and knocking me to the ground- I am pulled towards this idea that God Sees Me. 

I bow my head frequently. To see the path. To recover from a branch slap in the face. To ask God to help me with the loneliness of country life.  And as a watch care over the greenhouse and the gardens I am often reminded again how much my eyesight makes me miss. Then one small little creation gives me pleasure. 

One flower, one taste of goodness, one bowed head of a sunflower. One fountain and tractor tire pond. In my lonely alone garden moments God Sees Me and I am  blessed with the growth of some new thing. Sowing and reaping might fill my time and keep me busy but the God who sees me is the One who sustains my life.