a journey to now

There was no scent of disaster; there was no alarm. No where could I see signs of an impending catastrophe. Monday morning life, as usual.

But as I became colder and colder to the point of concern, I realized something was wrong with our heating system. I called Tom (my first emergency contact!) who then called a heating specialist. Within minutes of his arrival and checking out the system, the heating unit was disabled. -by law, he said!

The insidious lethal gas, carbon monoxide, had been slowly invading the rooms of our newly decorated home. Not only was the entire unit  kaput, it was potentially dangerous.!

It was a good thing the weather was not as cold as it had been two days earlier; we stayed minimally warm for 24 hours and are now the grateful owners, albeit, poorer 🙂 of a new heating system.

I reflected on our small “misfortune” in light of the devastation produced by storm Sandy and realized we really had no major problem–EXCEPT if I had gone to sleep when I wanted to on Monday morning, rather than calling Tom!  Then I just might not be here typing on Thursday!

Another reflection of this week’s event made me aware of how painless–without warning, minus any alarm sounding, I could be “dead” to God and spiritual truths. If I continue in the mundane happenings of the days, oblivious to His presence, not reading or hearing His Word, failing to bask in the fragrance of His nearness, I could find myself asleep or dead to His plans, His purposes, His joys for the Now. The heating system was working–at least, it was on, blowing air–just blowing the wrong air and not altering the temperature one degree.

We now have two carbon monoxide detectors in the house!

And I–you– have a spiritual detector within me/you. As you and I stay so near His heart, listening for His whisper, we will not be overcome by the subtle, often silent, deadly distractions for today.

“I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands. I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. Ps. 119:10-11    My eyes stay open through the watches of the night that I may meditate on your promises.” v 148.

I am watching a large fly caught between the screen and the glass door. He has no idea he is trapped-imprisoned; he is completely free in that 3×6 confine to fly, to sleep, to feast on minute gnats or other tiny insects that enter through the screen wire.
Maybe it will even rain today or tomorrow and the trapped fly will be refreshed with droplets of moisture.

He has it made!

Or has he?

This fly will never experience any more than these four walls allow.
There is no freedom to soar. He will never taste bigger food bites, and he will slowly die and never realize what happened.

How many people are imprisoned within a culture, a tradition, a religion–able to function, yes, but unable to live a more full free life. Flying is impossible!

I have the responsibility, the obligation, the knowledge and ability to let this fly out. “Go ye and tell . . .” I also have the responsibility to tell others about the One who can give them true freedom.

It is sad to think that there are some imprisoned within  four walls filled with stained glass beauty–slowly strangled by tradition. They are as ensnared in their box of ritualistic concerns as this fly. Oh, they function. They sing but never soar; they “work” but never worship; they give but not graciously; they eat but do not enjoy the bountiful bushels of blessings! They exist but do not understand the joy of exalting! . . .

Now, I am a true “free spirit”— I love to run through rain puddles–even walk through soft mud and feel the squishy coldness between my toes. (even at my age!!)  Nothing energizes me more than rushing out into new dawn freshness and lifting my hands to the Creator of  “now-ness”. Running through fields of wildflowers still brings giddy delight to this aging body—

BUT . . .

Even with this sense of freedom, I must guard my heart that I do not become trapped within my own selfishness of doing things my way, of failing to be open to new ways,  of prejudging different ways and views.  I pray I never become imprisoned in a “box” of sameness but forever be conscious that the Spirit within me is alive and free-oh, to be kept safe from the space between the screen and the glass door!

Psalm 116: 16b—“I am your servant, the daughter of your handmaiden. You have freed me from my chains.”
Psalm118: 5 –“In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by setting me free.”

And yes, thank you, Lord!!  “I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free!” Psalm 119: 32

“Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you–guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us.” 2 Timothy 2: 14

May I be obedient to “unlock” the screens on those around  me as I follow You, soar and fly this day, and may I surely guard my freedom fiercely–

Early Sunday morning, I was drowning in a sea of misty melancholy meanderings!  We had returned home late on Saturday night from four days at the beach with family; I knew major quiet time was needed.

I wonder if you have had those times–when you are reflective or nostalgic–just lost in the fog!  –and have no idea why!  Was I tired from much activity and little rest? Could it be “buyer’s remorse” (we had just signed a contract the week before.  Yes, there were too many questions being asked–could we pay for this? –at our age is this wise? what if one of us dies . . .)  I examined and examined  —- estrangement between someone, a disappointment, a broken trust.  I could not find the reason for the heavy overwhelming oppression I sensed.

Where was my excitement for NOW, now?

I could keep floundering in the fog or drowning in despair, but I thought it best to swim in the Psalms!  Sometimes I read 5 Psalms a day –beginning with the day’s date and read  every 30 songs.  Why should I be amazed when all five often  speak to me on the same theme!!

I began with  Psalm 22; each Psalm showed God’s care for me, but would you believe the last one, Psalm 142,  was neatly addressed to me that early dawn? It was as if the Lord had been waiting for me, gently wiping my tears as I voiced the prayer.

“I cry aloud to the Lord, I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. . . when my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way. . . listen to my cry for I am in desperate need. . .”

Do you know ‘when my spirit grows faint within me’ is translated overwhelmed?  I sat, awed that this great big God cares about the details and the anxious moments of my life.

The same David who wrote ‘the Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want . . .’ in the 23rd Psalm  and ‘my heart leaps for joy . . .’  in Psalm 28 is the one now in a cave, having anxious moments and is in desperate need for his God.

My readings that morning heaped more truth–straight to my fearful, distrusting heart–

“the next hour, the next moment, is as much beyond our grasp and as much in God’s care, as that a hundred years away. Care for the next minute is just as foolish as care for the morrow, or for a day in the next thousand years—in neither can we do anything, in both God is doing everything.  . . . the next is nowhere till God has made it.”  George MacDonald, edited by C.S. Lewis

Once again, I bow in repentance, longing to trust Him for the next step on this journey . . .

I am singing, singing to the color of green!

After five weeks of excessive high temperatures and drought, each morning this week began with a gentle rain, giving life to the dead brown carpet under foot.  But this new color emerged in the coming of storms.

I was moaning this fact last week as I was driving with lightning, wind and thunder all around, planning an escape route from the hail! I cried, “We need rain, but do we have to have the storm?”

Surely there can be rain without a storm, but with the atmospheric conditions as they were, there was no other way.

Now there is flooding in our area.

Why can’t it be normal? What is normal anyway?  I live in a different kind of sameness than my friend Camille in Washington state.  For her, normal is rain most every day. She loves it when there is sunshine for a few days, and that is different for her. While in Denmark we were more accustomed to rainy cool days than bright sunshine.

In a matter of days, we  have gone from brown dead earth to vivid green and  a promise of flooding.

I am wondering if this is not how life is. Life seems to always be somewhere in the extreme.

Just when I think life is “normal”, there comes the storm–a pain, a sorrow, a tear, a broken relationship. Then comes healing, joy, laughter and reconciliation–

Always–moving from abnormal through the storm–to normal–for a moment.

I am discovering I must have the storm to focus, to prepare, to seek shelter, to watch–

These days of  continuous rain remind me that I need the slow, gentle soakings of His presence that come from sitting at His feet–an oasis in the sameness or the different. Most often, they come after a storm.

“Almighty God, Lord of the storm and of the calm, of day and night, of life and death; grant to me so to have my heart stayed upon your faithfulness, your unchangingness and love, that whatsoever betides me, I  may look upon you with untroubled eye.”  George Dawson in Little Book of Prayers

I awoke in the middle of the night and wrote–

Life is to be lived in honoring God-loving and serving Him.  This happens by honoring others–loving and serving them.

And it begins at home—just that simple.

For years I have wrestled with the knowing and the discovery  of “what I am to be when I grow up”. I must have thought this process of being somebody or something was complicated or that it had to be quite the spectacular . . .

But now at 66, I realize just how simple it has always been. The being is in the everyday; the ‘be’ is in the becoming. I have worked so agonizingly to find the “perfect plan and place”–you know, just for me—  that I have failed to rest in the journey of today.

“The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O Lord endures forever–do not abandon the works of your hands.” Psalm 138:8

I sensed expectancy as I was oiling a bagel. Something or Someone was near me–a presence. I rested in the thought that, indeed, life–real joy-filled life is living with this wonder of a new morning. An invitation was being given me to enter into His presence . . .

Years ago I had taped this quote on my desk–“old age begins the moment one quits expecting something wonderful around the next corner. For some, this happens very early; for others, it never happens.”

Very few, if any of us, live a life full of grand, glad moments. We need to practice expecting and seeing what the French call le petit bonheur-the little happiness. We can do this by accepting  every day with its “little happiness”  as an unrepeatable miracle.

The ground here in Tennessee begs for rain. There is no promise of soon coming showers for the brittle parched grass. But, oh, the cool breezes of this morning presented me with le petit bonheur!  I relished the moment of quiet happiness as I watched the bright colors of finches and cardinals at the feeders.  ‘This  is the day the Lord has made . . .” Psalm 118: 24

I will cherish each minute.