Awareness in Pink

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month -and awareness is indeed the operative word. Many of us can say that this disease has touched our lives, or those very close to us.
In fact, one in eight women today hear from a doctor that they will be fighting this awful disease, and these are words that no woman (or man) should ever have to hear.
Ladies, we truly do need to be AWARE.
Because of successful campaigning, many of us can recite two oft-repeated preventions:
* Monthly self-screenings (being aware of what's not normal for you)
* Yearly routine mammograms after age 40 (though due to high radiation levels, some now advise only diagnostic mammograms until age 50)
But there is much more that can be done BEFORE a tumor could ever be detected by these screenings. That is, PREVENTION! -A strategy far less promoted, and far MORE important.
If you really care about this, there is good information out there that your doctor may not be telling you. Take control of this situation and control of your OWN HEALTH.
We've been given hearts and minds to learn and create a better life for ourselves. Please become AWARE and may God bless you with health and life as you do!

Livin' GOOD!

8-6-09

This week of rest has been unlike any other week in our 29 years. Ron says he feels almost like he’s in a hospital, under doctor’s orders. It’s so difficult to suppress the natural desire to work, and at various times, we each believe we must be making a mistake. But then, we realize that we can always do those things we feel driven to do on any weekend, but the chance for this much un-interrupted rest doesn’t come often, so we press on. And the benefits are already coming clear. We’re healing (inside and out), becoming closer than ever, and best of all, seeing truths appear, and come more into focus. Here are more insights that, this week, have been taking better hold on our lives:

God’s life: is it in being good or living good?

Doing good: keeping ritual, giving what is asked, meeting expectations of others, having a desire to do what is right.

Living good (living well): returning to innocence, trust, and optimism that resembles that of children (theirs being the Kingdom, remember?) Savoring every bite, every kiss, every smile that becomes yours, with gratitude and celebration. Living in the moment, letting a benevolent, loving authority in your life handle the questions you cannot answer, and carry the burdens you will never be able to carry alone.

We watched a popular dog trainer the other night on tv. His most challenging pupil: a Chihuahua named “El Diablo,” and aptly so. This poor creature was a rescue off the streets; a vicious, desperately frightened spirit with obviously very little peace in his life. He’d been the victim of someone’s constant bullying, and eventually was so ruined emotionally he’d been abandoned. In his new home, he dominated all (human, canine, or otherwise) who entered his space with intimidation tactics, and would not be calmed, not even by the renowned trainer. He was obviously miserable with being in control, but wouldn’t relinquish that control to anyone. At one point, it seemed hopeless. But the trainer did not give up. He was able to take the dog home with him to live with him, and in a matter of days instead of hours, the transformation did eventually take place. The first thing: re-name him. He was now Sammy (Sammy Davis Junior). And instead of shying from him, the trainer stayed up in his space, displaying authority, yet kindness and affection. If Sammy struck out, he was shown loving discipline consistently, immediately, then followed by more affection. Eventually, Sammy not only calmed down, but began to find his place among the other canine members of his new pack, and began to actually interact and enjoy others. He had found a home. Have you ever felt scared and desperate like El Diablo? Ron & I both have. And we’ve had pretty good lives. But there’s a force out there that would destroy us, and strikes at just the right time in just the right way with tactics of deception that play on our pride and fears, and can put our souls in knots, leaving us a frightened, anxious mess. We sense that the control we have (or think we have) over our lives is tenuous and terrifying, yet we don’t want to relinquish it to anyone. Yet, we instinctively know that there is One to whom we can let it go and He will not hurt us with it.

Here’s the truth: The turning point of our lives is not in deciding to be good like God (in our own strength) so that He’ll accept us (and others will, too), but it comes in the letting go. It comes in relinquishing power and control to that One who can now become that benevolent authority and burden-bearer, while we begin to live a better life. And many flippantly say that they’ve relinquished that authority. They declare that they’ve let go, and given up that control in their lives. But to know whether this is true in one’s life, we must look a little closer. What does it mean to “lay down your life, to die to yourself, to commit your ways unto something or Someone?

How many people do you know (of any faith) who receive bad news with a reaction that is so void of fear that it’s past your understanding?

How many people do you know who simply react differently (even peculiarly) to life’s bullying with a stride and countenance that lifts all around them?

How many people do you know who seem to live a life that isn’t touched by fear, worry, or hurt-who seem to be above offense and understand not to sweat the small stuff, and they see that it’s mostly small stuff?

These people get it. And amazingly, because they travel so light, they can carry the baggage of others. But what’s cool is…they want to. They really want to.It’s not an act, or something they do to “make points.” No- they feel it. They love. They truly love.

Now this is where it gets good. Him living in us. Through us. It can’t be done unless we let go.

We can live “good lives.” But how many of us live good? In living good, we live good lives, but with strength to live them well. The bush burns but isn’t consumed. If we cannot let go and let Him have our worries /fears, hurts/offenses, plans/dreams, like El Diablo, we’ll remain in control, but never at peace, and never become able to love. I want to learn how to love. I want to learn how to rest. I want to live GOOD. I want to give up the notion of living God on my own strength, and learn how to let Him live through me. This is something else we all talk about as though we understand it. I don’t. But I really, really want to. What is is to die to self and live unto HIM?

Guess that’s for another entry….

Stay-cation Sentiments

8-4-09 Rest

One week – to do anything. Work, play, plan, clean.......
The choice: rest.
I think we’ve forgotten how to do this.
And we pay for it dearly.
Not just rest for the body, but rest for the soul.
In our culture of ambition and achievement, we look down on “down-time.”
Oh, we pay it lip-service, but we’ve forgotten what it’s like to really re-charge the body and mind...and forget about re-charging the spirit. It’s hardly spoken of. Therefore, we live with “dis-ease,” in the body and in the spirit. Like plants withering (yet alive) we settle for living this way-as a Savior grieves....
Anxiety and depression are everywhere-so desperate, in fact, that we resort to medications and any other refuge we can. Even those of us sitting in church, singing,
“He is my peace...”
We say things without believing them, and without knowing that we don’t believe.
We who’ve said “the sinner’s prayer” think that we’re commissioned to go introduce the world to a peace which we ourselves have never really met.
In fact, we serve earnestly while our peace dwindles more, from all the stress of serving.
Is is because we’re more often sold the blessings of service instead of the blessings of rest? And why is this? Is it (dare I say) because the church needs our service more than it needs our rest? Or is it just that it’s against our grain to rest anyway (the church included?)

Ever wonder why the Ten Commandments are ordered the way they are-the first three surrounding God’s image, worship, and Name, and then, before ever mentioning human relations (lying, stealing, murder), the fourth is, “Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy,” (that is, to separate it and make it a priority)? –To take care of ourselves and take time to think, seek, renew, and re-vive, or we’ll never be able to allow the Savior to fulfill the other things asked of us, spiritual or otherwise.

This week I could’ve chosen to do anything. But I’ve chosen rest, and in so choosing, I hope to hear what I couldn’t hear before-when work was calling, or when play was calling, or when it was just time to get up, and move again.

What an unusual way to spend a vacation! But I’m praying a most useful, and valuable one. Hey, in a “stay-cation” economy, it’s the perfect year to save the time & money, and go on a thrilling treasure-hunt right here at home, seeking the wealth of a quiet head, a simple wisdom, and a life more perfectly-lived…

…Seeking the treasure of rest.

8-5-09
Perspective
I prayed that if I resisted the temptation to build, to fix, and to organize for just 48 hours, and instead do only essential works and otherwise quiet myself, rest and reflect, I would find new perspective-that I’d have eyes and ears that I had not had yet.
Two days have passed, and here is what I have:
I turn on the television to a station where I often hear things from God through people.
I did again-only this time, the still small voice seemed to be correcting something the person said. Here is the statement:

“…Years ago when I didn’t have much of a ministry -I was just teaching a small Bible study….” Whoa. Wait right there. I just turned this thing on and the first sentence I hear makes me want to turn it right off again. I listened through the precept being taught and it was a good one. -One which I‘ll use, and be thankful for. But those words just kept coming back. I remembered listening to another gifted teacher’s recording some months ago and her (paraphrased) words:

“I had a dear friend in another state, the pastor of a small fellowship. I was to bring my ministry there in just a few weeks, and his ministry (and he as a minister) would then receive much-deserved recognition and growth. But he was suddenly stricken with cancer and died before this could happen. He never got the chance to fulfill his destiny, and it was confusing and disturbing to me…”

What was confusing and disturbing to me was the notion behind these statements.
Small Bible studies = not much of a ministry?
Small churches = unfulfilled destinies?

See, I had a train wreck five years ago. I ran into my ego. (This is hard to write for myself to read, so if I ever get the nerve to post it, I pray that it bears major fruit.)
I’ve always felt special. But I didn’t know what “special” meant until my train wreck.
Let me clarify. Man values fame. God does not. Man values money. God does not. Man values a gift only if many men value it. God does not.
I was mid-40’s and had gifts. People said it for years. They spoke a “destiny” of greatness into me. But I was this late in life and saw nothing that resembled that destiny. Oh, sure, I had an amazing daughter and son, who had amazing marriages and families, I had an amazing marriage myself, and a relatively drama-less life full of wonderful memories and phenomenal friendships, including my friendship with the Almighty.
But I had not “become somebody,” in my mom’s words, and it didn’t look likely to happen. Sacrifices I’d made for this “dream” produced moderate “success” but I wasn’t willing to make additional sacrifices to see more “success.” I opted instead for things which I valued more, things that I knew held the real payback.
But we waiver in the wisdom that God sends. And now I asked, “Where is my destiny?”
The pain, sleeplessness, and suffering that followed, along with a beautiful transformation to truth, is for another log entry, but suffice it to say that I learned that all this time I’d been saying that I knew I was special to God just as I was, and didn’t need to perform or achieve in order to be special to Him, or to others. But I didn’t believe one word of it. I’d been indoctrinated to the world’s values: the more lives you touch, the more your own life is worth. Leave a mark on the world. Grow, achieve, BECOME SOMEBODY!

“Be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

Since then a transformation has taken place, slowly, in my mind.
I’m beginning to believe the truth that my gifts were planted in me for beauty and fun and joy-for myself and the lives around me (none of my business how many lives that may be.) These gifts are pure and holy and to be set aside for the sake of love and not to be exploited for fame or gain. They exist to show God in me, the original Creator and beauty-maker, and to inspire that beauty in others, so that they, too, may live. I was forged a special soul, and remain a special soul regardless of who knows it, because He knows it. I’m actually beginning to get that!
So now when I hear someone despise their humble beginnings as though their lives have not always been significant as measured by man’s marks of success, I can catch it, filter it out, and receive the rest of the message undefiled.

Now, if I’d not rested so well, would I have had this clear a perspective? Maybe, maybe not.
Or how about this little treasure, just today becoming so clear to me:

God’s life is not about being good, it’s about living good.
But this entry is for tomorrow....

Aspen, CO: Nickie's Angels Race for a Cure

At the Starting Line

Heading Out - half or more of us were walking, many with our survivors.

Participants came from all over Colorado and even other states.

Fellow angels in the Race: Lisa, Nickie, Dawn and Billie

Angels on a trail to lovely landscapes...

Soothing, calming, HEALING landscapes, in fact...

Racers coming through the finish line - our time: just over an hour...and Nickie did great!

Under pink hero capes, we wore signs stating that we raced in support of Nickie, and of Jeannine Bartmess (fellow survivor/good friend/encourager), and in memory of Joyce Muhelegger, grandmother of Angels' super-donor Matt Hawley (thank you again, Matt!)

These were the survivors present -we sang a special song as each one received a rose for her/his courage.

A sincere "thank you" to all who donated, and we hope to visit you, dear Aspen, again....

Today, one in eight adult women will hear the words, "you've got breast cancer." Our goal: to make that sentence disappear. Thank you all again and may God bless you!

Our friend Nickie Singleton is in the midst of a battle that no one should have to fight. She's endured chemo, surgery, and now radiation (with more surgery to go) in a fight against breast cancer. Despite the struggle, she has inspired everyone around her by living her usual life, and being her usual self. It's time to celebrate how far she's come in this "race" with a race of our own, striking back at the hideous disease that has come against her, and so many others. On July 18th this year, we took out for the beautiful mountains of Colorado and laced up our racing shoes. We joined the Susan G Komen Race for the Cure in Aspen, and set out to deal breast cancer one good blow for Nickie. And did we ever! Our dreams: a nice day to walk, time together in the lovely, healing beauty of God's wonderful alpine forests, and even raise a few dollars to take with us - a modest $500 goal. Well, when it was over, we'd seen all of this happen and more, witnessing overwhelming generosity for our cause that continues to the day of this posting. Thanks to our dear friends and supporters, the Susan G Komen Foundation will now be $3500 richer because of Nickie's Angels! In fact, because of you, we left the race with a trophy for being the highest fundraising team at the event this year-by quite a margin! Now, that's striking a blow! (Here are our team's donation pages with donor names)
To all of you who donated, Nickie & her Angels would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and we want to assure you that your gift will make a real difference. With your gifts, treatment will be delivered to someone who desperately needs it, and research can continue so that a cure will indeed one day be found for this dreadful disease.
Thank you once again and we hope to be back next year. Join us!

Martha Gets Real (Confessions of a Recovering Superwoman)

On the freeway I noticed up ahead of me a shiny blue minivan filled with active, jovial youngsters, no doubt headed to soccer practice or on errands with Mom. On the back window, an imposing white Superman Logo, complete with the big “S” for Super, with the word “Mom” etched across it. Cute. Supermom. Suddenly, an overwhelming compulsion shot through me, that I should somehow pull over this unfortunate woman at the wheel and deliver a stern warning to her about the perilous track that she was on.
The warning: Somehow, somewhere, we women have been duped. And Superwomen today everywhere are making deep, dark discoveries: traces of kryptonite in their belief systems; vulnerabilities in their once-impenetrable armor; capes that don’t always quite get them off the ground. We’re only wired as mere mortals, and maybe that’s a good thing. Here’s the setup for the dupe:
Circa 1950. Mom is elated at her new washing machine, and her new vacuum cleaner. Thanks to technology, hours will be taken out of her household drudgery-leaving her extra time before the brood gets home-time to read, visit with Helen next door over the fence, or maybe even for a nap, or precious time in prayer, rest, and refreshment.
1970. Mom is now bored with her novel, and Helen has gone to work. (She says paid work makes her feel more fulfilled, and she just likes getting out of the home. What a nice idea, and extra money, too!) Mom decides to give it a try.
1990: Mom is now a frontline exec. And PTA chair. And local Chamber of Commerce mucky-muck (not to mention soccer club fundraising queen, choir and worship committee diva, and everything else that anyone else couldn’t or wouldn’t do.) But her uniform is intact: she seamlessly emerges from her phone booth several times each day, transforming back and forth from her tweed suit and corporate hairstyle to her cape-and-boots, whenever a crisis calls for it. She’s the family doctor, lawyer, cheerleader, teacher, chauffer, maid, chef and psychiatrist. As if that’s not enough, she feels a growing, nagging restlessness inside, whispering to her that unless she’s made her mark somewhere on the corporate or cultural worlds, she may be falling short of her goal as a total person. Rearing happy, well-adjusted children are nice, but there’s more. A warm and intimate marriage is okay, but there’s more. A well-kept home and peace in life are fine, but there’s more. There’s more. There…is the dupe. What is this ….more? And what happened to all that precious time for prayer and refreshment? Can we continue to just pour out and pour out without taking time to be poured into?
In the book of Luke, Jesus accepts Martha’s dinner invitation to her home in Bethany. As He arrives, she bolts into action. So much to do! So little time! And it MUST be done perfectly! And, because it’s all for Him, it’s worth exhausting oneself, if need be. Martha has learned to be all things to all people, ensuring that others are comfortable, fed, rested, and refreshed, while getting a little caught up in her cape along the way. She serves dutifully, dependably, lovingly…yet without grasping the greater concept that others (including her own sister Mary) there that night had grasped: that of balance, enjoyment, and rest. Through their encounter, Martha finds that it is possible for things to get done, even if she takes time to be poured into. It can somehow all work out. She finds that time spent for refreshment will multiply and make more excellent that which she pours out to others.
In today’s culture, there is another Martha whose name comes to mind as synonymous with perfection, creativity, and poise in the woman’s world. Ever-prepared with recipes, home décor, (no doubt much like the other Martha!) and etiquette for a sudden quaint gathering of 24, Martha glibly and stoically models the Superwoman of today, all the while running her formidable corporation with the ease of weeding her perfect garden. Every woman wants to be Martha. Martha has more.
2005: My kids are raised and gone from the home. I cry. Loved ones are aging and dying. Mom is battling cancer, and is in need of much care and time together. Plans for long-awaited dreams, such as newer homes and children’s weddings, are completed, bringing joy, but honestly, utter exhaustion. Full-time work along with a commute from the new dream home bring all-new marriage and household chore issues which neither I nor my husband enjoy. My Superwoman outfit is beginning to wear thin. Once, in mid-transformation, the leg of my uniform got tangled with my pantyhose and threatened to tip the whole phone booth over. (And I never did find my high-heeled shoe). This would never happen to Martha. Emotional signs of burnout grow more apparent daily, and, because feelings this intense are new to me, they are terrifying. As a matter of fact, everything is terrifying. Budget, health, family… I am in the throes of burnout at its worst (aka nervous exhaustion, depression, anxiety, et al.) I have found my kryptonite-my own limited nervous system, and I just have to face it- someone else will have to save the world for now, while this mere mortal takes time to heal.
In the course of my complete recovery, I have discovered what our Bible-day Martha has discovered - that our modern-day Martha hasn’t necessarily got more. With a few weeks of medicine to set my bearings straight, and hours and hours at the feet of the Savior, I am learning to let go of compulsions to “do” and am discovering how to simply “be.” (Not “be somebody,” but just, “be.”) This has taken a radical reprogramming of my circuitry, not to mention a new wardrobe. Good thing- threadbare superhero garments are passé anyway these days.
My only daughter is due to deliver our first grandchild any day. There is so much that I want to tell her regarding these things. At times I wonder just how much “Superwoman” thinking I have programmed into her over the years - and how to fix it- how to guide her gently, safely to the Savior’s feet where she, and her daughters, and their daughters belong. I want to tell her that it matters none whatsoever who you become- only that you be yourself - and enjoy yourself- in getting there. Whether you receive attention for your gifts and potential is not nearly as important to God as whether you fully enjoy those gifts and watch with anticipation where God will send you to maximize them. I want to explain that “having it all” doesn’t have to mean tossing out your briefcase and day timer, and flopping into a tub of Calgon with a half-drunk bottle of Geritol. It just means finding precious, scriptural balance: in work, in family, in life.
There really is more. And we can have it daily. “Life, more abundantly!” –John 10:10.
So, sister, when next you feel your biceps bulge, and the impulse to leap a tall building in a single bound…
Leave the heavens to God…take a cab.

Book Review: The War of Art

I just finished reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield (subtitled: Break Throught the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles) -a hard-nosed look at why artists, writers and other people creative find it so easy to be distracted from their work, and how to fix it. I found it inspirational, funny, and more to-the-point than was comfortable in some respects (with some adult language). A thread of thought runs through the book. It is that there is one culprit above all others that keeps us from our work-it actually encompasses most other culprits. It is what he calls Resistance. In various sections of the book, he explores Resistance andVictimhood, Resistance and Self-Dramatization, Resistance and Procrastination, Resistance and Fear, Criticism, Self-doubt, etc. Each section is short and direct. I really enjoyed that. Then, he goes into envisioning change. He pictures a true Professional and asks you to internalize the image. A Professional Seeks Order. A Professional Demystifies. A Professional Acts in the Face of Fear. -Asks for help. Perseveres. Doesn't take failure (or success) personally. Reinvents Herself. Recognizes limitations, etc. Again, concise and clear. In latter chapters, we go into how we see ourselves and how it affects our work, and many other deep (and difficult) reasons for procrastination in creation. It ends with assuring the artist (writer, musician, etc) that he/she has what it takes, if he/she will only know it.This author is a fiction writer, creator of international bestsellers The Legend of Bagger Vance, Gates of Fire, Tides of War, and Last of the Amazons. But here's a clip from the book body on his bringing this self-help work:" When I began this book, Resistance almost beat me. This is the form it took. It told me that I was a writer of fiction, not nonfiction, and that I shouldn't be exposing these concepts of Resistance literally and overtly; rather I should incorporate them metaphorically into a novel. That's a pretty subtle and convincing argument. The rationalization Resistance presented me with was that I should write say, a war piece in which the principles of Resistance were expressed as the fear a warrior feels. Resistance also told me I shouldn't seek to instruct, or put myself forward as a purveyor of wisdom; that this was vain, egotistical, possibly even corrupt, and that it would work to harm to me in the end. That scared me. It made a lot of sense. What finally convinced me to go ahead was simply that I was so unhappy not going ahead. I was developing symptoms. As soon as I sat down and began, I was okay."

I recommend this book highly. It has much for many of us who have much to give. Life happens, and it has happened to us all, but keeping tools such as this one around to kick us in the pants now and then can help us to wake up, renew our resolve, and keep on working...

Climb on a Back that's Strong (11/06)

Haven’t logged since August. (Haven’t slowed down since August!) Labor Day brought a gathering of 20 or so neighbors up to the house. It was great getting to know everyone better. Two weeks later, 40 came up for a rehearsal bbq dinner for our youngest, and his new wife. The following weekend, a solo exhibit began at a local gallery, which started a flurry through October and November, where the studio (and offsite jobs) buzzed with activity. A niece married in mid-November, and our Thanksgiving miracle arrived, 6 pounds, 10 oz, born at home to our oldest and her proud family. The last few weeks have been prepping for a church Christmas presentation. Sets, choir direction and rehearsal for solos take time, in addition to leading worship every other weekend. Some of these activities are self-inflicted, but many that we face in any given year are not. Sometimes life is just plain busy.In all of this noise, though, I’ve found something very quieting. You can still let go. As I write, I break from work on a landscape piece depicting a recent getaway spot. The reference photos only show so much, and memory and imagination must be called upon for the rest. This is where I often get stuck. But I’ve found that if I just relax and lay down the strokes, entering the joy of it all, beauty seems to come about all on its own, bringing detail and definition that I’d not have known how to bring in my own understanding. You could say that the mind disengages somewhat. It makes me think of my prayer language. You know: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” Romans 8.26-27I know that painting (or any other earthly eneavor) doesn’t approach the loftiness of prayer, but I see a strange resemblance here. It’s in the letting go. In other words, I can paint with my understanding, or let go, and paint with the Spirit as my guide. We can do what we do each day with our understanding (which we should do) and then augment it by letting go into the mystery of what the Holy One residing within would like to add to our lives. All this to say that I move about these days in a bit of a flurry, but my head is still much quieter than it’s been, as I search out the amazing wonders of letting go. If something is not working out, I simply let it go and watch as He works it out eventually. If I’m up against a deadline that cannot possibly be reached, I drop it at His feet, and behold as He makes a way once again. Trust and rest is something that you can know with your head, but to actually disengage the need to do for yourself what only God can do for you is something many of us are just now learning even after many years in His arms.There’s no busier Season than the one we’re now entering, and I, for one am ready this year to “walk thru the fire without getting burned.” We cannot stop the ride and get off. We can select wisely our activities, set priorities, and stick to them, but the ride will still get a little wild now and then. Our hope: Let God handle it. He wants to. A popular song states, “Climb on to a back that’s strong.” Yeah. Climb on and let go. I like the logic.

A Story of Joy (4/06)

I had recently left a good job, with long hours and a long commute as the motive for change. I also believed that I could “freelance” to help make ends meet. I’d spent weeks readying and distributing printed material to advertise talents that I had successfully marketed at earlier times: artwork, portraiture, children’s art classes. I’d surfed hours and hours online for freelance writing opportunities, and even looked for small paying “gigs” to play with my guitar-anything to fill that gap and pay the bills, until employment opened up. Though life had pitched me a few “curve balls,” (art market downturns, etc.) I knew my talents and knew that I enjoyed people, and they responded well to me. I was sure that with creativity, determination, and self-will, I could make anything happen. It always had before.
Well, it didn’t. Every road led to nowhere. Each new prospect fizzled. Suddenly, my get-up-and-go got up and left, and it was not pretty when it did. After two weeks of not seeing any doors open, my patience was fading fast. I began to experience a feeling which was not in the realm of my experience. Fear. Anxiety. Dread. Surely financial ruin was just around the corner. I was a total failure. All I had worked so hard to become good at for so many years was really for nothing. Though circumstances called for more income, they were never as dire as I imagined -and really, what if they were? My husband Ron and I were close, our family was doing well, etc. Even if they did suffer a financial setback or two, it wouldn’t be of lasting importance, but I just couldn’t be persuaded. The fear persisted. The dread was there, no matter what I did. Prayer, scripture reading, journaling, it just didn’t matter. It got worse by the day, and I didn’t know why. Something was wrong-really wrong, and I didn’t know what to do.
How could a Christian wife and mother, with a good reputation in her community and so much to be grateful for, be experiencing such a hellish thing? And whom could I trust to talk to? Would anyone understand this thing?
I had recently experienced many changes in a relatively short period of time, as is often the case with women of my age. In my story, it was a self-contracted homebuilding project and a major move, both children leaving the house soon after within a short time of each other, (one with a wedding to plan and host-joyful yet exhausting), the ongoing rigors of care for my mother in her five-year battle with cancer, full-time work with the 40-minute commute, then leaving that work with feelings of failing at the task. Finally, the great uncertainty of meeting oncoming financial needs (not to mention self-doubt when looking over my life’s career accomplishments, or seeming lack of them,) all in a short three-year period.
Daunting? Yes. But unusual? Not really. These events are characteristic of many lives today. And while it’s true for us that life was simpler when our kids were home, there are so many people suffering with similar emotions today who still have little ones to care for, and my heart goes out to them. The statistics are that up to 20 million American adults today battle depression/anxiety symptoms. And then there are the unreported cases. Then, there are those in chemical dependency treatment for self-medication of these symptoms. One could call depression an epidemic. Some health care providers have even labeled this as the decade of depression, a disease second only to heart disease in decreasing our life spans today. One US study states that 80 percent of people who visit physicians today will trace their ailments back to psychological depression in some form. Men and women today in all stages of life seem to be experiencing these challenges. Life today can be hectic. It can be hard-driven. Life today can, if we let it, be depressing. Especially if we don’t care for ourselves properly while caring for others (lack of rest, nutrition, refreshment, etc) But the operative words there are “if we let it.” In my journey from the wilderness of depression, I have determined to learn exactly what happened with me; what caused it, what drove it, and what to do to triumph over it.

“(The devil)… was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in truth, because there is no truth in him. When he tells a lie, he speaks in character, because he is a liar and the father of lies.” -John 8:44

I believe that it’s safe to say that no one sets out to become depressed. No one awakens one morning and says, “Think I’ll turn my entire world upside down for several months, along with the lives of my closest loved ones. I feel like experimenting with excruciating pain and crippling confusion, with a complete uncertainty of the future.”
No-somehow, it just sneaks up on us. It doesn’t ask permission; it doesn’t wait for a convenient time or place. Suddenly one morning, it’s just there, and will not be ignored.
I can only speak from my own experience, but I believe that among the many reasons that people suffer symptoms of depression, anxiety, and even “breakdown,” (not a clinical term, but one that everyone seems to understand) there is one that is more sinister than those aforementioned: more cryptic than burnout, craftier than life’s changes. Its name is disappointment (aka ingratitude.) This is a quiet, unassuming little dark angel who spends his share of time in the corner, silent and out of the way, waiting for his chance to ask us to play. He’ll wait for years if necessary, through our triumphs and accomplishments, watching carefully for a hint of our feeling unappreciated. He doesn’t need much. And there is no human addiction more dangerous than taking his hand and spending even just a little time with him. Among his wooings and cooings: “No one understands you. Don’t they know what they have in you? Why, if you were gone tomorrow, what in the world would they do? Life isn’t what you’d expected it would be, is it? What are you going to do? Just what did they mean by that remark? You don’t get any respect. Life should be better to you than this.”
In disappointment (whether in others or in yourself) are the seeds of depression, and it takes less watering and cultivating than we think to see it come to become the full-grown (even overgrown,) monster that can choke out our joy, our hope, our very life. My observation, based on conversations with many others who are going through or have gone through this experience, is that it never seems to happen without the seeds of disappointment being sown.
Do you recognize any of these thoughts?
“Someone has hurt you. Someone will hurt you. You have failed. No one notices you. Your life has added up to nothing. You are without real accomplishment, and running out of time.”
Sometimes these thoughts are almost audible, other times they linger as mere impressions, never voicing words. They don’t have to. Your overall impressions of life are adequate to make of your life anything from Heaven on Earth to a living Hell. And optimists are not immune. Pessimism and disappointment linger out there everywhere. And they will wait. One day, even we optimists will lower our guard. And if you’re unaware of the danger, as I was, you’ll be taken advantage of. Please don’t be victimized-consider yourself warned. The war is won or lost in the corridors of the mind.

“…And the truth shall make you free.” –John 8:32

I stood in front of the mirror getting ready to go visit with my counselor. It had been four weeks since the beginning of my treatment. This was a particularly difficult morning. It was gray and chilly. Even as I sculpted my hairstyle and adjusted my makeup, I prepared for pain, something that I had thought inevitable on a day like this. I cried out quietly, “Father, I don’t want to do this again.” Suddenly I heard something deep inside. “You don’t have to. Are you ready?” (Read: Wilt thou be whole?)
“Yes. Yes, I’m so ready. What must I do to be saved?”
“Only believe.”
“All right, Lord. I’m ready.”
Instantly, the pain subsided, and power came instead. I’d broken through. I’d grasped something vital in my recovery: I can choose.
In the months to follow, the power of choice became my bodyguard. The impact of my own thoughts upon my mood and life became a wondrous obsession. If I caught myself indulging in two or three negative cognitions in a row, I noticed that it was like descending a stairway. If, however, I was able to stop negative thinking (even if unable yet to replace it with positive thoughts) I was spared self-injury and celebrated by congratulating myself for climbing one more stair. This mysterious stairway had a bottom: hurt, anger, and eventual death. It, however, had no top. Joy, anticipation, and gratitude will just take one higher and higher, with absolutely no limits. An acquaintance coined my intentional stopping of negative thoughts “taking thoughts captive,” straight out of 1 Cor.10:5.
Journals, scrapbooks and chalkboards full of things that I was thankful for, calendars full of things that I was looking forward to, prayers that turned from “Help me!” to “Thank You!” all added up to one determined individual’s total and complete healing and cessation of medication in less than four months. Pain, in time, made way for joy. With sadness and fear shrinking, anticipation and motivation grew. The war indeed is won or lost in the mind. And after a vicious battle, I survive to stand and tell you that you can win!
Righting the course of our thought life can seem impossible at first – it’s a task that requires determination, faith, and tolerance for our weakness and failures along the way. But the prescription for fear really is faith. The prescription for pessimism really is joy. Even if we must use medication for a time to restore precious physical balance, permanent and total healing depends upon our restoring cognitive balance to our own lives. No one can do it for us-no one can do it but we ourselves. We must want it. And God will be faithful to help. He truly is our Healer!!!!

ps Since the writing of this article, I've seen so many reasons why it may be in God's will (at least to His use)for us to go through things like this. My ministry has completely changed because now when I see someone desperate, I KNOW, and am practically desperate to help. My art, music, and writing has changed forever because life is now more beautiful than ever, having emerged from such darkness.(And by the way, I'm working full time at them again, and God is so beautifully meeting our needs!) And best of all my relationship with the Lord has been blown wide open because of the tenderness and amazing comfort than He showed me as we walked through this valley together. Hard to say this, but I bless the day it all started, and tho I wouldn't want to go back, I really am grateful for it. Now I'm going to take my own advice and rest well, eat well, recognize stress as sin and casting cares as the only way to live. Oh, and when I hear the voice of the spirit of offense, it just talks to the hand...

In the Fourth Watch

In the fourth watch, so often You come.It is here in these early hours that at times, the dark and cold brought fear.Fear and tumult in this heart.Worry, for images better left unimagined.The quiet and the still revealed the storm within.There were times when these sweet, blessed hours saw You standing just over there, on my rolling waves, outstretched Arm, while I secured my bow for yet more fear, missing You completely.In the fourth watch, where there was no storm, I was overtaken by its fury.This, the way of the deceiver-to project the image of lightning, hail, a roaring lion’s glaring teeth…seeking to devour.And indeed deception will devour…in the fourth watch of the night, when the day is just there, when the light is so near.Though in this world we will have tribulation, You have overcome. In all these things, you have made us to more than overcome; to overcome through You. Even in this dark planet, pockets of Heaven, glimpses of Glory are always here, and we may live in it, if we believe. Even in this cold land, you’ve seen fit to show me these places, and to let me dwell there often, for some unknown reason. My life has been full of your beauty, favor, and tenderness. It is often that I stand by your warmth and light, warming my hands, and love to imagine others standing by that light within me, as we pull through this final watch of the night together….It is here where quiet brings truth.The truth being that we have nothing to fear.The truth being that we are not alone.The truth being complete peace.It is in the hours just before dawn when our spirit can hear Your Spirit, and receive…Here, now, the spurious can be faced down, the false jettisoned, as we take your outstretched Arm and lay our head on your truth.The waves are gone. Such quiet, and beauty, and rest.Here, as the final watch is ended and the day begins, please let me take that rest and build a life on it. Please help me illustrate this garden in which I dwell, Your mercies new every morning,In the fourth watch of the night.

And He Addeth No Sorrow

Up until this past week, I would have told you that I don’t want to hear another word about Britney Spears. Tv, radio and internet news include a photo and story about her almost daily, and a search engine study will show that there’s good reason: she’s one of the top 5 most searched items, consistently. I’ve had enough…up until this week. But this week, I find myself praying for her. Hm. What gives? We watched not long ago as the life and times of Anna Nicole Smith ended abruptly, amid a jet-set life of drugs, clubs and seemingly utter aimlessness. News programs compared Anna’s life and death to that of 1950’s pop star Marilyn Monroe. Beauty, effervescence…lostness. Elton John penned a musical tribute to her aptly entitled, “Candle in the Wind.” (…never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in…)These performers - and others - have so much, and yet it seems to come with such sorrow… What Britney has been up to lately, I couldn’t tell you, except that she’s shorn her head. This isn’t the first time a female celebrity has done so, nor will it be the last. But there’s something about this. It speaks to me of grief, hopelessness, and affliction. Somehow, I can just see the desperation in her life right now. Such wealth and attention have been showered upon her, and yet all has now come to this. Drugs, lostness…I pray for her soul- that she will not end up as the others have. I pray that she will find shelter from the wind; that she will live, then tell the story. I pray that the eyes of her understanding (and those of the multitudes of young people who look to her for entertainment and even direction) will be opened to the fact that blessing doesn’t have to come with sorrow. Honestly, we all have so much. No, we don’t make the salaries that these entertainers do, nor do most of us live the public lives that they do. But we really do have so much compared to people in other places in the world. And yet so many of us are still prisoners to sorrow. Maybe I pray for Britney because she is a microcosm of us. The sorrow comes from aimlessness. From not being grounded in a plan. From the sense of purposeless-ness that so many feel, even many who love and worship Jesus. It would do us all good, regardless of whether we’ve said the Sinner’s Prayer, to take stock of our lives and ask ourselves if we’re living the life of purpose that God has mapped out for us. God wants us to be blessed, and to enjoy that blessing fully. Some would even say that it’s our duty. Showing others God’s goodness is a joy! But enjoying His blessing for the sake of the blessing comes short of our purpose, and will always lead to emptiness. Each time I pray for this girl, I’m going to remember to pray that I also will learn how to be more grateful, more giving, and more yielded to what God wants of me daily, for “the blessing of Jehovah indeed maketh rich, and in it, He addeth no sorrow.” –Prov 10:22

Book Review: "Blue Like Jazz"

We just returned from a refreshing weekend in the fourteeners (Lord, thank you for rest!) While away, Ron & I read an interesting book called "Blue Like Jazz" which I've since learned has been somewhat popular with younger people. The author, Don Miller, offers new perspectives on life in Christ with a simple style that's refreshing in such a complicated world.
Though his views are, at times, more liberal than we would endorse, his love for Christ appears sincere; his portrait of the gospel comes across as compelling and deep. He even offers a heartfelt "altar call" of sorts at the book's end -somewhat unexpected, given the tone of the rest of the book -lightly stepping and very much geared to the skiddish young unchurched.
When we got home, we googled the author in order to find out who he really is and where he's really coming from. We found a number of projects that he's involved in, including an online news magazine (ezine) consisting mostly of "broader thinking" Christian content. As per the book, it leans left, but with a conscience, and with an openness to being corrected, should the truth be judiciously presented.
In "Blue," Miller looks at how & why humans create and follow shallow fashions, idols, and movements. He criticizes falseness & demagoguery on both the left and right. He challenges us to examine more deeply how & why we love, serve, and introduce our friends to our best friend Jesus Christ. It calls for introspect on how we interact with the homeless, the cynics, and the vile. It asks us to revisit our first Love, and give up ourselves for Him, maybe for the very first time.
A retreat is the perfect place to read such a piece because you're already in "remodel" mode. "Where can we do life more efficiently, more sincerely, more meaningfully? What things no longer belong in my life? What things have now earned a place, that I may never have thought of before? Which walls need to be taken out, or windows need to be put in?" Who? When? Why?"
Like churches, restaurants, movies (directors) it's difficult to find perfection (not to say that one should give up looking for it) but meantime, much truth may be quarried from the imperfect resources at hand. This book is just that: imperfect but valuable in its own way. And I think I'll keep up with the ezine and participate its forum at least for a while. Who knows-we may all learn something together. And you're never too old to learn. Here's a peek. Blessings.
http://www.donaldmillerwords.com/pdf/bluelikejazz_randomexcerpts.pdf

Renewing the Mind

At 11:30 last night the phone rang. Bad news. Details are still fleshing out, so I'll be general, but we all need to pray for our nephew, Bobby. As many of you may know (and I haven't had a chance to enter yet) Bobby has left Khouse. He couldn't abide the rules any more. He's been staying with friends and sometimes at his dad's. We've invited him to church and have tried to keep in touch-he's been working in the plumbing division at Vision and until now (even through his mom's death) has been showing up and working hard.
The old life is tugging hard on Bobby. He's lost weight, been seeing the wrong friends, and missed work a couple of days last week. Other troubling things are happening, and just 4 short months out of Sterling in March.
Ron & I got up to talk, and watch a little tv to settle down. Then, when we went back to bed, we saw some things as we prayed. A vivid picture came of Jesus in the hull of a boat, asleep while a storm raged around Him. God was steering His ship, and whatever happened was all right with Him. Ye of little faith were all up on deck losing their minds with fear. Who was steering theirs?
In this blog, we've talked before about an intense quest for that peace and rest promised by our Sabbath, the Messiah. In brief moments, we've touched on it, and in so doing, we've enjoyed respites from physical pain, wasted time and unnecessary aging. We'd just returned from one of the most restful, recharging times we've spent in a long time, and in a former life we might've said of all this bad news, "Isn't that the way it goes-get things moving in the right direction and along comes bad news to ruin it." We might've blamed the liar, and said that it was just like him to send such worry our way at such a time.
But, #1, the liar only has so much power. And #2, when we ask God to teach us something, and the curriculum calls for challenges like this, should we call them evil, or roll with them as part of the lesson, determined to pass the challenge, lest we revisit it over & over until we do?
We prayed that we meet the challenge without fear. We began to enlarge our God, and minimize our problem. We reminded ourselves of just how small and helpless we are, and became comfortable with that. We encouraged ourselves by remembering God's amazing miracles in our family (see article titled "Look what the Lord Has Done") and filled our hearts with His awe once again. Then we simply gave Bobby and his family into the HUGE hands of an able God, and turned over and went to sleep. Our dreams were positive, and our sleep refreshing. Of course, we took up the fight again this morning, but we know that each day it will get easier. There's a tremendous prize ahead. Peace.
"My peace I leave with you, My own peace I bequeath to you."
"Be anxious for nothing, but with prayer, supplication, and thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God, and let the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
"Be ye not conformed to this world (read: smoking, drunkenness, worry, anger, dispair) but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind."
"Taking every thought captive which would exalt itself above the truth."
Ron has pain in his wrists that flares up when he's stressed. A few things make him stressed, including getting older, and grief over a broken family. But, he's been working out again (and looking good, by the way!) The increased power is showing. And even better, he's been able to give these concerns to the Lord more and more, and he's daily gaining strength and reward in the renewing of his mind that no bodily strength can ever give him. Now that's real power - power that we may well need every ounce of in the uncertain days to come.
"In this world, you'll have trouble. But cheer up. I've overcome the world." And for that, we're more than conquerors!
Please pray for Bobby, and for our family. God will help us. It ain't over till it's over, and it ain't over yet. Victory is on its way.

Missing Sis

It's been just over two weeks since my big sister Di suddenly passed away. She was ill, though I don't believe she knew how ill (nor did we.) Perilously underweight, and I believe still grieving Mom's loss last year, she'd recently shown increasing signs of addiction once again. We're still waiting on the why's from the medical authorities, but meantime, her memorial services were positive and reflected her always cheerful, giving attitude. She accepted Christ formally just a few weeks prior, and this is such comfort to us all. So much to process at times like these, and yet there can be a danger to over-process, too. God knows it all, and one day we shall, too. His comfort is always enough. Wish we'd been closer; many things got in the way. We did what we could, though, and in that I can rest. I remember taking her for coffee, on rides around town to get scrips, etc. Joking about this and that. Talking about her boys and their "comebacks"
(Bobby with K House and Bry with his new kidney.)
Di was a simple heart, who didn't think much about what she'd leave behind in this world. But the surprising number of people who came to say goodbye that day (some who we'd never met) warmed our hearts. She left behind many friends. And they loved her very much. She showed us all a thing or two about being humble, giving, and loving. I hope that we appreciated it in her all along. She could be hard to love at times because of her addictions & afflictions, but I choose to believe that she knew how much we loved her and wanted the very best for her. I could waste hours wishing that her life had been easier or that her choices had been healthier, or that we'd been closer, but I've learned too much about taking such harmful paths in thought. She's whole now. That's what matters. Like Mom, her suffering is past, and nothing but the good life is ahead for her. Why cry? Only because I miss my sis. But soon enough, we'll catch up. Eternity is long. Heaven is sweet. And we'll get together again...

Back Breakers (Ground Breakers Update -6/06)

Don't you get tired of blogs where the blogger constantly apologizes for not making entries for several days? Me, too, so I won't! I've been busy in the wilderness out behind the house for the last week creating a man-made (woman-made?) impression on nature. Armed with a spade, a rake, a pick, and a half-gallon of flonase, I'm tackling Springtime in the Rockies.
So far, I've been able to fine-grade several little tiers, patios, garden islands and other goodies which will (Lord willing) this summer sprout color and life under (with Ronny's work) a canopy of SHADE! (In the last week, he's planted 32 miscellaneous trees and shrubs taken from riverbanks, etc!) Since Monday's delivery, I've managed to spread one-quarter acre of topsoil and then sow some very nice crested wheatgrass (native stuff you see in hiway medians, etc.) This should be a drought-friendly, low-maintenance natural ground cover alternative to weeds and mud. My back feels like it did when doing the tilework here (y'know that so-tired-you-can't-even-really-sleep-well-at-night-tired?) but there's no more gratifying feeling than to have it all done in the small window of opportunity just before the big spring moisture comes in. Now we just wait for May when frost danger is past for sowing & growing green stuff. Meantime, it's mulch, slag, shrubs (maybe some nice Russian sage and other xerics, a few more grapevines, and some preventive weed control.) Last year I spread some halts preventer all along our driveway and it really kept the tall weeds down, so I did it again this year. In this here promised land, two of our meanest giants have been weeds and evil, sticky clay mud. But God is with us and the giants are falling a little at a time! And we're enjoying the benefits of better fitness (I don't need no stinkin' gym) at the same time. Yesterday, stopping to look over it all, the brilliant green of the pinon and juniper, the deep blue of the Greenhorn under a bright whitecap, the smell of fresh manure(???) I just had to let out a cry of worship to our Lord for all His many blessings! Thank You, Father, for all that you've blessed us all with: living in a free country, enjoying family & friends, freedom to worship, freedom to prosper so that we may give and be a blessing, free to work hard and become unique individuals in You! WOW! Halleluiah! Well, today I sense the need for us both to take a much-needed Sabbath and to recharge. Next week is looking busy in the studio and I'm up to bat to lead worship at church, so rest is imperative. Check your email today for a cool little April Fools Day link that I think you'll really like. Plod on!!!

The Funeral is Over (5/05)

The funeral is over, the bills all finalized, mail moved, acknowledgements sent. This weekend was time to reflect, breathe, and cry. I still awaken wondering which of us to call in scheduling her watch today. I think about all that she’d gone through, and we with her. It was so hard, but God was so near. As we now begin learning life without Mom, even in the intense pain, I'm finding a peculiar peace which I've never known before. Grief is strangely familiar right now, and the comfort God has for me in it. Also strangely familiar are the coping skills (taking thoughts captive, etc) that have brought me back to joy these last few months. None of this is new, even since she fell asleep that Friday. And so I begin to wonder, could it be that what I've been experiencing since the autumn was simply the grief cycle, a little ahead of time, without my knowing it? And could it be that God's timing in that was so that I may be just a little stronger when my family needed it most? God knows. There’s now a new liberty- more time, more rest. But it carries with it a sense of urgency and dispatch from the sweet Spirit that not a moment is to be wasted. Midnight is gone and morning is here, and God is doing things in this heart that cannot be measured. He’s shown me that it is so not me, it is He. He’s shown that He can well orchestrate that which He has called into existence. He’s shown me that I can trust Him. Twenty-five years and now I finally get it. I can trust Him. I must trust Him. Only in God’s house are the broken vessels the most useful. Life breaks us, sin breaks us, even God Himself breaks us sometimes. And that’s ok. I wouldn’t tell just everyone this, but I’ve grown to like being broken. I want to stay there. This is where His fragrance is sweetest. This is where His embrace is softest. This is where our sense of destiny is greatest. Not life, not sin, but You, Lord: keep breaking me. It’s ok. Continue to burn away the flesh which cannot stand in Your presence. Continue to shrink my image of self, till all that remains in the mirror is Your face reflected. In memory of my humble and selfless Mommy, do a new thing today in this heart.

Woke Up Tired (4/05)

Woke up tired. It may be good to take the day and recover at least part of the weekend that I just missed to just rest and recover from the last two weeks’ rigors. But we’re so close on the home project, and moving day is just around the corner. One more afternoon should do it. But I know my ways in these matters, and my habit to push too hard. I’d better ask for wisdom on that. It’s almost nine and I want to be with Mom at the hospital. I just can’t seem to get going, though. Dishes are piled up and mail and bills are to be gone through. Her bills are to be paid, and mistakes on them chased down. It seems like so much. Lord, here is where the rubber meets the road. Through tears of determination, my flesh is to give up, but my heart knows that I’m made for better. You know my heart, Master. It’s open to Your inspection. Here is the make or break. I’ve learned so much at Your feet these last few months; where I was weak and where I was stubborn. Now I can take that, and choose the better path. But I need Your sustenance to do so. No longer do I choose to stumble here and there, using precious time to regain my footing. That’s just not good enough any more. I want to walk. Sure. Strong. Steady. Just walk, and not be weary, even run and not faint. Unlike before, I now believe that this can be done, with trust and tenacity. Few get to experience it, Lord. I want to be one of them. You have a purpose for me, and I don’t want to miss any of it. In the end, I want to be proud and happy, not ashamed and disappointed. Hold me steady, Lord. You’ve been so faithful to me. And you will always be. I will trust in You with all my heart, leaning NOT unto my own understanding. In all my ways, I’ll acknowledge You, and YOU, YOU, YOU will direct my paths. Please help me keep watch over my thoughts today, and if I cannot ascend my stairway, help me to at least stand my ground and not descend. I’ve come too far to lose what You’ve so graciously given. Please strengthen us all, and touch Mom today with your warm, tender care. We take hold of your garment together and know that there is healing for us there. I love you so much, Lord. Expecting good things…amen

Cheeseburger in Paradise (3-06)

Okay, I have a MacDonald's #4 combo now and then...but I can quit whenever I want. Really. I have a theological problem: Long ago and long story, but my Dad takes me out to get a burger and fries now and then. My heavenly Dad, that is. You remember how your dad used to do that? It was a time that only you and Dad could've had, right? Well, that's us when the occasion comes along. We sit and talk, and I thank Him for being my Dad. And worship Him for just being Him, and we laugh, and sometimes drive, and life is good (and so is the burger! Really good!) Only thing is that now that MacDonald's has become nearly public enemy #1 because of all the trans-mono-poly-unsaturated fats, would a Dad like our God really take his kid a place like that for lunch? Should it not be to the grocery store produce aisle for say, kale or kohlrabi? I know that the Holy Ghost deserves His house to be pristine -blood flowing free from ornery little LDLs and triglycerides clogging up the place with their trash. And high-octane antioxidant bouncers should stand watch and keep at bay those annoying free radicals and their oxidation vandalism. I'm privy to all this. It should be in top condition, smell nice, and be even somewhat nicely garnished. So what then of a little girl, joining her Daddy for a burger in the 21st century? Someone please tell me the answer! I work out regularly, drink lots of water, eat my 5 a day fruits & veggies (okay, 3 anyway), and even brush and floss. But by gum, after a quarter-ton leg press, or a brisk run on the hills out in this wild land, a 430-calorie, 21 fat gram burger binge is in order, I'd say! If I die 5 years earlier, it's bloody worth it. My choice -right? So GET OFF MY BACK! Since I have no answers, I'll just leave you with this line from Dire Straits:
"If you wanna run cool, If you wanna run cool
Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel."I'm lovin' it.

Ground Breakers (3/06)

We've been watching an HG channel show on Saturdays called "Ground Breakers" where huge renovations to backyards are made and beatiful transformations are the result. We've been inspired! Not that the view out here isn't already nice, but a little area behind the house to enjoy and spend time in would be awesome. So this morning, Ron's on the Bobcat and moving ground all around. The slope behind the home is just right for 3 levels, the top one at the back of the yard where we'd like to play horseshoes. The next one down: turf, and the closest, a little side yard and a few planting features. We're sort of novices at this, but it seems to be taking shape. Nothing is in stone from the beginning-it sort of works itself out, kinda like a watercolor piece. If you try to control it too much, you'll blow it. Nature knows what it's doing. So we'll listen to the yard as it goes along, and enjoy every step along the way. Any ideas for plantings, or if you have anything that grows on your place that you'd like to thin out, we'd sure appreciate your letting us know. Hopefully by the end of the summer this year we can invite everyone out to eat a slab of ribs & just enjoy it with us!

Little Ones (Penned 3/06)

By now you might've heard that Arianne & Tony believe that Joey will have a little brother or sister in early December. Though yet to be confirmed, Papa and Nana are just a little excited already. But in talking about it yesterday, and joining in prayer and blessing over this little life, Annie and I decided to make a conscious effort to order our conversation aright regarding this little person. He/she is here. Now! We have another grandchild right now! Do we see this precious little face yet? No, but it's there! And we should speak accordingly. (Our own little brand of PC talk.)In the debate in our country about when life begins, we vehemently argue that it begins at conception, and yet we believers still use terms like, "I wonder if it will be a boy or girl." In my opinion, this hurts (if not kills) the entire cause. A more appropriate statemtent: "I wonder if it's a boy or girl."
Or how about, instead of, "when he is born" (in our minds-when he begins to live) "when we see his face," or "when he's in the air-breathing world with us," -to remind us that he's been around for awhile, just breathing something else. Just imagine if all of God's children began talking this way. Would it not be just a little harder to visit an abortion clinic?
In this thread of thought, life has a 9-month prelude which we don't (yet) count in documenting age, and if we broaden it further, an infinite postlude because the spirit never dies. Those who we have helped to usher into this phase of life thus seem less gone; less seperate from us, and life suddenly becomes so much bigger and more wonderful.
" I hear babies cry, I watch them grow, they'll learn much more than I'll ever know, and I say to myself, "What a wonderful world!" (Where that came from, I have no idea, but it's true, huh?) So when you hear me talk about my two grandchildren, don't ask if I'm speaking things that be not as though they were. They were!

Illumination (Penned 3/06)

Here it is the middle of March. Spring is fast on its way and with it so many exciting things to look forward to. This morning in prayer I got an earful. I’ll be blunt and brief because there’s little time each day to get it all down. A daily log can get somewhat personal, but I’ve been told that’s ok. I am to post it all anyway. So here goes.When looking over the recent past and seeking God’s face with prayer and fasting, it now comes so clear that some of the difficulties that I’ve run into are simply because it’s safe and warm right next to God, and I got out away from that safety and warmth. Period. God showed me where we’d been closer in the past and that I’d let that go. Distractions, ambitions, taking Him for granted - this all added up to dross accumulating in my spirit, dust in the house where I’ve asked Him to dwell. Well, it eventually gets swept out and burned off, if you’re really His. And it hurts. But it’s good, or we’d just keep getting further, and life would just keep getting darker. In His love, he does what He must.God has given me vague glimpses of an incredible life available to us where worship and intimacy with Him is the center, and we are warmed and refreshed to such a place that when we go out into that world, nothing can shake us, and peace and rest reign our lives. Like a lush, green garden that we take with us everywhere we go, spilling life out all over those around us. Healing there is complete, for whatever affliction, and no matter what happens to or around us, we are safe and confident in His love and protection. He bought that for us. He paid so much. I’ve seen it and I want it. I don’t care what sort of things we are faced with in this life; perfect rest is the only way to live. It’s right there. I can almost touch it. The glimpses are getting clearer. I see it in friends (just a very few, but there are those who know it) and I want it also. Beware the ides of March, my friends. In this time is both brutal illumination and difficult decision, but it’s worth it all.Now that I’m feeling so much better, it could be easy to become complacent. But God forbid. We must take these painful lessons and use them to jettison us into His presence and His inheritance, to a place where we’ve never ventured before.

Oh, geez-get up and do it already.

Two hours ago, I got it. Just like that.
I'd had it before (here & there) but it didn't stick.
But it's back. Clearer, now.
It's time.
I'll be 50 in 2 years,
and want to live the second 1/2 of life better.
I want to forge something to say, then say it.
Something to help. Something to heal.
Something to show others that we were made for life, joy, peace...
that we were made for better.
I'm not a doctor, not a lawyer, not even a writer.
That's ok.
I must know something by now,
and I surely have a passion to share it. So I shall.
Ok, that's good. Let's go.