Reentry

I am late on my blog, but I am having transition problems.  Yep, leaving the three-month beach life and coming back to reality is tough.  I’m not seeking compassion because all you who endured this winter are saying, “ Yea, you don’t know tough until you have endured the winter of 2014.”  I understand.  I understand. 

Instead I am trying to read my life.  I read an article on looking at the things you choose to do and the price you pay for those choices.  I read my life as beautiful.  I am so grateful God has given Denny and I so many opportunities.  Sometimes it was making our dollars stretch to the end of the month, others led my agnostic husband into a deep belief in Jesus, other times we joined our faith for a miraculous physical healing for John and an emotional healing for Adam.  Those were hard times but because we had become equally yoked, we stood together resurrecting that same spirit within us that raised Christ from the dead.  We didn’t choose for these hardships, but we chose how we reacted.  We chose faith in Jesus.  He paid the price so we could make this choice.

I know in my life I need time for prayer, solitude, and peace. These are the things that renew my soul and spirit.  I know I need this fix me time, so I don’t neglect these things.  When life gets too busy to be peaceful, I know I am paying the price for a choice of over commitment.

I read in my life a need to create and teach.  My little granddaughters are taught moral lessons each piece of art we make.  This week we had kindness competition.  We made a sign for their rooms.  I asked each sister to explain what she liked best about her sibling.  I wrote Ellis’s on her poster.  Ava wrote her own as Ellis and I told her what we liked about her.  Ellis said we forgot one thing.  She was happy, so she added her happy face on her poster.  I loved that she chose to see herself as happy and her sister gave warm cuddles to her at night when it was difficult to fall asleep.  Ahhh, we all need a good cuddles and hugs in our lives.

I am going to continue to read my choices.  Being mindful that my wise choices brings new truths, and my poor choices bring errors and failure lessons that create in me better discernment.  Be ready for my choice making blogs.

Losing my focus

Losing my focus

My mind is constantly tricked by the sun into thinking I am on vacation.  Since we live in Florida for three months, this is not true.  We live here , and I need to be productive I tell  myself.
    I pretend I will go to the beach and plot my novel , check the pace, or rework a character .  I dig my toes into the warm sand trying to create brainpower.  Strange, the opposite happens.  The grains of sand between my toes bring back memories of the past.  I remember when my parents ,sister, and I went to Daytona Beach every Sunday after church.  I remember the first time Den and I walked hand in hand on the wet sand and looked into each other’s eyes with love and adoration.  I think on the first time that we brought our sons to the sea.  I loved their squeals of glee and fascination with the shells and waves.  How many sandcastles have I built through the years?

I marvel as the waves wash beautiful shell treasures to shore.  I have carried shells home for over sixty-five years.  As a child, I would beg to take just one more home.  As a teen, I stuffed as many as possible in my suitcase on spring break visits.  Being a young mom encouraged my collection, because the boys brought to me their found jewels of the sea. We carried each one home to display and keep forever.  Now, as a grandmother, I find shells that I am sure our granddaughters will need for their collections I have begun for them.  I consider  and plan how many more shells I can display in my small home.  Shells are like ice cream; there is always room for more.

Once again the beautiful teal waters glittering like diamonds have stolen my focus from writing.  I am daily deceived in my three months in Florida that the sea will nurture my creativity.  Instead, it relaxes me. It resurrects precious memories.  It restores my soul and awe of God’s majesty.  How does anyone ever become immune to the lulling sounds of the sea?  If I lived here year round, could I learn to focus?  Excuse me; I only have a few days  left to meditate on the wonders of the sea.  I must go now. 

Finding Time To Be Alone

The Importance of Being Alone

            When I awaken early in the morning before sunrise, I am groggy and sluggish.  I make my coffee and begin writing thoughts in my journal.  I make out a daily prayer list and what I hope for each of these loved ones.  I search the Psalms for praises and meditate on those songs of ascents and love.  I reflect upon yesterday’s activities, lessons, and understandings of other people.  I am alone with the I Am.  This is the beginning of a wonderful day.

            How do I know?  Because I have carved out time to be on my own little island.  This refreshing paints my day.  The Creator stirs in me what I should write, paint, or draw. He directs my steps. Sometimes my creativity is brought forth in a meal to share with others.  Mostly, I bask in the presence of the Creator knowing He will lead me.

            Even drawing requires great meditation, quietness, and focus.  I must close out worries of the day and open my mind to see in a new way.  I don’t draw what my mind sees, but I seek to see through my eyes a new dimension or wonder.  If I am drawing the simplicity of a seashell, I find the memory of the sunset in its color.  I discover the complicated entry to the inner shell.  It is winding and deep, and  I observe I cannot see to the inner most part of the shell.  I relate with the shell closely.  Others cannot see my most intimate thoughts, but I know God can because He created the seashell and me.  Drawing is a very spiritual activity that takes time and aloneness.

            Today I realize how we are so busy in our contemporary lives that we stress or feel guilt about stopping, meditating, taking time to just be with ourselves.  I think this is why I love coming to the island each winter.  I am on an island with others who respect my island boundary.  They too have come for a respite in the sun, a time of meditation opened by the view of the vast seascape.  Folks are friendly but honor each other’s time alone when walking the beach or in the mangrove forest.  It is a time of rejuvenation and an awareness of all that is within. I watch as others stare into the endless sea for hours at a time.  I see the openness of the waves and understand I am a part of those great teal waters.  I hear the patterns of the waves and watch the sandpipers weave back and forth dodging each new curl of the ocean.  I become the sandpiper dodging business, responsibilities, and hardships.  I  weave with nature like a giant tapestry. I am at peace and know that God’s love endures forever.

            Each of us need an island experience of refreshing.  Perhaps it is meditating on beautiful photos of nature, reading a stirring poem, singing a song in our heart, creating a painting or scrapbook page,or writing a song or message.  I learn each winter how important it is to seek alone time to renew my mind and spirit. 

            Would you share your “island” experience and help others find quietness in this over processed world of technology, demands, and expectations?  I would love to hear how others find their time alone each day.

In Memory of Jeff Boze

In memory of Jeff Boze

Photo by Rick Stieve

Early this morning, Jeff Boze was released from his earthly body and gained his new heavenly body.  For those of us who have known Jeff through the years, we have seen a Mr. Indiana body builder turn to an emaciated helpless form.  The disease is called Huntington’s Cholera; the result was heartache to all who watched this strong body degenerate.  Jeff was the first man to teach our sons to use weights and build their bodies.  They loved to go to the gym with him and follow his suggestions and programs.  They looked up to him and thought he was the strongest man in the world at that time.

Jeff was our neighbor for forty years.  I would sit on our back porch and hear melodic tunes floating through the air.  He was an accomplished pianist and songwriter.  These were times of blessing to hear his fingers dance on the keyboard and his creative mind produce beautiful song lyrics.  He loved to write songs and was so successful that he went to Hollywood many times to work on songs for movies such as “Somewhere in Time”.  Other great pianist like Roger Williams, who was his friend, appreciated his gift.

Jeff loved the Lord loudly.  He was like a lighthouse.  He stood strong and offered the gospel to anyone who would listen.  He walked out his faith by helping those in need as well as traveling with Lester Sumrall to help the” Feed the Hungry” program.  Huntington’s could not destroy Jeff’s spirit or his faith.  Until the end, he loved God and wanted to pray with people.

His sense of humor and timing of saying a phrase kept us all laughing.  My favorite phrase was he would tell Pixie, his wife, and I that we were “tralalaling our way to failure.”  He could remember every star, movie, and director.  He could recite these details and lines from the scripts until a few short years ago.  He loved the movie theater world and had close friends in the industry.

Jeff worked with Lester Maddox and George Wallace in their political movements.  He loved supporting the Independent Party and embraced their platforms with the same vigor he lived his life.

Jeff’s two little girls were his joy.  Emily and Anna loved looking for “prizes” in his pockets when he would return from the Silhouette Health Spa, which he owned and operated.  Pixie was his greatest supporter and cheerleader.  She too embraced God and worked to spread God’s word and love to others.  Jeff was a unique individual that will be missed by all who knew and loved him.  However, we rejoice that he is at last free from the disease that imprisoned his body.  He can now write songs of rejoicing with his Lord and Savior.

 

Photo from Miami , Florida newspaper

Waiting in Peace

         

"Waiting on the Storm" by Sandra Lee Baron

Lessons on Learning To Wait

           As noted in my last blog, I am learning to wait.  Two weeks later, I still  have my kidney stone and all its irritations.  I am waiting.  The doctor has decided I need surgery to remove it.  This is scheduled February 27^th.  However, I will continue to wait on Jesus’ timetable.  I know He knows my circumstances, and because I trust  Him , I can wait, hope, enter a new plan, and keep my eyes on Him, which I define as trust.

            It has taken many years to learn to wait in peace.  I am an impatient person and want to create the best painting on my first lesson.  Whatever I create, I push for success.  I remember when I learned to sew. My mother gave me a piece of fabric and a shirtwaist pattern. She said, “Read the directions carefully and cut precisely.  Do it in that order.” She left to work the midnight shift in her nursing career , and I was on my own.

            I opened the pattern carefully and trimmed it as I had seen her do many times.  I tried to read the instructions, but some parts were unclear, others seemed out of order, and one section had arrows pointing on how to lay the pattern on the fabric.  I put those aside.  They were too tedious.  I laid the pattern on the bright navy fabric. I turned it to fit like puzzle pieces, pinned, and cut.  I began by threading my bobbin with a navy blue thread.  My mother had taught me how to use the machine and how to make aprons.  That was my previous experience, but it gave me confidence.  I just sewed that night and followed my gut feelings on how to assemble.  Every once in a while, I'd glance at the instructions.  I followed the visuals on how to insert sleeves and gather the skirt onto the waistline.  So, I assembled and sewed. After ripping out the gathers in the skirt and resewing the bodice to the correct side of the skirt,  I was so happy with my first creation.  I put it on, swirled around, looked in the mirror and decided to mark the hem. 

            I tried and tried to get that hem even, but because I had not followed the directions and cut the skirt on the bias, it just did not hang well.  So, I settled and hemmed it the best I could.  I added buttons, pressed seams and the hem, and hung it on a hanger.  I thought that was so much fun.  It wasn’t perfect but it was my creation. I reached into my mother’s sacred fabric stash, neatly folded on a shelf and chose another piece.  I felt a pang of guilt but shoved it down and started another shirtwaist dress.  This time I looked more carefully at the layout process.  I aligned the pieces on the bright cerise cloth as the directions suggested.  I cut and assembled much faster because I had experience.  I finished in two hours and marked the hem.  This time the hem was even and hung attractively.  However, as I sewed on the buttons, I noticed in my haste I had put the buttonholes in backwards.  I had not read the instructions carefully as my mother had recommended. I gained a little more confidence, and lots of experience in ripping out buttonholes. 

              I have read the Bible every morning for forty plus years. At first, the directions were blurry because  I  read hastily and chose not to meditate , discover, or read carefully.  I had ragged hems a lot of years.  But, God waited patiently.  As a young mother, I gained experience, speed in doing things several tasks at once, but I still made mistakes that reminded me of my backward buttonholes that I made at sixteen. God waited as I unraveled each buttonhole.  

          As I built my career in teaching, I learned to wait on students until they took the  time to read directions and follow them instead of just jumping in and doing things their own way.  I waited for them to find their confidence and begin to write to express their joys or hurts. While reading their essays, I smiled at their mistakes, marked some, and wrote encouraging comments about their content at the top of their papers.  I learned to wait until they learned a concept before I tried to teach a new grammar rule and apply it.  I waited. It took many years for me to understand that waiting brought new truth, fulfillment, and peace. 

            Because of my impatience, I cut a lot of patterns out incorrectly.  Because I wanted to do it my way, I made some serious mistakes. Because I didn’t want to slow down and meditate, I missed some insightful truths on living in peace. However, Jesus has waited for me almost seventy years. 

            I’m still not a patient person.  The difference in that sixteen year old who made her first dress is that I  read the direction manual carefully and meditate how God's words apply to my life that day.  I know He is with me even when His timing is not mine.  I have learned that I can wait and still know peace.  So, I close this blog waiting, hoping, knowing, and loving Jesus.