Studying the Sunsets

Studying the Sunset 

I have been studying each sunset and noticing the various colors, changing cloud formations, and the “awe” factor.  As I sit on the beach, I marvel at  how the reflection on the water changes moment by moment.  The once gray ocean slides into teal colored waters with spectacular red and gold highlights.  My mind grasps this vision and meditates on it long after the sun has slipped into the dark waters.

I realize that the sunset mirrors my search for the character of God.  Through the years, I have learned that Joshua Harris’ words are profound.  He says in his book Dug Down Deep, “What we know about God shapes the way we think and live.”  Studying God has affected every aspect of my life.  Like the sunset, His reflections have changed within me.  As a child, I talked to him under the psalm trees and knew Him as my friend, my playmate.  In my teens, I began to understand more fully that He had loved me so much that He had sent Jesus on this earth to save and nurture me.  As a young mom, I learned to trust him with my children’s lives and support me through their sicknesses and hardships.  When finances were scarce, He showed me He was my provider.  Each new wave of life and learning brought more understanding of the big picture.  I knew He was in each sunset and sunrise.  

Thomas Aquinas, the great theologian and philosopher said, “ Theology is taught by God, teaches God, and leads unto God.” In other words, our theology teaches us to care about the true things of God.  It teaches us to embrace our Heavenly Father through various colors of clouds.  It brings to light celebration of His Majesty upon our constantly changing seasons.  His word teaches us how to apply His reflection to our lives.  We reflect the Son’s light.  

I realize it is He who leads me beside still waters.  He rides on the clouds.  He provides for the poor.  He is my refuge.  He clothes the hills with gladness and creates sunsets for pondering and understanding His awe.  Each sunset creates in me a greater need to crave more of God.  

Plates of Sunshine and Pod Play

  “Focus,focus,focus. Be here.  Appreciate this moment,” the yoga teacher instructed.  Just then, a young porpoise appeared, breached, and played in the water very near the beach where 107 participants rejoiced at Portia’s (my name for her) appearance.  We appreciated Portia joining our class.  Portia joined our pod for a few minutes as she does many mornings.  I think Portia wants to be a part of us gathering sunshine on our plate.

Gathering sunshine on my plate is a buffet of life experiences.  For example, I smile incessantly and uncontrollably every time I walk along the coastline and see the shell treasures.  The sea delivers these gifts to all who walk by.  The shells are magnets.  I cannot help to bend over and collect just one more.  I marvel at their contour, pastel colors, and distinct shapes. I am sensitive to their smoothness or roughness.  I often will pick up one that has been broken yet shaped by the constant sifting and pulling of the waves.  Today I picked up a colorful and smooth rectangle.  I included it in my collection because it reminds me that sometimes even when I am broken, I can be smoothed and refined by God’s loving touch.  I appreciate each shell for the life it has led, the hardship it has known, or the long way it has traveled.  

On the shore, the shells are so plentiful that a passerby might not realize how each one is special.  The clams discard their homes and leave perfectly shaped fans. Tiny whelks are ornate on the outside and smooth and beautiful on the inside.  Large whelks allow me to hear the sea long after I have departed.  These shells become my plate of sunshine for this day.

Sometimes my plate is filled with fulfillment as I reach out to a child who is in need of a hug or a smile.  Another time I give a meal to a disabled neighbor.  Many times it is just a peck on the cheek for my husband when he feels unmotivated because of his stiff back. My purpose this day is to make them feel special, wanted, and encouraged.

Giving to others is my shell treasures to them.  I see the look on their faces and that is my treasure. This small gesture puts sunshine on their plate.  The sea teaches me to give freely and produce constantly.  These are the things that create my plate of sunshine.

As I awaken and read the scriptures, I am so filled with joy that God has offered me such treasures in His promises, His parables, and His recorded words.  These words fill my plate with sunshine and begin my day.  Whether it is Portia, sea walks, or God’s word, I can fill my plate each day.  I must find these treasures, see them, feel them, and search. “Focus, focus, focus.”  Only then can I know His light and creation.

                                                                                                                                                        

Marriage, A Yoga Relationship

Yoga in Marriage

Today I had a wonderful experience. I did yoga on the Englewood Beach. The instructor urged us to breathe with the ocean waves. The fine mist in the air gently washed away my cares and concerns. Approximately 100 people stretched to the sky and recognized the sand as their turf. It was a gentle class. I expect the instructor recognized we were mostly senior snow birds.

I was invigorated after our hour session. It was about 70 degrees. Warm feels wonderful to an Indiana gal. As I was walking back to our rental, I thought about the next few days.

We planned to fly to Seattle to witness our son’s wedding. He is 35 and has waited a long time to marry. This wedding is their official church wedding. He and Annie decided to be married before they lived together because they had been reared to know God’s ordainment is necessary and morally right. I so appreciated them taking this extra step. In April they are having a destination wedding with tropical flowers, event days, and lots of celebration. We are all traveling to Cozumel to have a wedding in the sands of time.

I realize this is exceptional in this era where so many couples choose just to live together. They make a commitment to share the rent. Somehow, rent sharing and fixing up a domain are not the basis for marriage. It is the external parts, but it takes God’s blessing to create a permanent bond. Even then, it is a difficult task to have a successful marriage in today’s culture. I pray often for Annie and Adam. I ask God to unite them in such a way that they will be magnets to each other for all of their life’s journey,

They understand it will take much work, patience, and turning their heads when one of them acts really stupid. I used to wonder how long” stupid” would last. Usually, the state of disrepair lasted a few hours when we were first married. After forty-three years, our “stupid” only lasts a short time. It is not because we are mature marrieds. We just seem to give each other more grace because we can’t remember if we are really right or wrong. Our most vivid attack is, “ Somebody”. We say, “Somebody forgot to put the milk away, close the cupboard, or give me a charge receipt,” and other such essential functions and earth shattering matters in marriage.

I enter into an understanding when I see an older couple holding hands as they walk together. Gravity has played a cruel trick on their once cute bodies. Heartaches and worries have engraved etchings on their faces. Rearing and running children made permanent laugh lines around their eyes and upturned mouths. The hand in hand couple look within to find comfort, honor, and respect. These are the foundations of a lasting marriage. I see them laugh as they pull up and down their swim suits in a synchronized way trying to hide the bulges that make most clothes feel awkward. It just doesn’t matter. They are one in heart, soul, and body. They have earned the right to bulge and still feel love, passion, and admiration for each other. These are the condiments of an old marriage.

I pray that Annie and Adam will feel the rhythm of the waves that I heard this morning. I want them to be the cleansing air and soft mist for each other. I know they will stretch each other, but I pray they can stay in balance as I did in the tree position. If they lose that balance, may they refocus, realign, and recall how good it felt to be stable as one. Just as yoga takes years of practice to perfect; so does marriage. Like yoga, even the practice is enjoyable. A session can create enlightenment, renewal, or a new understanding. Each season of marriage does much the same if we relax and let it work within us and outside of us. Ahhh, stretch Annie and Adam. You are in for a delightful season. Blessings to you both in learning balance.

Ellie,my Reading Fairy

 

This is Ellie. She is almost two and has already found her creative self. She and sister have a costume box , which they delight in using almost daily. Pretending to be what you think you are is their daily doctrine. Not a bad motto for life.

Ellie loves to dawn this bright red net dress and purple wings. She Skypes me in her “butiful costume” as she says. This dress just makes her happy. In the photo Grandpa is reading to her. She now has new slippers that she wears even to bed.

Oh, wouldn’t we all want to be as free as a two year old? She doesn’t care what others think of her fashion choices. She likes them. She doesn’t worry if her family loves her. She knows they do and acts loved. She loves her babies, kisses them, and talks to them gently. She emanates the love she knows and feels.

She smiles often and giggles until she falls down. When we say “no” , she melts into the floor like a collapsing building. She says, “ no, Mimi” over and over just to hear herself say no to an adult. I hear that little voice in my head each day. She is demanding to be heard and does it boldly and like a two year old. I often tell her, "You are acting two, Ellie.” She replies, “No, Mimi”.

She reads constantly. She reads alone or brings me a book or anyone else who will read it to her. I love to watch her face as we read the familiar words and pictures. She lights up when she sees the babies playing with balloons and costumes. Her little jaw drops and her lips pout when we read about a baby who is crying. Her emotions are shaped by these words. Through these words she identifies with her life experiences and expectations. Books are her surge protector, her data base, her dictionary, and her entertainment. Once again Ellie has reminded her grandmother of some dynamic life principles.

Dress in what makes you happy. Pretend to be what you wish you were and soon it will be a part of your persona. Act loved because you are. Allow your emotions to be a part of you everyday. Read often, read often, read often. Words will inspire you and shape you. That child like spirit is irrepressible. She is naturally creative and makes me appreciate life more each day.

Faith in Him, not Me

,f 

What Is In Your Hand?

While reading in Exodus this morning, I was reminded of how Moses tried everything not to be God’s messenger to the Egyptians. Moses pointed out his age, his poor command of the language,and his inabilities. God knew his heart. God knew Moses had a heart of wax that could be molded by the Spirit of God. God trusted that Moses would eventually listen to God's call. To further persuade Moses, God asked, "What's in your hand?"

For some reason, Moses' first reaction gives me comfort. I too have many times told the Lord I am not equipped to be His messenger. I too have inwardly been asked, “ What is in you hand?”

It is a sobering question to answer before the Lord. He has made me and given me my gifts, my inclinations, my heart for Him. I must be honest before Him because He knows me. He knows me so much better than I know myself.

I thought I could not manage or live through Alzheimer’s with my mother. God showed me that in my hand was optimism. I could be by her side and cheer her with my presence. I could offer her art opportunities , so she could still be involved in color. Recently, I found one of the notebooks where we had drawn butterflies, flowers, and spring blossoms. Because of her foggy mind, Mamma’s pictures were distorted, but her colors were loud and strong. I would applaud her efforts and command of color. She would smile sweetly . This brought me such joy. God knew what was in my hand.

Another time God asked me to go to Kazakhstan. At first , I was so reluctant. I drug my feet. My excuses were: I don’t know the language, it is too far away, I was taught fear of Russia as a child, I am not ready, and I did not have that much money. I sounded a bit like Moses. My lack of confidence was in me. I wasn’t giving credence to my God and His power, His words, and His favor. It took me a couple of years to trust Him totally. Finally, I listened and said, “ I am weak but You are strong. Let’s go together.”

I should have responded that way immediately. Gratefully, He knew my heart. He knew I had to prepare my spirit to rely on Him , not me. He knew what was in my hand . He knew I could be used to touch the educator’s hearts and minds in Kazakhstan. My visits there have given me growth, insights into their culture, and best friends. God knew what I needed to develop me and help them. He knew the gifts He had given me and only asked me to use them, and He would do the speaking, the demonstrations, and guide my teachings. Again, leaning on Him , following His urging brought me such joy and understanding of His power, His presence, and His love.

These difficult times have developed my faith, my trust , and love of God. I pray today that my heart is waxen, not hard like Pharaoh’s . May this week bring us all a week of listening and learning. May we answer willingly and come to realize what is in our hand.

Spiritual Skies and Lows

Spiritual Skies and Lows

I am learning to paint a sky.  I imagined it to be much easier than it is.  Bill Inman teaches me to glaze color on top of color to create the movement of the wind in the clouds.  He spends much of his time instructing me how to make light shine through these clouds.  I must insert tiny bits of light yellow into the tips of the clouds.  If my brush is too full of paint, I make a blob of yellow instead of a highlight.  I am immediately disappointed and wish I had not made the mistaken stroke.  I realize my error but often do not know how to fix it.  I am so distraught that I just want to quit, take my paints and go home.

For this reason, Bill is my instructor.  He immediately understands what I have done.  He explains that the wayward blob is a result of not using my brush correctly.  Again, for the umpteen time, he demonstrates how to use my brush.  Then, he tells me what color of paint is needed to obliterate my blob.

Painting is a spiritual endeavor.  My sky painting has taught me so much about my heavenly Father who created our sky.  I am reminded of the story of Abraham’s experience when he trusted God.  God instructed Abraham and he obeyed. His faith was tested when he was told to sacrifice his only son , Isaac.
(Genesis 22:1-19)  Abraham had the understanding that God would work things out. God would provide the sacrifice.  He had his confidence in God, not his ability to climb this mountain.  His faith was in God’s provisions, not in how awkward it was to ready his son for sacrifice.  His whole experience was a God thing, not an Abraham thing. 

I too must enter into a trust with each painting.  My strokes feel awkward and my blobs are disappointing.  However, by the hand of a master painter, I have renewed confidence.  He can instruct me how to turn away from using my brush incorrectly and how to make light highlight dark values. 

The  Word of God  instructs me on  how to live my life to create a painting that is pleasing to Him.  I have made some blobs and awkward strokes on my journey.  However, my God patiently instructs me again and again until my painting is complete and a beautiful representation of Him.

Just like Abraham, I have spiritual highs and lows.  I know each spiritual step is directed and corrected by my heavenly Father. Now, back to learning how to paint a sky.

Eating and Pickin' with Angels

Eating  and Pickin’ With Angels

I come from a long line of storytellers.  It could be our Irish roots or our Cherokee heritage.  It could be we learned to tell stories from our elders.  It is in our blood , and as a child I loved family gatherings because I learned so much from my ancestors.  Our gatherings were always around a well-filled table of  sumptuous southern cooking.  Platters of crisp fried chicken surrounded by puffy biscuits and slick gravy were standard fare.  Included in that medley of foods were fresh cooked shuck beans, cucumbers in a sweet and sour dressing, and a plate filled with green onions and tomatoes, new potatoes and green beans, squash, and on  and on. 

Each member had a story behind their food offering.  For example, the fried chicken was the recipe from Aunt Lynchy.  She fried up a big platter and left it out for visitors  who might come by while she was out chopping wood or planting the field.  Passing  Kentucky law men and neighbors knew a tasty platter of chicken awaited them any time they passed through.  With Aunt Lynchy’s open door policy and tasty handout, she lived to be 104.

Now, the biscuit recipe was my grandma’s.  She had nine youngins’ and little money.  So, they grew up on lots of biscuits and cornbread.  Grandpa Eli would bring home hobos from the train , and he would offer them a “full stomach” guarantee before they left.  I remember sitting at the table with these old gents and thinking I wished they had left with a “good cleaning” too.  Grandma always reminded me that they might be an angel of which we were unaware.  So, we were to treat them with respect and honor.  I guess that is why we ate so many meals with the angels.

Shuck beans were Aunt Mary’s specialty.  She would grow the green beans, pick and wash them,  and string them on a long piece of cotton mending thread.  Then, she would put them on the rafters to dry.  After they were dried and shriveled, she would cook up the best pot of beans anyone ever tasted.  They were seasoned with salt pork, of course.

Grandpa Eli constantly told  Indian legends, railroad stories, or nature tales.  I would sit by his knee and listen to his tales between his asthmatic wheezing.  He used to send shivers down my spine telling me about the big, hoop snake that lived in the meadow.  Grandpa  explained  that he was looking for dandelion or other edible greens, and he would hear, “  Whoopa, whoopa, whoopa.”  He would say it really eerie , and I would snuggle nearer to him.  “Child, that ole snake puts his tale in his mouth and makes himself into a hoop.”  Eli continued, “ Then as it rolls down the meadow you can hear the hoopin’ sounds.”  Every time he and I would walk in the woods or meadow, he would ask , “ Can you hear that sound?”  And I could.

So, family gatherings trained me in story telling and great cooking.  One other ingredient was the music.  My uncles played guitars and banjos and had every aunt crying as they sang “The Old Rugged Cross” and “ I ‘ll Fly Away, O’ Glory.”  We sang and cried and openly expressed our love for our Savior.  These were blessings that I cherish. Family blessed by God is a wonderful start to any year.