Calendars, Confidence and Christ ~ November 2021

 I had to look back, but it's been 3 years since I began seriously caring for myself and my health. It 's been 3 years since I began the journey out of the black hole I had fallen into.  It's been 5 years since grief over losing Dad stirred embers that were seething, and my struggle against a better way was in full swing. What I remember of the 2 years in between, mostly, I want to forget.

Inside cover of my first ‘It Starts With Food,’ and my old-school purse calendar. 

Fast forward: It has been 200 days since I drank any alcohol or  hfc sodas/cokes. 211 to be exact, but that's what a habit built upon a #doitscared decision for long term success looks like at 211 days. You blow right past it, because the memory of success is serving you so well. 

November 2018 was the first time I  #quit and #started. I had decided I would do a 'whole 30' and that involves no alcohol, no sweets, and NO cheating. When you cheat, you start over. For real. I did it though. I marked it down. And when I don't think I can go one step further, I have that memory of success to look back on.  For real. That's how confidence works. 

Confidence is the memory of success. 

2019 I joined Athens Fit Body Boot Camp. Yup. Again. I marked it down. I knew I could do anything for 30 minutes, 3 times a week. For Real. Instead of being self-conscious, I became self-confident.  I began to trust myself to make good choices. 

Don't think for a second there were and are not still challenges. Not just this year, with hubs getting ill,  but all along the way, there have been obstacles.  That first day back in 2018, the day after Thanksgiving, that day I decided to bite the bullet and buy my YL starter kit- that day I committed to fixing my train-wreck body. The least suspecting obstacle almost beat me. It was the water bottle I'd put in the refrigerator,  prepping for my exercise and good habits. It was a Tervis Tumbler with the oddest sharp edge on the cap. Starting out with  such good intentions- It fell from the fridge and clipped my toe just right. Day one I was bleeding all over the kitchen and sobbing. What were my thoughts? 'Woe is me, look how hard I'm trying and look what happens to me! See what happens when you try to do good!?! And look at those boys-- those good for nuthin boys barely even blinked. Including my hubs!! I'm trying so hard... whah... 

Mel Robbins would say--

 'Nobody's coming for you.' 

 'Nobody's coming for you.' And she's right. This isn't a declaration about the absence of God, not hardly. It is a clear declaration that  *No one* can do what you must do for yourself.  No one can stop self pity, self absorption, selfishness.  Oh, good company can support good habits, but friend, you've got to own your own mess. It doesn't matter how nice your family is, your friends are, the community you live in, the cyber chats you contribute to--Nope. That's all on you- It's all on me. 

But is it? That is where I must interject what is often left behind. Right after the 5,4,3,2 1 , podcast, Marco Polo, Facetime, Habit tracker check-off- I have likely forgotten The One to Whom all these great guides and good company point. Christ. The Firstborn of all creation, Ruler over all principalities, Redeemer of all lost causes- including me. If I am a part of the church, the Bride of Christ, then my first thought should be to Him and what He would have me think about things, including trusting in Him to redeem what I cannot. Will He give me more than I can handle? Yes, and He anticipates and is ready to hear my prayer, my request to gain His perspective and His direction for my life. Does He always lift the burden? No. Does He love us? Yes, He's proven that over and over, in His patience and kindness. He's not marking an earthly timetable or spreadsheet. That's for us mere mortals. He needs no such thing, for

 His grace and mercy are immeasurable,

 His love is endless, and his plan for our souls is eternal. 

Will I continue to stack good habits? Yes, indeed. Will I fail- you know it's true. But that is where my Redeemer has my back. And over all the things that I could do, where He spreads his arm and covers us in safety, If we choose that shelter.  That is where I put my hope. 

My hope is not in this world, 

but in the One who made it.

 The good news - I tend to forget- is in the 'letting go.' I can only work within God's plans. I can't force them. I can't control them. I fool myself and mess about when I believe I'm in control of anything but my attitude. My actions can follow if opportunity is there- but my heart is what He's after. I may ask and ask for favor, but If I've asked God to do it, to open that door or make that  path, I best take my hand off the door knob and trust He will make the way clear. 

There's alot of 'doing' in the Bible, stories of folks taking action. Maybe it's dipping in a pool of water for healing, maybe it's taking up stones against a giant, perhaps the ultimate challenge of #doitscared.  Our stories right along with those of ancient times can and do point to confidence enough to take action. We share in that story,  in the ultimate Story of success. For now, I'm going to keep on marking the days, checking the boxes, to keep me going in a direction that best honors God. But most importantly-  I will go confidently in the knowledge that I serve in those actions, the God Who Sees and Knows all things. He is in the twilight of emotions between the successes of my day and the perceived failure of my plans. I hold up my calendar with missed days and plans gone off the rails. He gathers me up and comforts me, serves me what I need-be it admonition or another obstacle-, even in the presence of my enemies. He is a loving Father, who gave his only Son, Christ Redeemer for all. Creator. Sustainer. Redeemer. 

Science and The Pieta ~ July 2021

'Science is real,' say the signs on the roadside  these days. And the longer I live, the more I believe it is so. Sitting with a table of Ladies' Homesteaders in Athens the other night, my friend Debbie and I expressed our fear of teaching Chemistry to a Master Gardner before her guest presentation. After she had begun,  I realized how ridiculous we must have sounded, as she schooled us in  biomes, nitrogen, ph levels, microbes and nematodes. My Google button was worn out after that evening of true enlightenment. I 'm much more comfortable in the verbal nuances of a literature book or art appreciation. There are reasons I never completed some of the more applicable career possibilities of my degree- Interior Design, Pattern and Dressmaking - numbers on a ruler stump me. Yet they, like the composition of the soil I so regularly dig up and often ineffectively utilize, are the most beautiful and profound witness to the Master Gardner who designed it all from the very beginning. 

It is written - and I believe - that Christ was full participant of the Creation. 

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.

For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him.

And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist. 

Colossians 1:15-17

 A glimpse. We are given glimpses of the magnificence of the Creation. Our portion may be full of joy, exhilaration or it may be full of seemingly insurmountable trials, one right after the other. Most people experience seasons of both, layered with drought and deluge. But for some, the drought seems endless, filled with moments of disbelief.  How, and why, and please, Lord, no more. 

I was gifted this 'Pieta,' statuette. The original stands in St. Peter's Basillica, in Rome. Like others, I can't get past the profundity of loss in this glimpse of history. The original now stands behind bulletproof glass. So many historic and ancient artifacts and artistic endeavors represent the soul of man, the deepest longings and challenge the one who would destroy it. But unlike the temporal nature of the statue, the cosmic nature of the Moment this particular piece represents cannot be destroyed. But it is up to the individual to remember and embrace what is really going on. 

I've never 'born' a child from my body, but I am a mother. Of course I identify with Mary, who 'held these things in her heart.' Her holding all the hope and promise of the world in her arms, having no way to fully understand her small part in a larger plan, in THE Greater Plan. 

It is said, 'We plant trees, in whose shade we will never sit.'  Reflecting on Mary, and upon champions of faith through struggle,  I am  instructed how little I understand and must endeavor like they, to finish well. For even in this moment of loss, the Creator of the Universe  understood loss.  Shamed and despised. Misunderstood. Loved by a young mother, the simplest of participants in this cosmic moment of grief. 

Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.

Isaiah 53:4

As this young mother grieved what she could not understand fully, I look at her along side those I watch struggle with loss and grief of losing a child. The daily magnitude of grief in cacophony with the design and  resilience of the uniquely female body and soul is testimony to the fall.   The demonstration of God's gift of his only begotten  Son is testimony to His understanding the need for the remedy.  I believe He gave us Mary to personify just this moment, whether in our own lives the child was lost at birth, later in life, or who still walks among the living. It is for us to see the grittiness of His birth, His humanity, His breaking away from His mother to fulfill His destiny. And for her part,  ladened with the physical and emotional weight that only a mother can feel. 

In this modern world of Science turned on its ear, I reverently and unashamedly embrace this moment in history. This divine moment where the intimate nature  and essence of woman is presented fully exposed. The fragile yet indomitable woman, in her most broken and vulnerable state, holding her Child, flesh of her flesh,  the Cosmic Christ, created yet Creator. For this image, I am thankful. I am thankful to the One who has carried our griefs and holds all the hopes of tomorrow and the unseen fruition of the broken mother's heart. 

Uninvited /The Best Yes/ Love Does ~ Bookshelf No. 6 ~ December 2020

 A few weeks ago I participated in a gathering of friends food and fellowship at Debbie's. We were to bring a book to swap. Hello. Yes, please. We were instructed to write a  brief 'teaser' passage on the wrapping without giving it away. I knew some of the group would be gardeners and foodies, so I selected    Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I keep a handful of these, thrifted and like new books so I was ready to go. But this was after much deliberation. I also knew this crowd to be powerful mamas, and might appreciate another author that made a difference in my life at a challenging time. 

Our books all wrapped before the Swap

Dad passed away in September 4 years ago, and by December of that year, I was a hot mess. Loss and grief have a way of resurrecting old wounds, hurts you thought had turned into scars. But they weren't and I was what Dad often referred to as 'the walking wounded.' This came back to me hard this week when I learned of a teammate of Henry losing his mother  two days ago. Parent loss is.... ageless, timeless. Losing a loved one, as a dear sister said, is like losing a part of your hedgerow that blocks the winds on your heart. Weakened is an understatement for where I found myself. I was Christmas shopping with the boys and had stepped into Christian Books on Epps, before it closed, and saw  Uninvited, Living Loved When You Feel Less Than, Left Out, and Lonely by Lysa TerKeurst.  I snatched it up, paid the bill and forgot what else I'd needed to purchase(not an uncommon phenomenon in my life-purchasing books instead of milk, eggs, TP.) I'm pretty sure I ordered pizza, put the boys in front of 'Elf,' and read the entire book.  Some of the brokenness in my life heard passages anew such as Psalm 23. The Lord doesn't remove us from our hardship, but He prepares a table, He provides for us what we need in the moment. He does. Chapter titles like, ' Moving through the Desperate In-Between,' made sense to me. Considering how the enemy could use my weakened state to play upon my fear, this passage was highly marked up: 'The enemy loves to take our rejection and twist it into raw, irrational fear that  God really doesn't have a good plan for us. This fear is a corrupting companion. It replaces the truths we've trusted with hopeless lies. Satan knows what consumes us controls us. Therefore the more consumed we are with rejection, the more he can control our emotions. our thinking, and our actions.' 

Fast forward. Still thrifting books, I recently found Lysa TerKeurst next book, The Best Yes. I have since participated in therapeutic counseling as well as Life Coaching with  Edie Wadsworth at Life In Grace. So many things have happened in four years, but I've found investing in taking care of yourself mentally, as well as physically and spiritually, is crucial. On my chalkwall is largely written, 

'A Year From Now, You'll Wish You'd Started Today.' 

But what if you are in the midst of life and you don't know what you should start - or stop? And not to add any pressure, but often self-help books are written by highly accomplished women with businesses and ministries known world wide. So taking great caution with who I let into my head is important. There are a million people who will offer suggestions of ways to use your mind and talents, but being able to listen to God's voice along side intuition and make wise, informed decisions is priceless gift. I've mentioned before one of my favorite quotes from  The Best Yes:  

'You won't ever be able to keep up with unrealistic. 

Unrealistic demands lead to undercurrents of failure.' 

 This isn't the typical 'Obstacle is the way' type rhetoric you hear in the average motivational book. Yes, that book is great too! But what if you are burning out, and you really need to assess that to actually say yes to? 

Another favorite quote in Lysa's book comes from Bob Goff, from Love Does. 

'The world can make you think that love can be picked up at a garage sale or enveloped in a Hallmark card. But the kind of love that God created and demonstrated is a costly one because it involves sacrifice and presence. It's a love that operates more like a sign language than being spoken outright... The brand of love Jesus offers is... more about presence than understaking a project. It's a brand of love that doesn't just think about good things, or agree with them, or talk about them... Love Does.'

Can I just say- if you are suffering from 'analysis paralysis,' and want to get off that treadmill, Lysa is a good guide. She is not just another writer; she has walked some fearful paths unexpectedly and still found her 'Best Yes.' 

This season of Christmas is often filled with entirely too much choice over what to do and how we will spend our time. I'm exausted. Really. This year has been more than I can handle at times. But each time I reassess, regroup and consider what is really my 'best yes,' I'm better for it and my family benefits from the best version of me I can be. When I am more centered and aware, when the chaos of my people-pleasing ways goes away, I am able to be more present, be a presence for good, do in the most meaningful way. 

Hope Believes All Things ~ Bookshelf No. 5 ~ December 2020

   'I couldn't put words to it, but Swede, as usual, could.  

"Afraid we're being impertinent?" 

 "Yes." 

"Presumptuous? Arrogant? Blasphemous?" 

This still happens with Swede and me. I'll lack a word, and she'll dump out a bushel of them. 

  "You called Jonah a griper---"

"Well, you read about him. After the whale he goes to Nineveh and tells the pagans to repent or God'll burn them to death, and their cows too. So the pagans repent---- ashes and gunnysacks from the king on down! And you k now what Jonah does?" 

"No," I admitted. (R euben)  Actually, I thought the book ended when he got coughed up. 

'He mopes! He marches off in the desert and asks God to burn those pagans anyway, and their cows." 

"Well, that wouldn't be fair,"I said. 

"That's what  God said too, but Jonah sat there pouting. Lip out to here! He didn't want those pagans to repent; he wanted a barbecue." 

 

 I love this book, Peace Like A River by Leif Enger.    I love how Swede and her brother, the narrator, Reuben Land, sort things out, talking things over. They ask the big questions, reference timeless standards and stories, and come to their conclusions.  Until the next day  when they are faced with a new challenge, maybe bigger and more difficult than anything they might imagine. Their stories inform their souls then too. 

I don't believe 'books teach us lessons.' In a sense they do, or can but that's a distilled conclusion. A writer worth his salt sets out to tell a story that will convey what he or she knows to be worth telling, the remembrance they wish to share with their children or their community, shaping future generation's culture. Enger does this through the voices of Swede and Reuben. At one point Reuben reflects on Swede's perceptive observations: 

    "Well, we all hold history differently inside us. For Swede such episodes retold themselves into a seamless and momentous narrative; she had a Homeric grasp on the significance of events, and still does; one of her recent letters asks, Is it hubris to believe we all live epics? "

I heard a politician in our heated Georgia climate say yesterday, he had picked an unusual time to get into politics. Yes, yes he did. But there he is. How do we govern our hearts when we are called for 'such a time as this?' It's not for me today to assess him or his heart, but it is for me everyday to reflect on my own. While marking wrong doing and weighing matters of justice and right, it is the easy path to be swept up in the heat of the moment. Like Swede and Reuben, it is for us to wrestle with what we know to be true and stepping back to see a broader picture. 

A few years ago, a friend graciously asked me to attend the Kupendwa Ministries Dinner here in Athens. She was hosting a table and I was blessed, along with my friend Debbie who came with me. I saw Amy Washington,  the visionary,  and her family who have given their lives to 'the least of these.' I heard Bob Goff speak, the author of Love Does, Discover a Secretly Incredible LIfe in An Ordinary World. He spoke of an usual time in his life when he was presented with an opportunity and he had no idea from where the resources would come. His laughter and engagement was contagious! We laughed so hard and cried with him in joy over the success of the 'extraordinary ordinary' that he had seen manifested. 

I am also reflecting on passages like this from Lysa Terkeurst,  The Best Yes,  Making Wise Decisions in the Midst of Endless Demands.  

'You won't ever be able to keep up with unrealistic. Unrealistic demands lead to undercurrents of failure. So don't allow the unrealistic demands of others to march freely into your life. Resolve instead to make decisions based on what is realistic-- not on trying to earn the approval of or impress another." 

I would offer Swede's approach to synthesize what we know, instead of living by one slogan or mantra. I must be realistic about what I can do on my own. But I must lean into the unknown with faith and hope, like Bob and Amy, who have relied, like Lysa also, upon God and HIS miraculous power.  Swede and Reuben go on in their conversation to bring up others from the Old Testament who trusted boldly. 

Bold belief, bold hope leans into faith which leads to confidence (' a memory of success'.)* Realistic becomes empowered by informed faith and hope, and my worries calm down. I worry less about the wrong and focus on the right, and what the right can even do. My lack of confidence or lack of faith are empowered by what God can do, in my life and even in the life of those with whom I disagree, or worse- those on whom I might wish 'a barbeque.' 

Hope. Real, true Hope. 'Hope... believes all things.' 'Lord I believe, Help my unbelief.' 

What words do I live by? 

The Thrill of Hope ~ Bookshelf No. 4 ~ December 2020

Almost every Christmas, I pick up a book I've had my eye on and read it cover to cover, reading until I can't hold my eyes open, avoiding every  unnecesary task, praying no one will notice. This Christmas has brought me to a second title by Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden. It falls right in my favorite novel genre, historical fiction, specifically World War II. To me there is nothing more engaging   and encouraging than reading about the numerous resistance efforts throughout Europe,  the hope on both sides,  and the people who lived and endured the war between the Axis Powers and Allied Forces. 

Winter Garden moves slowly into the historic portion of the story. The main characters are living with someone who survived, but bears the results of living through such a time.  For-shadowing of a very layered story tells the reader, 'She hasn't enough of herself left to share.' And  in another part of the story (no spoiler's here), families of 'criminals,' 'can recognize other families of criminals. They move like victims, with their shoulders hunched and their eyes cast downward, trying to make themselves smaller, unremarkable. Unnoticeable.' 

Tragic is not a word I would ever use to describe my life. But in every persons life there are moments that are classically tragic in nature. The expectation and  hope are pitted against  mortal odds unsurmountable. This post is not a tale of 'done-me-wrongs ,' but relatable moments, without stories that cast a martyrial shadow. This one is more humorous. 

Eric and I became 'us' when we moved to Louisiana. We knew no one, and no one knew us. As much as we loved everything about Louisiana, I learned to be realistic there, make some compromises, and even drop my expectations. We learned to depend upon each other more fully, even if we didn't need to. My mind looks back to Uncle Mike meeting us in the Atlanta airport, because he could get through security in uniform, when we adopted Henry from California. Our family is ALWAYS there for us. Yet everyone has some dark passages that no one knows nor is it easy to share. The Lord only knows how much I would need resilience in future days, but I can most humorously  convey this with a story  about my church attire. 

I LOVE sweaters . Textiles, yes, but knitted cables,  the yarn, the feel of wool. Love is the only word. But wool and Louisiana do not mix.  Once while sweating through church, a kind sister told me afterwards to ,  'Give it up. Just buy you some Christmas Sandals and summer clothes in fall and winter colors and move on.' Best advice I think I've ever received. 

I have not spent all of my life in the South. I did a spell in Ohio, learning to appreciate snow, ice, and that cold which cannot be shaken. I learned how to skate on a pond, by myself in subzero weather. I wore long underwear to school from October to April, and we selected our Easter parkas just like my kindred sister from Louisiana  advised us to -- adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. But there was something about those sweaters, something in my psyche that insisted it was what one should wear, how one should prepare, what expectation, nee- advent- should look like. 

Within the book, Winter Garden, there are just such moments displayed in what seems to be senility, but the one challenged by change and true tragedy is remembering how to  cope and how to survive.  Her actions seem as crazy as wearing a wool sweater in 70 degree weather. She packs food in her overnight bag instead of clothes for the trip.  Her daughter finds packs of butter in her coat pockets. She's always concerned about the cold. And always concerned about food.  

This is my favorite period of history because so many faced what appear to be insurmountable odds. They are faced with starvation, exposure to the elements, and corruption in powerful places. They seldom know who they can trust, and they often suffer some loss that leaves them changed forever. I walk away wondering how would I survive,  measuring up my coping skills. Introspectively, considering my odds. 

Our collective challenges may not seem to look as dire as this on the outside, although 2020 has brought its 'A Game' to the table. But if you were to ask the average person today if they could relate to characters like these in the books, I'd bet they could easily blow your hair back. Those times do come, when something we hoped for doesn't happen, or happen the way we thought it should. That is life. Living fully, engaging with humanity. It would seem 2020  is the year so many find themselves, myself included, moving the bar back, moving the mark lower, when it comes to hopes and dreams. But the surprise has been to feel resilient-- and still feel off balance. 

A couple of years ago, a friend reminded me of good advice. She participates in the trapeze classes here locally- yes, she is boldly 60 years old and exercises with trapeze. But she reminded me as my world was spinning out of control-- 'Find a place on the wall and look for it every time-- find your point of focus.' She was right. Even when the hope is deferred, when they keep moving the goal post, finding that one thing and focusing is the way to survive. 

My reaction to reading this book at the half way point is two-fold. After one of the most tragic moments of revelation, the mother responds to her children when they ask what they should do? How they will go on? Her response is the epic. Live. Adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. This is where God feels our pleasure and delight in His creation. Live. Hope boldly with dreams and beliefs in what God has given to us- the blessings. 

Secondly, and most importantly, rely and depend upon the most miraculous Provider. When nothing seems possible, we are brought to our proverbial knees. It is then that the cosmic Christ is revealed from cradle to grave, the Father 'that sees' is beheld, and we are able to not 'lay aside the cares of this world' but handle them with a strength that comes from a supernatural and miraculous point of focus - God the Trinity. All of our messiness is doable, nothing cannot be handled by the One who began his mortal life in a manger found  in a dirty stable. And there is no wound or loss our God cannot heal with the never changing Hope He has set in our hearts- if only we will embrace it. 

Nativity from Jerusalem ~ Gift from Dad, 1996

Spray Paint Might Save the World ~ Bookshelf No. 1 November 2020

  If we've never met, you may think I'm a bit shallow. But once you run back through a few posts, you'll  realize I'm not shallow, just layered. Picture the layers of the ancient city of Troy, Trojan horse and all. I  don't pretend to be as capable as many of my peers. But I have my skills, like-- I can see through a pile of fabric anywhere and spot the block printed French cotton a mile away. Yup. I'm a #wickedthrifter over at #littlebirdtextiles

So when I say,  spray  paint might save the world, take heed.   I was old(er) when I had kids, through adoption, and much like that, nothing has gone according to plan, in my unique universe, or in the world at large. And there is nothing a good dose of green (my preferred color) spray paint can't redeem.  For example, the basket from Goodwill that will hold a variety of things. It could have been trashed- yet, for .99, I have a new catch-all basket to make my activities more efficient as well as colorfully encouraging. 

Before you start to trip out on Goodwill--  I'm also a capitalist. Do you know the  cashiers at your Goodwill? I do. Somebody had a good idea. Donate stuff. Employ people to organize and shelve it. Sell it. 'But what about those bad folks up at the top who make the big paychecks?' Those folks are the risk takers who invest in the rehab of the big-box stores that nobody uses anymore(our local store was a Best Buy.) So now, the once empty big-box store employs folks who work hard. Often they are folks who might not find a job elsewhere. And you know the bonus? They actually have an employment office in the store. Dang. Can this get any better? While I didn't look at the yearly statement for this company, I don't lose sleep over it, because I know the lady who checked me out today, who often shares her happy experience with me, and she will receive a paycheck in a timely manner. And that was enough for me. I left with a .99 basket that is now green that will  hold my dishtowels(I have many green baskets), while I make brownies for my kids.  And I will think happy thoughts about the redeemed item that was not put into a landfill.  Yup. Even recycled.  And even more about the happy lady who has meaningful work. 

Sounds like a win-win to me.  #green #recycle  #community

Which of course leads me to a book. It would seem that such an insignificant experience might not be worth the recounting in such a jaded, confused time in our world. Yet, for literally centuries people have been waking to the same sunshine to decide how they will live out their day. I have a favorite author whose books don many of my shelves. Alexander McCall Smith. He is my go-to for book recommendations because he introduced me to Mme Precious Rmwatswe. I believe everyone should know her. She determined herself to be the proprietor of  The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency and therefore, Smith wrote at  least 15 books about her and her community. Her stories are filled with gentle appreciation for her modern culture in Africa, with a regular glance backward to her most noble father who is 'late,'(passed.) (My own introdueced me to these stories.<3) But one I found on my own after meeting her(and her writer) was of another unique period of time and is a stand alone worth every minute. La's Orchestra Saves the World,* asks exactly the question that every person must ask themselves when they wake each day. Is what I do really meaningful, does it matter, and consequently, do I matter. I love the action she undertakes to  move forward in an uncertain time. In a twist of irony, I have had a student who plays French horn, a featured instrument in the book, and a very unique instrument, one that if played well takes one to another level of orchestra and appreciation of the world of music. He, my student, is that type of person and is equal in exceptionality as the instrument of his choosing. His mother commented one day, after lesson number 595, about whether the  playing of the French horn really could save the world-- and I replied, I believed so. For it is is the learning by heart 'something' which trains our minds to seek excellence-- yes, to sense that traction of success, and therefore propels us to hope. And having hope is the essence of that which will truly save the world. 

The books I've mentioned have links to Goldberry Books, an independent bookstore in Concord, North Carolina. The proprietors have opened a brick and mortar store I can't wait to visit. Visit their link to support small business! Their opening in Fall 2020 is the definition of Hope! <3 

 

Perspective ~ August 2020

As I have many times, I took this picture on the way home from dropping the boys at school. This isn't a well planned photo, nor did I use an exceptional camera. I snapped it with a fairly new cell phone at some distance back from the road, and through my front windshield. In times past, I have gotten out of the car on the side of the road, even walked across, standing just a little bit higher

 than my seated position in the car. 

Today coming back, it seemed particularly beautiful, bright even after such a rain as we had last night. The weather is oppressively hot and steamy, which is why I probably stayed in the car. But I wanted to capture this picture. It's a part of a contemplative habit I have developed to revisit same places and reflect, photograph, think, stop and reset, or even prepare for the remainder of the delayed morning. 

The photo did not demonstrate or reflect what I actually saw. It didn't capture the mist, the sun beaming subtly through the clouds. It  highlights the street sign and misses 

the natural beauty I try to see and focus on 

when I make this stop. 

I look at this picture and contemplate the confusion over perceptions, photo/video, angles, details, life experience, and what is really going on in this picture. Then the #currentevents bombard my brain. I stop when I come to: why is a child in a place where they might witness what Jacob Blake's son witnessed? How did Jacob Blake get to that point. 

All the thoughts, but that is miles away from me, if only geographically. 

This year has brought no end to chaos, even in my small unremarkable world. I have felt the feelings of hopelessness more than once, having nothing to do with a country in shutdown or a virus or cultural crisis. Unresolved goes the question, 'How did we get to this place?' Sometimes it (chaos in my life) really had nothing to do with my actions, yet, if I am unfaithful in the details of my small world, I'm not supporting and contributing to what good 'could be.' Do I say, 'I just can't.' or 'I can't even.'  Have I thrown up my hands, stepping away to yet another glittery, tasty, reductionist distraction. 

There are so many things I can not change with sweeping grand-gesture-like motion. But I can change and do what is right before me. The least I can do is follow through with that.

That sounds rather wholesome. Down right 'Mother Teresa.'-- Her birthday was yesterday. So inconsequential could she have been, if she had just taken a different path. But she didn't and so she is widely known for simple single acts of love. Loving the one right in front of her was her trademark. She knew, like we say  'know by heart,' that purpose is not always grandiose, and usually it only shows up on the grid and statistics chart after a long succession of small acts over a long period of time. Was her purpose far from home? I believe she didn't live (Calcutta, India) where she grew up, but she did settle down. At some point we settle down in our souls, and we learn that  our purpose is where ever we are to do what is the next right thing. And it is from those faithful habits we can draw support when the times get tough. We have in our storehouse moments of beauty to support our moments of sorrow. But it comes with choosing our perspective. And looking at the circumstance with determination to control our thoughts. If I depend upon the perception of the one isolated picture of how things seem,  I am missing out on how things could be, and likely the reality of the good will escape me altogether. 

Same stretch of road, different day, same camera. 

Glimpses ~ June 2020

The color of the flowers at my wedding were a disappointment. In that many thought the event was miraculous in itself, this seems a trivial detail. It was a lovely occasion over all. One that we determined was appropriately elaborate for two 30 year old types who might have never matched up in another lifetime. After 23 years though, when I see the color I desired for that day, I take notice. I remember how my Mom asked the florist if there was anything he could do. She's faithful that way, as Dad was too. But there was little to change the color of that flower. Although that florist tried, and when my bouquet was returned to me, unanimously everyone agreed how much better they looked, worried the bride was going to snap. 
But I didn't and we proceeded into our life together, with no idea what delights and disappointments lay ahead. 
Yesterday the perfect flower appeared at Publix. People refer to these type of sightings as 'unicorns,' as do I. I also think of them as 'glimpses' into perfection. Too many at one time and a circus will inevitably occur, tickets must be sold, lights too bright must be illuminated. But these by the wayside 'glimpses' are a gift. 
It would have been ridiculously ungracious of me years ago to have truly complained about the roses, especially in light of the effort to which everyone had gone to in order to make the day so special. I look back on how my parents graciously endured many disappointments- their own, or theirs shared- throughout their lives. If you talked to them, and still talk to Mom now, there is always, always something for which to be thankful. Glimpses, I believe, are what kept them going. Glimpses of Eden and glimpses of Heaven. 
I find myself in the in-between, maybe even the shadowlands. Sorrow will cloud our ability to see the glimpses, especially if we only feed the sorrow. Again, I think about my parents. I am thankful for their persistent effort to press forward into everyday with a renewed spirit, to try to fix the little things, while handling the bigger things in life with patience and perseverance, sorrow or celebration. 
There are so many things I cannot fix right now-- in my home, in my community, in the world. But because tragedy seems to be everywhere does not mean all that was once good - wasn't good. Because unrest seems everywhere, doesn't mean we don't still need rest. We need 'glimpses', moments where the proverbial, yes, spiritual light shines bright. And in that light we may see a 'broken reed' upon which we've been leaning too long, and see behind the bush a ram the Lord intended the entire time, the 'glimpse', the provision, the gift. 

Thoughts {Feelings} Actions and a Double Feature ~ December 2019

While I'm munching tasty treats topped with Rasberry Pepper Jelly from Thomasville, GA, I'm hammering out the worlds problems with my bff on a Monday. My snack is leftover's from Thanksgiving, and my thoughts are straight out of 'Life in Grace' Life Mentoring School. 
Over and over, Edie kept saying, it comes down to your thoughts. You can't change someone, you can't make people behave differently (even your kids.) Circumstances don't always change or go away. Changing the circumstance doesn't always bring the desired result. Actually, almost always it doesn't bring the desired result. It just creates more chaos.  
I've gained so much from Edie's classes. For years, I've known the concept of 'Thoughts produce Actions,' but with this new approach inserting the feelings, and asking? 

What do I want to feel? And her answer kept coming back, 

'Then you have to change your thoughts.'

Eventually we run out of adrenaline to push through the difficult times. We can do hard things. But taking every thought captive is really a pretty healthy guideline for living. 

 I want to thrive~not just survive! 

Inspirational Double Feature last night after surviving/thriving through Thanksgiving week: 

Queen of Katwe 

Secretariat.

"How are all those resolutions you made going?" November 2019

Well into the fourth quarter of 2019, I've been asked about my book purchases, my diet and my exercise. While there were a few other commitments that I quietly added in January, those are the top three. I am reminded about my self challenge, 

"A Year from Now, You'll Wish You'd Started Today." 

So instead of counting regrets, this year I'm counting accomplishments. Instead of stepping into December with panic and dread, I'm getting creative with my shop and adding students to the schedule. 

Instead of eating the whole box of cookies and camping on the sofa indoors, I'm adjusting my thinking to an intentional way of living. 

Intentional living allows for the slip-up, but not living in denial. 

So, what worked? 

I began to move. Literally. I started walking regularly at least 2 miles at a time, and at all times of the day. Weather is only a circumstance, and if perceived negatively, I reminded myself that, 

'The Obstacle is the Way,' 

and,

 'What doesn't kill ya, makes you stronger.' 

I started listening to different voices. A mantra can create deep ruts in the mind, so I actively started to listen to life affirming 'voices.' Podcasts, friends, family who 'got' me and 'support' my effort to succeed and live life fully. While the negative voices don't always go away-including our own negative thoughts, and when we proactively choose to listen to fulfilling life affirming conversation, we are less likely to buy into destructive lies we might have once told ourselves. 

A year ago, I actively reunited myself to Edie Wadsworth at Life In Grace. I was watching her Facebook live videos in December. These became the fundamentals to her Life Mentoring School. I started taking these classes in September 2019, and couldn't be more thankful. 

My friend Sondra has successfully participated in Athens Fit Body Boot Camp for a year, and with her genuine giving spirit, she has helped and encouraged me through a 10 Week Challenge. 

Yup ~10 Weeks.

 I found muscles I forgot I had. The physicality of the class combined with the amazing guidance and encouragement to do HARD things set me up for another facet of change. I actually WANTED to go to the gym. My body feels better and my dependence on stress buffering agents has decreased. Clearer thinking and confidence were the bi-products I needed and achieved. 

I became accountable to myself. Instead of looking for loopholes, I began look the path of resistance square in the eye. This sounds counter intuitive, but it is usually where the problem is, and once the problem is conquered (or accepted by looking at it instead of avoiding it), the path is clear to do hard things. Once you do the hard things, life seems to open up to allow what is deeply fulfilling. 

Books. Well, I haven't stopped buying, but my number is well under that of years past and almost exclusively, I buy from the FOL (Friends of the Library) book room. This year, I didn't even go to the BIG sale. I know..... did you just feel a gust of spooky wind roll through?? Instead, I've been utilizing a library app on my phone to access books more effectively. I actually used this for teaching this fall, which was one of my 'loopholes' (excuses for retail therapy) I've abused this greatly in the past. 

One must find the balance between reading about life and learning about life AND ACTUALLY LIVING IT. 

Which brings me to a favorite book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, A Year of Food Life, by Barbara Kingsolver. I  couldn't have enjoyed this book more. It reminds me of my most recent foodie book, Whole30. The only way to go through a life change is to embrace it head on and with humor. The constructive discussion about how to achieve a goal spreads graciously over like foliage into all areas of life. It's a beautiful insight into one author's world, and enlightens us into the authenticity of her work, Prodigal Summer. 

So what take-away did I share with a local-bestie today? 

"Do It Scared." 

Once confidence and wisdom are on the mend it's important to try. State things in the affirmative. Move forward. 

November 2018 ~ #Project50 and Being a Boy Mom

On Monday the week of Thanksgiving, we planned to go to Six Flags theme park. Boys were encouraged to find a friend, preferably one that has a reputation of getting along with their sibling. The turn-out could not have been better. It's not an easy gig to plan. I don't pretend to be the master-mind or great-appreciator of Six Flags-that would be my husband, Festivus. But I have embraced the chaos of boys and all  most things my husband plans for us. But this was on me. Festivus was still at the UGA salt-mine, so if it was to be, it was up to me. Load 'em up, move 'em out.
While on the ride, my older 'tech enabled' son quietly announces a shooting has occurred in Chicago, at 'a hospital.' So as not to bombard him in un-cool mom fashion, I think quickly to ascertain which hospital. 'The big one,' he replies and returns inward like a preying mantis after it gobbles its food, but the reverse, to 'the source.' My first thoughts go to what at one time was a reflex response- crime-ridden Chicago, a city I will likely never visit, as I never made it to the Oprah show, nor do relatives live close by. I'll never see the 'Bean' up close. But for a time, about 25 years ago, I tuned in every week, to the 'Windy-City' like numerous other Americans. I watched faithfully, 'ER,' and became like everyone else, either a fan of George Clooney, or the actress Ms.Marguellis, known to me and my kids now as 'The Good Wife.' I watched as single people, like myself at the time, navigated the waters of internships and relationships. I cried when characters fell in love with co-workers, mothers and fathers came to live with their adult children and declined with disease. When the doors flew open with an emergency, I was peaked and waiting to know what would happen. And then I waited until the next week, all the week working with kids-in-care, going to church, and Friday-night-dinnering with friends my age and in my same situation. I had no cell phone, I barely watched the news. I had a camera and took photo film to Eckerd's for their amazing printing booth. I envied the people printing Christmas card family pictures. 
But I had George Clooney. (wink)
All those thoughts happened in about 30 seconds when I was brought back to how this newest information impacted our car ride. Snap-chats didn't stop, dirt-bike videos didn't quit, the tunes from the 'Fish' didn't cease. There was no pause.
I rode the Cyclone yesterday. The ride that replaced the old wooden roller coaster. Being afraid(horrified) of heights, this is no small thing. I have crawled and clung to the ropes of Talullah Gorge, trying to avoid permanent residency on that bridge when I underestimated the impact of the height and succumbed to child-pressure (not peer pressure) to cross. But I digress. I. Can't. Even. The speed, the turns, the drops. G's. That's all I could think. I felt like I'd been in a space ship simulation for a trip to Mars. While I had gained a little street-cred with my gang of ear-budded urban hoodlums, I felt the need to go back and retrieve my face from where it may have landed in Alabama after it flew from my body by sheer wind force. I had just enough time to gather my remaining wits and gumption before I headed to the next contraption of out-of-body experience. I recognized 'The Mind-Bender.' Yes, I could do this. It's reminiscent of 'The Beast,' my childhood-first roller-coaster. At the time, it was the highest and fastest on record and located just at my backdoor in Mason, Ohio. I had a seasons pass. Mom would drop. us. off. (who does this anymore?-- well, now I would, but only with 'the bigs' not 'the littles.') Anyway, just enough time to catch my breath, I ride, I survive, and I disembark. Remember, I am often now mistaken for my children's grandmother, gray hair and all. My present riding partners (the littles) stay seated as the park is low on revelers at this early point in the holiday season. They ask to ride again, the drivers say 'yes!' They go. I almost collapse, almost drop my phone, almost drop the drinks I'm holding. I am thinking it's time to go home.  It's time for a pause.  They go, I pause. But experience to which I've paid greater attention as of late has taught me, this day has only begun. And I'm in. All in. #project50 and all that. But without a word or conscious acknowledgement, they see me pause. (just like everything else they see me do-- or not do.) 
While I can. not. Can. Not. connect entirely with my kids, I *must* stay connected. While we are generations apart, and even more so by the lateness of our entry into parenthood, I must make the effort to tether where I can and bind where I am able our fleeting moments of connectedness. Their mental health depends upon it. I don't say that lightly. Locals know the proximity, but dear friends, I know you all have experienced loss of *that* unspoken nightmare. I believe more than ever, or at least in the history of our young country, there is a sense of being overwhelmed and over-stimulated that gravely impacts our hearts, especially the young. And while there are some, myself included for so long, say just withhold enabling the young, this is harder to do than one might think. We do not live in isolation; it's everywhere, and even the young ear-budded urban hoodlums crave companionship. One just cannot stand against a rail in broad day-light scrolling one's phone--all *alone*. Nor can one experience the heights and free-fall of  'Goliath' with out a ride from mom in the min-van. My lesson I take from this day is not that we should avoid Six Flags (although I hear a chorus of angels above my head when I consider that thought)-- it is that we should be there when they need $4 more for a healthy water, when they've made a poor choice before riding, neglecting a pause in the sugar fest. Because if they are like mine, and Pandora's Box is already open, they are going to make poor choices. I'm going with being present. I'm going with the 'strengthening the tethers' plan, with love and honesty. When the questions about a more important 'Goliath' come up, I'll be there with a proverbial sling and a (silent)song (in my heart) about 'only a little boy David.' Their lions are real. And Bathsheba is everywhere. Perhaps a pause will surface, and they'll be looking past Reddit, to me. 
God help me be ready and not posting my FB status. 

Saint Augustine and Total Truth

Dad loaned me his copy of Total Truth by Nancy Pearcey, back at Thanksgiving, and it has been most interesting to study the impact of culture on Christianity. While we march on, seemingly liberating ourselves, and 'catching up' with others who may believe in ideas far more progressive, we neglect to see how we are moving further and further away from truth. Truth we all, myself included, may not wish to embrace, but truth just the same.

In conjunction with Jack's reading, I have picked up City of God a translation of St. Augustine's great Christian classic. It is the abridged version, from Doubleday, Image Book. Even with abridgment, there's plenty there. His life seems fascinating.

This spurred me on to pick up and read ahead for Jack, Peril and Peace: Vol. I chronicles of the Ancient Church by Mindy and Brandon Withrow.   This is an easy age appropriate read of his early life, leaving no detail too vague, but adding a little more personality to the important characters in his life.

Trial and Triumph by Richard Hannula gives another perspective appropriate for the younger reader.

Last but not least, I found myself reading the similar story found in 'Peril' in Augustine's own account of Confessions. While I have not read enough to make comment worth sharing, I have taken note that he was just like any human. His life was lived within the confines of culture of a people: a poly-theistic culture, with social norms and influences; flawed and loving parents, who shared what they thought to be best; friends who walked the same path right along side; experience of loss to which all mankind can relate.

Oh Augustine, I look forward to reading and hearing more about your life and thoughts later. For today, this mama must meet the challenges of her culture, marriage, family, and responsibilities.