The Clock is Ticking

And they are both of them naked, the man and his wife, and they are not ashamed of themselves.
~Genesis 2:25 (Young's Literal Translation)

I'm feeling shy and silly and quiet. And giddy. Ever so freakin' giddy.

I never feel this way. I'm the boss at work. Supervisory and in charge. I make decisions, I'm the go-to girl. And then, I get home, where I live with a 7year old fuzzy-haired non-leader. So, I make the decisions there, dinner, bills, shopping. I even have control of the remote, though that may have more to do with having opposable thumbs than because I rule.

In short, I'm a very independent 21st century woman, who does not need a man and can certainly function both literally and figuratively on my own. I've done it for so long now I hardly need to think about it. It just is who I am.

But that's not who I want to be.

For all my stubbornness regarding being an independent woman, there's a part of me that just wants to be Donna Reed. Or June Cleever. With a little Scarlett O'Hara mixed in for good measure.

I want...this...































Which feels like it flies in the face of who I have made myself out to be. But we all know there's a "work us" and a "home us."

It's just that for some reason (or maybe because of someone), I'm feeling more like not stifling that quiet and shy part of me that just wants to be taken care of and, of all things, let a man do it.

I wanna be a girl...and just a girl. Be all Tammy Wynette and stand by my man.

I'm probably one of the few people of my generation (okay, relatively few) who will vow to "love, honor, and obey" when I marry my future husband. I don't think my obedience to my husband eliminates my brain or makes me less than an equal. The man is the head of the household, spiritually at the very least. And I want it to be that way.

But I do want to have my life away from the house. My work life. So...balance.

The Bible reference. Goes back to the idea that Adam and Eve were not capable of hiding from each other. They were naked before the other, literally and figuratively, and were unashamed by this. It wasn't until sin was introduced that either felt like there might be something to hide from the other. Which is sad, because it's made humans as a whole untrusting of others.

And I don't want to be that way. I would prefer to be "naked and unashamed" with my partner/spouse. There should be no fear of him finding something out about me, or vice versa.

Yeah. I wanna be June Cleever. Ward would be a worthy partner. I'd even take Wally and Beaver. However, I'd prefer that Eddie Haskell just stayed home.

Over at RevGal this week, Sally shared the thoughts of the newly elected British Methodist Vice President, Eunice Attwood. These were shared at the Annual Conference in the last week.

I want to be part of a church that is prayer-filled -
A church that is resourced and sustained by the Bible,
A church that can offer hope even in a credit crunch,
A church that can live well with difference and diversity.

I want to be part of a church that welcomes the wealthy, those who have power and influence -
A church that knows how to party and celebrate life,
A church that acknowledges death and speaks boldly of resurrection,
A church that doesn’t pretend to have all the answers but encourages all the questions.

I want to be part of a church that throws parties for prostitutes -
A church that welcomes those who seek asylum,
A church that longs and yearns for justice,
A church that listens to those no-one else wants to listen to.

I want to be part of a church that believes in transformation not preservation -
A church where all who are lost can be found,
A church where people can discover friendship,
A church where every person takes responsibility in sharing the good news.

I want to be part of a church whose hope is placed securely and confidently in the transforming love of God -
A church that engages faith in its communities,
A church that makes and nurtures disciples of Jesus.

A church where the story of God’s love is at the centre.
I want to be part of a church that offers outrageous grace, reckless generosity, transforming love and engaging faith.
This is God’s story Transforming Love: Engaging Faith.

My prayer is that by the power of the Spirit of God at work amongst us, it will increasingly be our story.

So, Sally asks, what kind of church do we want to be part of? What does our "dream church" do? How does it behave in the 21st century.

Well....

1. I want to worship and fellowship in a church that remembers that this is the most important thing:

But the Pharisees, when they heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, gathered themselves together. One of them, a lawyer, asked him a question, testing him. "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the law?"

Jesus said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the first and great commandment. A second likewise is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments."

Matthew 22:34-40

Because I see all too frequently that we forget that part about loving our neighbors, being too quick to judge instead.

2. I want to be part of a church in which I can say "Jesus is my Savior I choose to follow, but who am I to say that someone who doesn't agree with me is wrong?" without feeling like I've just dropped a bomb.

3. I want to be part of a church that isn't all feel-good and warm fuzzies. That does convict me, that does make me feel called to task when I really have stepped outside the appropriate boundaries--but does it with love and not condemnation.

4. I want to be in a church that recognizes that the most important ministry work I do rarely happens inside the church walls, and that I will choose to minister there (quietly, with minimal mention of my faith) because that's where the people who need ministering to are many times before I choose to make it to a worship service.

Oh, let me continue that thought....I want to be in a church that recognizes that the most important work ANY church or church member does is not inside the 4 walls. It's in the world.

5. I want to be in a church, in a world, that doesn't box God in. How do we forget so easily that He is the God of wonders beyond our galaxy?



Wander over to today's Friday Five at RevGalBlogPals for other musings on the church in the 21st century.

"The inner fire is the most important thing mankind possesses." ~Edith Sodergran

Isn't this true? Maybe not the most important thing, but without some sort of inner fire, what drives us?

That's what I've been trying to figure out lately. Just what drives me.

In the background today, things are working on my soul.

The first is the Tuesday Lectionary Leanings over at RevGalBlogPals. Yesterday's lectionary pulled from one of my favorite passages from Isaiah 40.

26 Lift your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one,
and calls them each by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.

I don't know that I've ever come across the passages referenced in my friend's blog yesterday (over at EnglishBibleStudies) and connected them to the Isaiah passage. They're playing together in my mind today.

I'm not yet sure where this post will go, it's still marinating in my head. I'll be back later.

This weekend has left me feeling a little weird. I had things on my mind anyway, important things. And then events left me topsy-turvy.

An early morning phone call, completely unexpected as most (if not all) pre-dawn calls are, upset me. It was a beg for help. Poor choices had been made, alcohol was involved. I knew this person needed the help. Knew that I was probably the only person who would be able and willing to help him in short order. I agreed to help, angrily, but I did agree.

My first feeling was anger--how dare he call me for help when he was like that. When I finally got to where he was, I felt a great deal of pity for him. I still do.

And then I felt some fear. Not of this person, but of this situation. I lived this once before. It's hell.

Getting upset.

Getting a few drinks.

Getting completely drunk.

Making a phone call to the only person you think cares.

I spent time in a relationship that seemed to be a series of this same scenario. The rest of the time was wondering what would set it off again. It's not as if it happened often, and that's not Jayne in denial talking. It really didn't. But 6 months in, I knew I shouldn't be there.

I stayed for 18 months.

I knew I couldn't "fix" him. But I feared that if I left, no one would help him when he got like that. He'd taken care of me through some things and I felt like I owed him my care. To be fair, I did love him. Knowing better didn't change that.

So, when it happened this weekend, with someone else, I was immediately dumped back into those feelings. It didn't matter that I don't have feelings for this 2nd person like I did the one before. I relived the feeling of not being able to breathe because I was so busy worrying.

The difference was, this time I was angry.

I often worry that getting angry at someone isn't right. And I don't just mean a little upset. When I truly get angry, I cuss, I'm mean, and it is far better that the person shut up and get out of the way until I cool off.

I was angry that this person thought it would be okay to pull me into this. I've no problem with someone asking me for help, but to drag me into a situation that I've made it clear I don't approve of and wouldn't be found in otherwise is another story.

I think I did do one thing right, this weekend. I didn't speak in anger. I've no doubt that it was glaringly apparent on my face. But I bit my tongue. I wanted to yell, he certainly deserved me being harsh.

But, I'm reading today, just randomly, as I tend to do between Bible studies. And I'm realizing that even Jesus was angry. I think we forget sometimes, in that leap between the Old Testament God and the New Testament Jesus, that anger from our Father was still present once Jesus came. We see those stories--Jesus with the tax collectors or the pharisees and saduccees--but we don't always assign anger to Jesus. (Interestingly, I wasn't expecting this at all, but RC Sproul's daily podcast touches on that same idea.)

I think where I'm going with this is that anger for the sake of anger isn't, obviously, ok. Anger with good reason is. Of course, you can't let this stop the work God is doing in or through your life. Christ certainly didn't. (What's that taught later? Romans 8:28?) It would have been insanely easy for me to ignore the phone this weekend after the first drunken phone call. But, this person knows I've got a big heart and will do what I can to help someone.

Maybe he was just using me. I don't know and I don't want to know. But I did get the opportunity to say to him that it was high time he got back into church. I don't know if he did or not. I know I tried, and that's really all that can be expected of me--to try, to plant a seed, to show others Christ through my actions.

It's been bizarro the last few weeks. Things happening, trying to make sense of things. So, this is sort of an update post, but more a chance for me to meander....no, mosey. I like that word better. *grin*

We've started a weight loss challenge at work. An old friend of mine, P, was a personal trainer in another life and volunteered to be the person yelling at me when I detour from the straight and narrow of diet and exercise. He was rather mean the first day (before I'd actually started), and we've only actually met once since then because of previous engagements. But that one day I'd made progress--down by 4 lbs. I'm still steadily dropping so that's good.

On that note, I'm down by 10 pounds from where I was 3 weeks ago. I'm like, totally flabbergasted. Seriously. I'm not sick and I'm not starving myself. I'm not dreaming about food and eating a head of iceberg lettuce so that something's in my stomach.

This morning, I've been watching Prince Caspian. I hadn't yet seen the movie, just never had time to hit the theaters when it was there, so I'd bought the DVD during the week. I love The Chronicles of Narnia books. I re-read the whole series about once a year, beginning to end. In story order rather than the publishing order. I guess reading isn't really the right word, though. Actually, I devour them. They take me back to when I was little, listening to my 4th grade teacher read them to us a chapter at a time. But they also fill me with hope.

Last night I watched The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Regardless of whether C.S. Lewis intended to fill the books with Christian symbolism, it's there. It's really not hard to find it, and it doesn't take an active imagination to see it. It warms me to see it, reminds me that Christians, true Christians, cannot help but have Christ seep into everything they are and do.

I love the credits version of Switchfoot's song "This is Home." From those lyrics..

So everyday starts with a magic spark,
I've got my hopes high with second start,
we are miracles, every breath is magic...
So you give yourself away, with your miracle heart,
yeah, just to be alive is a magic art,
we are miracles, every breath is magic...

Aren't those beautiful? It's such a simple way of thinking about ourselves.

Recently, I was asked how I get through tough times. It's not secret, to those who know me, what my greatest pain is right now. To get through, I remind myself to breathe, and to be thankful that I can. And, frankly, it's a miracle that I can hurt, that I can cry over what upsets and scares me.

I can't really explain why, but Prince Caspian had me crying this morning. Towards the end, when I knew how the story would end, and that High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy would be leaving Narnia again. And knowing that, as the story plays out in the books, Peter and Susan will never return there, because they will have grown up too much. What started as a trickle of tears quickly became great gulping sobs.

We do that, though, don't we? We outgrow childlike faith. Or think we do. Wouldn't be amazing if Peter and Susan could return, this time bringing their own children with them?

As an aside...

C.S Lewis's famous series of children's stories were published between 1950 and 1956, in the following order:

1. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (1950)

2. Prince Caspian(1951)

3. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1952)

4. The Silver Chair (1953)

5. The Horse and His Boy (1954)

6. The Magicians Nephew(1955)

7. The Last Battle (1956)

All current editions of the books, however, number them in a slightly different order (this is the story order):

1. The Magicians Nephew

2. The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe

3. The Horse and His Boy

4. Prince Caspian

5. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

6. The Silver Chair

7. The Last Battle

I found this information in the article "In What Order Should the Narnia Books Be Read?"
By Andrew Rilstone

A Twitter contact shared this blogpost with us. Lots to think about.

Make the World a Better Place

It's Thursday. This is a beautiful day.

It really is. I woke up, to find that The WonderDog had slept through the night, which he hasn't all week. In fact, we've been sitting here half an hour after our morning walk and he's dozed back off. He's seriously catching up after days of not being able to sleep.

More than that, I'm feeling renewed myself. I feel rested and happy today. I'm still not pleased with the things going on in the country, but I realize there's nothing left for me to do right now. I can, however, make plans for my garden in the spring, continue to save money and pay off my bills, and look forward to the Christmas season. This year will be good. And I need to plan ahead for the next. May seem a bit 'head in the sand' to some, but it's what I can function right now.

But, it's also just a beautiful day. It's Thursday, one more day in the work week. I'm heading to our land this weekend, and feeling way beyond content with me right now. It's beautiful today.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about my outlook on life lately.

I've got to learn to be less pessimistic. Not that I'm horribly so, I don't think, but I know that I am too often.

I talked once about my dad and "wonderful, wonderful" (I'll find that link later.). You know, the basic idea is that my dad is never just "fine" when you ask how he is. He's always "ginger peachy" or "wonderful, wonderful." Of all the people in my life, he's probably the most consistently positive person that I know. It's really pretty awesome, and I hope to be just like him one day.

Anyway, I was thinking about that post again. I reread it recently, and was thinking about how I'm always "pretty good" or just "fine." What a boring way to live.

Then, a few weeks ago, I read an article in a parenting magazine about raising joy-filled kids (to which I cannot find a link. If I do, I'll share it.). I came to two realizations. First, I do an amazing job with The WonderDog. All those little things they suggest to raise a child (um, dog) who is joyful are the things I do for him. One thing stood out, to me and I've been pondering it for weeks.

Get caught up in "wow" moments. Of course, what the writer was suggesting was that you allow yourself to get caught up in your child's wow moments, even if you don't think they're particularly "wow." It'll make them feel good that you think the things that spark them are exciting too. I do this with The WonderDog. He is completely wowed by frogs, lizards, and the sprinklers here at our apartment complex. So, we take time to go play with them. We've been on frog hunts more than one evening, actually managed to catch our quarry even.

But, I got to thinking, positive people let themselves get caught up in wow moments. Negative or pessimistic people do not. I rarely let myself get carried away with wow things. I always tell myself I don't have time. Lately, though, I've been on the look out for them, in the back of my mind. I let myself be taken over with the sheer joy of just something pretty or word play or whatever.

I told The Man about this over lunch in New Orleans a week ago. I'm sure he thought I was nutty--I was going nutty over the sauce on the hot wings at Pat O'Brien's. It was AMAZING. I can still taste it. I think I actually moaned at one point. After one look from him that had tones of "what the hell is going on over there?" in it, I felt I'd better tell him that I'm restructuring my outlook.

So, I explained. I explained that I'm tired of not absolutely loving my life. Okay, so there are aspects of it I'm not ever going to like (like being alone), but that doesn't mean I shouldn't let myself be happy and excited about all the wonderful things in it.

And so, I'm trying. This last week was rough. Very rough. But, it was made easier by allowing The WonderDog to lead on our walks, so I could see what captured him. You can't tell me dogs don't have imaginations. He's all over the place when we walk. And just like a child, he plays with the thin air. There's a story line going on in his head that he gets caught up in. When he gets caught playing with the characters, he gets this sheepish look on his face. I can tell he's a little embarassed that he got caught fighting with imaginary foes, but he'd really rather get back to the fun.

While it wouldn't be strictly appropriate for me to get caught up in the story with him (how exactly would I explain that should someone ask what I'm doing?), that doesn't mean I can't allow myself to get caught up in a day dream now and again.

Yesterday, I skipped out on church. I should've gone, I know I should've. I needed some quiet, though. Needed to be still, and I wouldn't have done that going to church. So, I spent some extra time on the couch, and when it had warmed a little, I moved outside. I took a book, my old favorite To Kill a Mockingbird. The WonderDog alternated between the sunny spot on the patio and my lap. I sipped tea, first iced tea, then chamomile. I just loved the day. A little lizard sunned himself on the rail and didn't care that I was staring at him, or that I held up The WonderDog to see him.

There were no big wows yesterday, but there were some little ones. Like The WonderDog just sniffing the lizard and not freakin' completely out because OMG MOM THERE'S A LIZARD, THERE'S A LIZARD!!!! Or, dozing off a little in the sun. And the fact that my complex, which is NEVER silent during the day, was peaceful and quiet all day long.

It was a good day. I came in just after sunset and settled in with a cup of cocoa and my needlepoint. The small dog snuggled in under the afghan, effectively becoming my personal space heater. We watched our shows, then migrated to the bed.

All in all, it was pretty wonderful. Wonderful.

Might've been ginger peachy, too.

Sally at RevGals reminded us that Friday was the Feast Day of St. Francis of Assisi. You may remember him as the Patron Saint of Animals and the Environment. Check out her retelling of his story for this week's Friday Five.

In honor of St. Francis, she dedicated this week's Friday 5 to him.

1. Saint Francis experienced a life changing call, has anything in your journey so far challenged you to alter your lifestyle?
Yes, actually. It may well seem like a small thing, but it was very difficult for me. I've pushed for so long in my life to be independent, on my own. Somewhere along the way, I missed the point that none of us can ever really be independent of anyone else. It's not enough to "do it on my own" and lean only on Jesus. I have a network of people (and animals!) who, despite my stubbornness, pick me up and show me that sometimes, a little co dependence is alright.

A couple of years ago, it seriously hit home. I was sick, had been sick for months, and wasn't getting answers from my doctors. I was losing weight and trying to hide the fact that I was sick from a new boyfriend. He is probably still amazed to know that for 2 months, the only time I ate real food was when we went to dinner 2 or 3 times a week. The rest of the time I drank Ensure shakes because nothing stayed down. Just as I found a doctor who was getting answers, boyfriend left and I was scheduled for surgery. I went from being completely independent, even to the point of not talking to my parents about all the various issues involved in being sick, to desperately needing my mom and daddy to help me with the surgery and recovery to helping to heal my broken heart. In 10 years, I hadn't turned to them like that and it was horribly hard to do. But it taught me to hold on to that network and to let them take care of me, to let them care about me.

To be fair, it turned out to be only a gall bladder that had mysteriously died on me. Well, in me. But none of the tests showed that, it all looked like everything was working fine, but I was losing weight practically overnight. I was a little overweight when it started, maybe 10 or 15 pounds. By the day of surgery, I'd lost that plus 35 more. It was bad.

2. Francis experienced mocking and persecution, quite often in the comfortable west this is far from our experience. If you have experienced something like this how do you deal with it, if not how does it challenge you to pray for those whose experience is daily persecution?
I can't say I know this feeling. I've never been persecuted for anything, really. But I do admit that I don't often think about those who live through constant persecution. It's much like the war in Iraq (or the whatever going on in Iraq)--it's not happening in my living room or next door, so it's not really real to me. I suppose it's a blissful ignorance of sorts. Bringing it back to the forefront of my mind, in reading Francis's story, and in thinking more about the things that go on outside my comfortable little bubble, I am challenged to remember those people that don't have the option of ignorance, like I do.

3 .St Francis had female counterpart in St Clare, she was influenced by St Francis sermon and went on to found the Poor Clare's, like the Franciscans they depended on alms this was unheard of for women in that time, but she persisted and gained permission to found the order. How important are role models like St Clare to you? Do you have a particular female role model whose courage and dedication inspires you? If so share their story....
I think women need role models like St Clare. I think sometimes women believe that because religious history seems to be more focused on men, women cannot or should not push. But strong women who bucked the patriarchal system can show us that God moves in and through us just as strongly (if not more so, sometimes) as He does in men.

My grandmother was not mover and shaker. But she was incredibly dedicated to her role as wife, mother, and grandmother. When I was fresh out of college, in my first real job, I angered my grandfather very much, to the point of being disowned and bad-mouthed to my family. A rift was created my father and his, because obviously my choices (about politics of all things) were directly influenced by the job my parents did in raising me--which apparently was a poor job. I wish, still, that my grandmother had stood up to my grandfather during that time and supported me. But I also, now, respect her decision to remain loyal to my grandfather, a man she vowed to support in all things, as tough as it must have been to allow relationships to be battered and bruised and severed.

4. Francis loved nature and animals, how important is an expressed love of the created world to the Christian message today?
I think it's immensely important. It's not just about nature and the animals, or the people around you. I believe everything is here by the grace of God, the good and the not so good. God can be found in some way in everything we see, do, or experience. Painful and evil things even. I love the world my Father has put me in, though I don't always love the things in the world. But those individual things that I find hard to love are the things He has placed in my path to learn from, to open my eyes to Him.

So is it important to express love of His created world? Yes. He loves it enough to have sent His Son into it. And He gives us this created world, with all it's problems, so that we might appreciate Him and eternity better.

5. On a lighter note; have you ever led a service of blessing for animals, or a pet service, was it a success, did you enjoy it, and would you do it again?
I've never done this, but would love to at some point. For now, I am content to do my praying and Bible study with WonderDog in my lap. When I was at my mother's during the summer, I would spend the cooler mornings and evenings in her screened in patio with my Bible and my laptop. I would pray out loud, and would open my eyes to find that not only WonderDog was sitting still (a miracle in and of itself) listening to me, but her cats had wandered up and were curled at my feet. All three (WD and the cats) had glazed eyes and were breathing slowly. I would feel God's presence more strongly than I ever have in that house. He was there, with the 4 of us, wrapping all of us in His love, through my prayers. What an amazing way to start and end a day.

To view other thoughts and ruminations on these questions, visit RevGalBlogPals this week.

I went to see "Nights in Rodanthe" yesterday. I'd completely forgotten that it was based on Nicholas Sparks's book of the same name. Had I remembered, I would also have gone to Wal-Mart to pick up a box of tissues prior to the movie. Yes, ladies, it will make you cry. Big boo-hoo tears, too.

Duh, it's a Sparks movie. *wink*

Anyway, at one point, Adrienne (Diane Lane) and Paul (Richard Gere) are looking this driftwood box that she'd made years before. The local lore says that you build this box and put things that are most important to you in your life. They get around to the idea that these things are the things that save you. And he asks her, "What saves you?"

(Now that I think about it, I may have misunderstood what he said, but the point is still the same.)

What saves you?

The obvious answer here, for someone like me, is Christ. Right? And no, I don't mean to belittle the idea that my faith in Christ is what drives me and fills me. Because it absolutely does.

But, that's not all. I think where I'm going with this is that what saves me, what really really does it for me in ways that I can name, is where I see Christ in my world everyday. Only, I don't think I've ever said it that way before.

What saves me? In no particular order, other than this is how I can best put words to it.

Music. Music is such a huge part of my world. I don't know how to function in silence. Power outtages? Thank God for my iPod. You know the old question, if you had to lose one of your five senses, which one would you choose? Sight. No question. I can get by not seeing the people and places that I love. I could live without seeing the beauty around me. But I couldn't bear the thought of not hearing music, or the birds, or the voices of my loved ones. Not a one. I guess, really, what I mean is sound, more than music. But, when all else is silent, I plug into my music and escape.

My family. For all the times I've wanted to scream at them (and I know that makes me no different than anyone else.), I know that in the end, I'd be lost without them. Moms and daughters are supposed to clash a bit, I really do believe that. (And I fear families in which that doesn't happen.) Brothers and sisters aren't supposed to be perfect angels together when growing up (again with the fear). And Daddies are supposed to risk it all for their little girls when they're being stupid. And you know what, that's how my family is. I don't know how we got here, because I'm certain the dynamic that the 4 of us have is nothing like how my parents grew up in their childhood homes. And sometimes, I wish we could go back to our little foursome in the house across town.

The WonderDog. I know this is probably silly-sounding to an outsider. But, I got WD during a time in my life that was dark. I was very low, I was alone in that way that only the isolated feel. I'd wanted to get a dog when I first moved out of my parents' house, but decided to wait until I finished my grad school, so that I would be home to be with a dog. I finished my graduate work in August. In October, someone at work said his dog was going to have an unplanned litter puppies at the end of the month, half yorkie/half schnauzer. (Imagine, WD's parents were papered pure breds. Oh the horror! Oh the shame!) I told him to keep me in mind, I might want one of the pups. Turns out WD was the runt, and the only boy in the litter. He's also the cutest one in the whole bunch. He healed my wounded heart and mind. Four years later, he's my favorite little buddy.

So...what saves you?

There's a part of me that wants answers to questions that I fear have no easy answers.

I sat one day and listened to a teenager girl advise another teenage girl on how to "do right by her baby." Essentially, it amounted to signing up for every government aid program available--WIC, food stamps, etc. Why not just, I don't know, get a job? Graduate high school, get a better paying job? Be productive and not look for a hand-out?

Did I mention that both girls were wearing clothes more expensive than me? Me with my masters degree, full time job, and zero dependents I can claim on my tax return.


I chatted today with a former student. Actually, chatted isn't the right word. My heart broke over her. She should be graduating in May. She won't be.She doesn't have the credits for it--she doesn't have the credits to be in 10th grade. There's a baby story in there, as well as a family that sees little importance in education. I want her to graduate. I'll do whatever I can. She doesn't know how to use a computer, so even fast food jobs are limited for her. I think she wants better for herself and her baby. But how do you get it when no one who is supposed to love you tells you that you can have it? When no one at home thinks it's important?

I wasn't raised in a house like that. I don't know what it's like to grow up in home that doesn't want you to be successful, productive. That doesn't want you to feel good about who you are and your hopes and dreams. And now, because she doesn't know any better, will her child ever feel the way I did growing up--that the world is full of limitless opportunity, if you just look.

How do you take care of those kids when you can't get them into a school building? And not because they are resistant, but because you can't get through to Mom and Dad. I feel like I've failed her somehow.

Over on Eternal Echoes, Sally poses an interesting question.

"I wonder, do we still have what Peter had? Do we have the faith to believe in a God who heals, that as we go about our everyday lives and are surrounded by suffering and needs are we able to reach beyond ourselves and place our faith in a God who has such compassion upon the suffering of humanity that he will bring healing there and then?"

It's made me think, because in my meditations during the last few weeks, I've asked for some healing myself.

Here's what I said on Sally's post:

I think that we often assume that we need to do something to kick-start the miracle. We've got to do something more than just pray. It's a human condition to "fix" things, to feel that inaction means no action will take place at all.
I also think we have a convoluted concept of healing--it doesn't have to be physical to be miraculous.

I think the miracle is in that God hears us at all. That I can say anything to someone who actually has the power to do something at all. Often, that is all I need. Sometimes, I think the fact that someone felt moved to speak to Him at all opens the door to move in someone's heart or to have Him stir the pot, so to speak.

It's Friday, the day when the Friday Five-game goes up at RevGalBLogPals. (Okay, rereading that, I realize how un-awake I sound. Well, duh, it's Friday you nut, when would you expect to find the Friday game? Tuesday? Sheesh.)

Blame it on the coffee being slow and the allergy meds being quick.

Anyway...on to the real show. *grin*

Mother Laura told us about her new beach-close home. And then asks us to take a beach trip..down memory lane and maybe soon!

1. Ocean rocks, lake limps? Vice versa? Or "it's all beautiful in its own way"?
Well, sure, it's all beautiful in it's own way, but I just can't help but pulled to the sandy beaches on the coast. It's the sound of the waves that make it the beach for me. They drown out the noise in my head *wink*

2. Year round beach living: Heaven...or the Other Place?
Well, living on the Texas Gulf Coast (which I know has faired relatively well over the last 25 years), I don't think I could live on the beach during hurricane season. If it weren't for that, I could sure do a near the beach situation, like Mother Laura's, but not on it. I have an aversion to sand--I really only tolerate it when I go to the beach now as it is.

3. Any beach plans for this summer?
Nothing specific, but when you've lived your whole life 20 minutes from a couple decent stretches of coast, you've got the opportunity to call for a beach day when you get up in the morning.

4. Best beach memory ever?
Actually, a fairly recent one. Last fall, there was a meteor shower expected and The Man (my very very bestest BFF) and I drove out to sit on the beach and watch for it. I don't think we ever saw one, though we didn't stick around for the peak hours anyway. It was wonderful to sit out there in the breeze, listening to the waves crashing, and just be together.

5. Fantasy beach trip?
Hm..someplace quiet...like a cottage with a private stretch of beach. I'd love to have a couple of my closest friends with me, lounging around with umbrella-decorated fruity drinks and some wonderful books. But I just love vacations that allow for solitude.

Bonus: Share a piece of music/poetry/film/book that expresses something about what the beach means to you.

Okay, I was trying to find a still shot from the movie City of Angels of just the angels at sunrise on the beach, but I guess I'm not looking hard enough. So, imagine that Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage aren't in this picture. *grin*

Couple with these words from the GooGoo Doll's song Iris. (Which is on the City of Angels soundtrack.)

And all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life

And I don't want the world to see me Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am

(Line spacing and arrangment is mine. It means something to me like this.)

To see what others have done on their mini-vacation beach trips today, check out RevGalBlogPals Friday Five for this week.

So, let's see, I've been practicing being still for 10 days now.

It's not been easy every day. But it is getting increasingly easier. If you'll recall, there's a five- minute morning meditation, and then a one-minute hourly meditation. I don't do the hourly meditations as much as I would like. It's a little hard to stop mid-lecture in summer school and be still for a minute. 14 and 15 year olds look at you funny. And then they start talking, which would totally destroy my stillness.

I've been mad at myself that because I don't feel like I'm doing it right. Then, a few days ago, I found this quote..

To be is to do. (Immanuel Kant)

I collect quotes all the time. And it seems that I run across quotes all the time that speak to something important in my world at that time. Do you see where I'm going with this?

In order to be still, I need to do still.

So, I realized that part of my problem was that I was trying to work off of an imposed schedule. And that's why I was feeling bad--I couldn't keep to the schedule. And geesh, we'd even been given permission to not worry about the schedule.

So, I decided to alter what I was doing. I get up and do the morning meditation. And then, when I think about it. I've a tendency to fiddle with things, so I put a ponytail holder around my wrist. Every time I mess with it, I stop, focus, and pay attention to my breathing. I just let myself stay still. And it's working.

Anyway, 10 days into it, I'm feeling more calm, all the time. I'm sleeping better, which tells me that being still is having an effect on my blood pressure and heart condition. Obviously, that can't be good. Things aren't getting to me as quickly---not that things that don't bother me at all, but I'm slower to frustration.

I really feel like this is making a difference. I'm so glad Sharon turned me on to it. Thanks Sharon!

I will meditate on your precepts and consider your ways. -Psalm 119:15

Today, I was supposed to start, whole-heartedly, the Stillness Experiment. First, let me give you some background.

Is this not the best quote for my month? (Okay, I know you don't all know what my month has included, but I'm happy..that's all you need to know.)

The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes.
~Frank Lloyd Wright

Here's a little challenge for whomever would like to play.

Tell me why this quote works for you today, this week, this month, this year (dare I say, this decade, century, millenium? heeeheeeeheeeeheeee!!!)

I'll share mine later today. Y'all go with you it. Post a comment here, and once I figure out Mr. Linky, I'll put make it available for this morning.

This started as a hand-written journal entry today. And morphed into an email I sent an acquaintance. It was his email that sent me into a tailspin. I'm going to try to piece it together for you, here.

I was asked what I really want. Well..I have to tell you that question is what sent me into a spin. I thought I knew, though I haven't voiced dreams or desires in some time. I can't think 2 years down the road right now, much less 10. And maybe that's because right now I feel secure in my job (which means I feel secure in the things that go along with being employed, like financial security). I mean, they've let me be in on a big project--it would be a cruel joke to not let me continue that. And my district is full of politics, but they aren't flat out mean.

I've been struggling of late with my faith. I'm not concerned that it's ailing--I'm quite a joyous Presbyterian, thank you. I even feel like, for the most part, I'm living an active and what I call a "naked eye" faith. Meaning that Christ in my life is visible to the naked eye. I know, quite certainly, in Whom my salvation lies. Moreover, I am a rejoicing Christian

I'm just feeling disconnected. Out of touch with my own personal faith. A 'medicine head' kind of feeling. I feel a little lost and like I'm doing things by rote, not by desire.

Church on Sunday, grace at the table, prayers at bedtime. Yeehaw.

I read something this afternoon that feels like it applies to me. The guy was describing a 20 year old leaving for his first away from home college experience. The kid is in a questioning place, and the big question is whether to keep hold of the faith that he was taught by someone else or to create his own relationship with Christ that may not look like his parents. In other words, drop the one-size-fits-all model for one that is tailor-made.

I feel like, after 25 years of the one-size-fits-all, I've outgrown it. So, I'm praying for the ability to define my relationship with my Savior, not the Savior.

By the way, the book I was reading today is Surprise Me: a 30-Day Faith Experiment. It's by Terry Esau. Yesterday I read Randy Pausch's The Last Lecture. I'm not done with Surprise Me, yet. But I have to tell you that if there's any book (other than the Bible) I'm liable to tell people they MUST READ, it's Pausch's book. I am completely humbled by his words.

I never expected to have a spiritual 'ah-ha' moment in a room full of librarians, at the largest state conference of them.

But I did.

I never realized that a prayer for peace in my soul and sense of humor about a situation that would be fraught with annoyance would be answered in a foreign language.

But it was.

Fanga Alafia, ase, ase.

We were being entertained by a rhythm duo and were taught what we were told was a Liberian welcome song (I've since been researching and can find a similar form in Nigerian, and then listed as just a West African chant. Whatever. That part isn't pertinent to my moment.)

Fange Alafia, ase, ase.

They told us that it means "Welcome to peace, so be it."

My gosh, or--more accurately--My God! These dang goofballs making us hum on kazoos (because you don't blow on them) were God's agents to my heart. To my mind.

I joked as I dealt with my frustration over a particular situation I was put in, that I had not under any circumstances prayed for patience on this trip. I'm not stupid. I don't ask for patience because God doesn't grant virtues like patience. Rather, he provides teachable moments. Because I know that and I don't take well to force-fed lesson, I don't ever ask for patience. EVER.

No, no, I asked for peace. Did you know, as I now do, that those moments and things (and people) that try our patience are the things that God will sue to teach us peace.

Welcome to peace. So be it.

Peace doesn't always look like a pastoral scene. Or a white dove. Or a sleeping baby.

Remember, Jesus on the boat? Sleeping soundly though the storm raging around Him on the Sea of Galilee? That's peace--the ability to be calm when surrounded by a world that would have you be frantic, angry, frayed at the edges. To be calm when all inside you wants to be anything but. Because there is no point in falling prey to those feelings, they will not remedy the situation.

Fanga Alafia. Ase, ase.

Welcome to peace. So be it.