What I meant to say

Sometimes we open our mouth to say something to someone and out pops this horrible, inappropriate comment that stings and wounds the minute it is unhappily uttered. If we could look inside the closet of the mind that houses our words, we would see how badly cluttered it is. Old hurts, old memories tumbled about, broken promises hanging from the closet rod, lost hopes and dreams spilling from overstuffed boxes. Of course, those things fall out first the moment the closet door is opened. If we aren't careful, it is all that ever comes out, and we speak words of bitterness and despair daily. Suppose today we could spend the day in mindful meditation, and clean out this word closet. Suppose we could finally discard the broken things, the shoes without a mate, things that don't fit, out dated and stained. Suppose we could organize our thoughts so that there was a place for kindness, encouragement, and civility and those boxes were easily marked and readily accessible so we could speak those words without fumbling. How wonderful it would be to open our mouth to say something to someone, and, instead of having to apologize later,  what we said was what we really meant to say, with love.

An Insect Parable

One long and lazy summer evening, Blue Bottle Fly found his way into the web of Garden Spider. His big fat body was no match for Garden Spider's sticky net and lightening speed. He buzzed and buzzed his hardest but soon he was wrapped in silk so tight, no sound could come from his bound wings. As the long night was turning to dawn, Monarch Butterfly also found his way into the web. He made no sound as Garden Spider swiftly bound his beautiful wings tightly against his soft body. As day began to break, Blue Bottle Fly and Monarch Butterfly lay silent in their silk coffins. Blue Bottle Fly, who lived off death and decay, who was despised by all creation as a nuisance and spreader of disease now rested side by side with Monarch, who had lived off sweet nectar, was admired and lauded by all, photographed and written up in Nature Magazines as a marvel. Of course, neither one chose their direction in life, it was the way they were created. Nothing about that mattered now, in their identical postures it was impossible to tell which was which. Garden Spider, having rested from his midnight labors, looked at them and said to himself, "My, how I love a big breakfast".

Queen for a Day

There was a show on TV years ago called Queen for a Day. I don't remember it all that well, but I do remember it always involved a woman with lots of kids and many sad problems. Once the winner was announced, the show hostess would place a crown on the woman's head and an ermine trimmed robe on her shoulders and the parade of prizes would be announced to the tune of Pomp and Circumstance. There was usually new furniture, a washer and dryer, a lifetime of laundry detergent, etc. There were close ups of the tears streaming down the winner's face. I don't remember liking the show very much. Even as a child, I realized to envy the woman's prize winnings meant you also had to have her life, which no sane person would ever want. I wondered if all those prizes really provided any lasting relief to her and her family. I wonder why I thought of that show yesterday...maybe it's because I am living a "life of ease" now, that others might envy without realizing the high price I am paying for it. I think I have been guilty of that sort of envy more than I like to admit. It helps to remember how I felt about those desperate women so long ago, and put on my own crown today, and enjoy the parade of God's gifts already spread out before me.

Praying for you

I mean to pray for you. I think about you all the time. Does that count as praying? I wonder how you are doing. I pick up the phone to call you, but don't leave a voicemail. Does that count as praying? I talk about you to close friends, how hard your situation, how brave you are. Does that count? I put your name on my prayer list and speak your name out loud. Maybe that counts. I close my eyes and think about how you pray for me, because you tell me you do, and I tell God that I am sorry that I am not as good a friend to you as you are to me. I tell Him that I love you and I want the best for you, His best for you, and I suddenly feel the electricity that comes from plugging into the source of all power. I feel connected to you and God and the potential for great miracles to take place. A tear rolls down my face. I am trembling. I am praying for you, now. I am sitting in my living room and really praying for you, sincere words tumbling out to a God who blesses even when we forget to pray, or think we are praying when we are not. I can tell the difference. I am glad that He does His work even when we do not do ours. I apologize that I thought it counted when I sent you a text or a Facebook comment. I know what counts, and I will be praying more now, because it helps me too, that power, that great love.

Paying Full Price

I am often conflicted about how much to pay for something. When I was young, there seems not to have been so much pressure to buy things 'on sale'.  My aunt never even looked at price tags; she thought if she really liked something it didn't matter what it cost. Me, I head to the sale rack most of the time. I breeze by the pretty clothes at the front of the store, the ones in my size, the ones correct for the season in the newest colors, and somehow try to find wearables in the picked through clothes in the back of the store, the dingy ones tried on dozens of times that don't fit right. More recently, I have stopped doing that. I really liked the pretty duvet cover on the front of the Pottery Barn catalog.  I like the clothes at the front of the store. I don't want to eat reduced price meat. I get tired of ordering the less pricey meals at a restaurant, when I really want the lobster. Somehow, when I go the 'on sale' route all the time, it feels demeaning to me and to the shopkeeper. I want to feel ok about paying the full price. I can do that by realizing that I am worth what I earn, that what God gives me is a blessing. I might have to buy less, go out to eat less, but the things I buy can be truly what I need, and want. And I can bless your work too, by agreeing to pay what you have decided is a fair price. There is no conflict in that, only peace of mind.

God as man

God as God is mysterious, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, fearsome, beyond awesome. God as man is more easily understood, someone you can have a conversation with,  fall in love with, sometimes yell at. God as Jesus was at once approachable, but still mysterious. People ate with him, and slept next to him, but still didn't really know him. After he went to heaven, he became all God again, back to beyond awesome. So what do we have now? We have the people of God, full of the Spirit of God. When we ask God for help, this mysterious omnipresent fearsome beyond awesome being, He answers us, most of the time, with people. They come in the guise of doctors and nurses, teachers, psychologists, singers, cooks, mothers, fathers, friends, neighbors, family.  They are old, young, natives of other lands, city dwellers, country dwellers. They come to us who cry for help with wisdom, compassion, medicine, information, hot food, laughter, love. We may not understand why God does it this way, we may prefer He just did something without using others so we would not get tangled up in relationships. But how else could we all get a chance to know Him better, if we didn't get to meet His family? I am grateful for all those He has sent to us, full of His love, potent, present, awesome and real.

Living at a safe speed

Years ago, when I was in the Air Force, we had to take driver safety classes. One video we watched talked about an arrow that goes in front of your moving car, representing your stopping distance. You used that arrow to determine if you were following someone too closely, or if you should continue through an intersection when the light turned yellow. I don't know why, but that image of the big green arrow on the road in front of the windshield has stayed with me for 36 years. I think we live our lives like that, pushing our aspirations and goals out ahead of us, keeping our eyes on the arrow instead of what is happening around us. Can we get through the intersection? Would speeding up help? All the while, missing everyday blessings, not seeing, not hearing, as if being stopped at the intersection is the worst thing in the world. Then, one day, the green arrow is gone. We are stopped by circumstances beyond our control. We can choose, then, to be angry or sad, throwing our despair around for all to bear. Or, we can get out of our car, and begin to walk, step by step, enjoying the breath in our lungs and our beating heart. Of course, we can choose to do this before we are confronted with such a circumstance. That would be the wise choice, to live at a safe speed, with a daily awareness of the wonderful gifts we have been given, and a grateful heart.

Still part of the club

Most of my friends are nurses. We used to work together at one time or another, and we hang out together regularly. Some of us no longer work in nursing, due to retirement or disability. We are still part of the group, however, because of our long history of shared experiences. Sometimes, when I think about what I used to do, how hard I used to work, the skills I used to have, I feel a little sad that those days are over. It seems a shame that all that knowledge and experience is drifting away while I read under the maple tree. I listen to my friends chatter about this patient, that doctor, a new procedure, new treatments, and envy them for their involvement in real world work. My experiences are dusty and rusty, stories I have told before. Even my forays into medical missions work are dusty, 3 years old really, and volunteer teams go out every month. But, because my friends and I gather and talk about the other parts of our lives, our hopes and dreams, our families and pets, we are all still part of the club, our community built on friendship not work. We have transitioned past shared days into deeply felt shared lives. We value and trust each other, our individuality and insights are our membership dues, paid with joy, reaping endless benefits.

Under a tree

I bought a "zero gravity" lounge chair today. I seem to be spending more time horizontal than vertical some days, so thought it would be nice to be horizontal outside under the maple tree by the pond than inside on the couch. It is quite lovely. From this vantage point I can hear the birds and the leaf blowers and lawn mowers. Busy birds and people, doing their daily work, earning their daily bread. It is cool under the tree, nature's air conditioner, and I can still see the clouds passing by in front of the bright blue sky. I can talk to my friends on the phone and celebrate Kristi's happy news of an unexciting PET scan and no more chemo. I can knit my mindless knitting project for the window in our bedroom. I can sip a fruity drink and eat strawberries. I wonder why it has taken me so long to appreciate time spent in  "zero gravity". I used to wonder how some people could sit around and seemingly do nothing, when the world and the people in it needed so much help, not realizing that sometimes we need to be quiet and listen to it. We need to listen to our own heartbeat, our own breathing, know our own souls to ready ourselves to reach out to another. We can live out Ecclesiastes chapter 3, every day, under a tree, in perfect peace.