This is my theme song for 2010.
HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!
May it be the best for all of us.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
ON BEING CHRISTIAN
Yesterday a young woman at work expressed her surprise to hear me mention God.
"I just never took you for a Christian," she stated.
We don't know each other very well. She is nineteen and full of the rowdy faith of the untested. A rookie in life's game. She talks a lot, and listens rarely, and we encounter each other only in passing.
I did not take offense to her comment, but I did take exception.
It is true enough, I do not wear Jesus as an overcoat, do not advertise my faith on the walls of my home, nor do I stand on the street corners handing out tracts. I will always wish you a good day but never a blessed one, and through the years my speech has become peppered with expletives of a more raw nature.
I also find it very difficult to hide my disdain for the superciliously religious among us and find them to be, to borrow a quote from Joyce Myers(Yes, Chelsea, I know who she is.)so heavenly minded they are no earthly good.
So, no, you will not find me standing under a flashing neon Jesus sign wearing a 'what would Jesus do?' T-shirt. However, do not make Chelsea's mistake and throw me into the heathen hole, for I no more fit there than I do the ultra conservative Christian one.
Sit with me a while, share your challenges, your fears, your dreams and you will find God at the heart of any advice I impart for he is the core of who I am.
When I was a very young girl, running from my fear of hell's fire, seeking God as an escape route, he showed me his love. It was this love that set my fears to rest and this love I have trusted through out the years.
During years of confusion and false guilt, when I could no longer find my way, his hand patiently lead me back home, back to him, back to grace.
At the end of my marriage, when all that remained of me were bloody, mangled bits and parts, he bundled me up, lovingly sat with me, even as I pushed him away, and gently put me back together, one jagged, shard at a time.
When my daughter left home at seventeen in an angry teen-aged huff, and my mother and sister assisted her rebellion-the worst betrayal I have ever known-it was God who reached down and pulled me back to my feet. It was his arm on which I leaned, his strength from which I drew the courage to keep going.
In the middle of my darkest night when lose and grief were threatening to take me down, when all I wanted was the pain to stop, when I had reached the end of myself, my strength, my will to live, it was his name I screamed. It was his faithfulness which answered and gave me the assurance I needed to survive.
You will not find me in a church on Sunday, but you will find me at the homeless shelter, sweeping, cooking, cleaning, talking, listening as people open their hearts.
I will never stand on a street corner yelling scripture to the masses, but I will sit and rock tiny, sick babies whose mom's and dad's are too sick either physically or emotionally to do the job their selves.
You will not hear me randomly quoting Christian platitudes to life's struggles, but you will hear me encouraging inner-city school kids to read their poetry, to tell their truths through verse and rhyme.
You will rarely hear me quoting scripture to the life problems you face, but you will feel me sitting silently beside you, my arm across your shoulder for as long and as often as you need.
Christian?
Well, I'll let him be the judge of that.
When I look in the mirror, I see a sinner. No better, no worse than any other, saved by grace, shaped by love.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
I'll see you in the New Year.
"I just never took you for a Christian," she stated.
We don't know each other very well. She is nineteen and full of the rowdy faith of the untested. A rookie in life's game. She talks a lot, and listens rarely, and we encounter each other only in passing.
I did not take offense to her comment, but I did take exception.
It is true enough, I do not wear Jesus as an overcoat, do not advertise my faith on the walls of my home, nor do I stand on the street corners handing out tracts. I will always wish you a good day but never a blessed one, and through the years my speech has become peppered with expletives of a more raw nature.
I also find it very difficult to hide my disdain for the superciliously religious among us and find them to be, to borrow a quote from Joyce Myers(Yes, Chelsea, I know who she is.)so heavenly minded they are no earthly good.
So, no, you will not find me standing under a flashing neon Jesus sign wearing a 'what would Jesus do?' T-shirt. However, do not make Chelsea's mistake and throw me into the heathen hole, for I no more fit there than I do the ultra conservative Christian one.
Sit with me a while, share your challenges, your fears, your dreams and you will find God at the heart of any advice I impart for he is the core of who I am.
When I was a very young girl, running from my fear of hell's fire, seeking God as an escape route, he showed me his love. It was this love that set my fears to rest and this love I have trusted through out the years.
During years of confusion and false guilt, when I could no longer find my way, his hand patiently lead me back home, back to him, back to grace.
At the end of my marriage, when all that remained of me were bloody, mangled bits and parts, he bundled me up, lovingly sat with me, even as I pushed him away, and gently put me back together, one jagged, shard at a time.
When my daughter left home at seventeen in an angry teen-aged huff, and my mother and sister assisted her rebellion-the worst betrayal I have ever known-it was God who reached down and pulled me back to my feet. It was his arm on which I leaned, his strength from which I drew the courage to keep going.
In the middle of my darkest night when lose and grief were threatening to take me down, when all I wanted was the pain to stop, when I had reached the end of myself, my strength, my will to live, it was his name I screamed. It was his faithfulness which answered and gave me the assurance I needed to survive.
You will not find me in a church on Sunday, but you will find me at the homeless shelter, sweeping, cooking, cleaning, talking, listening as people open their hearts.
I will never stand on a street corner yelling scripture to the masses, but I will sit and rock tiny, sick babies whose mom's and dad's are too sick either physically or emotionally to do the job their selves.
You will not hear me randomly quoting Christian platitudes to life's struggles, but you will hear me encouraging inner-city school kids to read their poetry, to tell their truths through verse and rhyme.
You will rarely hear me quoting scripture to the life problems you face, but you will feel me sitting silently beside you, my arm across your shoulder for as long and as often as you need.
Christian?
Well, I'll let him be the judge of that.
When I look in the mirror, I see a sinner. No better, no worse than any other, saved by grace, shaped by love.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
I'll see you in the New Year.
Friday, November 20, 2009
ON SONS
My son has a son.
Michael is stationed in California and his wife and child live here in Texas and I listen as my son debates the wisdom of this decision. I hear the ache in his voice as he talks about wanting to be with his child, wanting to see him everyday, worrying if his son will know him in three years when he comes out of the Navy, but wanting to do what is best for Logan and Logan's mom.
While his shipmates take apartments while they are stateside, he stays alone, aboard his ship so he can save all his money to buy a home for his family when he comes back home.
I tell him, "Bring your family to California to live," but he tells me that would be selfish and not looking out for their best interests long term.
My son's wife is very quiet and very, very shy, and Michael is gone six months out of the year.
He thinks she is better off near her family.
He is torn between what he wants now and what he can give them later and it rips at my heart to hear the conflict and pain in my son's voice as he debates and debates the wisest choice for his family.
He came home over Memorial Day weekend for a surprise visit, and I watch him with Logan. Watched the reluctance in him as he relinquished Logan to anyone else. Saw his eyes following logan whenever he was out of his arms. Read the tenderness in his face as he interacted with Logan. Heard the pride and love when he spoke to and of him.
When Michael called to let me know he had gotten back to California safely I told him how sweet I thought his child was and he said, "You're telling me. I only met the kid twice and he's all I can think about."
Welcome to the wonders and the horrors of parenthood, Son.
You're doing just fine.
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Tuesday, November 17, 2009
ON DANCING
It is only Tuesday and already a long, long week.
This afternoon, after the kids woke from their naps, many were fussy, three had accidents, and two were just hell bent on making me nuts.
In the middle of a bad and nutty day, I put a blues CD on, and just started dancing with my kids. We danced for almost an hour. I danced three out the door much to parents surprise and amusement, and a a small measure of embarrassment on my part, but after we danced the day turned.
The kids settled. They quieted. Calm fell on the room and it was a fairly good afternoon.
Just goes to prove, when in the middle of craziness, do something crazy and the two will counterbalance each other.
We only get one life. Tomorrow this day will be gone and nothing I do or say can ever bring it back. Each day is too precious to waste, so next time you feel yourself at the end of your rope, do something crazy.
Laugh. Dance. Hug someone. Pretend it is your last day and make your choices accordingly.
This afternoon, after the kids woke from their naps, many were fussy, three had accidents, and two were just hell bent on making me nuts.
In the middle of a bad and nutty day, I put a blues CD on, and just started dancing with my kids. We danced for almost an hour. I danced three out the door much to parents surprise and amusement, and a a small measure of embarrassment on my part, but after we danced the day turned.
The kids settled. They quieted. Calm fell on the room and it was a fairly good afternoon.
Just goes to prove, when in the middle of craziness, do something crazy and the two will counterbalance each other.
We only get one life. Tomorrow this day will be gone and nothing I do or say can ever bring it back. Each day is too precious to waste, so next time you feel yourself at the end of your rope, do something crazy.
Laugh. Dance. Hug someone. Pretend it is your last day and make your choices accordingly.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
ON THE THINGS THAT TIRE AND WEAR
I'm tired and way too weary to be posting probably, but here I go anyway. Saying the things one normally keeps to one's self when having a day such as I have had.
Well, a week really.
I feel just like a bread bag after the last piece of bread has been made into toast, all limp and empty.
Empty just about sums it up, really.
The longer I sit trying to write this out, trying to put onto paper what is bumping about inside the more empty it all feels.
So unlike me, but there you have it.
I feel just as if I were on one of those exercise bikes, peddling away getting absolutely nowhere and I need to see progress. I need to see some forward movement.
I need to feel the time I spend has some lasting purpose instead of all this disposable waste of time.
Well, a week really.
I feel just like a bread bag after the last piece of bread has been made into toast, all limp and empty.
Empty just about sums it up, really.
The longer I sit trying to write this out, trying to put onto paper what is bumping about inside the more empty it all feels.
So unlike me, but there you have it.
I feel just as if I were on one of those exercise bikes, peddling away getting absolutely nowhere and I need to see progress. I need to see some forward movement.
I need to feel the time I spend has some lasting purpose instead of all this disposable waste of time.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
ON WORLD PEACE
Story retold by Pamela Black~
There once was a mother who had a little baby and she loved her baby boy so much that every night she would sit and rock her baby back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and as she rocked him she would sing him this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Well, that baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old. He loved to play in the bathroom. He would string toilet paper all over the floor, he would splash the water all about, and once, he even flushed mommy's watch down the toilet. Mommy would come in and say, "Oh my goodness, it looks as if a zoo came through here!"
But sometimes at night, when that big two-year-old boy was in his bed asleep mommy would crawl across the floor, look up over the side of his bed, and if that big two-year-old boy was asleep~really, truly asleep~she would pick him up and rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and as she rocked him she would sing him this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Well, that boy grew. He grew, and he grew, and he grew. He grew until he was ten years old. He never wanted to come in from outside. He never wanted to take a bath. He had creepy things in his pockets, and once, he said rude words in front of Grandma. Mommy would say, "Oh my goodness, it's as if you were raised in a zoo!"
But sometimes at night, when that big ten-year-old boy was in his bed asleep mommy would crawl across the floor, look up over the side of his bed, and if that big ten-year-old boy was asleep~really, truly asleep~she would pick him up and rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and as she rocked him she would sing him this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Well, that boy grew. He grew, and he grew, and he grew. He grew until he was a great big teen boy. He would wear strange clothes, listen to strange music, and he had strange friends. Mommy used to look at him and say, "Oh my goodness! It feels as if I live in a zoo!"
But sometimes at night, when that big teen-aged boy was in his bed asleep mommy would crawl across the floor, look up over the side of his bed, and if that big teen-aged boy was asleep~really, truly asleep~she would pick him up and rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and as she rocked him she would sing him this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Well, that teen-aged boy grew. He grew, and he grew, and he grew. He grew until he was an all the way grown up man. He packed up his things and he drove across town and he started a family in a house there.
But sometimes at night, when that great big all the way grown up man was in his bed asleep, that mommy would get in her car, drive across town, climb up and look into the window, and if that great big all the way grown up man was in his bed asleep, really, truly asleep, that mommy would pick up that great big all the way grown up man and she would rock him, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and as she rocked him she would sing him this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
Well, that mommy grew. She grew older, and older, and older. One day she called her son and said, "Son, I am very old and very tired and I want to see you but I am too old and too tired to come to you. Please come over."
Well that son got in his car, he drove across town, he went up the stairs to his mother's room. When the mommy saw her boy she raised up and started to sing him their song.
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long..........
But she was too tired and too old to continue.
The boy went to his mother and lifted her into his arms and he began to rock her, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and as he rocked her he sang her this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My mommy you'll be.
Well that man drove back to his house. He went up the stairs and he looked inside his baby daughters room. He went over to her, looked up over the side of her crib and saw that she was asleep~really truly asleep~ so he picked her up and he began to rock her, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth and as he rocked her he sang her this song:
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
So long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.
I wish for every child in the world such a daddy. I believe it is the answer to world peace.
Any man can father a child, but daddies take heart and guts and if every child had a daddy such as this one there would one day be world peace for we would all have everything we needed.
Daddies out there~love your children. LOVE THEM WITH YOUR ENTIRE HEART!
For those of us lucky enough to have a dad who took the time and the pain to be our dads, take the time to find a way to thank these incredible men, and for my friends who were lucky enough in their lives to know such a man and who have lost him, please know, he lives on in and through you. Your love is an extension of his. Your life a living honor to his. These men are never truly dead so long as we carry them with us, just as they and we will live on in the lives, hearts, love and actions of our children and their children and their children and theirs.
LOVE NEVER FAILS!
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