A Pregnant Pause

The sun poked its head in the eastern horizon, dazzling, shades of dusky pink surrounding the golden orb. It took command of the sky, displaying a magnificent party of colors. I gave a quick nod of my head, the kind of nod that says, oh-yeah-that-is-so-totally-cool-but-I-have-to-go-to-work-right-now. Turning my back on the richly hued vista, I got in the car, stepped on the gas pedal and began the drive to work. It wasn't long before I had totally forgotten that beautiful gift. A slow driver inched their way down the street, causing me to move my car just a little closer to their bumper. Shortly after, another driver ran a red light and a swoosh of angry breath escaped from my mouth. Hours later, the work load piled up, my frustration grew, and the earlier surprise of the morning had faded into dull shades of gray. By now the knots between my shoulder blades begged to be named. I decided to go for a short walk around our office. Cool air kissed my face, birds sang a chorus on a telephone line, and an elderly couple with their walkers smiled a greeting. Stopping, I looked upward, at the wispy clouds and inhaled a deep breath of thankfulness. I sat down on a wrought-iron bench and searched my brain for the image of the earlier sunrise, my eyebrows pinched together in concentration, like twins doing homework. I wanted to swath my fretful thoughts, hoping the memory would shroud the anxiety, and that the beauty of the mental image would eclipse the need to be in such a hurry. To be distracted by the busy-ness of life. Moments passed and I think I experienced an epiphany, because the birds grew louder and the cascading water-feature to my left reminded me of Ramona Falls. And the elderly couple who were now sitting on a bench opposite mine, their hands clasped together, seemingly in perfect harmony. It felt like God was speaking through his megaphone, saying to me, Do you see and hear all that is surrounding you this moment? It's all yours for a flash of time, drink it in, enjoy, appreciate. Open your eyes and relax. My heart thumped at the messge. I sat real still and listened, reflected. In my haste, had I truly seen the sunrise? Now, at this moment, fresh new experiences were feeding my soul, lifting my heart. But I had to stop, to slow down, simplify my thoughts and renew. During this time of expectancy, waiting for our new grandchildren, I decided to make a daily commitment.  Each day, I am going to make a strong effort to stop in the midst of the urgency, the self-imposed fast lane, and take a pregnant pause. Maybe one every twenty minutes or so. I do not want to miss another sunrise.

Thoughts On Trust

In whom do you put your trust? Your best friend who gossiped behind your back, to your boss? A classmate who cheated on an exam, while peering over at your own paper? A child weighted down by the chains of drug addiction, who hangs around with shady friends? Or perhaps the politician you voted for is corrupt. Victims of abuse often take a life time to conquer the need to control, to protect themselves, to trust love. I've been thinking about trust lately. Oswald Chambers says in My Utmost for His Highest, "Never trust anything in yourself or in anyone else, except the grace of God." If that is true, then by forgiving the accuser, the abuser, the cheater, and even myself, does a channel open for grace, thus eclipsing the pain? I am thinking by keeping my eyes pinned to grace, I might have a better chance at walking in light rather than the darkness of mistrust. It's very difficult to trust someone who has kicked our ego, stolen our property or told lies about us. My natural instinct is to withdraw and withhold, until my vision is clouded by the memory of the pain inflicted, craftily disguised in untamed emotions. But every time I witness a spectacular sunset painted on the horizon, a hazy moon silhouetted  in the sky, another well dug in Africa, or hear the still quiet voice, God's grace blankets my soul. Every time I ignore the voice of fear, the demanding spirit, and cling to grace, my spirit calms and my limbs loosen a bit, reminding me all is well. I believe there is an awesome God observing, applauding, high-fiving, every time we leap over our fears and trust in the magnificent gift of his grace. When I believe my wayward emotions or the suffering inflicted more than the will of God, grace takes a backseat, unnoticed, unappreciated. Each time I trust grace, in goodness, I reach a little bit higher and take a few steps further into love. It's not easy and often seemingly impossible, this trusting thing. I don't have it mastered yet, but I am beginning to see the wisdom in Oswald Chamber's words, that good has already won.      

Great Expectations

With the impending birth of our three grandchildren, I find myself pondering my capabilities for this new responsibility. Having never been a grandmother, and being somewhat of a perfectionist, I have a strong desire to meet certain expectations, all the while knowing I am the person developing the job description. Do you like babies? I think so, but it's been a while since I changed a diaper. Are you a multi-tasker? When I am at work yes, but at home not so much. Do you like interruptions? I am currently working on that one. Can you lift twenty-five pounds or more? Yes, I have a gym membership as proof. Do you have a valid driver's license? Yes, and I promise not to drive over the speed limit, lest I harm precious cargo. Are you willing to work over-time if necessary. Yes, if I am allowed to take a nap along with the children. In my head, I imagine a litany of duties expected, a perfect grandmotherly position to fill. But in my heart, if I allow my mind to behave long enough to listen, there is only one question I need be concerned with. What is the basic requirement of this job? The Beatles must have known about newbie grandmothers, their fear of failing, of under-achieving, or over-protecting. In 1967 they sang, "All you need is love. It's easy. It's easy." I just might revamp my expectations.

Thoughts On Friendship

Good friends are a gift. They arrive like the changing seasons, and at times in our life when they are needed the most. They ebb and flow, nurturing our current needs, as we in turn foster theirs. With the popularity of Facebook, I have had the opportunity to get reacquainted with people who once walked alongside me on this journey. I like the ability to see how my friends have changed, how their families have grown, what turns their lives have taken. God is quite clever in allowing these people back into my life. C.S. Lewis said it best: "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: What! You too? I thought I was the only one." Good friends never really leave, never give up, and always listen without checking their watch. When your emotions are twisted like a rope knot, and tears are streaming down your cheeks, they don't try to interrupt, even if they've heard the same story a zillion times. And when you are sick, they sound concerned on the telephone, not making you feel like a hypochondriac. Good friends see your flaws, and love you regardless. They will hold you, take your side, speak with honesty, and laugh at your jokes. A cherished friend knows you on the inside and helps you to become greater than you ever thought possible. A sister is golden, irreplaceable, a keepsake. Friendship with a daughter grows steadily over time, standing taller, stronger, the disappointment's replaced with acceptance. Sons no longer need a curfew or a stern eye over a recent speeding ticket. Instead, they become a friend, a person with innovative thinking and unconditional love. A brother is always there, always faithful, always a constant reminder of the unyielding bond of family. A vintage friend will give until it hurts, giving no thought to their own self-gratification, but rather to the person who is receiving the precious gift of their time and presence. I am very grateful for the friends in my life.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

I read a quote a number of years ago on one of those daily inspirational calendars someone bought for me as a gift. Expect nothing, live frugally on surprise. Through the ensuing years my mind has drifted back to that quote, the sage advice, the words sponging my mind, dabbing at the need to control the circumstances and lives in my own little world. Yesterday at the coast, I saw a splendid rainbow, a multi-colored arc whose one end touched down upon the foamy caps of the rolling waves. A gasp of delight escaped my throat as I scanned the brooding clouds overhead, their bellies ready to explode, then glanced back to the unexpected gift of nature. Turning to my right , I noticed a jogger running through the prism of colors, how it brushed her shoulders while toying with the winter sand. "Get your camera!" I said to my husband. A second, more hazy rainbow emerged next to the primary one. He stepped backward, eager to capture the entire scene for future viewing. A number of shots, a few quick looks at the small digital screen, a few more clicks. As we continued back to our room, I couldn't help but notice a certain buoyancy to our steps, a lifting of the spirit. The older I get, the more I am beginning to see the wisdom of that quote on the calendar. In a violent, hectic, often greedy world, it's sometimes tempting to demand explanations, material things or the financial freedom to retire before the age of seventy. I like to dwell upon my God, somewhere over the rainbow, loving the mess, hugging the wounded and lavishing the human race with unexpected gifts along our way.

Extraordinary Measures

Yesterday, I watched as a news station played a tribute to the notables who passed away during 2010. Most of the faces I recognized, some I didn't. Actors, politicians, comedians, scientists, athletes and more thread through the clip. A sense of nostalgia blanketed my mind as I recalled how I had been touched by their unique gifts. An unforgettable line in a movie, a refrain from a song, the title of a book, or a sense of awe at the impact some had made on our history and culture. When I first began writing, I dreamed of penning a stellar novel. In this alternate universe I imagined book signings, the beaming faces of my friends and family as they watched on a giant flat-screen my guest appearance on Oprah. It was never about money but rather the idea of doing something extraordinary and good. When I watched the fleeting images on the television, it reminded me of something I had read a number of years ago in a book by Rhonda Britten. She says, "We all share the same qualities, we are at some level ordinary. It is our ability to to be ourselves that allows our uniqueness to shine. To live with intention and be ourselves we must be ordinary." Not many of us are called to be the author of a best-seller or a rich athlete. I am thinking most of us are called to be just plain ordinary. I am warming up to ordinary. It reminds me of a grandmother reading to a sleepy toddler. Or a teenager gathering a plethora of shopping carts in a crowded parking lot in the pouring down rain. Mary and Joseph were ordinary. I don't think God would have chosen them had they been celebrities. Rather he took extraordinary measures to accomplish his divine purpose which in truth embraced their commonplace lives. I might not be a famous author, but this next year I might just dare to be ordinary.