Ordinary time...balancing act

When I rode horses as a child, it was about freedom, fun and speed. Why walk when you could run? The exhilaration of leaning into the air rushing past as your horse sped down the dirt road was intoxicating, liberating and nicely scary. The tumbles I took while doing this had no calming effect on me other than concern for the horse. I learned quickly that good balance was a necessity if you wanted to stay in the saddle. Holding on to the saddle horn (nobody rode English style in South Georgia) was an emergency measure, not good for the long haul. Perhaps my daddy was right to be worried about me breaking my neck if he gave me my own horse.
When I began taking riding lessons as an adult, my teacher began with balance, developing a “good seat”. I learned to regulate my weight in the stirrups, how to adjust the saddle by shifting my weight from one side to the other. The reins were to be held with equal pressure on both sides, lightly but firmly, shifting only when I wanted to change direction. When the horse trotted, I practiced “posting”, adjusting my up and down movement in the saddle, a dance with the horse’s movement. My teacher told me if I normally used my right hand, practice with my left… change the side you mount from…test your balance on your least dominant side…scoop poop with your left hand up instead of your right. Shift back and forth to improve your balance. Learn how to fall because you will fall from the horse from time to time. It is a given.
I have been reading “Learning to Fall” by Phillip Simmons. It is a collection of essays written as he comes to a new reality, living while dying with ALS. One of the essays is titled “In Praise of the Imperfect Life”. He tells the story of settling in at the top of a mountain for the perfect meditation. He sat, balanced his breathing, quieted his thoughts and waited on his vision. A tickle, itch slowly climbed his back as he tried to focus and dismiss the distraction. When he could no longer stand it, he scratched and found a small ant had been climbing his back. Years later, he discovered God was not in the extraordinary but in the ordinary, the ants in the world. He became a seeker of the dark way, the hard way.
For me, keeping balanced, poised, open, aware in the midst of hard ways and happy ways is not the challenge. It is easy to see God when the sun shines brightly and all is warm and well. It is easy for me to find God when I am wounded, off balance and in need of Solid Ground. The in-between place, the place of ordinary time, is more difficult for God seeking simply because it is so ordinary. Days filled with farm chores, bill paying, family tending, oil changes for the car, housekeeping and home making slide by and at the end of the day, I am tired. Perhaps I remembered God but often I do not.
Simmons says, “The imperfect is our paradise”. In our ordinary imperfection, lies our redemption, our salvation, our road to glory, our way home. Let me never stop picking myself up, dusting myself off and getting back in the saddle as I live my extraordinary ordinary life with You. Thank you for the wondrous gift of horses who are my teachers and for falling off now and then. It keeps me humble. Love you…

Christmas Presence

It was minus 2 degrees when we woke up this morning at 6:30. The air was the clean crisp stellar air of winter in the mountains. Far away stars seem closer somehow and the animal tracks in the snow hint at the night time mysteries we never see unfold. Walking down to the stable, the sun was bright and there was no wind. Distant mountains are clearly delineated in the overlapping folds of faint colors. Smudge, the black and white barn kitty, and Bud, the tabby old tom, walk up to meet me seemingly none the worse for the cold weather. Katy and Shirley, the donkeys, have left their stall and are standing in the sun, condensed breath icicles hanging from their noses. Dixie leaves the stall with a flourish, kicking her heels up and jumping sideways. Junie B trots to the hay and begins breakfast. All is well.
I stand on the hill up to the house and survey the world around me. It is white, cold and still. Beauty and winter gifts surround me. A wisp of smoke from Julie’s wood stove rises in the air. Snow diamonds blaze in the morning sun. The sight of Mama’s house reminds me how graced I am to have her so near and still present in my life. Old hornet’s nests blow in the tree tops, a reminder of summer long gone… a summer that will come again in good time.
It was a wonderfully wild and wacky Christmas. Children and grandchildren came and went. Some stayed longer than others but all were gathered around the table Christmas Day… seventeen of us, a children’s table for the first time, turkey and ham (for Adam who does not like turkey), laughter, naps, picture taking on the front porch re-creating the poses of years past with our two latest additions, blessed commotion.
My best presents did not come in boxes. They came in people. Grandchildren playing (and fussing), riding the Daddy O to feed cows and taking baths in the whirlpool tub, Maddie in her new silver boots, Clancy’s smile, Matthew standing tall, Mason in Pop’s big yellow headphones, Mead vacuuming, Rowan snuggled up to me as I read a book to him, Aidan sharing Minecraft with me, Colby striding out in his farm boots that reach up to his knees. I watch their parents and remember long ago and far away when it was me being responsible for their baths and behavior. Christmas present and past overlap and I see the present through eyes blurred by tears and a heart full of thanksgiving.
This year I will practice living with the Christmas presence in my daily life. The hope, joy, anticipation and love so clearly evident on Christmas Day will not leave me if I pay attention. Howard Thurman wrote a poem read by my Pastor Pat Sunday in worship. It is named “The Work of Christmas”.

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
Let me not forget the holy joy and the thanksgiving I feel in your Christmas Presence. Help me remember to do the work of Christmas in this new year so I may remain tucked under your wing with a heart full of music. Amen.