Doggin' my heels...

The routine never varies. I let them up from the basement in the morning and they come up, stretching their dog stretches before I let them out one by one to tend to their necessary business. They come in and for the rest of the day, I have a dog at my heels. Michael takes two of them with him when he walks (we can’t let all three go at the same time because they would end up who knows where doing God knows what) and the one left behind sits at my feet while I write. When I go to feed the cows, the one left behind runs with me along side the four wheeler.
After morning exercise and chores, the dogs dognap on the back porch for the rest of the morning. Afternoon comes and the dogs go out one by one for a little outdoor time, running squirrels, porch sitting in the sun, barking at neighbors. All in all, its a good life for them and I have constant companions.
Most of my life someone has been doggin’ my heels. As a child, my father seemed to be omnipresent calling for help with farm work. My little sister was both companion and curse as most little sisters are. Most mothers are familiar with being unable to find sanctuary in the bathroom without a little voice raised in plaintive protest. Somewhere in the parenting process, turnabout comes and we begin to dog the heels of our children.
Dear One, I am giving you fair notice. Just for today, I am going to dog your heels praying for epiphany to come once again. I need a lot of starlight right now, light that will be my beacon for hopelovejoypeace. And if you could, Lord, a pat on the head would be greatly appreciated. Amen.

Dusky teal blue soul...

It is so old I have forgotten when and where it came from. It was way too large for me in my young skinny days but I loved the color, a dusky teal, so I bought it anyway. It was one of the first items made from recycled plastic bottles. For years it hung on me but as time passed, I grew to size. Surprisingly warm and durable, I am wearing it now as I write this gray winter morning. Many other sweat suits have come and gone but this two piece set is still a favorite. It will probably be in my closet when I die and the children will have to decide whether to burn it or donate it.
I was a mother with children at home, then an emptying nest mother and now a grandmother while wearing this set. As my life has changed, these clothes have stayed the same. Only, I have changed. I wonder if our souls when we come into this world are like my teal suit... sized and waiting for us to grow into them.
If I am growing a soul, every experience in my life...joys, griefs, work, family, friends, love, loss, seasons... is an opportunity for crucifixion, transformation, redemption, resurrection. Like the recycled plastic clothing I wear, old things can become new again... even me.
O God, who are you that you should be mindful of me? And yet I believe because of Jesus’ life, death and life again that you are a present help in times of trouble. Transform my living into a growth spurt for my dusky teal blue soul, please God, that I may love thee more dearly and follow thee more nearly day by day. Amen.

Sweet and Sour Sauce of Life...

I went to the beach with Walt and MaryLynn last night in my dreams. MaryLynn and I were in the kitchen cooking, just like old times, with her telling me what to do. Every now and then a terrible wave washed by the kitchen windows threatening to engulf us but MaryLynn was nonplussed. She reassured me this was normal for the beach, not to worry, just keep on cooking. I woke feeling sad but also feeling immensely grateful.
Over the Christmas holidays, one of our farm family, our family of choice, received a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer and I have been struggling to stay afloat in this unforeseen wave. In the midst of hopelovejoypeace, angergriefhopelessness have come calling. How do I keep on cooking while the shifting sands of the beaches of our lives together is washing out from under our feet?
In my life, bitter has always been accompanied by sweet. They seem to come as a pair. Like the Chinese restaurant standby, Sweet and Sour sauce, each seems to enhance the flavor of the other. Our farm family holiday gathering was more tender this year as we each recognized the great gift we have been given in our little community. Time spent with children and grandchildren was clearer, precious and an occasion for rejoicing. Christmas this year was balanced with joygriefgratitude keeping me afloat.
Gratitude is the life preserver that reminds me all I have is gift. Life its ownself is a gift and the lives of those I love is the most wonderful gift of all.
When our lives and the lives of those we love come to an end, we have a choice. We can sink beneath the waves or we can ride the waves floating on a raft of gratitude for all the goodness of life spiced with the awareness that nothing lasts forever. Only God is eternal, ongoing, everlasting. And when we are washed up, covered over with the waves of life, God is waiting with love that knows no end and we can go on, knowing death is not the last word.
I walked in the kitchen this morning and read the words above my sink...Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into light. And so it is, but gratitude is the power that provides faith its solid foundation, its strength. Today, Lord, help me sing a grace song full of remembrance and thankfulness for all I have been given. And if you please, Lord, could you let your Presence wrap my friend and his wife in warm loving assurance that all will be well? We will float on these waves that have come our way held up by gratitude for our lives together in this world and the next, gratitude for a God who is our everlasting portion. Amen.

The Land of Overhead Lights

I was raised in the land of overhead lights. Every room in our house had overhead lighting... as bright as could be. My parents were raised in homes with oil lamps so they valued the bright lights the REA brought to their family farms. At Cloverly, my mother’s home in Virginia, bare light bulbs hung down from the ceiling lighting even the corners of the large rooms. The chore my mother detested, washing the Alladin lamp chimneys daily to keep them soot free, had come to an end. It was a life altering gift for rural families, akin perhaps to the changes that have come with the computer age.
I am sitting in front of a therapy light as I write, its 10,000 lux beams helping with my light deprivation sadness that comes in winter. It seems to be working as I finish the first week of using it. I need light, sunlight or its equal, for my body and soul to be balanced.
When I remember how God comes to us in our world, it is often as light... fire without heat, a glory light so strong that it was hidden behind a veil, light in the heavens with angels, a transfiguration light. We speak of Jesus as the Light of the World and are told not to hide our lights under a bushel basket.
There have been times in my life when God’s light has been turned on... shocking me, comforting me, calling me out, lighting up all my dark corners and bathing me in restorative beams of loving illumination. The Light that knows no limits in love comes to me in many ways, usually when I least expect it.
This week has been difficult and dark. The school shootings with little children killed, a friend’s hurry up and wait time with a cancer diagnosis, my mother’s ongoing issues with her lung, the absence of my sister...each little darkness seems to lead to another until the Light dims, frayed around the edges by so much grief and worry.
Then two year old Grayson shows up at the Farm Family Christmas party full of his first adolescence vim and vigor, all the world gift wrapped in possibilities just for him. I see his bright smile under his curly mop top head and the darkness lifts. Junie B nuzzles me, speaks to me, lays her head on my shoulder and I feel connected to a Life Force that binds all God’s creatures together. The full moon shines in a winter crisp sky, stars bright and arranged in their many patterns. The night lights remind me that God is so much more than my limited imagination can conceive. I feel wrapped in Light that moves with me. I am a pillar of light, God’s light, and can be light for myself and others.
In this season of darkness, Lord, I thank you for all the night lights I have been given. As my grandchildren are comforted by little beams in their bedrooms, so am I sustained by the glimmers of light in my dark nights. I appreciate the astounding bright light that seems to come when I most need it assuring me of your Presence in my life and your Love. Thank you for the inner light that shone so brightly in Jesus, a light that still gives me a clear path to follow home to You, a Home filled with loving light that knows no end. Amen.