NOT ALONE ON OUR JOURNEY

“After a Funeral;  after a Death.”

Hope and Consolation comes in many forms,  but the quiet beauty of a thoughtful poem gives us the time to truly take it into ourselves.

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Jesus,  “Rabboni,”   Teacher,   Master,    told us many things.  He instructed us,  admonished us,  warned us,  and prepared us to understand why He came to die for us.

But He couldn’t tell us everything.   We are not capable of understanding everything.  When He told His closest disciples that He was soon returning to the Father,  He said this:     I will not now speak many things with you. For the prince of this world comes, and in me he hath not any thing.   But that the world may know, that I love the Father: and as the Father hath given me commandment, so do I: Arise, let us go hence.  .  . (John 14:30, 31)

“I will not now speak many things with you:     For  (Because)  the prince of this world comes . . .

The spiritual ruler of this world is (for now)  the Enemy,  commonly called Satan.  Maybe you think of him as the devil.    This powerful creature will bring about the death of Jesus (through our actions),  but yet has no power over Jesus   ( and in me he hath not any thing.).  They are diametrically opposed to each other, and that “commandment”  that Jesus refers to in this passage is God’s commandment that Jesus come into this world to die for the world, breaking the power that this evil prince of no love has over us.

So it is:  We all must choose either God our Savior in Jesus Christ;  or Satan and all that this world offers.

No matter which you choose,  you and your loved ones will experience that great and terrible consequence of human rebellion against God:  Death.

(And all the things which accompany our  Death:   sickness,  pain,  loneliness,  bad feelings towards ourselves and others,   lovelessness,  doubt,  uncertainty,  sadness, anger . . .  all these things contribute to our Death.)

And so we here in the Spruce Tunnel experienced the Death of a dearly loved one,  our own Meghan.    And here is the Bright Spot:   If we can hear through the spiritual clutter of our lives, through all that strong, insistent chatter from the Enemy,  we can hear words of  Life and Comfort — and Hope that we may be united once again, everyone who lives within the Love of Jesus.  Some day.

Jesus alone has power over life and death.  He said He has the power to lay down His life and to take it up again,  and as surely as He resurrected from His own death,  so  will He do the same for those who live in His friendship.

No easy thing with all that spiritual clutter!   But it can be done.   And we can have real Hope and real the Comfort that we are not alone on our journey.     Some people can testify to this beautifully.     Beautifully in poetic form so that we can enjoy and savor each thought:

 

What God Hath Promised

 

God hath not promised skies always blue

Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;

God hath not promised sun without rain

Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

 

God hath not promised we shall not know

Toil and temptations, trouble and woe;

He hath not told us we shall not bear

many a burden, many a care.

 

God hath not promised smooth roads and wide

Swift, easy travel needing no guide;

Never a mountain rocky and steep,

Never a river turbid and deep.

 

But God hath promised strength for the day,

Rest for the labor, light for the way,

Grace for the trials, help from above,

Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

 

Annie Johnson Flint

Learn it.  Its words are true.

For this poem of Comfort:   thank you to my Recorder-playing  friend who has brought beauty into my life through our shared music,  setting a beautiful  table afterwards,  and always beautiful thoughts.

Deo gratias.

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BAT, BIRD, AND BUTTERFLIES

 

Spooky stuff  tonight. 

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Is there really such a thing as signs and “messages”  that portend the future?  Should I file this under Humor?   Or perhaps  “Horatio”?  *

Several weeks before Hubbie died  a few years ago I was awake in the middle of the night,  just thinking about things in the dark.     Suddenly a “formation” of three very  dark birds  appeared and flew very rapidly right past me.    Now,  that seemed impossible,  but it also seemed like an actual vision and a vision that portended something.

As I said,  several weeks later Hubbie died,  unexpectedly sooner than everyone thought.

 

Just a few weeks ago I arrived home from Florida.   A little tense and worried after taking care of my very sick sister during June and then a long, long drive home —  and not feeling too well.

And then, to make matters worse  —

—  as I was lying in bed waiting for sleep to come,  out of the corner of my eye it seemed  that something moved.     And then it swooped by again,  making a perfect circle over my bed.  It was a bat!    Probably.    It didn’t flutter up and down like a bat and the sound of its wings was very loud,  but it was live and flying.  It was a bat in the house.

I ducked under the covers for a little while,  long enough to think about a bat we had once before,  thirty years ago!,    and thinking “It’s a BAT,  not a BIRD.”   No evil omen here.  No portent of death.

Soon I made a dash out of the  bedroom,  dragging a quilt with me, and stationed myself in the bathroom with the door closed and the light on all night.     By morning light there was no more sign of the bat,  but I was on high alert.

During the  next several days I had my hospital adventure and then spent time  at Son’s house and by the time I returned home I had almost forgotten  the bat.

My sister died two weeks after I first saw the  bat.

 

Last night, I was standing in my kitchen, next to my table,  looking over things before I went to bed.     As I stood there, seemingly out of nowhere  another “bat”  (I think)  flew towards me and then made a perfect circle over the table and disappeared into the next room (I think).

I yelled, ‘No !  Not again!”    and ran around a little,  got a blanket to hide under, and turned off the lights and opened the sliding glass doors to the deck.    I sat (under the blanket)   and watched in the dim light to see if the bat would fly outside.   After ten minutes — and a bigger fear of raccoons or other critters walking in — I closed the door and went to bed behind closed doors.,

But —   I remembered that this bird didn’t fly quite like a bat either.  Or else it was a very big one.  And its wings fluttered loudly.    It seemed more like a solid gray color,  not black,.     It just came so close to me that I couldn’t think clearly.   It could have been a bird that had somehow come into the house . . . .   And maybe it flew out when I had the door open.

But I got the impression that the circular flight right in front of me was deliberate — like I was supposed to see that.

No sign of the bird today, and t doesn’t even feel like it could be in here anymore.  But . . .

Now what?

 

 

Well, now a good word:       Tragedy has struck our family, bad health news for many of us,  family and close friends.      These things happen.  They’re difficult,  but they happen to all of us fellow-humans.    For those of you who have helped us with your prayers,  I give you a heartfelt thanks.

One abiding request for prayer has been my own health;  healing . .  .  sometimes when things get dark and uncertain,  there is a feeling of something “fluttering”  around me,  just out of my range of knowledge,  but it’s there, nevertheless.     It feels soft and benevolent and spiritual.   It could be your  prayers,  around me,  fluttering like the soft wings of sweet little butterflies.

Of course that’s fanciful.    But it’s good.  It’s a good way to  say that I believe in your prayers and I can almost feel the effects of your prayers.      God will hear.   He will hear because e are all connected.

An ongoing thank you  and Deo gratias.

 

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Where the natural world intersects with supernatural thoughts:

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
– Hamlet (1.5.167-8), Hamlet to Horatio

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FROM FAR TO NEAR, LARGE TO SMALL

The human mind is capable of seeking out nearly to infinity and nearly to eternity.     I’ve got a full range today,  a full plate.

From Far and Large,  it’s the full moon tonight,   the Full Flower Moon as it’s called in May:

Spring flowers are very much in bloom, I guess,  but people often report that this moon is pinkish-gold when it rises;  very pretty.

Astrologers and New Agers, and “Supernaturalists” have much to say about what this Full Flower Moon portends,  kind of like man’s small mind trying to add on to the immensity of Nature.   I say,  let each man drink in the beauty of a full moon and, if you give it time,  your own personal meaning will come — if only that God’s created world is just so pleasurable!

However,  a little less “Far”  and a little less “Large,”  there were people in Israel tonight who noticed the moon rose quite reddish and then turned to gold for a long time.   Apart from the astrologers excitement over Mars being stationery tonight   (i.e.,  Mars, the god of war in a fixed position over earth) ,   usually blood red moons portend war.

Indeed,  Israel tonight,  while that moon shone golden,  was hit by fifty rocket-launched missiles from the M o  s l e m  world.    Fifty!     So far.     Families,  men, women, and children,  are the targets of enemy rockets tonight.

I hope while our attention is on making peace in Asia,  we don’t forget that there is a war building in the Middle East.

Coming closer to home,  not too Far and not really that Large,   our area seems to be Ground Zero for Tropical Storm  Alberto tomorrow.   Sometimes those tropical storms do travel quite far north!

So,  rain and thunderstorms,  but not too much a chance for tornadoes, according to our weatherman.   We’re safe.

Hope it stays that way because for the next few days I’ll be busy planning and packing and cleaning and doing all those things that you do when you get ready for a long road trip —  right smack into Florida.   It’d be nice if they stop these “tropical storms”  for a while.

Hope I can keep an ear open to weather reports.   I keep a little transistor radio in my hand all night long — lots of interesting things on at night!  —    but  according to our Spaceweatherman,  we’re going to be hit by a little solar storm in a couple days.

Well,  not quite that big of an explosion on the sun this time,  but the solar wind that we’ll be getting is enough to send a lot of static into  radios!

And that brings me back out to the solar system,  really Far and really Large,  and all the way down,  right into my nearby little radio,  my little life.

Little lives in a huge universe.    Our minds can reach out into so much more than our own physical surroundings.

Deo gratias!

 

 

 

 

THANKSGIVING – WHAT WE DO

 

Hi everybody.   Just to be accurate . . . .

 

 

. . . . . . .   Counting your blessings?

Just remember,  it’s not so important to be thankful for blessings as it is to thank our Blesser.

 

That is what the official American documents tell us to do.

Thanksgiving Day was proclaimed as a day to thank  God-Most-High,    whatever our blessings may be.

 

GRUMBLE NOT

It’s been a l o n g day, and I want to go to bed.   Sort of.

I often say my body is manic-depressive.    Son gave me a good excuse today:

We haven’t had too many sunspots lately  (not many in the past decade or so!  We’re in a period of cooling which often accompanies a time of fewer sunspots.) — but little ol’  #2665  let out a good CME this weekend,  sending a decent size geomagnetic storm our way.

The KP Index was interesting.  At least we got into the Red:

I didn’t see much effect on my radio reception and I didn’t see any auroras,  but Son said sometimes there’s an effect on . . . people.

Which might account for my sleeping nearly every hour of this past weekend.    I’d like to think it was the Sun that did it to me,  not being awake for nearly every hour of the preceding three days.      Manic-depressive;  up and down.  My body, not my emotions.  It’s kind of interesting.

I actually began my class this afternoon with the announcement of this geomagnetic storm.    Yes,  it’s a Bible study and we’re discussing the Apparitions of Fatima – (Visions of Hell and Wars and Famines and Persecutions, etc.   and the worldwide spread of a disastrous cultural marxism and economic socialism,  i.e.  the “Errors of Russia” )     But the announcement of a big CME seemed an appropriate way to keep my people grounded in the joys and wonders of this world –  or this solar system, anyway.

The life God gave us is  very, very big!

Because of my weekend-long snooze, I had to catch up on some routine things.  Like grocery shopping.   It can be fun –  but not exciting,  and when you get home there is a lot of dreary drudgery to do if you don’t buy any pre-packaged food.

Chop,  chop,  chop  . . .  separate and store:

If I don’t get these things ready to use in a salad –  I won’t use them in a salad.   And they will fold up, turn brown, and go away.     I remember as I was cutting and chopping how impatient I felt-  until I thought of how much I had to do –  how fortunate I was that I had so much to do . . . .

I have a whole garden full of vegetables that was already grown for me,  picked, packaged, and shipped to me.   All I have to do is take care of the vegetables.

And tonight.  As I said above,   I really want to go to bed now,  but I made another stop at my meat store.   Now I have to take good care of those things too:

Bone broth and soup –  bubbling away on my stove.   The longer they “bubble” the better they are.

Tomorrow,  I’ll be glad I made them tonight.   I can’t grumble about all the work I have to do after I go food shopping.   Thanks be to God who supplies this bounty.    Thank you to Hubbie who provided for his family so well.

I can’t grumble.   I must not grumble.

I’m just so tired.     And our world and all its bounty is so very big.

Deo gratias.

 

 

 

“IN THE BEGINNING . . .”

 (a brief break from the world’s problems)

Know what these are?

So fun !!!

Son brought these over today – to eat!

It works like this:  every  cell of our body is made of molecules, atoms,  whatever;   and all of our cells  are alive and need replenishment (food)  to maintain life —  and the food we eat is made of molecules and atoms that come from . . .  the earth!     The very earth that provides the “molecules and atoms”  that make up our bodies!   We use them up – we put them back in!

Plain history:    Mankind had a definite beginning point of Creation.   On this Earth.

Plain Science:   The microscopic things of the Earth gather together to form plants that provide the microscopic things that our bodies need to stay alive.

Plain fun:    (Or maybe  delight.)      “Love is diffusive of itself.”    (Remember that word.)  That means that one who loves just loves to give  towards all the ones he loves.    You love “something” and you love to share yourself and what you have with the one you love.  (Or else it’s not really love.)

Plain vocabulary:    Diffusive:  spreading out in all directions,  dispersing and  intermingling, sharing, becoming part of  . . .   Like fireworks, exploding out in all directions!

(What do you do with a dandelion that’s gone to seed?)

Plain theology:       The Creator loves His creation – including us – and loves to give to us freely of all the good things He has made.  No end to delightful things that are ours – –

That photo above?        That’s me holding a fun variety of grapes!     Actually,  they are slightly more reddish than green,  blame the lighting,   and I’m holding what could be an ordinary grape to compare its size and shape.  *

This variety of grape is called Witch Fingers.    We can now buy them locally.   I like grapes and these are gently sweet,  mild, with no tart after-taste, not even in the skins.

How many variety of grapes are there for us to eat?    How many kinds of healthy fruit?  How many kinds of vegetables and grains and spices and herbs . . .?

“In the beginning”  we were put into a paradise . . . ” And the Lord God brought forth of the ground all manner of trees, fair to behold, and pleasant to eat of . . .”

If all you see in this verse from the Bible  (Gen.  2:9)  is that we got good-looking food to eat,    you are missing the love from God and you’re missing His loving care and you’re not seeing that He too delights when we delight in His creation.

“Love is diffusive of itself.”  God is Love.   God gives us an endless sampling of His goodness – even when it comes to all the varieties of the food we eat.

It’s delightful to really enjoy natural food “from out of the ground”!    It’s fun!      It’s an honor to God when we enjoy His good things!

Witch Fingers make me happy.

Thanks, Son.

Deo gratias.

 

. *    It “could” be a regular grape,  but it’s not.   I grabbed a nearby fig that happened to be a good model for a grape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE MONTHS OF JUNES – R-RATED

Still contemplating which R word to use (Recover, Restore, Rebuild) —  but in this post I really mean   R-Rated,  and unless you’re a child of the 20th century and inured to perversion and immorality,  please don’t go on.      I wouldn’t let my family read this.  It’s not . . .  ladylike.

So,   don’t.    You’ve been warned.

JUNE # 1

The lovely month of June is here!     Blooming Gardens,  Brooding Birds,   and Blushing Brides .

Good things that celebrate love and life!

June was named for the Roman goddess Juno who represented  matrimony and childbirth.   Families are the foundation of any healthy society,  and the Romans honored family and family connections.

In Christendom,  June is also known as the month of weddings,  *    a time to celebrate Holy Matrimony,   the foundation for family and the setting for rearing children.    The Church adds one deeper dimension:     June is the month dedicated to the celebration of The Sacred  Heart.

When I entered the Church, this symbol –

–   with its red heart surrounded by a crown of thorns,  burning flames, and dripping blood   was “embarrassingly”  overly sentimental.  It took me a little time to accept the Intense (burning)  Love that Our Crucified Lord actually had – for me!

Now I understand the symbol,  but  like any human being,  I also . . .  forget.    I know,  but I don’t feel it all the time.     Sometimes I remember when I used to roll my eyes at such a symbol –  and then I have to think about the True God that came to die for me in order that I may have eternal life in God’s good Heaven, where no sinner deserves to be.

So the Church, in her wisdom,  has developed the tradition of  appointing the whole month of June for us to think more deeply on these things.

A God who loves and cares!   Deo gratias!

JUNE  #  2

Now, we live in two worlds.   St. Augustine called it Two Cities.    We leave the City of God now, with its Natural Seasons and Natural Law,  and look briefly at that other city;    it’s temporary and R-Rated,  much to our sorrow.

An attempt to command –

 

The man they have placed into the American White House has –  in  diabolic defiance to Nature –    “ordered”  this country to celebrate un-Natural acts.

(Want the official White House proclamation?    Go   Here . . . )

Defying Nature is Un-Natural,  as in a roaring lion rolling over on its back, exposing its throat to a bunny rabbit . . .

A bunny coming?

. . .     Un-Natural  as  a butterfly swimming under water;

. . .    as  a hippopotamus “boinking”  a giraffe –  or trying to.    (Boinking –  you know  . . .  poking into.)

Each creature is made with certain characteristics for which it is Natural to do the things it was designed for.   An ear is for hearing.   A mouth is for eating.   Other parts of the body fit into other parts of another body.

Yet this man who is known to have been a  member  of two   (TWO!)   gay bath houses in Chicago,     has taken this lovely month of June and is trying to PUBLICLY  besmirch it . . .

(TAKE NOTE:  I’m writing about observable, objective undeniable  practices) — 

. . .   encouraging practices  which place a human mouth on another person’s . . . place where it’s icky to put it.     Or thrust one’s hand inside in order to find . . .   squishy substances.

Practices which always  result in damage to delicate tissue.      (As I said a few posts ago,  I worked in a hospital for four years.   Pediatrics, yes,  but sometimes I was pulled to help out in the emergency room.    You wouldn’t believe some of the things one man can do to another.)

Practices which encourage the spread of disease from one person to another.

Practices which according to government studies have increased the cost of healthcare and   burdened the economy with lost work days and lost productivity.  Government studies;  not someone’s “opinions.”

Practices which result in higher rates of depression,  psychological sickness, and violent abuse (statistically speaking)  of one’s partner in shame.    (so-called “spouse abuse”)   Just according to statistics.       Objective numbers.

Practices which violate the sanctity of the Natural family.

Practices which therefore a healthy society has always regarded with shame and  then outlawed – and punished.

The man encourages practices which violate his own religious preferences –

—  and wishes citizens of this country to violate theirs.

Two Junes.   Two Months of Junes.

The contrast is clear.     And we can let it go,  or we can choose to live as human beings, repairing and rebuilding and  elevating our society into a state of dignity and respect.

Okay.  So maybe this post was X-Rated.        It’s hard to be ladylike and truthful about a 20th century-type society.

But NOTE AGAIN:   I speak of Practices;  actions,   not of persons.    Practices happen and can be objectively observed.

 

. *     Please don’t fall for the anti-Christian myth that puts forth June as the month for weddings because in the Middle Ages people were dirty and took baths only once a year when the weather got   warmer and so their bodies were less offensive in June.

Gullible college professors should be ashamed to continue that slanderous story in front of their uneducated students.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INCIDENTAL BEAUTY

A little break from my rants against barbarism.

I’ve written about this before.  Twice a year I go into the little village where I live and pay my insurance.   I could set the payments up to be paid automatically through the Internet.   I could go back to the traditional way and write a check and mail the payment in.

But there is something about maintaining a face to face relationship with your insurance agent who knows you by name, and asks about my latest travels and is interested in my grandson!     A personal touch.     I know lots about her now too.

Well,  and it’s an opportunity to  take some good advice:  “Take time to smell the roses .”   Or the purple flowers, in this case:

Behind the row of little small-town businesses,  there is a back-alley type of parking lot.  On the other side of that parking lot is this walkway.  I noticed the lovely purple flowers and it made me think.

I knew this beautiful little river was there.

I actually pulled out of my parking place,   then changed my mind,  pulled into another parking place, shut off the motor, and got out of the car.     It doesn’t matter if I’d be a few minutes late for . . .   whatever.

The Spring air smelled wonderful, all  perfumey with flowers and tree blossoms.  A slight breeze rustled through the leaves and  the tall grasses.    It felt gentle out there.   And it was beautiful with a natural, pure sort of beauty.

The little river has a series of rapids, all quite photogenic.

Worth the drive into town  and worth the time it takes to stop and breathe in some incidental beauty.

There is a book called “The Evidential Power of Beauty.”     I’m not a brute beast looking at this scene with indifference.    I am human being,   fully aware that this beauty is evidence of the Source of all beauty, and I’ve been created to recognize it.

Deo gratias.

 

 

WHEN IT’S “UNEXPECTED”

 

(I write this post to commiserate with all of you who will some day,  probably,  have a week like this.)
The “lesson”  at the end of this posting is that we were created to be Self-Healing.  We can get through anything,  get knocked around a bit,  and then get up again.    Proof is:  I’m still standing.

 
I think I crammed a year’s worth of unexpected challenges into this one last week.

It was . . .

. . . Unexpected that I would feel so “inadequate”  about holding a garage sale by myself.    (stress)    Usually I’m pretty plucky.    I made a mess of the house digging out all salable items . . .  then I wondered  “now what?”   (stress)     Thanks to Son’s help and his seemingly limitless muscle power,  the garage took shape;  I filled in the blanks;  and soon it began to look like a garage sale around here.
Unexpected that a nice weekend in May would give us winter weather  for the garage sale!    Dark, gloomy skies,  strong cold winds,  and even a  little freezing rain, hail and a light dusting of snow.    One customer said: “Well,  winter is coming a little early this year.”    Trite.    But everyone was on board with him.   Well, it got up  into the forties that day.   That high.
Unexpected to feel soooooo  exhausted on the second day.    Where’d that come from?

    Unexpected to have a power outage on Sunday right towards the end of NASCAR!!!    Thanks to my young friend,  we were able to watch the end of the race on her cell phone.    I didn’t expect to start the generator a few hours later with her help, and  with no problem — and we certainly didn’t expect the power to turn back on before we even plugged   the first cord into the generator!

Unexpected to BREAK my toilet on Sunday.    Ugh.

Unexpected to need a car repair on Monday — but pleasantly unexpected that all it was was a cracked gas tank cap.    Did I do that?

  Unexpected to discover that my water softener was not working.   How often does that happen?   Now?     This week?   Really?

  It was totally unexpected to hurt my leg – a lot –  in the big store where I purchased my new toilet today.   My shin is now sporting an under-the-skin,  plum-like bump.     A person just doesn’t anticipate that an injury is going to sideline him for a while.
   And – unexpectedly –  I actually purchased a new cell phone today.   Making conversation,  the nice young lady behind the counter asked me “And what do you have now?  A Samsung 6?”    “Nope,  I said.  I have a Samsung Nothing –  the first one they came out with.”       (I was really ready for a new one.    If I ever get that slow, they’re going to trade me in for a new one too.)
   Unexpected  email from  a friend newly returned from her desert southwest winter home —  That was a nice one.      (I’ll have to get walking again soon for our visit.)     Sorry about the wintry welcome, my friend.
   Unexpected desperate-sounding  text from my sister in Florida who is drowning in all the rain down there,   What ever happened to Sunny Florida?
Well,  I didn’t plan a week like this.      There’s more, but . . . .

As I said,  I’m still standing.    (With a temporary limp.)   All my bruised expectations for a smooth week will heal up.

We were made with self-healing bodies ,   if    we give our bodies the right ingredients to use.   (You know,  the right biologicals:  plants,  herbs,  nutrients, vitamins, minerals,  etc.   Plants   and   meats, that is.)

And we have self-healing minds:  we can fix our own stupidity and ignorance; no one else can;  we can fix our emotional  problems without pharmaceutical crutches;  we can fix our attitudes with self-control;  we can fix bad habits with our wills;  we can repair our broken hearts and our loneliness by  loving others.

And, in a way, we have self-healing spirits.    With our willing acceptance of Grace from heaven,   our willing cooperation,  that which is most fundamentally wrong with us . . .  can be healed.    We can be co-redeemers with our Redeemer.

The power comes from the Cross.

Deo gratias.

AN OUTDOOR INTERLUDE – CARIBBEAN BLUE

Springtime in the Far North – finally –  and with it comes some annual chores:

Kind of a messy overview of my annual spring task,  which is to add some kind of blue dye to the water to prevent an overgrowth of algae —  which uses up the oxygen that the fish need.   The dye prevents some of the  sunlight from penetrating the water, thus preventing the overgrowth growth of plants that shouldn’t be there.

I always worry about putting the dye into the home of the goldfish.   I know it mixes in after a while, and dilutes itself,   but I didn’t want to dump the dye onto the goldfish.       Little critters saw me at the edge of the pond and kept following me,  though.

It takes a while for the dye to spread out into the pond.    That’s not “sky,”  that’s just the reflection of the trees in the different colors.

But then the pond becomes a beautiful blue in the sunlight:

 

Blotchy blue at first,  then a nice Caribbean blue:

 

Blue  +  gold = green?    Every year I fear I’m going to change the color of the goldfish.   But it never happens.   They just swim around looking like exotic tropical fish in their  newly “decorated”  habitat:

They’re doing fine.

Deo gratias.

And thanks also for  this backyard pond which produces a sense of natural serenity for us here.

I’m the caretaker; the pond can be a lot of work,  but I don’t mind.

LAETARE (REJOICE!)

 

Took  me a couple days,  but I have no doubt now that the Yellow Roses   (see last post)   were a definite and singular Sign that I’d received Divine Help with certain of my difficulties.  That doesn’t make me “happy”;   that makes me scared.  Humbled.  Very small.  Responsible now.

But I was a little bit happy.

And what an interesting detail that the weekend that I received the Yellow Roses came on the weekend of Laetare Sunday.  Long before I came into this world,   the Fourth Sunday in Lent, this past Sunday,   was designated as a day of joy.   Now it might seem odd that “joy” comes smack in the middle of the Lenten season,  but the Church, in her wisdom,  has a reason for that.

Yeah.    It’s pink.    The priest is in pink on Laetare Sunday.     Pink is a happy color.

If you are having a “good Lent,”   meaning you are having a rigorous Lent and are accomplishing much for your soul and are learning much,   then you would probably be feeling a little fatigue by now;  a little Lenten fatigue from all the , fasting,  abstinence, prayers, penance and mortifications….

And so here, this Sunday,  is a pause.   Pause, now, to think of why you’re having Lent.   Why you’re doing what you’re doing during Lent.   Think of the joy at the end, the joy of Easter, and most importantly,  the joy at the end of your life, if  — (IF ! ) —  about a nanosecond after you die, you hear those words:  “Well done,  thou good and faithful servant.”

Oh, no,  our words can’t describe the joy we will have and have forever —  but at least we can pause now,  and in this life feel the joy that is to come.

Hard work is always worth it.   Hard spiritual work is always rewarded.

And all over the world —

—    you get to rejoice, if you’re within Christendom.

Deo gratias.   

 

A JEW, A GENTILE, AND A CONFIRMATION

(We are all one family,  human;  and our Creator is alive.)

Those of you who know what these flowers signify,   will understand when I say that these words I will write are words of amazement,  of confirmation,  and of life-changing gratitude which I must express publicly.

It was 10:00 this morning when my doorbell rang.   I was “not quite ready for prime time,”   but when the doorbell rang a second time,  I moved to the front door without really planning to do so.

There was my next-door neighbor,  beaming with joy,  holding a bouquet of yellow roses.   My neighbor is a man a little bit older than I am,  he is married,  and he is a Jew, and I am not.

He couldn’t wait to thrust these flowers towards me, saying, “These are for you!  It is such a lovely Spring day!”

I had never seen him so happy,  happy from the inside out, and pouring forth good will and joy….

  I knew in an instant the Source of these yellow roses – for they could be only yellow roses, and a good thing it was that I was in such shock or I would have collapsed there on the spot, and perhaps alarmed him, for he himself could not know what he was doing.

He just couldn’t have known.

He is a Jewish man, a business man whose business takes him frequently to Manhattan, the center of commerce, and back here to “fly-over country,”  where he teaches business things at our local Big Ten university.   But he is a Jewish man first.   And though he doesn’t speak of it often, he walks with the knowledge that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob watches over him and walks with him.

As I do.

Both St. Paul and Moses wrote of the Great Mystery which will some day not divide us.   St. Paul said:   “… and so all Israel should be saved,  as it is written:  There shall come out of Sion He that shall deliver and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob.  This is to them My covenant, that I shall take away their sins . . . they are most dear for the sake of the fathers.”

Previously,  the Prophet Zachariah had told the Jews that one day “all Israel shall recognize Him whom they had Pierced,” long before they actually did that piercing in Sion.

The Jews held the knowledge of mankind’s Salvation, and Salvation is for them too.  There is no division within “the One who came out of Sion.”

And now,  the confirmation(s):     That the God of Jacob lives still.   That the One who came out of Sion was really, actually sent to this world.    That all the saints are in spiritual communion with God and with each other.  That even death does not break the communion and mutual love and aid we desire for each other.

(One young small soul in communion with us)

Confirmation,  that one tiny little soul,  taken from this world “too young,” promised to spend her time in Heaven doing good on Earth,  showering down blessings like flowers on all who call upon her for help, to bring souls to God.     Her trademark is yellow;  yellow roses.

It should not have happened that a Jewish man should have come to my door this morning, “out of the clear blue sky,”  and given me a bouquet of Yellow Roses.    It need not have happened that God answered my prayers.

I cannot even express my gratitude to God with plain words.

So . . .   (sorry for the ad)  …   take time to listen:

I know.  The song is too big.   It’s just me.   Just a small little life, currently overwhelmed with difficulties and uncertainties,  just enough little faith  to plea for help; and an impossibly personal and definite confirmation from above.

A CLOD IS WASHING AWAY

 

Here is a beautiful sight which greeted me yesterday morning –

Just like those beautiful night visions I photographed (a few blog posts ago),  this one held me there for a while, until I remembered my camera, so I could get myself unstuck from the window.   This is my backyard pond, and it looked like a shining lake that winter morning, reflecting the sunrise colors.

The funny thing is,  I had just taken a photo of that pond in the previous afternoon:

It was looking well-used, and it made me happy to see all those ice skate tracks on the surface.  My neighbor said afterwards,  yeah, it’s getting time to zamboni it again.  Not exactly his words, but I’m so glad that he and his sons can make good use of my pond in the winter.

It’s a connection.  A neighborly connection.

    Some day the pond may not look like that.  Things will change  because every spring, if there is a lot of sudden snowmelt, part of the creek bank and even the side of the pond washes away.    Great clumps of dirt are removed, by Mother Nature,   ( great clods of dirt)  .    Things change, but I’m sure that connection with my neighbor will always be there.

This was supposed to be a happy chirpy little posting,   but the day turned rather melancholy.  I received word that a man in one of my classes, a man who has been coming for several years now,  has become suddenly very ill — and now we know why he didn’t return to us this year after the holidays.   He is unable to answer emails and voicemails.  And he is somewhere out of state,  and we don’t know where.

Then, a friend came to visit with me today — 

We hadn’t seen each other for a long time, but we’re still connected by our friendship,  so we had a lot of catching up to do.  For a time, she sobbed as she told me of the loss of a good friend, how it happened,  her role in it.   I understood.   I’ve lost four who were very close and dear to me in these past four years.

Like the clods of dirt on the side of my pond and creek,  parts  of us wash away as we live on this earth.   It matters.  It affects us.  Because we’re connected.    Because we’re human beings, capable of love and affection.   Because we were made by a God Who is Love, and He acts and creates out of His love.

This was not an easy thing for me to come to believe.  My childhood was filled with fears, tears, loneliness and emotional pain, to a degree that almost drove me mad.   It was startling to learn that, above it all,  we are   supposed to   feel connected and these connections are precious.  I didn’t believe it.

When we had to learn the Englishman John Donne’s “poem”  For Whom The Bell Tolls,  at 14 years old  I angrily wrote a rebuttal, in verse.   His poem starts out  “No man is an island…”  and my rebuttal began “Every man is an island.”   I believed I had stated my case well.

Now, at my age,  the emotional pressure is finally off of me…  and I can begin to believe that the connections we have with others is a very precious aspect of our natural lives.  And that’s why it’s painful to see the “clods” wash away, a little at a time,  which is also natural.

John Donne didn’t mean this to be a poem,  he meant it to be a meditation after he heard the town church toll out the bells for someone who had just died.

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
 

Such beauty we can enjoy!  Like my pond in the soft morning sunrise.   But always, we must wonder, who will be the next clod to be washed away by the sea?      What connections will be “lost”?       (That is the meaning of the black bear on my tea table;  bear, never far from me;  symbol of the hidden dangers that suddenly rush out at us.)

Life here is not intended to be permanent.

A better life is intended for us.

Deo gratias.

“ROSES” IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

     1-15-15  !!

       1/15/15    . . . 

Pretty cool date today according to the American way of writing dates!   1-5-15  was pretty fun too.   And 1-1-15, although that drives me nuts because I am a perfectionist when it comes to my handwriting, and I’m never good enough at making all the number ones look the same.

It’s the middle of January and I am in the middle of my First Week of classes in this new year.   That means about 125% of my time is devoted to class prep and fussing about all the little thoughts that should be stuffed into the lessons.     I study…sleep a bit…study….sleep a bit….all day long.   Since this is a 24-hour cycle,  I get to appreciate some interesting things in the middle of the night.

I particularly liked this view.   It was pretty dark in the house, but my eye was caught by this beautiful pattern coming from my deck.      I stayed there looking at the pattern made by the lights on the deck railing, partially covered by snow, until I thought I’d better capture the view with a camera so I could go back to bed.

It’s beautiful.    Proportional.    Simple.     Restful.

The pattern will change as we get more snow and again as the snow melts.

Since it’s also very, very cold around here lately,  another common view in the middle of the night is this:

That’s a fire in the fireplace, making things warm and inviting in the middle of the night.

Very inviting.   This is my home.    I’m invited!

I hope you all have some beautiful, interesting, inviting things to look at around your home  – anytime of day.    Beauty is everywhere.     I guess it’s a matter of taking time to “stop and smell the roses.”      Or see them.   Or hear them.

Deo gratias.

He made us to know beauty.

CHRISTMAS: NO, YOU CAN’T — YES, YOU CAN!

Christmas!   Finally it’s here.    Almost gone.

You probably have new things in your life now.   New books.  New gadgets.    New toys.

At our house it’s new toys to keep our attention and challenge our creativity.

If you know the real Christmas story and if you know the real Child born at Bethlehem, and know Him now,  then you probably have new understandings to enjoy and be thankful for.

So,  Cooper,  up there on the piano bench offering advice,   is appreciating Christmas  and that is fun to see.    But he is doing Christmas with a four-year-old’s  logic.    Two days after Christmas Day, we were all enjoying the sight of the Christmas tree and  then Cooper’s Mommy said,  “I know what would be fun this year!   Let’s make Christmas ornaments.”

Like these:

“We can all do home-made decorations for the tree.”

“No!  We  CAN’T!”   was Cooper’s response.      ( No?)        He explained to the stunned adults:   “Christmas is already over with!”  

Well, yes.   It was “over with.”     Traveling to Grandma’s house;  done.    Decorations;  done.    Christmas tree;  done.   Cookies;  done.  Presents opened;  done.     Done.  Over with.

I was thinking about this in church today.    We were reminded, just in passing,   that we are somewhere within the Octave of Christmas.   Thursday to Thursday this year.    Eight days,  one octave.

The Church,  throughout long centuries and in her wisdom,  has developed a time of peace and reflection after major events.    We’re not talking quick marketing cycles here;   we’re looking for time for the development of thoughts and ideas and new insights.    Time  in human terms.   Time that is compatible with the natural work of human minds.

Time to play with our new trains and discover what they can do.      Time to “play”  with our new insights — to find them first, then to play around with their meaning, and then to let them grow in us.

Creativity and enjoyment.    The Octave of Christmas.

Do it!     It’s for all of us.   A four year old would say No, we can’t.   When we grow up, we can say Yes, we can!

(God’s  own  Si  se puede for us!)

Deo gratias.

CHRISTMAS EVE – “GOD REST YE MERRY”

“God rest ye”    —  God gives rest to you all.

Gentlemen.  Ladies.   Sons of Adam.  Daughters of Eve.   Rest and Comfort comes at last.

“Comfort.  Comfort ye my people.”  (Isaiah 40:1)

Does any other ruler, does any other god care what goes on inside of us,  inside where we  laugh, love, fear, worry, live with ourselves?

I would   look deeply into the eyes of this Child.    Deep,  dark;  knowing me;  eyes of eternal peace.

Eternal God comforts ye;  God rest ye merry.

And who this night first received the comfort?

Who did?    The least.  The lowest in status.   The poor.  The ones who worked alone .. in darkness.

Whoever you are, you are not lower or more unworthy than they.     But God knew them and He knew their work.   Their work was to guard and to protect the flocks outside of Bethlehem,  not far from the Great Temple in Jerusalem.   The sheep and the lambs they took care of were for the daily sacrifices– offered to God for our offenses.

Comfort.  Rest ye now.   The Lamb has come to be the one and only Sacrifice needed to bring the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve into Eternity.

 

Deo gratias.

 

 

TIME BETWEEN TWO PARTIES

“Garbage in; garbage out.”     Input, not only for computers,  but also for human minds.      Song lyrics come to mind. . .come into our minds.

The Christmas Season!   Time for parties!  At this moment as I write, I happen to be between  Party #2 and Party#3 at my house. . .  People will be coming within the hour.    I ought to be running around right now. . . .

But I stepped out onto my deck and noticed this:

The “artist” left his name:  Jack Frost, of course.   Three different boards, three different sets of patterns.   I had to Take Time with this.  Pause.  Get the camera.    It was adding value and a bit of “certitude”  for me.

How is it that this arrives into my mind as Beauty?    It’s stunning (in real life)  and exquisitely beautiful.   And it points me to the author of Beauty.     It points me there because of what I’ve read in my past,  what I’ve listened to,  what I’ve thought about,  and what lyrics I remember:

“Take Time”

1. Take time to be holy,
 speak oft with thy Lord;
 abide in him always,
 and feed on his word.
 Make friends of God’s children,
 help those who are weak,
 forgetting in nothing
 his blessing to seek.

2. Take time to be holy,
 the world rushes on;
 spend much time in secret
 with Jesus alone.
 By looking to Jesus,
 like him thou shalt be;
 thy friends in thy conduct
 his likeness shall see.

3. Take time to be holy,
 let him be thy guide,
 and run not before him,
 whatever betide.
 In joy or in sorrow,
 still follow the Lord,
 and, looking to Jesus,
 still trust in his word.

4. Take time to be holy,
 be calm in thy soul,
 each thought and each motive
 beneath his control.
 Thus led by his spirit
 to fountains of love,
 thou soon shalt be fitted
 for service above.

 

It’s the things you choose to listen to and what you choose to pay attention to.

Thanks to my early teachers who understood the importance of songs like this to a child’s development.

Thanks to my Grandma who made her pump organ available to me — and her songbooks.

Thanks to God for bringing his holiness into the world and making it available to us.

No “garbage” here.

Deo gratias.

 

 

TWO HOLIDAYS – IN TRANSITION

(First Holiday)   –

Well, the “transition” is partly the drive home from my parents’ home in Florida, where my parents are “no more”  to my home in the Far North, where I am “more.”      That is, God has decided that there would be some more of me here on earth, and I sit, now  in the foggy wonderment of gratitude.

Meanwhile,  two holidays have occurred.     I’m honored to have been within 20 miles of the very first site of designated thanksgiving on these shores,  near this river, here, in Florida:

 

This was one of the sites in North America where it was reported that there are precious living souls that have never heard the name of Jesus,  and good young men rushed off to bring material help and spiritual aid to the native peoples.    After a propitious start,  a Thanksgiving to  the Most High God was decreed, and that was near St. Augustine, Florida, in the mid 16th century.

On my way out of Florida I decided to stop at a history museum to see what I could learn about this era.   It was the Brevard Museum of Science and History.    The building didn’t look like much from the outside,  but inside I was entranced and captivated by the informative displays — i.e.  “I learned a lot” !

Near that river in the  photo above is a large area of bogs:

Desolate, dark, swampy areas with compacted biological and mineral matter  —   Perfect for preserving the details of life as it existed long ago.   If you were a scientist digging into those bogs,  you would see exciting, promising walls of bog like this:

Really!   If that doesn’t excite you,  you ought not to be an archeologist or a paleontologist!

Slowly, with toothpick and toothbrush, and other such fine tools,  the scientists uncovered the details of life among the native American people here in Florida.    I was looking at the Windover Tribe.    I’m afraid I moved slowly from area to area with open mouth and slack hands at my side – not conducive for much picture-taking –  but I managed to take  a couple photos, out of great respect for these people:

Actual cloth  woven by the tribe (preserved in bog color, of course).  The weaving was exquisite and of great variety, more variety than we have in our clothes today.

And then there was this child, lovingly and carefully buried:

She is about five years old and she is buried with some toys.   They cared about her.    She is buried  in a water grave;  literally laid to rest under a few feet of water,  covered,  the body tied down with those triangles of sticks,  covered again, and weighted down by rock so tide and predators won’t take her away.

These water graves were not used anymore by the time the missionaries came to the Florida shores,  depicted in this mural:

Here is the truth about what those first missionaries found:     Archeologists found that the people were about the same height as the Europeans, averaging 5 feet 6 inches to about 5 feet 8.    They were subject to many nutritional deficiencies and  degenerative diseases, often including degenerative arthritis and tooth infections leading into the jaw.  Ouch.

The Windovers were one of several small tribes up and down the coast of Florida, and there is evidence of deep wounds,  bones scarred and shattered by arrows, spears, and clubs;  and so in spite of the standard obligatory museum statements that the natives were “peaceful” and lived in harmony with their world,  evidence supports the conclusion that they were no different from people who live anywhere in this Fallen World.    They waged war, and as Columbus had found a few decades before,   they  kept slaves, they murdered and tortured each other to quite an alarming degree.

There is evidence of fear, superstition,  and magic.   Here is just one glass-enclosed case of their personal-size,  hand-held idols:

It is to these people that the missionaries came.

Yes, of course,  other kinds of Spaniards came,  but the Church decreed in several papal bulls that the indigenous people were not to be harmed, and that their culture was to be respected and kept intact.   On pain of excommunication.    (The Vatican had about as much power over the Conquistadors as the Vatican today has over the likes of a Ted Kennedy,  Nancy Pelosi,  or a Tony Blair…. or other names we know who publicly claim to be Catholic.)    But even villains have souls;  and is there anyone beyond hope?

I’m becoming rambly now.    Rambly:  my mind is beginning to ramble, because I’m a historian by nature, and I know of myriads of cultures and societies that have come and gone on this planet;  like these Windover people.    Like the Rus Vikings in my own heritage,  no longer Christian,   degenerated now into a bunch of bewildered Swedes who are being beaten down  (literally, physically)  and overwhelmed and overcome by the African Muslims who are busy overtaking Sweden .

If I can ramble one little step further:  I love my Swedish heritage,  but  without the knowledge of God,  they are subject to all the ordinary evils of this world, including confusion,  weakness, , and displacement.

So I arrived home with the knowledge of another small society which some great young men had attempted to impart the knowledge of  the One and Only True God.       Then it was my opportunity to give thanks, with my very small family,  with turkey, stuffing, and sweet potatoes, happy that though we may be just  one temporary culture along the stream of Time,   there is preserved in us the knowledge of God.

…and happy to learn and obey this:  “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. . . .”   (I Thessalonians 5:18)

So thanks to all those missionaries who settled both coasts of Florida;    and northwards up the Mississippi;  and southwards down the Mississippi;     across Mexico;  upwards along the coast of California;  downwards along the Pacific Northwest coast;   all along the Great Lakes;  down the St. Lawrence River;  Upper New York state;  Vermont;  New Hampshire.

East; West;  North;  South;  and right in the middle of our nation,   the missionaries brought the news of Jesus Christ. . . .

. . . .   the missionaries soaked the ground with their blood.

Perhaps we do have a mission in this world.

Deo gratias.

 

COMING BACK TO MYSELF

Well.    As I said in my last posting,  it was time to go home.

So I did.

And there was little opportunity to continue brooding:

I left the constant spray of the ocean surf and spent the next 22 hours of driving through the constant spray of an apparently nationwide rainstorm.         Heavy downpours alternating with foggy drizzle;  poor visibility;  strong, cold winds;  wet, slippery roads;  fast traffic.   Strong thunderstorms and an F1 tornado escorted me through Georgia.    I  saw two pretty bad accidents in the Smokies,   arriving perhaps just minutes after they had happened.

And then,  about  three hours from home, late at night, I experienced a ten-minute episode of  a dangerous road game — I was the chosen target, two young men were the perpetrators  ( although if I had done what they were trying to get me to do,  I would have received the traffic  ticket — if I  survived.)

I was relieved to finally arrive in my own home state where it was somehow easier to drive in the bad weather.

It was good to see that some in my neighborhood had begun decorating their homes with Christmas lights.       And then, there was my own house – it was not dark, it had been decorated too!!

A BIG THANKS  to Son who wanted to surprise me in such a bright and cheerful way!!!!    He  couldn’t have known just how much that meant to me.   Something wonderful and cheery to get ready for….  some reason to get engaged again in the world around me.   The long drive home was over;  maybe the long period of dull brooding was over too.

I didn’t unpack the car that night,  but I began the next morning.

Now I know why I like the color yellow so much.    Right there is  the most color I’d seen for a long time!     Florida the Sunshine State?   I brought some home with me in my trunk –

Look  —   There are some lessons for us from my week or two of dull,  brooding introspection.      If your friend needs to do that for a while,  let him.  Let him!   Without advice or anxiety.  And if it happens to you, let it happen.    I learned something during this time.   Or I think I did.   I changed a little.   Or I think I did.    The death of someone near and dear to you will do that.   Or I think it should.

Second lesson is this:   Look again!    All the way home during that dark, rainy, dangerous road,  I had had those wonderful sunshiny bags of citrus with me, after all.   And I arrived at an unexpectedly cheerful home with the lights pointing me to Christmas!      Goodness,  cheer, hope, and God are never far  away.

One more lesson:  when I first came back to my emails,   I saw that many had wished me well after the death of my Mom, and many had been praying for my safe return.    That’s significant.    I had been supported.     Receive from others;  give to others.      We’re not in this life alone.      No one around us should be alone.

Deo gratias!

 

(And thanks for the time to brood.   I think I’m done.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FUTURE UNCERTAIN – FLORIDA

I must be in Florida:

The pretty blue car doesn’t usually get to park under palm trees.

I’ve arrived.   I can hear the surf pounding outside my window.

And I don’t know what the next few days will bring.

No one can know.    Where do we get the courage to step into those days ahead?

All I can do is thank God for the safe drive down here,  and expect to have more things to thank Him for in the near future.