I saw God today

I saw God behind the clouds.

Was he hiding?  Not to me.

His glory lit the edges of the gray clouds, framing their density in a bright white border.

He wanted me to know that He could overwhelm even the darkest of clouds.

 

I saw God up a tree.

He wasn’t finding squirrels or feeding burds. He was gently moving the branches so the leaves would rustle in a low musical tone.

He wanted me to hear the music in His creation, even in a simple tree.

 

I saw God down the street.

He wasn’t tall and strong, surrounded by angels or heralded by trumpets.

He was a man walking towards me but stopping occasionally to greet someone he knew, meet someone he didn’t and gently smile at those going the other way in too much haste to say “Hello” back.

He wanted me to see Him in everyone I meet, whether they reflected Him or not.

 

I saw God in the mirror.

Not an ethereal presence behind me, or a holy hand on my shoulder.

I saw the nose perfected to embrace the aroma of his creation; the ears formed to hear the power of His words; the lips shaped to speak His praise and spread His Name; the eyes specially created to see everything in relation to His and not earthly design.

He wanted me to experience the world He created, to know He was in every cloud, every tree, every person, and even in me.

 

I saw God today…was it YOU?

Me? Old? Not hardly...

As I get older, I wonder how it will be for me as an elderly person. Will I remember my blessings – not just the ones I have at that moment, but the ones I learned about as a child, disregarded as a youth and embraced as a Christian adult?

I know that when Abraham’s wife Sarai was told that she would bear a child in her old age, she laughed. I think that it wasn’t so much that she doubted God’s ability; she just thought that her years for becoming a mother were over and her blessings would be more in line with her age. I know how she feels. I no longer pray to make it through an exam, find the right husband or for healthy children. Some mornings, all I pray for is my joints to quit aching, my sagging body parts to perk up and my wrinkled skin to become smooth.

I look in the mirror with my reduced vision and see gray hair (ok – it’s colored but we all know it is still gray.) wrinkles at my eyes (I can kid myself all I want…they are not laugh lines) and my fluffy old body (because the word FAT is just so ugly!)

God blesses the gray haired, but he knows my altered color is just a human desire to be less self-conscious when I am facing adversity or making choices. God sees my wrinkles as marks for every year of life He gave me to embrace, every problem He made small, every trial He had me face and gently encouraged me through. God sees my fluffitude as a reflection of the nourishment He has provided me. Its a revelation that I need to recognize and use the gift of self-control He so generously makes available to me through the Holy Spirit.

God sees that my eyes may be near sighted but He made them that way so that I see clearer the world around me and not be looking to the horizon for something better. We get older every day – that is inevitable. But in God’s eyes, seeing age as a physical malady is just incomprehensible.

God still sees fit for me to start new endeavors that I think of as “young person’s” activities. He has selected me for a specific purpose, and my attitude at this time is to wonder what it is, what I can do to achieve it and how it will affect me. The youthful attitude would be to just go with it, trusting that God will guide me to the correct finish.

The main thing I have to remember is this: God has put me exactly where I should be; how I should be; when I should be.

Whatever our age, those years give us experience – knowledge that surpasses that of a younger person. Our age gives us strength of spirit – determination to be true to the faith we have worked to grow over the years. Our age gives us laughter – the ability to see joy and promise in every situation because we have been through so much.

There is also a reason that at any age we are not called adults, middle agers, or elderlies of God…we are Children of God. Like a small child on the first day of school…a teenager starting high school or college…an adult starting a new life, we should be excited about each day. When we rise, we should be hopeful for a satisfying conclusion to the day. When we settle to sleep, we should be thankful for whatever happened, readying ourselves for the days to come.

So I am throwing my age aside – I am going to laugh at my frailties and encourage others to do the same. I’m going to move my arthritic joints and dance with gusto…I’m going to forget my self-consciousness and praise from my heart and I am going to laugh till everyone thinks that my wrinkles really are laugh lines.

God sees promise in us, from our first day to our last…no matter how many days there are between. Each new day is a gift to open – each day passed is a gift enjoyed – each future day is a gift to anticipate.

With God blessing us, every day is like Christmas and like children, celebrating Christmas is a really good thing any day.

from choir devotion 9/2012

Jesus came to me today    In the most peculiar way.

It was in the fruit aisle, by the pears,     I never thought I’d see him there.

But I was busy and almost missed          That elderly woman with the shopping list.

She seemed confused, and oh so small And couldn’t push that cart at all.

She hit the skid of summer fruit Then almost took out a man in a suit,

She bounced the cart to avoid a child, she stopped, and then she suddenly smiled.

I laughed out loud, and she looked at me         And she laughed too, which made me see

Her hands were shaky, but her eyes weren’t dim,      Because her joy was right from Him.

I forgot that those who carry years        Who’ve overcome their youthful fears,

Those fears of losing beauty and youth,           They are the ones who know the truth.

They’re not to be forgotten or ignored,            But relished and loved, as children of the Lord.

So when I slow and limp and blink,         when my eyes are weak and my mind slow to think,

I hope that someone sees Jesus in me, When I run into them…only figuratively.

 

I prayed for you today...

                              And I don’t even know your name.

I prayed for all my sisters and brothers in Christ. I prayed for those who don't yet know Jesus.

I prayed for all those suffering illness or pain. I prayed for those who have good health and prosperity.

I paid for those who are lonely. I prayed for those with more friends than they can count.

I prayed for those with addictions and fears. I prayed for those who are traveling in confidence and joy.

I prayed for those who are worried about their children…spouses…parents. I prayed for everyone someone else is worrying about.

I prayed for those who feel burdened by the problems of life. I prayed for those who get up knowing things are going right.

I prayed for the workers. I prayed for the idle.

I prayed for all God’s children. I prayed for those who don’t see Him as Father.

See – I prayed for you today, and I don’t even know your name.

Dad - for your 90th birthday

I think that I should mention my Dad now.

He moved from a house to a senior living facility, where he still makes his own meals, watches classic tv and writes. My dad, 90 years old, uses a walker or cane due to knee problems, can't always remember where he left things, but just bought his first laptop with wireless printer. He stocked up on paper and toner...I got him a wireless mouse and he has been writing ever since. He is trying to tell us what he is all about by writing stories - non-fiction and fiction, and letting us see the world through his eyes and words.

He was born in 1922, served in WWII and Korea and then remained a reservist till he retired.

My dad always worked when I was growing up - fulltime as a mailman (letter carrier if I need to be politically correct) and on and off in part time employment as a AAA dispatcher, school janitor, tow truck driver...

When we were young, Mary and I were Daddy's girls, as Mom worked evenings. When Mom would go to the hospital to have one of my younger siblings, the teachers always knew because our usually carefully curled hair was somewhat less tight being wrapped around Dad's much larger fingers.

When Mom worked, Dad was our Girl Scout parent, stepping in on his turn. He had so much confidence in being a man that he never felt threatened or scared by Mom's success.

I never saw Dad angry, a situation he attributes to having used all his anger up in his youth...and having nothing to show for it. He considered anger a wasted emotion.

I saw him cry only twice - once when my Aunt Margaret died, after hearing the anguish in her young son's grief, and once when my Mother's health took a turn for the worse, and we knew that she would be leaving soon.

My dad remarried after my mother's death. He buried his second wife when he was in his late 80's. Will he marry again? I wouldn't be surprised.

He is 90 and still loves the company and excitement of women. He loves all his daughters and took all of them through the pangs of adolescence, some through the pain of divorce, some through the confusion of life itself. He has helped us all financially and emotionally over the years.

As for his son...two men were never so different and so alike. Kevin and Dad differed on everything but it was because they saw the world with passion and as a source of discovery...one through the eyes of a mature and experienced man...the other as a hopeful, driven young man.

My dad is not a 90 year old man at a senior housing center. He is a loving father, a trusted friend, a gentle soul and giant heart. My dad is not an idle retiree but a driven and active man who just doesn't have to work any more.

He reads and encouraged us to do so - he loves cartoons, The Three Stooges and Get Smart with Don Adams. He enjoys music and good food. He believes in God, worship and his church.

He is there for us every step of the way, the only person in my family to consistantly attend my silly choir concerts and gives an adequate and fair review afterwards.

I keep saying Dad this and Dad that...but he is Daddy. He is my link with the past. He is the teller of stories and the keeper of secrets. Dad questions if I am on the right track since some of my choices differ from what he and Mom had planned for me. Daddy loves and respects my decisions.

And for all that he saw in his children's lives, Daddy couldn't stand to see us cry. He always had a gentle hand and teasing joke to get us back on track. He had a special handkerchief he would pull out and blot up our tears, telling us that he was holding them and each would turn into a pearl for us.

I don't have a pearl necklace from my dad, but Daddy has given me many pearls of wisdom to make me a better and stronger person.

Daddy loves me, and my sisters, brother, our families and many friends. And we love him back.

gotta love a detour

When driving down the road, how frustrated do we get when we have to detour? You see people slow down, analyze the options and then finally realize that, yes, the road is truly closed. Once they experience a detour, they can focus on the frustration of being off their planned road or enjoy the new scenery.

We are the same way about our faith. We have a route for heaven and we know all the steps to get there. But what if something stops our progress? A death – divorce – lost job or feeling of despair and we are forced off our original plan. These are the detours we have to bear but often we forget to embrace them as part of the journey.

When God propels you off your plan He is really putting you on His. And if you take time to enjoy the scenery, it isn’t just new billboards, green trees or an unexpected park in the midst of buildings. You will see helping hands, smiling faces and open arms.

Our minds are geared to the end of our journey and we forget to be flexible enough to enjoy each unpredictable step of it.

God doesn’t alter our path in spite or to test us, but to assure us that He is there no matter what path we are on. The easiest way to secure our own path, is to follow His lead. Our path is based on ease and comfort  – predictability and total lack of surprise. God blesses us with challenges and trials – new experiences and, ultimately, well-earned peace.

So next time you think about your faith journey, think of the times you got unexpected blessings, undeserved mercy and unending love. Those are the times you detoured. And what a boring trip it would have been if you had stayed on your own course.

how it looks - only one person's opinion

 
It was an historic event. For the third time in US history, a seated governor had been subject to a recall election. For the first time, the seated governor won and remains in charge.

My advice – move on, people. There have been tears, cries of the end of democracy, death threats to the governor and general lament.  And why?

Because a group of people decided that he was evil and when trying to balance the state budget,  required a group of complainers to pay their fair share. He set up for the teachers in the state to be treated as individuals and not a group. I know that there are those that say collective bargaining is a “right” but I believe it is like any perk in the workplace.

I resent that the teachers I know who work their fingers to the bone, sacrifice family time and personal comfort to try to teach and influence the youth of Wisconsin are given no more money or benefits than the teacher who shows up, works and leaves, with no concern for the lessons learned or the lives touched.

I resent that I work for ½ what a teacher is being paid (their salaries are public record – I checked some names of people who have been most verbal) to work 12 months a year. And then am told that I don’t know what it’s like to work - and I work 5 days a week, 9+ hours a day, year round.

I resent that I pay my own insurance, watching the rate I pay increase yearly, but pay it anyway and then are told that my tax dollars are paying the insurance of people who pay nothing...and in the new system will still pay less than I do. And I am locked into the insurance my employer provides - unless I really want to pay more for the luxury of a choice.

I resent that teachers keep saying how they went to college so they deserve more money and respect. I may not have a degree, but I have gone to classes (paid for by myself) to educate myself and keep up to date in my field. I only get what my company can afford to pay. Is greed a reason to bankrupt my employer?

It would be so easy in real life to have my salary based on what someone else is earning and not on what I deserve. But on the other hand, why should they get what I make if I am working harder?

As a taxpayer, I get slightly miffed when I see the quality of education on the national charts near the bottom.  Wisconsin has been lacking in the quality of student they are releasing to the world…would more money make better teachers? It hasn’t been proven in the past. How do our teachers demand all sorts of benefits when the test scores indicate they are not doing what they are being paid to do?
I do know some incredible teachers who should get twice the going rate. I say screw the ones who hide in the teachers’ lounges except for the time they are required to be with their students.

When the educators actually prove that they are worth more money, benefits and acclaim, I am all for rewarding them accordingly. But for now, they haven’t done anything to make me support them or talk them up.

And if you are really adament and angry, put your name on the ballot - put your face and family, your reputation and values, your sensitivity and understanding out there for everyone to see.

But for the most verbal, you seem to prefer to be part of a crowd and avoid that Face to Face thing.

So to all those who are sitting at home whining about the end of democracy or plotting how to waste another billion tax dollars because you didn’t get your way…suck it up. Gather some self respect and pride and move on. 

`This is sad…
I just heard that a friend’s 17 year old nephew committed suicide. He was a young man who seemed to have no other choice…in his mind.

When I posted a note of condolence to his family, I clicked the box that let me know if other notes were posted. I have read the whole guest book and it dawned on me that this young man had friends who he saw daily and they embraced their friendship. There were people his age that hadn’t seen him for a while but remembered wonderful things about him. There are family members, church members, friends and friends of friends (like me) who wanted to comfort his family.

How much difference would it have made if he had known how much his friends loved him?  How much love was out there for his family that he could have gathered for himself?

I had a poster when I was younger that said, Life is Short – and there is not time to brighten the hearts of those traveling the dark way with us…O, be swift to love. Make haste to be kind.

It was a paraphrase of a Pablo Neruda poem. I received it 40 years ago and it still haunts me. Every time I see someone lost I wonder if he could have been saved had he known how loved he was.

Today I encourage…urge…DEMAND!!! That you find someone you love and admire and tell them so. Don’t post your memories in a guest book after their death. Post them on a billboard for the living, breathing person to see.

And you may find out how loved and admired you are, too.

Mom said be practical

I dreamt about my mom last night.
It was one of those weird dreams where we were in a restaurant, or eatery of some sort - maybe the dining room at Alexian Village where my dad now lives.
It was filled with families at tables.
My dad was with me, and Liz ...I don't know who took the fourth space at our table, but my mom sort of walked over and was with us. She was wearing the dress she made for my wedding mass.

Dad was suddenly not there and Liz and I were talking about Dad's 90th birthday and I wanted to get him an Amazon gift card so he could learn how to shop on line. Liz suggested something funny, like a stuffed animal and I asked Mom if we should do fun or practical gifts.
Mom said, the main gift should be practical and then we could fill in with fun.  Sounds to me like a life lesson.
I didn't waste the 27 years since my Mom died, but I wasn't always practical with them. Maybe I should remember that practical and fun can go together and I would be fulfilled if I learn to blend both.

When we were leaving, my mom was taking the napkins to throw them away and I finally broke down and asked the question I've held inside for years.
"Do you miss us or is heaven that wonderful? Some days I miss you so much I don't know if I can go on."
She replied, "heaven is that wonderful."  She listed a number of names of people she knew in heaven and then she told me to hang in there.

And I woke up.

I miss you Mom.

I got a cold...

So here I go...started being Sleepy and Sneezy...then I got Grumpy...Doc moved in and gave me a few cold pills and I became Happy and Dopey. As for Bashful? Well, do you see this posted on a public forum or my private shared blog. If it wasn't unseasonably warm we could do the Snow White thing...

Fairy tales can come true!

broken hearts

They’re breaking my heart, you know.

All those people who talk to me and then forget I was ever there.

All those people who ask me for help and after I give it tell me how my efforts weren’t enough.

All those people who tell me I ask too much of them and then berate me for asking too little of others.

All those people who tell me to be kind and tolerant in dealing with them, and then tell me to be assertive and stop letting other people run all over me.

All those people who say “I love you” but when I am down disprove it by telling me to suck it up and move on.

All those people who answer my phone calls with “I’ll call you back” and never do.

All those people who accept all I am able to give and then they expect more.

All those people who need me to be there and I am but are suddenly absent when I need them?

They are breaking my heart, but not to the point where I let Jesus out…He is still in there and that is why I still go on. While they are breaking my heart on the outside, He is fixing it on the inside.

Maybe that’s why Jesus was a carpenter…for the mending of hearts.