Friday, December 14, 2018

Still


Creativity brings a stillness to your soul

When the season becomes hectic bring beauty to the table 




I'm not talking about the dinner table, I'm talking about about a creativity board to enliven your senses.



Bring in some things from outside like the blooms off my winter Rhododendron bush, a sprig of holly, some acorns, a cone, and withering foliage from another bush.


Add some color and your favorite word.



  Lastly, bring in some stripes and a succulent with terrific texture and voila, you have a gathering to delight the senses. Today is the 14th of December and very soon the days will start getting longer. 

A creativity board always bring stillness.


I should give credit to Philippa Stanton of Brighton England who inspires me to be consciously creative everyday.


Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Chapter Six- The Gymnopédist



Chapter Six

With musicians, things are different……they are often attracted to absurdity.
                                                                                         Erik Satie

When Eric Satie made a break with the conventional way of writing music by eliminating the time signature and bar lines, his father, also a musician, was aghast. Miguel admired the decision of this eccentric composer to go against the norm. He was also striking out in ways that his family didn’t approve of.  The third Gnossienne had instructions written above the score which made Miguel smile. “…in a manner to achieve nothing…”
That was a manner he brought to walking the wire. He moved with conviction to achieve nothing.


   They found Jorge in a room at the Juvenile Detention Center. The attendant motioned for them to sit in the common area outside the Jorge’s room. The round fake wood veneer table were attached to black plastic stools. Reggie sat down uncomfortably on one of the stools, looking around at the two story hallway. Brightly painted cell doors attempted to make the institution look like a happy place. 
   Jorge emerged from one of the rooms on the ground floor, looking from left to right. His eyes seemed wide, almost as if he were staring into headlights. It was Stevie who stood and walked over to him, extending her hand.
  “I am Detective Dangerfield, Jorge. We talked earlier, do you remember?” She asked.
  Reggie saw Jorge look at Stevie’s hand and did not offer his own. 
  “I remember, Detective. What is going to happen to me?” 
   Stevie motioned for them to join Reggie and they sat together for a few minutes in awkward silence. Jorge’s deep brown eyes looked like a dog Reggie once owned. He would put his head on Reggie’s lap and stare up, longingly.
   “Your parents should be coming and you will be assigned an attorney. Can we ask you a few more questions? You don’t have to talk to us but we would appreciate understanding what happened more clearly this morning. ” Reggie took the lead wanting to extract the necessary facts before the boy was told to shut up by an attorney.
    “I have been answering questions for hours.” Jorge  pushed his hair to the side and rubbed his forehead. “If Miguel had worn his Satie Suit this would not have happened. It was his lucky outfit.”
   “What do you mean? What is a Satie Suit?” Reggie wondered if this was part of the paraphernalia of wire walking. 
    “Erik Satie is a music composer.” Stevie smiled at Reggie and then turned to Jorge.    
     “Did he copy an outfit worn by Satie?” Stevie asked.
    “He said it was like something Satie would wear. He picked it up at Goodwill. It was a tan, satin coat with a fancy stand up collar and deep pockets.” Jorge rubbed his neck as if to indicate where the collar would fit. “It reminded me of a magicians outfit. He wore it with sweatpants whenever we did a new installation.”
  “Why didn’t he have it on today?” Stevie asked.
  “I’m not sure. It was really hot this morning even though it was early.” Jorge’s voice broke and a large sigh escaped his throat.
   Reggie shifted on the stool. The plastic was not very wide and he felt it cut into his sit bones.
   “Jorge, the detectives feel that Miguel’s fall had to do with your family retaliating over something the Cervantes gang did to your brothers. Is that true?” Reggie asked.
   Jorge stood up and circled around the eating area. He came back and muttered under his breath.
   “Miguel and I had nothing to do with gangs.”
    “But both of your brothers are in rival gangs, right? They are in conflict with each other all the time.” Reggie saw the agitation in Jorge’s body.
    “I don’t know what my brother’s are doing. Miguel didn’t want anything to do with the gangs either.” Jorge turned towards Stevie repeating emphatically.
    “I don’t have anything to do with gangs.” 
     “Did your brothers know what you were doing today?” Stevie asked keeping her voice barely above a whisper, aware that the surveillance video would be watched later by Detective Mullins.
   “I went to Miguel’s last night with my brother’s truck. I told my brother I needed to pick up some stuff at the Boy’s Club. He lets me haul equipment sometimes. We packed up our gear and this morning I picked up Miguel before anyone was awake at my house. I doubt any of our brothers knew what we were doing.” Jorge turned his back on Reggie and stretched out his arms to touch his knees. 
   “Where did you and Miguel first meet?” Reggie asked.
   “The Boys Club in Highland Park had activities and we met up there. Both of us liked acrobatics and Alex said that we were good at the balance beam and parallel bars.”    
   Jorge swiveled around to face them again.
  “That’s what we cared about.”
   Stevie lightly touched Jorge’s shoulder with her hand. 
   “Who is Alex?”
    “Alex Douglas is a volunteer at the Boys Club. He was a gymnast years ago and even went to the Olympics. I mean he tried out to get on the gymnastics team but didn’t actually make it.”
   “And he introduced you and Miguel to wire-walking?” Reggie noticed Jorge shake his head ever so slightly.
    “He didn’t? How did you start walking the wire?” Reggie pressed for more information.
    “Alex brought us to a park one day and he had a friend who set up an A-frame with a slack line. We started a few feet off the ground and over time we walked up higher and higher.” Jorge swiveled the stool back and forth.
    “So, who was this other person in the park?” Reggie asked.
    “His name was George. He came to the club twice a month.” Jorge crossed his arms and rubbed his elbows.
    “Who came up with the idea to walk between the towers?” Reggie asked.
    “It was Miguel. We both liked the old bell towers and often climbed up to look out at the town. It was way too high for me. I would have freaked out walking across that wire……” Jorge choked up and tears started down his face. He brushed them away with the back of his hand.
    “And, how did the two of you have access to the right equipment to attempt a walk like this?” Reggie asked. He was baffled how two teenage boys had the expertise and wherewithal to make this happen. 
   “Well….George was a good teacher and provided all the equipment to the club. Alex was busy and basically gave the interested kids over to us to teach. That meant we had to set up the slack lines in the gym and sometimes in the park. George was there when we went to the park. But, we brought all the equipment in my brother’s truck. So we had access to hemp ropes, wire, fasteners, ….everything.”
    “Is this a part-time gig or have you been doing this all summer?” Reggie asked.
    “It’s a summer job and we get paid to help with the classes. We earn more than we could anywhere else.”  
     “More than selling drugs with your brother’s gang?” Reggie asked, not really believing that he had no knowledge of his brother’s activities.
   Jorge dropped his head and was silent for several minutes. Reggie caught the glare from Stevie over the top of Jorge’s head. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.
    Jorge turned and looked intently at Stevie. “Are you her daughter?” He asked. 
    Stevie was surprised by this off hand question. 
    “Who’s daughter?” She asked.
    “The piano teacher, Mrs. Hanson.” Jorge looked over at Reggie and Reggie looked back at Stevie. “You know,…she taught Miguel piano at your house.” 
    “You came to my house?” 
     Stevie looked at Jorge and he answered defensively.
    “Yeah, I came a few times and listened. Your mother didn’t have anything against two hispanic kids coming over to her house.” Reggie saw the defensiveness in Jorge’s face. “She was proud of Miguel. I was amazed how good he could play.”
    “I am not surprised that my mother taught Miguel but I am surprised you connected me to her.”
   “You look like her.” Jorge grinned and added quietly, “She told us you were a detective.”
   “My mother really admires Rosa, Miguel’s mother. She has worked for us for years.” Stevie said.
    Reggie heard voices from the other end of the facility. He wanted to know a little more about Alex Douglas before they got interrupted.
    “Where can we find Alex?” Reggie asked. 
     Jorge turned towards him and answered. “You can always find him after school at the Boy’s club. That is when most of the classes happen.”
     A bell sounded and Jorge jumped up. Reggie could see he was frightened. 
    “I want to go back to my room.” He walked down the short flight of stairs towards the security guard. He never looked back.

               Back To Index of Chapters
    

Friday, November 23, 2018

Value

What activities have the most value today?

I had to ask myself that question today as I hosted my son's family for Thanksgiving. What do I do with these four teenagers? Even more than eating, how could we spend quality time together? 



The best I could come up with was to invite them to go walk with me. The air and beauty, the slow conversations, the dog smelling and exploring, and the sound of quiet was of the most value in bonding us together. 


Mary Oliver

INVITATION
Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy
and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles
for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,
or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air
as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine
and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude –
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you,
do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

– Mary Oliver (Devotions, Penguin Press 2017, 107-108)





Friday, November 2, 2018

Repeat

Some things get easier when you repeat

I was scrolling through Instagram this morning to see what I was doing a year ago today. I was pleased to see that I am repeating my actions from last year. I am writing. Last year daring to take the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge seemed a little audacious. But I carefully added up all the words in my book. That book has gone through several edits and is done, as done as it needs to be at the moment.




   Today is day two of another NaNoWriMo. This year I am writing a sequel. This is a story of a young boy who is obsessed with the music of Erik Satie and wire walking. How did these two loves come together? The answer to that question is no stranger than what caused him to tumble from a 60 foot wire in the middle of his little town. It is dangerous to show you unedited work but here is a little peek at the first few chapters. 





  It feels great to know that I've tried and succeeded once and perhaps this novel will work as I repeat this lengthy process.



Friday, October 19, 2018

Who

Who Am I That Thou Seest Me?

Inherent in human nature is the desire to be special. It can be hard to believe that a God could love us because we are just a tiny speck of all His creations. But yet he has capacity to single us out and invite us to be his. 



   Take the story of Hagar out of the Old Testament. She felt scorned by Sarah, Abrahams's wife and handled herself in a way that made being with his family impossible. Alone with only her son she is cast out. Is this the end of the story? Not by a long shot. She is singled out and visited by an angel of God. He promises her protection and a noble posterity for his son. 


Painting by Elsbeth Young

Genesis 16:7, 10-11
"And the angel of the Lord found Hagar by a fountain of water in the wilderness....And and angel of the Lord said unto her, I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for the multitude...The Lord hath heard thy affliction."


He Hears Me




Wednesday, October 17, 2018

A New Chapter Two



                Chapter Two

                       I have never written a note I didn't mean.
Erik Satie

The supplies, including the wire, were already in Jorge’s truck. They made the transfer from Miguel’s garage to the truck in secret the night before. A very slight breeze moved over his face. It felt as delicate as the melody line to his current favorite piano piece. Music was intertwined with his walking on wire almost as tightly as the braided steel he walked on. He felt the wire with his toes the same way he felt the keys on the piano, the effort was intentional but the weight from his arms and legs was relaxed and only carried enough force to propel him forward. 
Miguel saw the lights on Jorge’s truck go out as he came to a stop in front of the house.


       
Stevie Dangerfield felt the perspiration on her neck. A drop trickled down between her shoulder blades. She pulled her thick, brown hair back into a pony tail. It was only 9:00 am but the heat was going to reach record levels today. The Seattle precinct was air-conditioned but the unit in the Homicide division was broken. Small fans placed around the room hummed, working hard to move the stagnant air. 
The computer in front of her flickered and the report she was reading blurred before her eyes. A haunting piece of music was circling around in her head. The tone was minor. Grace notes flitted up and down the octaves, louder first and followed by the same melody more softly, as an echo. Before coming to work she had seen the sheet music sitting on the music stand on her piano. Her mother was likely teaching the piece to one of her students. She couldn’t resist playing through the familiar Gnossienne No. 1 by Erik Satie. The mood was both eery and peaceful. The tune followed her to work and now she had a nagging ear worm leaving her in a melancholy mood.
She looked over at Reggie Watts, her partner, sitting at his desk facing her. His dark hair looked slightly damp around the ears. It looked like it had been recently cut. The white shirt he was wearing was open at the neck and she noticed his pulse beating regularly at the base of his neck. A slight shadow of a beard on his cheeks and under his nose gave him a rakish appearance. She forced herself to look away and back to the screen. 
She picked up on some discrepancies in the police report from their last case as she refocused and starred at the list of items recovered from a crime scene. 
“Stevie!” 
Reggie’s voice interrupted her search for more errors. She looked up and noticed Captain Monson standing behind Reggie. Where did he come from? He was looking at her quizzically as if he had been talking to her. His expression was serious but not unkind. 
 “Sorry, what did I miss?” She liked Captain Monson so much better than other bosses she had in the past. She trusted his instincts and appreciated his confidence in her police work. 
“Whatever you are doing must be gripping. As I was saying...,"
 The Captain cleared his throat now that he had her attention.
 "I am asking you and Watts here, to take an assignment outside this precinct. The Highland Park City Police Chief is a friend of mine and he has reached out for help. They had a suspicious death this morning. He needs a couple of detectives to investigate who are outside of his team and who can make some delicate inquiries. I recommended the both of you and he is asking that you go over there immediately.” It bothered Stevie that Captain Monson was not meeting her eyes.What was he not telling them. 
“Can you give us more information?” Reggie asked.
“No, I need you to just go and investigate. Find out what happened and work with the other ………” Captain Monson turned away before he finished the sentence.  
Reggie pulled his tall athletic body up from his desk and grabbed his pack. Stevie watched Reggie take his holster and gun from his desk and carefully place it inside. He looked at her expectantly. 
“Do you know the address?” Stevie asked.
“I’ve been to Highland Park. It’s about 20 minutes south of Seattle. Come on, pull yourself away from that report.” He was moving towards the door and Stevie had to quickly grab her gear to catch him. 

While Reggie was driving south on the 509 highway, Stevie was still in a foggy state of mind. Her thoughts jumped from idea to idea leaving her a little muddled. She went back to remembering a few nights earlier. That night she had accompanied Reggie to a care facility where she played the piano for a group of residents, including Reggie’s father, who was living there after a debilitating stroke. They sang songs from the forties and fifties. Harry, Reggie’s father asked to sing his favorite, “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” a Richard Rodgers composition. The tune was familiar to Stevie but the words were new. As she played she listened and watched Harry sing the lyrics, “Couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t sleep, then love came and told me I shouldn’t sleep.” He smiled at her while he sang with a rich baritone voice. His eyes drifted over to his only son. As Stevie followed Harry’s glance she noticed Reggie was watching her. He looked away when she caught his eye.
 It made her self conscious now to be sitting next to Reggie in the car. What was she feeling for him. His right hand was resting on the console between them while his other hand tapped the steering wheel. She looked at his large hand and noticed the well kept cuticles. His fingernails were evenly cut straight across. 
“What are you thinking about?” Reggie asked. 
A warmth came up into her face and she turned to look out the driver’s side window.
“I’m thinking about what could be going on in the Highland Park precinct.” She kept her face turned away hoping the color would return back to normal.
“I’ve never heard of loaning homicide detectives to another city, have you?” Stevie turned back to Reggie and agreed that it was a weird request.
 “We may be heading into an awkward situation. Let’s play it cool and not ruffle any feathers.”

“Agreed.” Stevie took a deep breath and met Reggie’s eyes. 

                                          Chapter 3

Friday, October 5, 2018

Share

                 Can I Share the Love of God?

How does God do it? How can he make me feel so cherished and loved and still have enough to make every other child of his feel loved exclusively, too?


Artist Caitlin Connolly
Love One Another, Even As I Have Loved You

That must be the way it is.

 If I don't love you then it is harder to feel his love, right?
Love grows when it is shared.
I doubt God's love when I am miserly. How can He love me when I clutch his love tight to my chest and bury it deep within me? 
I feel it so much more when I turn outward towards you and extend my hand. 
When I show love I feel it radiate out of me and fill the space around me and even more, I feel it move towards every other human being. 


Give said the little stream.
Give oh give
Give oh give.
Give said the little stream, as it hurried down the hill. I'm small I know but wherever I go the grass grows greener still.
William Bradbury and Fanny Crosby



Friday, September 28, 2018

Potential

Neither man nor woman is perfect or complete without the other. Thus, no marriage or family, no ward or stake is likely to reach its full potential until husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, men and women work together in unity of purpose, respecting and relying upon each other's strengths. 
Sheri L. Dew

You may never have seen this couple before. Their visit to Seattle was not given any press time. Even though 49,000 people came to hear them speak and the streets of the city were lined with families leaving the baseball stadium after their addresses. 


I loved what they said but I will always remember their reliance and respect for one another. Together they have reached a new potential. Individually he was a renowned open heart surgeon, husband and father, and she was an author and family therapist. Now together they teach the gospel of Jesus Christ to people all over the world. He is the prophet and president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They are servants of the Lord. And together they are magnificent. FYI, he is ninety four years young and did not even hold on to the railing as he came up to the podium. 

The Lord will provide and sustain.


Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Chapter 5- the Gymnopédist


I came very young into a world that was very old.
     Erik Satie

When Mrs. Hanson introduced Miguel to the composer Erik Satie he found a kindred spirit. Very eccentric with odd tastes, Satie was even called a complete lunatic by some music critics. Miguel memorized all three Gymnopédies and loved the dance like qualities of these pieces. He visualized Satie walking a wire wearing his chestnut colored corduroy suit with matching hat carrying an umbrella, the first Gymnopédie playing in the background.


Reggie walked out of the house behind Stevie. He stepped over the cracks in the cement sidewalk. The street was quiet but it felt to him that they were being observed. He glanced over to the neighbors house. Several rusty vehicles were parked in the driveway. One had a flat tire and the other was missing a front bumper. A flash of red in the window looked like a woman. As he squinted to get a clearer view the blinds dropped shut. 
Stevie got into the passenger side. Reggie fumbled into his pocket to see if he had keys. Stevie drove them to Rosa’s house but something was bothering her and now she was not going to drive. He opened the door and moved into the driver’s seat. 
“Can I have the keys?” Reggie asked.
Stevie pulled them out of her pants pocket. 
“I think we need to go back to the Highland police station and report on what we’ve done.”   Reggie said.
Stevie was still quiet and he glanced over at her. She was staring straight ahead. 
“What’s up?” He said putting the keys into the ignition but not turning the car on.
He waited but still Stevie refused to talk. 
“Okay, I don’t know what you thought you were doing in there but I need to tell you that we missed a real opportunity to gather information. When Detective Mullins finds out that the older brother Pablo Cervantes was there with his mother he will want to know what we found out when we questioned him. Stevie, why didn’t we question him? He obviously knew more about his brother.”
“I wasn’t there to do an interrogation. I was there to give the news of a son’s death to a mother who works in my home. Sometimes she picks up my underwear on the floor of my room, for God’s sake.” Stevie’s voice shook with emotion.
“At what point do you lose your objectivity and forget you are an officer of the law?” Reggie adjusted his position in the seat and moved the seat backwards.
“Perhaps it is when I realize that the murdered boy sits at my piano while my mother gives him piano lessons. My God, Reggie, I can’t be dispassionate about this.” 
A single tear rolled down Stevie’s face and Reggie watched her brush it away. He didn’t know what to do. He wondered if this would play out to bite him in the butt. He started the car and headed towards the Highland police station.

The detectives were gathered around Bart Mullins when Reggie and Stevie walked in.
“The Seattle elite are back.” The sniggering was expected but still bothered Reggie. 
“So what did you find out from the family when you delivered the news?” A burly, roundish detective asked from his desk. The name on his desk indicated that he was Roger Simmons. Reggie remembered him from the crime scene earlier. 
“We talked to a devastated mother who had no idea her son was wire walking in his spare time. The older son Pablo knew he was out early that morning with Jorge but claimed ignorance as to the where abouts of the boys.” Stevie spoke clearly and distinctly to Roger Simmons. 
“So what else did you find out when you questioned Pablo Cervantes?” Stevie turned to Bart Mullins when he asked the question.
“We were there to deliver a death notice, Detective Mullins. It felt inappropriate to question her son.” Stevie did not break eye contact with Mullins. Reggie felt the hair on his neck rise up. Here it comes, he thought. 
Mullins moved around his desk and came to stand in front of Stevie. 
“You were in the home of a Cervantes gang member, a higher up bastard I might add, and you did not interrogate him?” Mullins was so close to Stevie’s face that Reggie saw spittle land on her face. She did not flinch.
“I volunteered to deliver the death notice sir. And that is what we did.”
Mullins moved away from Stevie and turned to his detectives. 
“They call themselves detectives, boys. What are we going to do with these Seattle amateurs? Simmons, tell us what the investigation team found out about the cut wire.”
He sat down pompously at his desk and looked expectantly at his detective.
Simmons rose causing his chair to tip over. He grabbed for an armrest and righted the chair before it tumbled to the ground. He moved to the front of the room. Reggie smiled, secretly thinking that there were signs of amateurs amongst Mullins own team.
Fumbling with a remote, Simmons projected a picture of the wire found at the crime scene onto a screen at the front of the room. It was magnified two hundred percent and Reggie studied the unraveled wire.
“This wire had three lengths of twisted steel wrapped around each other. You’ll notice the inner wire looks like a straight cut while the other two wires look frayed. They couldn’t hold together once the inner wire was separated.”
“So what are you inferring?” Reggie spoke without thought.
Simmons glance over at Mullins and then looked at Reggie carefully. 
“I’m guessing the wire was cut before the boy took it up the tower. When he stepped out onto the wire with his full weight it came undone and he lost his balance and fell to his death.”
Reggie cut him off before he could say anything else. “And you said the frayed wire was on the south tower where the Cervantes kid started his walk?”
Simmons looked unsure. “Well, yes, that is what a crime scene investigator reported.”
“Then why the hell are you holding Jorge Gonzales here?” Stevie turned toward Mullins sitting smugly at his desk. 
Mullins stood and addressed Stevie. “Because, Miss, he is likely the one that cut the wire.”
“And he has admitted to that?” Reggie’s hand went out to touch Stevie. He wanted to reel her in. 
“A gang boy is never going to admit to a murder. We will have evidence soon enough.” Mullins sneered at Stevie.
“So, you are holding him without evidence. Is that right?” 
Stevie was face to face with Mullins again. Reggie couldn’t understand her desire to alienate them. What would it serve to have these detectives hate them more?
“Look, little lady, I don’t know what the law says up in the big city but around here I can hold him for forty-eight hours without cause. It doesn’t matter if he ends up being the perpetrator or the witness.” Mullins was just a hair shorter than Stevie but he spread his chest to gain a little extra height.
“I want to interview Jorge.” Stevie spoke defiantly.
Reggie stepped up alongside Stevie and asked, “May we talk to Jorge Gonzales, please sir?” He emphasized the ‘please’ and hoped he could diffuse the tension Stevie had caused. 
Mullins turned his back on Reggie and Stevie. He looked at his detectives. Reggie could see by their faces that he was giving them a sneering smile.
He did not turn around. “Knock yourself out. We will be watching on the monitors.”

                                       To Chapter Six






Friday, September 21, 2018

Complete

Complete Is Not The Same as Finished

I am intentional about watching sunrises. I drive to a looking place just minutes from my home and I wait. Each minute something changes. The clouds affect the colors, the water catches reflections of light, the birds move and take flight suddenly, and the sound of the waves make a soothing rhythm. When the sun comes over the horizon the sunrise is not finished but it is complete.


That cycle is complete. And so it us for us a children of God. We are never finished but we are complete, whole, when His grace allows us another day. I imagine what our earth looks like as it rotates around the sun. Half the time in darkness and then that return to the exposure of the sun. In German that return is called Umkehr. I picked that word to walk with me through 2018. I am always comforted by the sunrise and the return of day.





Friday, September 14, 2018

Crowd

In quiet moments when you think about it, you recognize what is critically important in life and what isn't. Be wise and don't let good things crowd out those that are essential. 

Richard G. Scott

What is essential?


Loving freely those in front of me is essential. 

I worry about fixing past mistakes and somehow finding the magic words to make right all that has gone wrong. 
That is not my job.
I can do right in this moment, say kindness about today, listen with my whole heart.

The Savior of my soul can go back in time and fix the ruts in my road. He can console those I have hurt and bring joy to their lives. He can speak peace to their hearts and help me show up when it is time to ask their forgiveness. 

I just need to be sure that I hear Him calling so I don't let the good crowd out the essential.


Friday, September 7, 2018

Rain

                      The Earth Is Parched
   No matter how wealthy you are around here, watering your lawn is not kosher. In a climate of healthy rainfall when it is summer and the rains stop, we don't water. 


  Another season is coming and even little children are heard saying, "I wish it would rain." And it will. But because we are fickle human beings we will soon be saying, "It has rained continually for a week. When will it stop?"
   The children of Israel get a bad rap for being fickle. I'm sure after the 25th day of manna from heaven I might say that the meat we had in Egypt would sure be good today. I makes me sad to think that the bondage would be forgotten in a moment of wanting something new. Tomorrow the rain is forecast and I will be hanging out the window to smell the fresh earth drinking, to hear the drops rebounding off the dry earth, and to see the green push out of the brown.
   Remember, remember how it once was.


Friday, August 31, 2018

Rush

Sometimes You Are Forced To Go Slow

For one month I've been forced to go slow, very slow. Sitting on the couch and looking out the window is becoming very tedious. Rushing is impossible. I am physically limited for a time.



  I'm learning that the natural world is actually very slow. Slow but steady. The rising sun can take forever to come over a mountain. The intensity, once it is over the hill, can be blinding so the slow warm up makes an important contrast. It teaches me to see and feel the process and appreciate the moment of rising.
  Very soon I will be back into the rush. Initially I will love moving quicker and I'm sure I will feel empowered by getting back to normal. But, I hope I remember the long slow days. I had time to figure a few things out.