Day 69 - Five more weeks of 2012

 

        I'm up early on a Sunday morning, way before dawn streaks across the sky. My dreams were strange, full of remnants of turkey dinner, and images of floating down rivers with strong currents towards the seas. Yesterday morning, I shook off a sense of dissatisfaction with my morning devotionals. I've read the same books for a couple of years now, timeless classics yes, but still and all perspectives of Christian life with a familiar tone. Part of me, the forever seeking awareness part, wants to explore new depths; to perhaps find a key to spiritual life that will renew, refresh and upgrade my own spiritual life, now dimmed by the onslaught of months of unending client care.

       We'll see. Much of life is trial and error and regrouping and back-tracking. There is a verse in the New Testament that says, "All scripture is given by God and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for instruction, that the person of God may be thoroughly furnished for good works." Well, I confess sometimes the fit of the Bible to my life seems a little off-kilter. What I do is strange to begin with, (Drug and Alcohol counselor) and then trying to find someway to reconcile who I am with what I'm supposed to be is a challenge. I'm sure I'm not alone in that. So then, do I give up and say, well, "here a little, there a little" and hit or miss is ok?

         Hmm. I'm going to pick a book and go through it and see what I can find that resonates with my soul. I'm going to pick Timothy. Well, I just read the first chapter of 1 Timothy. There was a lot in there; that people spend a lot of time discussing this and are missing the point of the gospel. That there are things that are right and wrong for people to do. That Paul was a huge sinner, but God forgave him to show other people that no matter how much wrong you've done, Christ can forgive and cleanse you. And, that as a message to Timothy and others, if you don't keep your conscience clear and pure, you can shipwreck your faith if you don't.

     Personal application for me; don't compromise, don't leave attitudes of heart and mind unattended to muddy my spiritual outlook. Keep a daily inventory and practice good spiritual housekeeping. This is difficult for me because I find I'm like a spiritual chameleon. I change with whom I'm with. I start my days with the purest of motives, highest aspirations and after being with people who don't believe, who believe yet live a life apart from any evidence of Christian conscience, I become changed, language, thoughts, and actions. I'm not a poster child for Christianity, to say the least.

      Sigh. It is like having a candle lit in the house. It's bright flame is a comfort in the shadows. If it's a scented candle, it's perfume permeates the air around it and unseen, the aroma of cinnamon can create a happy, warm feeling. If a window is opened, that candle can flicker and fight valiantly to keep going. If someone blows it out, a darkness comes where that light was.

     Inside me, I believe God lives, by virtue of my faith in Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit inside is the candle of my soul. My human nature, that carnal self, is strong in my thoughts and emotions. It is there that habit, belief systems, ideologies and world views conflict with "God thoughts". The struggle for good and evil begins within me and it is a matter of yielding my will to allow that candle of God's nature to shine through the essence of who I am. "We have this treasure, (God's spirit) in earthly vessels. So that the beauty of God can be revealed."

     In practice, yielding isn't that easy. Pride, self-will, ego, resentments, ambition, selfishness pop up all the time. Even if I say nothing, the thought life continues. So, if it's well nigh to impossible to be God-like why don't I just give up and "be myself" whoever that is? The fact of the matter is sometimes for me, this happens. I give up and go with the flow, (which generally is downhill, just so you know.)

      I believe that once you ask Jesus into your heart, to forgive your sins, that the Holy Spirit comes in. When that happens, a regeneration of sorts occurs. You get a new nature. This new nature comes with new desires, and ambitions that are different than the natural, carnal natures. Your inner self, now wants different things, but because self-will, free choice is not over-ridden by a kind of dictator "God spirit" each new choice has to be enacted by a conscious choosing by the person involved, in my case me. Often, like Paul, I have the will within me to choose the right, but I am aware of another force wanting the wrong. Prayer, Bible reading become like spiritual vitamins to help in this sanctification process, this putting into practice the new life and values acquired by the spiritual rebirth.

     So today, in real time, real life I face some challenges. The challenge between "acting nice", acting kind, and feeling nice, feeling kind is real. I will see people who've been unkind to me, what do I do? The Scriptural injunction would be to greet them just like I would greet my friend. So the challenge presents itself, if I don't feel forgiving, (especially if that person or persons isn't sorry) I must present it to God and ask Him to take care of it. The fact of the matter is, in my own self, I don't want to forgive, I don't want to be nice. But in the greater sense of keeping myself pure from unkind thoughts, I need to do spiritual housekeeping and trust that God can do what I cannot. That by His supernatural power I can receive in my inner self a new nature that loves the unlovely.

       Well, a bird is chirping in the woods outside my family room window. It is now dawn, and it is not raining. The dogs, full of pumpkin pie are sitting on the deck waiting to come into the warm house.

       I need a quiet time of prayer to transact my business with God. The first chapter of 1 Timothy had quite a bit in it for me. Give it a read if you haven't in a while and let me know what you think. If the King James version seems a little foreign to you try a different translation. This morning I read from the New Living Translation and it seemed a little easier go.

Hope you have a wonderful Sunday, and keep looking up!

Day 68 - Winter

Day 68- Winter

I will venture out in the rain early this morning and attend my Weight Watchers meeting. It's been a long week of tempting treats, calorie laden gravy, potatoes and jello salads. I am mentally preparing myself for the possibility for the first time in months, I will have gained weight. I tried to lighten things up, fat free milk in the pumpkin pies along with artificial sweetener. Just so you know, didn't taste good. Two pies for the dogs to enjoy. I know I won't do that again.(Note: went to my meeting up 1.4 pounds, time to refocus and get serious.)

Somethings, still called my name. Had to try cookies one family member brought. Yes I know what they taste like, but there they were with their rich, ooey goodness and I had to have just one, of each. The temptation would be to throw in the towel, (so to speak) throw caution and healthy eating to the wind, and eat rich, fattening foods now through the New Year's. It is a fleeting temptation, and instead I look forward to getting back on track, regrouping and upping my exercise to combat the Thanksgiving . It's funny, when I was little, 5-6, turkey manufacturers came up with a new marketing tool, calling their turkey's butterballs.

My brother, then an up and coming, over achieving student decided that would be my new name, butterball. I lived up to the name, stout, sturdy, full of North Dakota style cooking, of pork chops, fried chicken, roasts and mounds of buttery rich fluffy mashed potatoes. It is only by the grace of God, and my love of outdoors that I did not become morbidly obese as a child, a "Prater-willy" anomaly.

But, I thinned out and weighed in with the "not thin, but not fat" girls throughout my youth. As a single parent with lots of kids, damaged self-esteem, and need for comfort I ate myself up and down the food pyramid. I had four children and the baby weight came off slower sometimes, then others. My memories, and photo journals are epic tales of me, normal, heavy, heavier, and heaviest. Up down, around she goes, where she stops, nobody knows. I know I am not alone. People who struggle with overeating usually have closets full of clothes, arranged in sections by which weight of the year they are currently.

Now, into the age where accepting wrinkles is part of life's challenges I am determined to not push my body to carry excess baggage. I'd much rather be toting a backpack up a mountain, then my own over-burdened frame. So, I will attend my meeting, purchase more fruit and veggies and say goodbye to this holidays indulgences.

Seeking insight on a spiritual note, I take comfort in the following verse:

"I am confidant that He who began a good work in Me will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6

God began His work in my life, He will complete. My job it to remain humble and open to constantly changing. To letting go of self, and become more like God wants me to be. I do not have to despair because I am not perfect; and I do not need to be accepting of imperfections when I see them. It is a continual growth process, authored by God, and engineered through His providence's. I have a business partner so to speak, who will accompany me on my journey and be there to help me through the rough places. He authored the business plan, He provided the capital, and He is the project manager.

And so, I rest in that assurance. Well, my day has begun and I must be about. May you all find joy and peace in believing. God hears and answers prayers.

Keep looking up!

Day 67 Thanksgiving 2012

Day 67 - Thanksgiving - 2012

 Sitting up at a Soccer Field on Thanksgiving morning. A grandson has a Thanksgiving Day touch football game. At home, a million chores beckon to get ready for company. The buckets, cleaning solutions, mops, brooms, rags, squeegies are ready and I'm thankful my strength (after the bout with the flu), is returning, I'm going to need it.

  We've switched our Thanksgiving Day to accommodate family in-law celebrations. It's not that bad really, I took a vacation day tomorrow and having the four days in the row is really a blessing so it all worked out. Before, family members would try to do everyone's Thanksgiving feasts and tired children, stuffed parents would valiantly try to eat yet one more Thanksgiving dinner, eyes glazing over at the sight of yet more turkey. So this year I decided, "Why not take the celebrations and spread them out over two days?" Good idea.

Watching the young people brave the cold and wet and valiantly go out on the field I smile. Youth, manhood, a rite of passage to do something with friends to celebrate life, and the joy of living.

Sitting here, some twelve miles away from my home, I mentally go through the rooms thinking of this or that job that needs to be done. The house is old, but large. The cupboards are worn but full. Dying from cancer some forty years ago, my father cautioned me to try to see the glass half full, not half empty. HGTV'ed I can't help but have twinges of wanting a home-makeover before people arrive tomorrow for dinner, all the while realizing that I need to accept I have a modest home, and a modest income and learn to continually be thankful I have a home and not compare myself to the Jones's who coincidentally live across the street.

Most of life is like that anyway. From early age each of us is conditioned to see who gets the best spelling scores, who is makes the most baskets in basketball; who has the best clothes; nicest car.....and so it goes. The comparison game can send us on artificial highs or lows depending on what and with whom we're comparing ourselves with. Finding a sense of wholeness, of self-acceptance for many of us, myself included, involves a spiritual journey where appropriating God's grace and strength, covers a multitude of sin, and imperfections. By the grace of God, I'm not who I was, and with His help I will become a better person tomorrow, it is a continual journey.

I realize now, maybe a better plan for this a.m. would have been to walk around while the kids play football, but I threw a coat over pj's and put flip-flops on for shoes. I'm hardly prepared for a brisk late November morning walk. So here I sit, admiring the view of trees and hills and clouds greeting 2012's Thanksgiving Day.

Black Friday looms ahead and I say hello and goodbye to it all at once. This year I will not be spending any money. I must admit, one sale beckons, but other bills with not so friendly messages nip my shopping urges in the bud. It's ok. Becoming content with such things as I have is part of a good trend towards letting go of the materialism that has admittedly colored my Christian life with tinges of buy more, use more, go more. Paul said, "Having food and clothes learn to be content."

Well, many of you are by now, basting Turkey's, fluffing couch pillows, checking football game times, and getting ready for a day of feasting. Since this blog is read around the world, I realize that some people won't be celebrating, but will be about their days duties. Making the best of things. The will to survive is strong, amid wars and rumors of war the only anchor which will hold steady through these times is faith in God. Seek His face wherever you are, and cultivate a spirit of Thankfulness. Take Care.

Update- tomorrow now, the turkey is getting ready to go into my oven. The pumpkin pies are waiting also. The gentle rains patter down on the trees outside my window. My front yard has a splattering of orange and yellow leaves still hanging on valiantly to the flowering cherry trees, a little reluctant to let go of their brilliant fall plumage. This morning, I woke up so happy to not be afraid. To feel peaceful. What a treasure beyond price! There have been times I've been afraid in my life and that fear has been horrible. These moments, precious, I will hug to me like a warm woolen sweater, to block out the cold of days to come when perhaps we Americans will face what others around the world face today, war.

To each of you in your world, peace. Remember God hears and answers prayer. Real peace only comes from God. Take care and keep looking up!

Day 66 A time for Thanksgiving

Day 66 - A Time for Thanksgiving

"Joy and gladness will be found in it. Thanksgiving and the voice of melody." Isaiah 51:3

Up early, before 5 am. First thoughts of the day are thankful. Four whole days of not working stretch before me and I am filled with the delight of a child who knows Christmas is just a few days away. Made coffee, and have my Bible and devotional books near. I will spend some time reflecting and then get back to you.

My devotionals focused on being Godly in the little things of life. The daily, the ordinary. The tendency of each of us is to want the noble, the extraordinary, the big things of life to play out our Godliness. When we do this, we ignore the fact that Jesus, ate, walked, talked, slept in the ordinary, everyday things of life. People are "doers", stars in their own plays so to speak. God is looking for people who are willing to be "extras" on the stage of life to be His hands of care, love and concern to a hurting and dying world.

Wow, if you've been following my blog you realize that I have been struggling with this servant role in my own life. The yearning for a 'greater calling' has been knocking on the door of my own life. Accepting that God has engineered my destiny to be exactly where I'm supposed to be would mean that the unpleasant, the tedious, the hurtful things are part of the plan for my life. Hmmm.....

Being part of a culture where finding yourself, becoming your best, finding your purpose, were part and parcel of my education, it's a difficult jump to let go of the constant seeking to become more. The spirit of the time has been to be goal oriented, to achieve more and this philosophy has invaded the church. We count numbers, conversions, percentages and rank success of outreaches by those very things. We are immersed in the mind-set of how many, how much, how often..... etc.

Have I become a Martha, who unlike Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus listening, is busy about temporal things, hurrying and scurrying around losing sight of the fact that relationship with God and man supersedes some practical matters? It is a dichotomy of sorts. Be grounded in the everyday, but be aware that the spiritual is of utmost importance.

This Thanksgiving for me is a mixture of both. I'm thankful for my returning health, having food, clothes, heat, water, lights, car, job, family, church, friends and so much more. This morning I feel rich in blessings. I know I have cleaning and cooking ahead of me, and the mundane yet necessary of sorting bills, chores and obligations. But, personally, God has been very kind to me this last year. He has brought several friends who have been a blessing to me. I have had hundreds of hours of fantastic outdoor moments where the incredible Northwest has washed my soul in beauty and wonder. I have enjoyed wonderful fruit and food, and gained strength and endurance through walking, hiking, biking in the mountains, hills, and beaches. I have had memories that will last throughout my life, I have been blessed.

Evaluating whether or not, I've been a blessing, well that's a different thing. Only God knows, but this one thing I know, putting last year behind me I can try to become more of a blessing to others in the practical and spiritual. To not seek so much to become, as to be. In some ways, the existential now should permeate my Christian convictions to the extent that I constantly realize, who I am in the moment is the only person anyone will ever see. Not my plans, not my goals, not my visions for future service, only now; in the humble surroundings of Turkey and dressing, potatoes and gravy and the everydayness of life.

Today, may your life and heart be filled with a spirit of Thanksgiving. To count your blessings to the degree that sorrow and sadness flee away.

Day 65 And the rains came. down......

Day 65 - And the rains came down....

As a child, I attended Sunday School every Sunday. My father would line our shoes up the night before, take his wooden box with polishes and rags and work on our shoes. My mom made sure our Sunday clothes were clean and ironed. In my mother's home, there was never, ever a laundry pile. Or a sink full of dishes. She kept a very clean house and kept all our clothes clean and ironed. I did not know how to run a washing machine until I moved away from home at age 19.

Our Sunday school classes were cheerful times for me. I loved the lessons, the weekly Sunday School papers, the crafts. I loved learning. Yesterday, at my own church, I realized I am somewhat of an albatross; an wayward soul, not quite fitting. My long time dear friend had a stroke over a month ago and no longer teaches my Sunday School class. So I sat in the foyer of the church trying to access wi-fi on my lap top, listening to the two greeters talk about getting ready for end times.

During church, I offering my apologies and sat out from playing the organ. I still feel weak and just getting through the service is about all I'm up for. A different kind of Thanksgiving topic, Jonah, and how from the belly of the whale, the wayward Jonah, offered a prayer of Thanksgiving to God after repenting of being rebellious about going to Nineveh to preach. And then, the whale spit Jonah up on the beach and he continued on his mission.

Well, I don't want to be spit up on the beach to 'finish my own mission', but I feel "Jonah" like. It is before 5 am here and I've been awake over an hour. At one time, I felt so 'purposed' about being a drug and alchohol counselor. I knew I was smart, I knew I cared, I knew I wanted to help. Now, what I know is that change must come from the heart and soul of the man or woman who truly wants recovery. I believe without the life-changing experience of accepting Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour, there is little hope of changing; the siren call of their drug of choice will come back like a fury and helpless before the onslaught they will relapse, again and again.

My friend and I have dicussed the inevitable spiral down of having a noble calling and the in the trenches experience of knowing most of what we hear from our clients is only what they want us to hear and for most of them, our program is only a means to an end, to get out of prison time.

In a culture where I am bombarded with re-purposed this, and re-purposed that, perhaps I need to re-purpose my career. From the position of being a professional counselor, have I truly become a pencil pushing, paper processing clog in a wheel that turns out hundreds of people every couple of months from a massive treatment machine? Not sure at this point, who I am in terms of a helper.

I pray on the way to work, "God help me to be kind. To see past the rough exteriors to the hearts of these men. To offer them hope for the hopeless, help for the hurting." By the end of the day, I will have gone through countless strange experiences with people being angry, annoyed, manipulative, regretful, remorseful, pushy, selfish, whiny, self-absorbed on and on. Unless someone has worked in an inpatient treatment center like I'm at, they haven't a clue what goes on. On any one day, I could be yelled at, sworn at, cat-called at, cried at, on and on. I have to lecture to groups of about 30 men who I also have to tell, repeatedly; "No, you can't do search-a-word's during lecture." "No, you can't keep cross-talking while someone else is talking." "No, you can't tip back in your chair." "No, you can't bash staff while you're talking."

It's a weird deal where most of these men have spent years in juvenile jails, adult jails, and prisons. These are the guys who make drugs, sell drugs, and rob people. They are also someone's son, grandson, brother, father or nephew. More importantly they are in God's eyes, a child who needs love, who needs care and who needs a Savior.

At 62, I don't have that much work life left, I think. I wanted to be a missionary as a child in that long ago Baptist church of my childhood. I can remember going forward, a small, brown-headed child answering the call of how wanted to be a missionary. And here I am later, some 57 years a strange missionary with a more unusual mission field.

God, grant me the serenity to........ find a renewed vision, purpose and calling in the field where I've been placed. It's not Africa, it's not a backwoods jungle, but it's an urban jungle with a deep need. The holidays are a difficult time for many people. Being in an institution, the holidays can be even more depressing. Lord, in the middle of my own weakness help me to find your strength, your love, your compassion. You are my source, without you I am nothing. Thank you Jesus.

Today, if in your own life you need renewal, take heart. You are not alone. Each and every day millions of others are seeking the face of God to provide strength for the journey, hope for the way.

 

Day 64 - 38 days 'til Christmas

Me at Disney World, Christmas time some five years ago, a happier, healthier time in my life.

     Yesterday, I caught up on my emails. Sorting the junk mail from the updates on friends, acquaintances and bills. I got some bad news about a younger brother of a childhood friend. He'd been sitting in his study, had shooting pains and wound up recuperating in the hospital. We truly do not know the number of our days. Still recuperating myself, I bought the fixings for Thanksgiving dinner and then came home and sunk into refuge of my recliner, quilts and remotes in hand. On and off I tackled a few projects but slunk back to my chair aware I am still weak. I can't help wondering if this not feeling good is going to end, or if it's the beginning of a more serious decline. Time will tell.

     At home, I caught bits and pieces of news programs. Videos of the hurricane aftermath. Houses in ruin, people without power, or homes. Wars and rumors of wars. Intermixed was weird overtones of Black Friday sales hype. We are a strange culture of buying and selling in the middle of a sinking ship of world upheaval.

     I am awake before 5 am. A quiet house on an early Sunday morning. I will have some company coming this week and the house beckons me to clean, I am still too tired and realize tomorrow at this time I will be getting ready for work, fortunate to have only a 3 day work week, but one full of month end reports and endless groups and lectures.

     I realize I need to rekindle my positive outlook and know I need to do something different. Bad weather upon us with a fury, outside treks are put on hold. Along with the awareness that my good health has somehow flown out the window. Another guy at my work was lamenting his own bout with the "bug" wondering if he would ever feel better. So, usual retreats aside, I know something must change. Diving into a spiral of dismal self-introspection hasn't historically been demonstrated as a "cure-all" for blues of any kind. World or personal problems haven't been solved in a pity-party soup of "poor me".

     So, what about "talk therapy?" Can I simply talk myself out of feeling bad? I have clients who subscribe to this theory and every group they try to dominate the conversation sharing their story, their opinions their view of me, me, me. Nope, I can't see that their self-absorbed perspective is gaining them any insight into their own problems, so why would I believe indulging in the same belly-button concentration would help me? Hmm....it all goes back o the age-old dilemma of faith versus reason. Men (and women) throughout the ages have fallen into the trap of thinking, "We can just think ourselves out of what ever problem presents itself." There is some kind of intrinsic delight into believing that the answer lies within.

     However, I've been down this road before enough times to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the answer certainly does not lay within me for sure. Times before when presented with some kind of a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in my life I have only found real relief in seeking God, hanging on for dear life and waiting.

     Downstairs in my laundry room a pile of clothes awaits my tending. When you live in a large house, with lots of extra rooms, I believe the laundry pile becomes proportionately large. Anyway, inside that pile, is an old hand-embroidered picture of Elijah with his hand out, the raven sent by God hovering just overhead with bread in it's mouth. I made that rough-hewn picture some 40 years ago, an abandoned, pregnant wife living in a small Tacoma apartment waiting for my first child to be born.

     In those subsequent 40 years of living, there have been many times when like Elijah, I've had to wait, that I've been frustrated. Doing something, figuring things out, making plans, taking action. Those are things that "feel better" than waiting. Waiting seems so passive, so not doing anything. As a teenager at camp, Miracle Ranch outside Seattle, I learned a chorus, "They that wait upon the Lord, shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings of Eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Teach me Lord, teach me Lord, to wait." Isaiah

     And so now, here I am pressed in on all sides by things that need done. Lacking strength and resources to fulfill what needs done. I am like the boy trying to fix the hole in the dike with his finger. My financial ruin is kept at bay by a feeble attempt to 'rob Peter to pay Paul' syndrome. Here a little, there a little trying to keep lights and heat on. Water and food. My bill pile is huge and I realize I am only one of millions caught up by inflationary spirals, and the horrible awareness that the home you bought dropped it's value 40, 50, 60 thousand dollars and you are so far under "water" with the mortgage you'll never see daylight.

    But then, it is a week of Thanksgiving. My refrigerator is full of food. The lights are still on. Although outside, the rains are coming torrentially down, I am safe inside, with heat and comfort. So many would trade my safe, perch for their own traumatic world of disaster. I need to acquire a global outlook, a perspective that includes an awareness that even in my worst case scenario, foreclosure, terminal illness, I still have so many advantages millions to not have. That even at my point of most desperate need, I am still surrounded by so many blessings, including, and foremost, my awareness that God loves me, and no matter what He will help me through.

     So, no matter what, I will try to continue. To hope and pray for strength to complete my tasks. To finish what lays ahead and to try to maintain a grateful heart, to realize I am not alone, that God holds my right hand.

Today, if you struggle with your own valley of despair, take heart. Lift your cares to the God of all compassion. If you are sick, my heart goes out to you. Two weeks of illness and I realize what a struggle being ill is. If you are poor, my hands reach out to you. Struggling this last two years I realize financial pressures can be horrific. If you are depressed, take heart, read the Psalms, pray and find others to help take you through the darkness. God is light and in Him there is no darkness. Although your way may be dim, the struggle long, believe that someday the burden will be lifted. The chorus of an old song goes, "Burdens are lifted at Calvary, Calvary, Calvary. Burdens are lifted at Calvary. Jesus is very near." I believe you can be like the man who came to Jesus and he said, "I believe, help Thou my unbelief." It is not our faith that saves us, it is not our mind or reason that thinks us out, it is Jesus, only Jesus.

　

Day 64 - 38 days 'til Christmas

 

　

Me at Disneyworld, Christmas time some five years ago, a happier, healthier time in my life.

Yesterday, I caught up on my emails. Sorting the junk mail from the updates on friends, acquaintances and bills. I got some bad news about a younger brother of a childhood friend. He'd been sitting in his study, had shooting pains and wound up recuperating in the hospital. We truly do not know the number of our days. Still recuperating myself, I bought the fixings for Thanksgiving dinner and then came home and sunk into refuge of my recliner, quilts and remotes in hand. On and off I tackled a few projects but slunk back to my chair aware I am still weak. I can't help wondering if this not feeling good is going to end, or if it's the beginning of a more serious decline. Time will tell.

At home, I caught bits and pieces of news programs. Videos of the hurricane aftermath. Houses in ruin, people without power, or homes. Wars and rumors of wars. Intermixed was wierd overtones of Black Friday sales hype. We are a strange culture of buying and selling in the middle of a sinking ship of world upheavel.

I am awake before 5 am. A quiet house on an early Sunday morning. I will have some company coming this week and the house beckons me to clean, I am still too tired and realize tomorrow at this time I will be getting ready for work, fortunate to have only a 3 day work week, but one full of month end reports and endless groups and lectures.

I realize I need to rekindle my positive outlook and know I need to do something different. Bad weather upon us with a fury, outside treks are put on hold. Along with the awareness that my good health has somehow flown out the window. Another guy at my work was lamenting his own bout with the "bug" wondering if he would ever feel better. So, usual retreats aside, I know something must change. Diving into a spiral of dismal self-introspection hasn't historically been demonstrated as a "cure-all" for blues of any kind. World or personal problems haven't been solved in a pity-party soup of "poor me".

So, what about "talk therapy?" Can I simply talk myself out of feeling bad? I have clients who subscribe to this theory and every group they try to dominate the conversation sharing their story, their opionions their view of me, me, me. Nope, I can't see that their self-absorbed perspective is gaining them any insight into their own problems, so why would I believe indulging in the same belly-button concentration would help me? Hmm....it all goes back o the age-old dilemma of faith versus reason. Men (and women) throughout the ages have fallen into the trap of thinking, "We can just think ourselves out of what ever problem presents itself." There is some kind of intrinsic delight into believing that the answer lies within.

However, I've been down this road before enough times to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the answer certainly does not lay within me for sure. Times before when presented with some kind of a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in my life I have only found real relief in seeking God, hanging on for dear life and waiting.

Downstairs in my laundry room a pile of clothes awaits my tending. When you live in a large house, with lots of extra rooms, I believe the laundry pile becomes proportionately large. Anyway, inside that pile, is an old hand-embroidered picture of Elijah with his hand out, the raven sent by God hovering just overhead with bread in it's mouth. I made that rough hewn picture some 40 years ago, an abandoned, pregnant wife living in a small Tacoma apartment waiting for my first child to be born.

In those subsequent 40 years of living, there have been many times when like Elijah, I've had to wait, that I've been frustrated. Doing something, figuring things out, making plans, taking action. Those are things that "feel better" than waiting. Waiting seems so passive, so not doing anything. As a teenager at camp, Miracle Ranch outside Seattle, I learned a chorus, "They that wait upon the Lord, shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings of Eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Teach me Lord, teach me Lord, to wait." Isaiah

And so now, here I am pressed in on all sides by things that need done. Lacking strength and resources to fulfill what needs done. I am like the boy trying to fix the hole in the dike with his finger. My financial ruin is kept at bay by a feeble attempt to 'rob Peter to pay Paul' syndrome. Here a little, there a little trying to keep lights and heat on. Water and food. My bill pile is huge and I realize I am only one of millions caught up by inflationary spirals, and the horrible awareness that the home you bought dropped it's value 40, 50, 60 thousand dollars and you are so far under "water" with the mortgage you'll never see daylight.

But then, it is a week of Thanksgiving. My refrigerator is full of food. The lights are still on. Although outside, the rains are coming torrentially down, I am safe inside, with heat and comfort. So many would trade my safe, perch for their own tramatic world of disaster. I need to acquire a global outlook, a perspective that includes an awareness that even in my worst case scenario, foreclosure, terminal illness, I still have so many advantages millions to not have. That even at my point of most desperate need, I am still surrounded by so many blessings, including, and foremost, my awareness that God loves me, and no matter what He will help me through.

So, no matter what, I will try to continue. To hope and pray for stength to complete my tasks. To finish what lays ahead and to try to maintain a greatful heart, to realize I am not alone, that God holds my right hand.

Today, if you struggle with your own valley of despair, take heart. Lift your cares to the God of all compassion. If you are sick, my heart goes out to you. Two weeks of illness and I realize what a struggle being ill is. If you are poor, my hands reach out to you. Struggling this last two years I realize financial pressures can be horrific. If you are depressed, take heart, read the Psalms, pray and find others to help take you through the darkness. God is light and in Him there is no darkness. Although your way may be dim, the struggle long, believe that someday the burden will be lifted. The chorus of an old song goes, "Burdens are lifted at Calvary, Calvary, Calvary. Burdens are lifted at Calvary. Jesus is very near." I believe you can be like the man who came to Jesus and he said, "I believe, help Thou my unbelief." It is not our faith that saves us, it is not our mind or reason that thinks us out, it is Jesus, only Jesus.

　

Day 63 - Jesus Please

Day 63- Facing illness

       For over two weeks I have been ill. Headaches, cold symptoms, fever, dizziness, upset stomach, aches, pains the works. I've had such incredibly good health for such a long time, the whole not feeling good has been upsetting. I've gone to work ill days upon days and finally took a day off, sleeping all night and all the next day. The world seems grayer then usual, and my outlook is impaired.

I can't help but wonder how do people with terminal diseases come to grips with life and be pleasant? I don't feel pleasant, I feel horrible and it feels like it will never stop.

On top of which, I don't want to read my Bible. Why the two things, being sick, and not wanting to read my Bible should go together, I don't know. But for right now that's the way it is. I get my mail, I get phone calls about over-due bills and the hopelessness about things getting better seems to get larger.

I keep reminding myself, I have food, I have heat, lights, a home, a job and a lot more. Why is it that debt should have such a toll on my positive outlook? I guess the whole insurmountable aspect of it is part of it. I'm too old and tired to take on a second job, my current job sucks 12.5 hours out of my life every day five days a week. It is very taxing work with people who are very unhappy very addicted and used to a life of crime, drugs and chaos.

Where is God in all of this mess? I try to think of all the millions of people world wide who lack food, adequate shelter and realize I am only experiencing a fraction of the suffering they feel daily. Watching their families die through lack of food, medical care and impoverishment has to be incredibly painful. Who am I after just a couple weeks of illness to complain and wonder where God is?

Obviously, Job I'm not and instead I'm apparently longing for my good health, renewed energy, and affluent lifestyle that I grew to love so well the short period it lasted. So here I am on a Saturday morning, up before dawn, looking at my day. I will attend my Weight Watchers meeting facing the inevitable weight gain. Not feeling well for several weeks my exercise has fallen to little or none. My eating habits have been sporadic, and based more of what's easiest than what's healthy. (Went to my Weight Watchers meeting, lost 1.6 pounds this week. Total 25.8 pounds)

I have committed myself to seeing the getting fit plan through to the end, even though now, still feeling icky I can't help wondering what effect a long term illness might have on my plan. I have to buy a few things, pet food, fruit, vegetables. I will try to putter around and get what I need to done and come back to my quilts, chair and remote and doze on and off trying to best this virus that seems to have gotten the best of me.

At this point, I can only pray, "God help me." I feel horrible. I realize if this is something other than just a virus I will have a long haul ahead of me of adjusting to a new way of life. Each week in church we pray for more victims of cancer, heart disease, etc. I can't help but wonder, "Is it my time now?" I lost my father to cancer a little older than I am now. Why should I be exempt?

Having learned from experience not to make any major decisions when feeling ill or low I will attempt to maintain the statusquo and nothing else, until I either feel better or worse. Then, I will make careful decisions to deal with what happens.

Thanksgiving week is upon on and I will make a serious effort to count my blessings, even if it's from a sick bed. When I watch the news and see what people are going through I realize I should not complain, comparatively I have had things easier than many.

I will look now and try to find a verse that fits my current mindset.

"Why are you cast down oh my soul? And why are you disquieted in me? Hope in God. For I shall yet praise Him. The help of my countenance and my God." Psalms 42:11

I was asked to sing two weeks ago at our church. I've been too tired and sick to compose the music and have had to beg off with apologies. For those of you going through your own valleys of weeping, here are the words of my song:

Waiting through my darkest nights

To finally see the dawn.

Seeking God to give me faith

When all my hope is gone.

Looking through my weeping eyes

I fall down to my knees

With broken heart and wounded pride

I can only whisper, Jesus please....

Give me strength Lord

I cannot bear this

Ease my pain Lord

It hurts too much

I can't go on Lord

Through this valley

I need you near Lord

To feel your touch.

Listening for the Word of peace

To still my raging storm

To enter through the gates of faith

To God's love and sheltering arms.

Looking through my weeping eyes

I fall down to my knees

With broken heart and wounded pride

I can only whisper, Jesus please......

Give me strength Lord

I cannot bear this

Ease my pain Lord

it hurts too much

I can't go on Lord

Through this valley

I need you near Lord

To feel your touch.

Looking through my weeping eyes

I fall down to my knees

With broken heart and wounded pride

I can only whisper, Jesus please....

I can only whisper, Jesus..... please.

Day 62 Making every moment count

Day 62 - Making every moment count 

 This morning the clock has been set back an hour, daylight savings time has ended. My internal clock has kept going and I am awake before 4 am. I love morning. It's quiet and no one else is awake. I make my coffee, get my devotional books and Bible and have my quiet time. Today the emphasis was on what role our thoughts have in determining who we are. How the focus of our thoughts can determine to what degree our lives reflect the nature of Christ.

Well, that's a tall order for me for sure. As a mother who has raised seven children my life has been much of making sure the kids had what they needed, and were where they were supposed to be. At times, jobs, school, church and relationships intruded into that central focus. Being "selfless" wasn't always easy to do, and was in fact, sometimes, not my focus. Most of the time, however, instinctively I sought the best for my children. Praying, hoping that their lives would end up happy and blessed. Now as the last of the children reach adulthood I realize by in large who they continue to become is on them. My job is done.The good things, the bad things, the not quite good enough things I did as a mom are unchangeable.

In my life now, with the majority of my time spent with people who are angry, confused, manipulative, addicted, my role is to be a professional helper. To provide comfort, encouragement, guidance as they are willing to receive it. Often I am at best, a listening ear, allowing them to speak and process the memories of events painful and traumatic. I try to act in their best interests all the time. To act as if each one of them will recover, will quit using drugs, will quit committing crimes. I help them rekindle hope of a better future. And then, above all I pray and ask others to pray. And then, I let them go; back into the world to sink or swim trying to continue their journey towards new life, faith and recovery.

At the treatment center where I work we are blessed to have a retired couple, Mary Beth and Al, come every week to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They have been donating their time for over two years. They conduct a church service every week. The local church they attend also hosts a weekly Celebrate Recovery meeting, where food, fellowship, music and preaching give further opportunity for men to be presented with the choice to ask Jesus Christ into their hearts and lives. This opportunity is one that I cherish and know many of the men do also. It is another building block they can use to rebuild their lives.

Another point one of my devotionals made this morning, is that God hears the weakest prayers, and once made the power, peace and presence of the living God flows into the heart, mind and soul of that person. A miraculous change occurs and that individual is passed from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light.

Do people still relapse who have accepted Christ into their lives? Yes, they do. Like the probation officers who have to email me the sad message of another clients journey back into heroin, or meth and crime; I have to face that addiction is not always cured by finding Christ. It is sometimes a slow, painful process that involves trial, error, success, failure, and trying again. It is in that part of the equation that I have to let go, emotionally, spiritually, and realize my part is to help provide a plan to recover; their part is to follow that plan.

And so, today, is my Sunday. Now just 5 am I relish the fact I have 16 hours ahead of me before I sleep again. My plans are to attend Sunday School and church. But in between those hours, about 4, I have free choice to do what I want. No longer the sweet golden days of fall, the wet winter rains are upon us. Do I want to run away to the ocean and brave the storm to drink in the cold, fresh wind, and allow the vista's of sky and sea to wash away the cobwebs that 19 long days of work created? Part of me says, "Yes!" And the visions of hot coffee and cocoa pop into my mind along with thoughts of campers stew cooked over a cook stove in one of the shelters nestled near Coffenbury Lake at Fort Stevens State Park. Hmm.... need to think a spell as to whether or not that's something I want to plan for.

Need another cup of my wonderful, freshly brewed coffee. I'm using the last of my fragrant coffee beans and I cherish the wonderful aromas of newly ground coffee beans brewing into coffee. Way back when, when I was a Home Economics major at the University of Washington I remember studying how many different aromas coffee actually had, and the scientific breakdown of those scents. It was truly amazing. For me, I know the luxury of having real coffee beans is something I allow myself now and then.

Well, coffee in hand I made a steaming bowl of hot oatmeal. A survey of the freezer indicates hot dogs at the coast might be a better option than camper's stew. We'll see. I only live an hour away from the ocean and I know once there the walking will do me good, just making the plans, bundling up and going will be the challenge.

I'll let you know how the day turned out. For now, I'll enjoy my coffee and oatmeal and start my day.

P.S. Update; went to the coast. Oh so beautiful. Walked on the ocean beach for 2.5 hours. Not cold, not wet just wild, free and oh so awesome.
 

Wherever you are, may this day be for you, a day of new beginnings. If you don't have a church home, and can't quite make the challenge of attending a service, turn on your TV.* Find a service that ministers to your soul and seek the Lord. May you find joy and hope in believing. My prayers go out to you this morning, keep looking up!

* I like, In Touch, with Charles Stanley.

Day 61 - With a spirit of expectation

 

It's early here, dark, outside the rain comes down with a soft pattering on the leaves. After nineteen days straight of working. I have two days off. Sigh, it seemed like a long haul. Often waking up, facing another day, I tried to think of the millions of people who work daily. The luxury of a five day week doesn't extend world-wide does it? If I complain about how tough I have had it, is it really all that bad?

But, it's over and I have a respite. I missed my Weight Watchers meeting last week. It felt bad to know I couldn't check in see how I was doing, see familiar faces and listen to a lecture on how to stay focused and stay on my program. Today, I will face where I am, and regroup before the onslaught of holidays treats, meals, and unending food sabotage my efforts and I start packing on pounds. If I were a bear, I suppose the added fuel would get me through my winter hibernation. But I am not, and instead I need to keep trying to maintain new healthier habits.

I also missed church and it felt a little funny, like I was becoming a tangential person riding along on the outskirts of life like a surfer riding a passing wave. It occurs to me that people without a home base church feel like this also, as if life is happening around them and their own world lies unobserved in its own sink or swim universe.

Co-incidentally my wi-fi connection crashed and I have been unable to connect at home. My facebook friends continue to share their lives, but I again, on the outside, unable to look in. I remember a long time ago when my then husband and I were illegal immigrants to Canada. He was a draft-dogger and he and I had tried to escape into Edmonton, Alberta. At night, going stir-crazy from living in an unfurnished couple rooms in a non-English speaking Italian families house, we would bundle up and walk the streets. The black of night acted as a shroud for the bone-chilling cold streets of Edmonton. We would pass houses lit from within with golden glows of lights revealing families about their evening's business. We both, lost souls, in an unwanted land looked in as we passed, a longing in our souls to belong where we didn't belong, to somehow find our own home in the midst of chaos.

   My devotions and Bible and prayer have provided an anchor to help me weather this storm of near exhaustion as I've plodded on through the seeming unending 19 days. The ladies I car-pool with in their own exuberant sharing of thoughts, feelings, and stories have been a comfort on my journey. Gifts from their heart of coffee and a salad have helped cheer my heart.

 My walking buddy gifted me with a huge box of tapes he thought I might like. Yesterday, having just a few minutes I opened the box to take a peek. I almost cried, here were many treasures I would so enjoy listening to. Many, many tapes of Charles Stanley's In Touch ministries sermons. I didn't have time to look at more of the tapes but hurried to thank my friend. What a thoughtful and sweet gesture. My friend indicated what I didn't want I could donate to our men's church at the treatment center. I can hardly wait to return and explore what appears to be over 60 sets of tapes. I'll let you know how many later after I count them.

And so along the way, there have been blessings. My walking buddy and I have gotten a few more walks in between the bouts of downpours. The woods we walk in are giving their last bright goodbyes to falls and the ground is covered with yellows, reds and oranges of their summer's coat of leaves, shed with the chill of nights, and rains cold kisses.

Today, spreads before me like an uncharted sea. I'm not sure what I will do. For sure, I intend on going to my Weight Watchers meetings. I am resolved to reach my goal weight no matter how long it takes. I also, have a million and one household tasks that have piled up through the last 19 days of work. Part of me, yearns to pack up, bundle up and escape to the outdoors. To brace myself for the wind, rain and November day and seeks vista's of oceans, and mountains and trees to wash away the cobwebs of too many hours of typing, listening, training and talking in the confines of the treatment center.

I'm not sure what to do..........the possibility of choice is like a delicious morsel of food enjoyed at an evening meal. I am so fortunate. I have so many blessings. Still with excellent health and so much strength for being 62. I have a home, food, a job, family everything I need. God has been very good to me.

And so, I read my Bible and devotional books and explore the possibilities of what the day holds. The Bible says, Man plans his way but God guides his steps. I wonder what God's will is for me this day? I will pray for wisdom and then choose a path. I like the verse in Psalms that says, He makes His footprints our pathway. I like to think about Jesus taking time out of his ministry to go to the mountains and sea to get away.

To all of you who read this blog, I've missed sharing but I've been on a journey that required me to use all my energies. Hopefully, things will quiet down in my life and we'll be able to touch base more often. I wish you all a wonderful November day. Remember, when lost and puzzeled, God is there waiting for you to reach our your hand. He promises to hold our right hand and to help us through our valleys of weeping. Take care, and talk with you soon.