In the Twilight Hours.......Moment by Moment

Now when I am old and gray-headed oh God, do not forsake me.

                                             Psalms 75:18

     In the wee hours of morning, around four am, I woke up. I had been having a nightmare of sorts, bits and pieces of my life mixed into strange scenarios with forebodings of evil. It left me ill at ease and with an onslaught of memories that came with increasing intensity; old wounds from family and friends; newer wounds from some rebellious children and grandchildren who have thrown my years of love and care in the dust to “do their own thing.” Health worries, financial worries, job worries they all seemed to flood my mind in a surge of overwhelming obstacles to peace and hope.

     I couldn’t shake the heavy weight of impossibilities that surrounded me and switched on my bedside lamp to find my Bible. I read Psalm after Psalm looking for promises of God’s help and deliverance. I continued reading but the oppressive spirit didn’t leave. I turned off my light and raised my hands to God and prayed the only prayer I could, “Jesus help me! This is too much, help me!” I continued to pray and finally fell asleep. Morning light finally came and it appears the darkness of my soul had lifted.

     Some of you may wonder, “Why on earth is she sharing this? This is all kind of weird.” Well, it occurred to me that some of you might be experiencing your own seasons of grief and loss. Having an understanding that it’s possible that at your weakest times, fear, resentment, and regret can come into your heart and mind with a force unequaled may help you understand; 1. You are not alone in this. God is there to help you. 2. It’s part of a greater spiritual battle. Please understand, I don’t pretend to know all about spiritual warfare. I read my Bible, I attend church, I watch some Christian broadcasts but when all is said and done, prayer in the name of Jesus breaks through barriers, that thoughts, words and  beliefs cannot.

There’s a song I love that illustrates this:

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

There’s something about that name.

Master, Savior Jesus

Like the fragrance, after the rain.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Let all heaven and earth proclaim.

Kings and Kingdoms will all pass away

But there’s something about that name.

                      Bill and Gloria Gaither

     I don’t know what’s ahead of me. There doesn’t seem to be much of anything I can do except wait, pray and see what happens. Everything in my life right now is upside down. I cannot seek comfort in Nature because I’m grounded from driving. I cannot find comfort in work because my job is in jeopardy. I cannot seek comfort in things because it is unknown whether I will be facing poverty and those possessions will flee. I cannot seek comfort in family because many of my family members have abandoned me.   I am not alone in this. The world is full of children and adults facing even more over whelming circumstances than I am. War, crime, incest, abuse, addiction, disease, abject poverty, religious persecutions, divorce, abandonment, the list is almost endless.

   This morning one of my devotional readings was about God being the potter and we are the clay. The devotional went on to talk about God having created us before time began for specific things for us to accomplish, God’s will for our lives. O.k. in my life, I have been fortunate to discover that even when I rebelled and went against Plan A, God’s mercy was gracious and He gave me Plan B, and Plan C.

    Now, with uncertainty facing me I don’t know what God’s objectives are. I know learning to trust Him is always part of the plan; I know learning to wait is part of the plan; I know accepting things outside of my control is part of the plan; and I know learning to be more like Him is part of the plan.

    The part that worries me is the part where I don’t know what’s going to happen. There’s not a plan I can make to cover all the contingencies. I am going to have to take things as they come. This is much like being in an airplane and the pilot tells you over the loud speaker, “Well folks, (why they use the word folks, I don’t know) There’s going to be some pretty rough turbulence ahead so the seat belt light is going on and we’ll be through this in about, oh, twenty minutes or so.”

Well if you’re on that plane you can’t opt out and let the stewardess know, “Hey I want to be on a different flight.” You’re on that flight and nothing can change that now. You’ll have to ride it out with the rest of the people on your flight.

   Well, I believe that God can change circumstances, but I also know that sometimes the circumstances (unpleasant ones) don’t change but that any changing to be done has to be done in the person. I was in a conversation recently with an individual who was complaining that I wasn’t like this person, or like that person. At that moment, I was at peace and answered, “Well, God keeps working on my personality, He’s not through with me yet.”

     It was several days later that I had the near black out in my car that has changed some things in my life. If I try to see and believe that God’s hand is still on the potter’s wheel I’ll keep believing that these things are for my good. That there are imperfections in me that only more stress can help remove.

     Way back in my early twenties, I owned an old potter’s wheel. I would center the clay and try to create something beautiful. You  had to concurrently press on the clay and mold the clay with your fingers. Much more difficult than it looked. I had friends who were professional potters and their creations were truly amazing. I got frustrated with the multitude of my botched artistic efforts and gave up trying. I never became a potter.

     Right now, if I give up before the process is done any beauty of character or increase in usefulness in my life will not be accomplished.  I have to go through the process, painful or not.

Another song I’ve loved for years goes like this:

I don't know about tomorrow

I just live from day to day
I don't borrow from the sunshine
For it's skies may turn to gray
I don't worry o'er the future
For I know what Jesus said
And today He'll walk beside me
For He knows what lies ahead

Refrain:
Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand

Ev'ry step is getting brighter
As the golden stairs I climb
Ev'ry burden's getting lighter
Ev'ry cloud is silver lined
There the sun is always shining
There no tear will dim the eye
At the ending of the rainbow
Where the mountains touch the sky

Refrain:
Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand

           Songwriter: Ira Stanfield

     To my readers, if you want to hear what any of these songs sound like just Google the first line and a number of free recordings pop up. Sometimes, old hymns like these can be comforting and can surround you with music to fill you with encouragement.

Through the twilights of your own lives, remember,

When darkness tries to trick you

With a million, hopeless lies

Just beyond the shadows

The God of peace resides.

    When all else fails, try God! Be blessed.

Resting - Moment by moment

      It’s Easter Sunday and I am here alone at home, enjoying a quiet afternoon. My life has been an endless series of projects and now when I am forced to stay home in some senses, I’m trying to learn how to rest. It’s not as easy as it sounds since I am in possession of a strong work ethic where “doing”, “creating” is a part of who I am.

    My father and mother were both hard working people. Dad remained busy most of the time;  making a living, running a business, keeping up our beautiful property. He seldom sat still for long, except to catch a game on TV or watch an episode of  Mash or Gun  Smoke. Out property never had areas needing upkeep; the yards were manicured, the flower beds kept tidy. No one in our home threw trash around outside or inside, ever. In fact, I don’t ever remember seeing a gum wrapper on our three plus acres.

     Well, I can’t pretend to match my parents diligence in keeping up my homestead. These last few years, (seven and a half) working full time, raising the last of seven children, my household projects have been sporadic. My last big project, re-staining the decks found me with a torn rotator cuff on one side and a sprain on the left. I am no longer able to tackle big projects myself, I am having to slow down.

However, in-between the huge projects, a million other things on my to-do list beckon me to tackle them. Today however, I am forcing myself to rest.

    Earlier, my youngest and her family picked me up to take me to church. The small country church was packed with folks decked out in their Easter Sunday best. I sat in the back row, (my norm) and sat through the Easter service; young adorable kids singing songs; youth leading more songs, and then more songs. I sat down, it seemed like I felt tired and it seemed hot. I continued to watch the service unfold and a strange awareness hit me that this might be my last time in this small church. Everything seemed one-dimensional and flat as if I was “outside” looking in. I didn’t feel angst, or disassociated just apart and separate.

     After church, a trip to Safeway and home to cook myself dinner, a hamburger and strawberries. After dinner, I looked around and started getting caught up in myriad chores. “Stop,” I told myself mentally. “Take a day off, it’s Easter.”  I grabbed a seat on the couch, turned on HGTV and grabbed my computer. For me, writing is comforting and relaxing. I love the fact people from around the world read my blog. It’s amazing that a free service has a language translator that people can use to read something someone thousands of miles away wrote.

    Yesterday , I discovered a wonderful book on my Kindle, “365 Meditations from George MacDonald’s Fiction.” It was a free download and I’ve never really looked at it.  Each excerpt is titled and themed. I began to read and discovered the thoughts being expressed resonated with my soul. With a couple of exceptions each little gem eloquently expressed a Biblical truth written out in very human and earthy terms. I was surprised, how much I liked this book, written before I was born and a quiet tome on life and seeking God.

Winter

     It is not the high summer alone that is God’s. The winter also is His. And into His winter He came to visit us. And all man’s winters are His- the winter of our poverty, the winter of our sorrow, the winter of our unhappiness- even “the winter of our discontent.” Adela Cathcart, vols. 1, ch. 2

     I am in kind of in a winter season of my life in that it is tinged with the unknown. I like the way that this quote described the omnipotent nature of God. This book is a rich read and offers insight into Biblical truths. Another segment that seemed apropos was the following:

Outside Things

When outside things, such as pain or loss of work, or difficulty in getting money, were referred to God and His will, they too straightway became spiritual affairs, for nothing in the world could any longer appear common or unclean to the (wo)man who saw God in everything.

          Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood, ch. 30

     I am trying to see God in everything. I glean my Bible for promises to claim and bathe my soul in a spirit of thankfulness. As of yet, I only have minor pain and discomfort, nothing debilitating. I have food, I have a home, I have family and I have friends. The list could go on and on.

    I love the fact I wake up next to woods and can hear the birds sing their morning songs. I treasure the fact I can open my window and enjoy, sweet, fresh air. The lack of fresh air is one of the things I associate with ill health and old age. People trapped within walls of institutions where air conditioning and recycled air means windows are un-openable. I’m hoping I’m able to wheel my own wheelchair outside to catch glimpses of the sky and feel the warmth of the sun on my face.

In closing another excerpt from MacDonald,

Repose

So I turned and lingered by the old mill, and fell a pondering on the profusion of strength that rushed past the wheel away to the great sea, doing nothing. “Nature,” I thought, “does not demand that power should always be force. Power itself must repose (or rest). He that believeth shall not make haste, says the Bible. But it needs strength to be still. Is my faith not strong enough to be still?” I looked up to the heavens once more, and the quietness of the stars seemed to reproach me. “We are safe up here,” they seemed to say; “we shine, fearless and confident, for the God who gave the primrose its rough leaves to hide it from the blast of uneven spring, hangs us in the awful hollows of space. We cannot fall out of His safety.”

          Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood, ch.29

     Moment by moment I’m kept in His love; in health, in sickness, in wealth, in poverty, in life and in death,  in certainty and in uncertainty. He is there.

    An odd thing just happened as I was typing I could hear the loud, low wail of a cat. My dogs, began barking and the wail continued. My old, aging cat Michael had been sitting on the porch getting a little fresh air of his own. I ran downstairs to the outside and saw Michael, his hair raised a large, unknown black cat threatening him on our porch. I ran out the door and yelled at the large black cat to “Go!”. It ran and Michel, more confident with me as back-up chased the cat across the street. I followed Michael and picked him up and carried him to the safety of our home. He’s old,weakened and has become a ‘house cat’ this last year.

    I’m not superstitious, nor do I think the random appearance of the unknown black cat is a harbinger of impending doom. But I do believe that this illustrates a type of God’s love for us. I’m human, and I care about this old cat, I ran to protect him. God is God, and loves us, and me. He will run to protect me and strengthen me because He cares, and He promises this to those who believe in Him.

    Learning to rest in His love and not look at the high waves of circumstances I will continue to learn to trust Him through this season of life.

To those of you in your own trying seasons,

          Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

          Look full in His wonderful face,

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.

Goodbye and be blessed!

Moment by moment.....

" Thou wilt keep her in perfect peace whose mind is stayed at you." Isaiah 26:3

  My world  changed in a moment. One day I was hiking the beach, alone with nature, and now, a few days later,  I am unable to drive, dependent on others to take me here and there. I feel, in the midst of this oddly peaceful. As if things around me have come to a screeching halt and now things move slowly, out of my control, happening outside of me redefining the direction of my life.

     My body, staunch warrior of childbirth, marriage, divorce, college, working, child-rearing, working has decided to shut down as if it were and condense the wear of tear of 64 years into a collapsing of sorts; leaving me as it were at “it’s” mercy. I can no longer hike for hours, work long shifts, endure incredible stresses but I need to step back, rest, and allow the physicians to do their tests and tell me what they have found. I have to laugh, because it’s not at all like a treasure hunt but more like a reconnaissance mission finding out what the damages are and making a new plan of attack.

     Driving home a week ago, after a long day of trying to arrange inpatient treatment for youth struggling with inconceivable addictions; working on monthly status reports; typing seemingly endless case notes; making countless phone calls; I looked forward to just eating some dinner and resting. I drove twelve miles and then reached the last downhill stretch to the small rural town where I live in Oregon. Suddenly, something odd happened. Blackness seemed to come into my field of vision from both sides and I couldn’t see the road ahead of me. My brain felt “weird” and all I could think was, “I’ve got to get off the road!” I couldn’t tell where the road was and I felt kind of paralyzed, just gripping the wheel. My vision began to clear after some seconds and I had the odd sensation that the car was floating on the road with a few soft bumps. Kind of like some of the rides at Disneyworld.

      I went home, ate and went to bed. Morning brought more of a sense of reason to me and after driving to work I realized, “I need to call my Doctor; maybe I’ve had a stroke or something.” Well Kaiser was very supportive, the nurse listened to me and then then routed me to a physician. He listened and then recommended I immediately go to the ER. At my work, you can’t leave without notifying a supervisor, it’s a write up. Our staff were all in a meeting and I stood outside the door until my Program Manager looked up. I beckoned her out and told her what the physician had told me. She offered to drive me and at first I stubbornly said, “No, I’m ok.” Reason again stepped in and I realized I’d better not drive and humbly I told her, “Yes please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

      At the ER they hooked me to a heart monitor, took an x ray of my heart, took blood work, did some other stuff and then after a number of hours released me after confabbing with Kaiser and setting up a follow up appointment. I got my discharge papers which among other things specified do not drive, period. There were also other symptoms to watch for and as I read them I realized, “Oops, I thought some of this stuff was just part of getting old.” The next am a nurse called me to check on me, (Ok I never remember that happening before in my life). But it was nice, all the same. I mentioned I had looked over the “things to watch for list” and I have had some of those happening and thought it was old age related. The nurse was very nice, but very insistent that no, they were warning signs, and could be related to serious health issues.

     “Oh,” I thought, “it begins”. In the course of the conversation the “C” word was mentioned in passing as one of the possible health issues related to my symptoms. Ok, having lost a dad to cancer, any mention of even a remote possibility of having cancer got my attention. I assured the nurse I wouldn’t skip the appointment.

      One of the reasons the nurse was concerned I wouldn’t keep the appointment is because I rarely go to the doctor, ever. My physician joked it had been almost four years since she had seen me, only it was no joke. I just don’t go, I rarely get sick and have not been on any medications. So I went  to the appointment and was referred to additional, multiple appointments with tests and specialists. My youngest daughter willing to drive me urged me to confer with her before making the appointments since she already has a busy, busy schedule.  

     I called my work and requested the last week of my vacation time off, there was a long silence on the phone and then I got the ok. So I have this week off, appointments stretching out long past that and additionally facing the unknown on several fronts. But I feel peaceful. My Bible is a source of comfort. My church family is a wonderful source of emotional support. Several of my work friends are praying for me and offering to help. A Weight Watcher friend offered to take me to church and Weight Watchers. My youngest daughter has been helping take me to appointments and stores.  All these people touch my heart with their kindnesses. I am amazed actually by their willingness to help me.

  

     And so, I’m not really sick now, just facing the unknown; health, job, finances. I will continue to read my Bible as I’m able; read my devotionals; pray; start walking around this small town this next week off and discover what it’s like to be on foot.

     There’s an old song, 
Moment by moment I’m kept in His love,
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;

 Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine“
         Fragments of songs come to me throughout the day, comforting me, encouraging me.

Now, the sun is shining on the branches of the trees outside my window, the birds are singing in the woods and I will begin my day. Normally, I’d have just completed my Weight Watchers meeting, gone to Win Co and bought groceries, and done a few errands in town before taking off to the coast, or mountains. A revised schedule presents itself. Within my circumscribed world I will attempt to be happy. I don’t know if this is for a while; or if it’s the beginning of a much longer period of increasingly, confining circumstances. But, moment by moment, I’m kept in His love, and remarkably I am experiencing joy in this morning.

Goodbye and be blessed!!

Staying Strong in the Storms of LIfe

Looking for God in a gray, blustery day

     Yesterday was a gray day; blustery sheets of rain falling from leaden skies. I ran a few errands in town and then drove home to gather my rain gear. Driving through the downpour towards the coast, mile upon mile peeled back the layers of peace I had patch-worked over the deep frustration I had experienced several days before.

Something had happened and I had   experienced an anger that just wouldn’t go away. I had stood up for something I believed was right and had been ridiculed and intimidated in return. A pervading sense of injustice kept working its way back through my consciousness and I realized, “I need to get way.”

     The ocean for me has always been a place of healing. I have gone there often to nurture my soul and pray. It has helped me to realize Jesus often went to the water when He felt the need to recoup, or rest. On this day, I needed more than anything to be able to let go of the hurt; to let go of the anger; and find some sort of peace for the whole embarrassment of the situation.

     I drove through Astoria across the bay and into Warrenton. Here and there a few brave souls were out and about, shopping, sight-seeing and exploring. By in large, most people appeared to be tucked safely indoors somewhere, enjoying the warmth and comfort of their own homes. A few miles further and I entered the tiny town of Hammond. I love this little town, with it’s churches, a store or two and a couple of sea themed restaurants. It’s library, (worth a visit) always has a book sale going on and so often I have enjoyed stopping there, picking up a volume or two to enjoy through a quiet evening’s read.

                                                                            Today, I drove up, compelled by emotion and the need to just seek resolution from the salt-sea air. At Fort Steven’s Park, the truck and I found a perch atop an ocean over-look where I downed a tuna sandwich while listening to oddly comforting Keltic music from a coast radio station. A few more peaceful moments of watching the waves in the symphonies of movement and I girded on my rain gear. Slickered from head to knees, I stepped out into the Spring rains, the rain plopp-plopping onto my hooded head and set out through the sands down the dunes onto the shore. I knew where I was headed, but I also knew, it was quite a hike and I’d better get moving.

The tides were low and the ebb and flow of the waves kept me company as walking, walking, walking North on the beach I went. Near Peter Iredale there were a few people, bundled and scarved braving the weather to explore the shores. I kept walking. A sand dollar here and there caught my eye and I pocketed my treasures; sand dollars, shells and pretty rocks. I was and am, 64 going on 9.

       “God,” I prayed. “I’ve got to let go of this.” “I need your help.”I sang hymns loudly into the wind keeping my relentless pace. I hadn’t walked this stretch in its entirety for two years. And two years of age and lack of exercise were no small obstacle for me to face. I kept walking and praying. Fog, white, gray-tinged began to blanket the shore contributing to my sense of isolation. “I guess I might die out here.” I thought to myself. I wondered, “What if the tide sweeps my body out to sea?” I realized someone, probably the Park Rangers would find my truck, go through the process of notifying authorities and someone finally letting me family know. I realized they wouldn’t be all that sad since I had died somewhere I truly loved, doing something I always enjoyed.

     I didn’t die and an hour and then two passed. In the distance, I could see above the fog the sun-tinged cliffs of Washington State. The sun-lit trees echoing their greenness into the skies. “I’m almost there,” I thought. Through the mists I could see the darkness of the rocks of the jetty. At the jetty several pick-up trucks were parked; two fishermen, and a couple. As I reached the rocks, a fishermen’s dog, large, excited bounded across the sands to greet me; landing full force on the side of my right foot. “Ow!” I said to myself, “That really hurt.”

Limping I continued to the jetty and found a large rock upon which to sit. The occupants of the beach left one by one and I sat alone near a flock of seagulls peacefully standing in the shallows. I think they were waiting for the tide to turn because then they could swoop down and find fish, easy for the pickings.

I sat there, gazing at the waves, drinking in the freshness of the salt-sea air and continued to pray. “God,” I prayed. “I’m so tired and sick of the drama. I just want to find peace and be left alone.”

     There was no answer in the winds. There was no answer in the waves. I waited and noticed the fogs had increased their intensity and the shore blanket became and impenetrable shroud of silence. “I better go, “ I told myself. “It’s going to be dark soon and I am alone on the beach, miles from my truck.” I texted a family member to let them know. (later they would share they hadn’t gotten the text until midnight at which point they thought I might be dead or in real danger and phoned me to check on me.)

     Up, walking through the seagulls who somehow seemed to recognize they had nothing to fear from me, I sensed something or someone on the rocks behind me. A large man, hiked above the jetty on the shore trail. At this point, every scary movie I’d ever seen seem to tinge his appearance with a sense of foreboding. “Good grief, “   I thought. “I’m all alone out here and somebody could kill me and no one would ever see them.”

I walked a little faster towards the enveloping fog. Footstep, upon footstep. Amazing how tiny my stride appeared in face of the seemingly unending shore. My right foot, bruised by the big dog, ached painfully. “Well, I’ve got to keep going.” My prayers continued to be spoken out loud. There was no one here to hear me besides God.

I allowed my senses to drink in the solitude; to breathe in the freshness; to listen to the ocean’s roar. I continued to walk realizing it was past sunset, yet an eerie half-light kept the water alive; the sand a kind of luminescent reflection of the skies. Now and then a random wave would chase me away from the water as the white foamed edge would come higher up the beach.

     Ahead, still no sign of anything or anyone. An hour or so later a dark blip appeared on the shore’s horizon. “Is that someone on the beach?” I wondered. I walked and walked and the blip turned into the tiny silhouette of someone or something far down the beach. Minutes later the figure turned out to be a man running with an even larger dog, much the size of a St. Bernard. The man, wearing a jogging suit had on dark sunglasses, odd for such a gray day. I kept going, walking, walking.

The dog, unleashed, started to run towards me, but the man called it back, the dog responded and went to his master’s side. Unspeaking the man, nodded and continued to run past me on the beach.I realized, aching my feet hurt, and I was starting to be pretty tired. It had been after all four hours of walking. I continued on, trying to imagine how comfortable I would be once I entered my truck and turned on the comfort of the heater.

I continued to pray. I continued to sing. I listened for God’s voice in the sound of nature….but there was no sound but the sea, and wind and the waves.

The last glimmers of daylight found me climbing the last tall dunes to my truck. I opened the side door and unloaded by slicker, now pockets bursting with shells, and rocks and sand-dollars.

     Gearing up for the hour long drive home I realized I felt better. “No matter what happens,” I thought to myself, “God will still take care of me.”  I turned the radio on, enjoying the comforting sound of KPDQ from Portland and familiar rocking sounds of their long-time program, The Gospel Sing. Driving home through the darkness, turning the volume up I allowed the good old country gospel songs to wash over me.

,

"No matter what happens. God will still take care of me."