My blog from MySpace has migrated - well, some of it. We'll see how it works over here.
Will take some investigating (after finals) about how to put what I'm currently reading and listening to on this blog though. That's one of my favorite features! And the pictures, those will have to come over too. But all that will have to wait. There are papers to write, projects to finish. And Christmas cards to send!
Where's the panic button? I may need it pretty soon.
Friday, December 7, 2007
December 1, 2007
Today is World AIDS Day - say a prayer for those infected with the virus and for those who love them. Get tested. Talk about it. Make a difference.
Last week I read Cormac McCarthy's The Road for my theology and trauma class. McCarthy is the author of the new movie "No Country For Old Men". The Road is a searing vision of a world devastated by an undefined event - enough that most people have died and all vegetation is gone, just ash. How can a father protect his son and move toward an unknown future in that setting?
Place that bleak story against the lecture by Desmond Tutu.
Not simply surviving apartheid, Tutu spoke out against the injustice, the violence. He helped church leaders to proclaim God's word in the midst of hatred and brutality. He could so easily have faced that time of suffering and become bitter, given up hope.
But his response was to remember God's call for forgiveness. As we forgive, we are also forgiven. As we work for justice and mercy, God's kingdom becomes present on earth, a step closer to as it is in heaven. So Tutu pushed not for retribution, but forgiveness and hope.
In the face of devastation, loss, and suffering - two responses. One with unrelenting questioning of God, with barely a glimmer of hope, with nothing growing, so little hope. The other with a grin and giggle and wonder in the goodness that exists in all humanity, proclaiming God's good creation over and over.
Most people face some kind of difficult situation - nothing as horrid as a nuclear wasteland, and few in the U.S. have experienced something like apartheid - but we all know something of fear, hopelessness or sadness. During the holiday season, there are those who smile in public, but cry in private, remembering those whom they have lost, suffering in silence.
Up here in the cold north, it gets dark by 4:30pm. There is a long cold night, every night. For some, the holidays are a long cold night. Cormac McCarthy and Desmond Tutu are two ways of seeing through the darkness, though there are a thousand ways in between.
Whatever the struggle, however you see the road ahead of you, I pray you know that God loves you very much. I pray that you reach out to someone on the road with you and share your journey, your story. You just might find a hand to hold as you walk.
Last week I read Cormac McCarthy's The Road for my theology and trauma class. McCarthy is the author of the new movie "No Country For Old Men". The Road is a searing vision of a world devastated by an undefined event - enough that most people have died and all vegetation is gone, just ash. How can a father protect his son and move toward an unknown future in that setting?
Place that bleak story against the lecture by Desmond Tutu.
Not simply surviving apartheid, Tutu spoke out against the injustice, the violence. He helped church leaders to proclaim God's word in the midst of hatred and brutality. He could so easily have faced that time of suffering and become bitter, given up hope.
But his response was to remember God's call for forgiveness. As we forgive, we are also forgiven. As we work for justice and mercy, God's kingdom becomes present on earth, a step closer to as it is in heaven. So Tutu pushed not for retribution, but forgiveness and hope.
In the face of devastation, loss, and suffering - two responses. One with unrelenting questioning of God, with barely a glimmer of hope, with nothing growing, so little hope. The other with a grin and giggle and wonder in the goodness that exists in all humanity, proclaiming God's good creation over and over.
Most people face some kind of difficult situation - nothing as horrid as a nuclear wasteland, and few in the U.S. have experienced something like apartheid - but we all know something of fear, hopelessness or sadness. During the holiday season, there are those who smile in public, but cry in private, remembering those whom they have lost, suffering in silence.
Up here in the cold north, it gets dark by 4:30pm. There is a long cold night, every night. For some, the holidays are a long cold night. Cormac McCarthy and Desmond Tutu are two ways of seeing through the darkness, though there are a thousand ways in between.
Whatever the struggle, however you see the road ahead of you, I pray you know that God loves you very much. I pray that you reach out to someone on the road with you and share your journey, your story. You just might find a hand to hold as you walk.
Thanksgiving 2007
It's Thanksgiving, time to tell God what we're truly grateful for in our lives, and have some turkey too. There's so much that I'm grateful for.
A few years ago, I kept a daily gratitude journal. Each evening I'd write down three things that I was grateful for, as a sort of prayer. Reading back over them, it was the simple things that I wrote over and over - a cup of tea, a hug from my daughters, my husband, flowers, even oatmeal made the list several times!
It is the simple things that I'm most grateful for - they are what makes life worth it. When James makes me a cup of tea, it's not earth shattering. World peace doesn't break out. Problems don't magically disappear. But I know, without a doubt, that he loves me. He shows that he cares in a very simple way. And I am so grateful for that and for him.
Other Thanksgiving gratitudes: my daughters, fall in New England, Macoun apples, new books to read, my professors, the challenge of new things to learn, the support and love of family, and the unfailing love of God.
What are you grateful for this Thanksgiving?
A few years ago, I kept a daily gratitude journal. Each evening I'd write down three things that I was grateful for, as a sort of prayer. Reading back over them, it was the simple things that I wrote over and over - a cup of tea, a hug from my daughters, my husband, flowers, even oatmeal made the list several times!
It is the simple things that I'm most grateful for - they are what makes life worth it. When James makes me a cup of tea, it's not earth shattering. World peace doesn't break out. Problems don't magically disappear. But I know, without a doubt, that he loves me. He shows that he cares in a very simple way. And I am so grateful for that and for him.
Other Thanksgiving gratitudes: my daughters, fall in New England, Macoun apples, new books to read, my professors, the challenge of new things to learn, the support and love of family, and the unfailing love of God.
What are you grateful for this Thanksgiving?
November 14, 2007
The song that is always in my head and heart - Daughter of Eden by Johnny Clegg:
She's the daughter of Eden, she's the Sister of Hope
She's the Mother of Freedom, she's the Lover Unknown
She laughs and she jokes, she drinks and she smokes but she tells it like it is cause her mind is an arrow
She can't help herself, it's the truth's magnetic pull, it's the eye of the bull
And it makes you think while you bleed, what do you really believe?
When the chips are down, it's the people that count and she fights for those whose voices are drowned, whose voices are drowned.
She's the Daughter of Eden, she's the Sister of Hope
She's the Mother of Freedom, she's the Lover Unknown
When she looks at the world through the eyes in her heart, but the picture gets blurred cause she feels every part
And she turns your head, cause she's got great legs, and she walks on the earth like it's child from birth
Oh the natural bow of the hips that sway, she's the Daughter of Eden 'til the end of days, 'til the end of days.
She's the Daughter of Eden, she's the Sister of Hope
She's the Mother of Freedom, she's the Lover Unknown.
Hearing his words, I think of the women who gave their lives in solidarity with the poor of El Salvador (Same Fate As The Poor, by Judith Noone). They indeed saw with the eyes of their hearts, gave voice to those who had no voice, and were sisters of hope in a hopeless situation. Johnny Clegg wrote this song in honor of his sister and the other women of South Africa, but it rings true of strong women all over the world.
She's the daughter of Eden, she's the Sister of Hope
She's the Mother of Freedom, she's the Lover Unknown
She laughs and she jokes, she drinks and she smokes but she tells it like it is cause her mind is an arrow
She can't help herself, it's the truth's magnetic pull, it's the eye of the bull
And it makes you think while you bleed, what do you really believe?
When the chips are down, it's the people that count and she fights for those whose voices are drowned, whose voices are drowned.
She's the Daughter of Eden, she's the Sister of Hope
She's the Mother of Freedom, she's the Lover Unknown
When she looks at the world through the eyes in her heart, but the picture gets blurred cause she feels every part
And she turns your head, cause she's got great legs, and she walks on the earth like it's child from birth
Oh the natural bow of the hips that sway, she's the Daughter of Eden 'til the end of days, 'til the end of days.
She's the Daughter of Eden, she's the Sister of Hope
She's the Mother of Freedom, she's the Lover Unknown.
Hearing his words, I think of the women who gave their lives in solidarity with the poor of El Salvador (Same Fate As The Poor, by Judith Noone). They indeed saw with the eyes of their hearts, gave voice to those who had no voice, and were sisters of hope in a hopeless situation. Johnny Clegg wrote this song in honor of his sister and the other women of South Africa, but it rings true of strong women all over the world.
November 9, 2007
About six weeks ago I blogged about dreams, being called, and prayer. In between then and now, I spent a lot of time thinking about prayer and mission - and Africa too. It's not exactly clear how things will work out, but persistence in prayer is really helping. I feel more confident about studying mission. The church needs to know why we do mission work and how that impacts our spiritual life. We do a pretty good job of the logistics of mission work, but for our short term mission teams and our local missions folks - do we think about the spirituality of that much?
The United Methodist Church in several states is measuring effective congregations on several measures, one of which is how many people are participating in hands-on mission - not just giving money, but giving of yourself in mission. Local work such as food pantries, Habitat for Humanity projects, shelters, or working on homes around the church. Regional work such as work projects for hurricane recovery or in places like Red Bird Missionary Conference or Four Corners. And global missions by participating in mission teams to other countries.
I believe that if we want our church members to grow in their discipleship by participating in mission, we must attend to the spirituality aspect of missions just as much (if not more) than the logistics of mission. Simply asking someone to attend a mission team isn't enough. Leaving their spiritual development to work and worship at the work site is not enough. There must be prayer, theological reflection, and discussion about the disparities we discover when we step outside our life and our routines, our comfort zone. As a pastor, I believe it is irresponsible to ignore these issues. And as a pastor, I know that the average pastor simply does not have the time to address this issue in the depth that it deserves.
Perhaps that's the answer to my prayer and the path that I'm to walk on in my studies. I pray that the church will use me for God's glory and to help others grow closer to God through their mission service.
The United Methodist Church in several states is measuring effective congregations on several measures, one of which is how many people are participating in hands-on mission - not just giving money, but giving of yourself in mission. Local work such as food pantries, Habitat for Humanity projects, shelters, or working on homes around the church. Regional work such as work projects for hurricane recovery or in places like Red Bird Missionary Conference or Four Corners. And global missions by participating in mission teams to other countries.
I believe that if we want our church members to grow in their discipleship by participating in mission, we must attend to the spirituality aspect of missions just as much (if not more) than the logistics of mission. Simply asking someone to attend a mission team isn't enough. Leaving their spiritual development to work and worship at the work site is not enough. There must be prayer, theological reflection, and discussion about the disparities we discover when we step outside our life and our routines, our comfort zone. As a pastor, I believe it is irresponsible to ignore these issues. And as a pastor, I know that the average pastor simply does not have the time to address this issue in the depth that it deserves.
Perhaps that's the answer to my prayer and the path that I'm to walk on in my studies. I pray that the church will use me for God's glory and to help others grow closer to God through their mission service.
Halloween 2007
http://www.bu.edu/phpbin/calendar/event.php?id=29267&cid=50&oid=0&template=9
http://www.nothingbutnets.net/partners/united-methodist-church
I'm in the midst of mid-term papers, research and reading. Totally swamped. In a very good way.
Next week I'll be joining the Boston University Anti-War Coalition (see link above). It's hard to make time for the evening meetings, but I hope to be more active in the coming days. Our young men and women are paying too high a price, and I'm not convinced that the price either in dollars or in lives is worth the promised result.
The other link above is for the Nothing But Nets campaign. The United Methodist Church is a partner in this project, and it's SO easy to take part and SO easy to make a difference.
My brother in law and nephew both fought malaria a few years ago, it's not easy to overcome. For my friends and relatives in Africa, please make a donation.
Back to the books.
http://www.nothingbutnets.net/partners/united-methodist-church
I'm in the midst of mid-term papers, research and reading. Totally swamped. In a very good way.
Next week I'll be joining the Boston University Anti-War Coalition (see link above). It's hard to make time for the evening meetings, but I hope to be more active in the coming days. Our young men and women are paying too high a price, and I'm not convinced that the price either in dollars or in lives is worth the promised result.
The other link above is for the Nothing But Nets campaign. The United Methodist Church is a partner in this project, and it's SO easy to take part and SO easy to make a difference.
My brother in law and nephew both fought malaria a few years ago, it's not easy to overcome. For my friends and relatives in Africa, please make a donation.
Back to the books.
October 6, 2007
Daily scripture one day this week was Psalm 139 -
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
As I unpacked more books today, I came across Freerick Buechner's Telling Secrets. In his introduction, he writes:
*I have called this book Telling Secrets because I have come to believe that by and large the human family all has the same secrets, which are both very telling and important to tell. They are telling in the sense that they tell what is perhaps the central paradox of our condition - that what we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are - even if we tell it only to ourselves - because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing.*
One of my classes is studying trauma and how it affects both the body and the soul. Some times trauma (or extended suffering) is too difficult to put in words. The secrets of the soul are so hard to bear that they are beyond words. How can we share our secrets, tell our secrets, when there aren't words for them? When telling our secrets would put our lives, our fragile hearts and hopes, in danger of falling apart?
Buechner again: *Finally, I suspect that it is by entering that deep place inside us where our secrets are kept that we come perhaps closer than we do anywhere else to the One who, whether we realize it or not, is of all our secrets the most telling and the most precious we have to tell.*
If there are no words, we can take comfort in knowing that the One who created us will understand our silence, our dance, our breathing, our movement, our stillness.
I know that for James, his trees and his fishing are his wordless ways. I suppose cooking is one of my ways, but there are others I've lost along the journey, silent ways of speaking my secrets.
The trauma class is helping me to find those ways, remember those silent ways of telling my secrets to the One who knows me best, no matter where I am.
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
As I unpacked more books today, I came across Freerick Buechner's Telling Secrets. In his introduction, he writes:
*I have called this book Telling Secrets because I have come to believe that by and large the human family all has the same secrets, which are both very telling and important to tell. They are telling in the sense that they tell what is perhaps the central paradox of our condition - that what we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are - even if we tell it only to ourselves - because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing.*
One of my classes is studying trauma and how it affects both the body and the soul. Some times trauma (or extended suffering) is too difficult to put in words. The secrets of the soul are so hard to bear that they are beyond words. How can we share our secrets, tell our secrets, when there aren't words for them? When telling our secrets would put our lives, our fragile hearts and hopes, in danger of falling apart?
Buechner again: *Finally, I suspect that it is by entering that deep place inside us where our secrets are kept that we come perhaps closer than we do anywhere else to the One who, whether we realize it or not, is of all our secrets the most telling and the most precious we have to tell.*
If there are no words, we can take comfort in knowing that the One who created us will understand our silence, our dance, our breathing, our movement, our stillness.
I know that for James, his trees and his fishing are his wordless ways. I suppose cooking is one of my ways, but there are others I've lost along the journey, silent ways of speaking my secrets.
The trauma class is helping me to find those ways, remember those silent ways of telling my secrets to the One who knows me best, no matter where I am.
September 26, 2007
One of my classes is requiring a lot of reading about trauma and PTSD. It's very interesting, and emotionally draining at the same time. Knowing I had a big assignment today, I decided to start the day with yoga. Haven't done yoga since moving, and it felt good to be present, grounded, centered, focused on the breath again. The Hebrew word for breath is also used for Spirit, so when I focus on breathing, I focus on God's Spirit.
Today's readings included an article in June's Yoga Journal about yoga practice and healing from traumatic experiences. The participants said that focusing on the present moment and being grounded helped them to heal from the memories, the nightmares, and the panic. The practice of yoga helped them to be attentive to the body, and along with counseling which focused on the mind and emotions, brought them back to a place that felt whole and safe.
Then I read a quote from Jean Piaget, whom I haven't studied in many years. He studied childhood development and cognitive development. He said that the goal of development is "decentration" or having your emotions, not being them.
Many years ago, someone told me that all too often I let my emotions control me instead of controlling my emotions. That always bothered me, but over the years I've come to understand why. Emotions just are - you can't control them. But you can live in an intentional way so that when you have emotions, they don't have you - or as Piaget said, you don't have to BE your emotions.
I'm no yoga expert, but in my experience yoga has helped me to slow down, be in the moment rather than in the past (woulda coulda shoulda) or in the future (anxiety anyone?). When I slow down, I can think about whatever emotion I'm having - what's going on around me, is it about me or is it about someone else, is it something that needs action or just observation - those kinds of thoughts.
So to the person who told me to control my emotions - No! :-) Emotions are part of what makes us human, they are neither right or wrong, they just are. It is what we do with our emotions that makes a difference. Being a mature person means that it is my responsibility to be attentive - to have my emotions rather than letting them have me.
How ya feeling today? Breathe deep. Breathe in the breath of God. Be present. Be centered. Be grounded. Be who God created you to be. Be.
Today's readings included an article in June's Yoga Journal about yoga practice and healing from traumatic experiences. The participants said that focusing on the present moment and being grounded helped them to heal from the memories, the nightmares, and the panic. The practice of yoga helped them to be attentive to the body, and along with counseling which focused on the mind and emotions, brought them back to a place that felt whole and safe.
Then I read a quote from Jean Piaget, whom I haven't studied in many years. He studied childhood development and cognitive development. He said that the goal of development is "decentration" or having your emotions, not being them.
Many years ago, someone told me that all too often I let my emotions control me instead of controlling my emotions. That always bothered me, but over the years I've come to understand why. Emotions just are - you can't control them. But you can live in an intentional way so that when you have emotions, they don't have you - or as Piaget said, you don't have to BE your emotions.
I'm no yoga expert, but in my experience yoga has helped me to slow down, be in the moment rather than in the past (woulda coulda shoulda) or in the future (anxiety anyone?). When I slow down, I can think about whatever emotion I'm having - what's going on around me, is it about me or is it about someone else, is it something that needs action or just observation - those kinds of thoughts.
So to the person who told me to control my emotions - No! :-) Emotions are part of what makes us human, they are neither right or wrong, they just are. It is what we do with our emotions that makes a difference. Being a mature person means that it is my responsibility to be attentive - to have my emotions rather than letting them have me.
How ya feeling today? Breathe deep. Breathe in the breath of God. Be present. Be centered. Be grounded. Be who God created you to be. Be.
September 22, 2007
Last night Celia wanted to have a girls movie night. We chose "I Dreamed of Africa", a movie James gave me a few years ago. It's the story of Kuki Gallmann and her life in Kenya. http://www.gallmannkenya.org/index.php It was a hard life, with a high cost. But her heart was there, with the people and the animals of Africa.
Watching the film, seeing the skies and landscape of Africa, I began to wonder. Everyone in Kuki's life except her husband and son tried to discourage her from living there. Even after years had gone by, they tried to get her to leave.
What is it about Africa that makes people not want you to go? What is it about Africa that calls to you?
When I began to understand that God had called me into the ministry, there were precious few who encouraged me. I was dismissed, discouraged, and laughed at. And yet, I knew in my heart that although the path wasn't clear I had to follow God's leading.
When I talk about South Africa, it's deja vu. I'm too old. It's just a dream. It's a distraction. And people want to know why, but when I talk with them, I can see my answers don't convince them.
I have to wonder, when even James questions me, if maybe I'm not hearing God, but just following a rabbit trail? Why then does my heart feel like it's breaking?
Obviously, more prayer is required before this all comes clear. And reading the journals of missionary women in the 1800's is stirring up my mind as well. No matter what, I will continue to trust in God, and to keep positive and determined, as James reminded me just a few days ago. Hopefully God will make a way for us to be together again soon.
Watching the film, seeing the skies and landscape of Africa, I began to wonder. Everyone in Kuki's life except her husband and son tried to discourage her from living there. Even after years had gone by, they tried to get her to leave.
What is it about Africa that makes people not want you to go? What is it about Africa that calls to you?
When I began to understand that God had called me into the ministry, there were precious few who encouraged me. I was dismissed, discouraged, and laughed at. And yet, I knew in my heart that although the path wasn't clear I had to follow God's leading.
When I talk about South Africa, it's deja vu. I'm too old. It's just a dream. It's a distraction. And people want to know why, but when I talk with them, I can see my answers don't convince them.
I have to wonder, when even James questions me, if maybe I'm not hearing God, but just following a rabbit trail? Why then does my heart feel like it's breaking?
Obviously, more prayer is required before this all comes clear. And reading the journals of missionary women in the 1800's is stirring up my mind as well. No matter what, I will continue to trust in God, and to keep positive and determined, as James reminded me just a few days ago. Hopefully God will make a way for us to be together again soon.
September 18, 2007
They forgot to tell me when I crossed the line. I didn't even see it. But cross it I did, my, yes.
It's the "You're Old" line.
The kids ~sigh~ yes, kids in my Anthropology class are closer in age to my kids than to me. They talk over my head about bands and concerts and clubs. They can read faster than me. And now - ack! - our prof has us critiquing each other's weekly papers. So this kid "graded" my paper today. Egads. He did a good job. Wrote all over my paper. Don't ever give him a red pen!
I'm glad for it though, because his major (and most of the class too) is Anthropology and I've never had a class about this - ever. So not only am I older than most of the class, I'm on a sharper (steeper?) learning curve than they are too.
But I figure, if my kids think I can climb Table Mountain, then maybe just maybe I can climb Grad School Mountain too. Even if I have crossed the line.
It's the "You're Old" line.
The kids ~sigh~ yes, kids in my Anthropology class are closer in age to my kids than to me. They talk over my head about bands and concerts and clubs. They can read faster than me. And now - ack! - our prof has us critiquing each other's weekly papers. So this kid "graded" my paper today. Egads. He did a good job. Wrote all over my paper. Don't ever give him a red pen!
I'm glad for it though, because his major (and most of the class too) is Anthropology and I've never had a class about this - ever. So not only am I older than most of the class, I'm on a sharper (steeper?) learning curve than they are too.
But I figure, if my kids think I can climb Table Mountain, then maybe just maybe I can climb Grad School Mountain too. Even if I have crossed the line.
Garden Gifts - August 18, 2007
A few years ago, my husband decided to create a little garden on the kitchen side of our house. The fence facing the street had been at the back corner of the house, but he moved it forward to the front corner.
Next, he put a picket fence across from the back corner of the house to the side fence, with a gate in the middle. Then he built an arbor, a sturdy one not like the flimsy ones you get at garden centers.
Then he took me on a shopping expedition at Plant & Garden World. All my favorites! We planned, set things out, and started digging.
On my birthday, my parents gave me a bench. James and the girls went out and bought a beautiful fountain for me. We already had a bird bath, and all those went into the garden too.
James and the girls worked hard to level out the ground under the fountain and birdbath, getting it just right.
As you step into the garden, the Carolina jessamine vine curls around the arbor. The Indian hawthorne is to your right, covered in pink blossoms in the spring. Next is a big gardenia, which has several fragrant white blossoms right now. At the back is the Sweet Olive, then on the left a big Mexican Fire bush, which the hummingbirds and butterflies love.
This summer, James and Celia found a little bush in our pine grove and put it into the garden just in front of the Fire bush. It's got little white blossoms and tiny fruit which starts green and turns deep orange. We don't quite know what it is, but we like it.
Next on the left is my Mountain laurel. It's slow growing, and small for now, but it will be taller in a few years. In the spring, it has clusters of purple blossoms that look a bit like grapes and smell like grape Kool Aid. :-)
Finally, at the front left is the crowning glory of the garden - a huge bottlebrush. As I write, the hummingbirds are zooming around like mad, sampling every bright red blossom. They zip from the Fire bush in the back yard, back to the little garden to the bottlebrush, then to the Fire bush in the little garden, and then zoom off again. Makes me laugh!
This summer I've put a hummingbird feeder on the arbor. We filled the other bird feeder with seed and hung it too. The squirrels try to get in, but this one closes when they put any weight on it. It's just for the birds!
When I sit in my meditation garden, I can see James' tree farm in the pine grove. He'll be able to quit his job some day, and follow his dream with those little trees.
I will miss my meditation garden. It was a gift of love, and I know I am cherished because of it. I will miss the peace I find in my garden.
Next, he put a picket fence across from the back corner of the house to the side fence, with a gate in the middle. Then he built an arbor, a sturdy one not like the flimsy ones you get at garden centers.
Then he took me on a shopping expedition at Plant & Garden World. All my favorites! We planned, set things out, and started digging.
On my birthday, my parents gave me a bench. James and the girls went out and bought a beautiful fountain for me. We already had a bird bath, and all those went into the garden too.
James and the girls worked hard to level out the ground under the fountain and birdbath, getting it just right.
As you step into the garden, the Carolina jessamine vine curls around the arbor. The Indian hawthorne is to your right, covered in pink blossoms in the spring. Next is a big gardenia, which has several fragrant white blossoms right now. At the back is the Sweet Olive, then on the left a big Mexican Fire bush, which the hummingbirds and butterflies love.
This summer, James and Celia found a little bush in our pine grove and put it into the garden just in front of the Fire bush. It's got little white blossoms and tiny fruit which starts green and turns deep orange. We don't quite know what it is, but we like it.
Next on the left is my Mountain laurel. It's slow growing, and small for now, but it will be taller in a few years. In the spring, it has clusters of purple blossoms that look a bit like grapes and smell like grape Kool Aid. :-)
Finally, at the front left is the crowning glory of the garden - a huge bottlebrush. As I write, the hummingbirds are zooming around like mad, sampling every bright red blossom. They zip from the Fire bush in the back yard, back to the little garden to the bottlebrush, then to the Fire bush in the little garden, and then zoom off again. Makes me laugh!
This summer I've put a hummingbird feeder on the arbor. We filled the other bird feeder with seed and hung it too. The squirrels try to get in, but this one closes when they put any weight on it. It's just for the birds!
When I sit in my meditation garden, I can see James' tree farm in the pine grove. He'll be able to quit his job some day, and follow his dream with those little trees.
I will miss my meditation garden. It was a gift of love, and I know I am cherished because of it. I will miss the peace I find in my garden.
Friday August 10, 2007
It's August in Texas. People are saying silly things like "is it hot enough for ya?" It's too hot! I'm heading north. Way north - Boston. A place where they don't have air conditioning in every place. I've never lived anywhere but Texas - I'm nervous!
But what is more exciting than that is the new semester on the horizon. New classes, new professors, new topics to study. New people to meet, new adventures all around. I'm not sure where all this will lead. The future isn't so planned out and certain as it has been for the past ten years or so.
The Hebrews reading for Sunday says "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" and I'm on a new journey without seeing things clearly. This faith journey is unsettling, for others more than for me, but unsettling all the same. How do you explain to people that although my words can't convey it, I know I'm going where God is calling? That answer doesn't seem to be satisfactory in our information overloaded world.
Merriam Webster defines "faith" as belief and trust. I think those are two different things. I can believe in something or someone and still not trust it. Faith is more like trust I think. Faith is trusting God with my whole life. Trusting God with those persons and dreams most dear to me. Trusting God that God will indeed be faithful and loving and not leave us to the worst of our capabilities, but use us for the glory of Christ.
Faith isn't always easy. It's not that hard to believe in a God that you can see working in someone else's life. What's hard is having faith that God can work in your own life, in your own heart, and use you.
When Celia was about two years old, she and I were having lunch and she said out of the blue that God loved me. "Know why?" she said... "because he's using you." Out of the mouths of babes - a sign of faith and hope that has kept me going, kept me relying on God, kept me holding onto faith.
Faith will be the road to Boston, the blank notebook paper in class, the new books in the library. Faith leads me on where God wants to use me. What a blessing!
But what is more exciting than that is the new semester on the horizon. New classes, new professors, new topics to study. New people to meet, new adventures all around. I'm not sure where all this will lead. The future isn't so planned out and certain as it has been for the past ten years or so.
The Hebrews reading for Sunday says "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" and I'm on a new journey without seeing things clearly. This faith journey is unsettling, for others more than for me, but unsettling all the same. How do you explain to people that although my words can't convey it, I know I'm going where God is calling? That answer doesn't seem to be satisfactory in our information overloaded world.
Merriam Webster defines "faith" as belief and trust. I think those are two different things. I can believe in something or someone and still not trust it. Faith is more like trust I think. Faith is trusting God with my whole life. Trusting God with those persons and dreams most dear to me. Trusting God that God will indeed be faithful and loving and not leave us to the worst of our capabilities, but use us for the glory of Christ.
Faith isn't always easy. It's not that hard to believe in a God that you can see working in someone else's life. What's hard is having faith that God can work in your own life, in your own heart, and use you.
When Celia was about two years old, she and I were having lunch and she said out of the blue that God loved me. "Know why?" she said... "because he's using you." Out of the mouths of babes - a sign of faith and hope that has kept me going, kept me relying on God, kept me holding onto faith.
Faith will be the road to Boston, the blank notebook paper in class, the new books in the library. Faith leads me on where God wants to use me. What a blessing!
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