Waiting

Waiting.

But that's Advent. This is Christmas, the 4th Day of Christmas. What did my true love bring me on this day? 4 calling birds, right? What are calling birds? Are they really singing? That would be nice. No, wait, it's now the 5th Day of Christmas: Five Gold Rings. Who needs those? Give me the birds!


But I'm still waiting. The Messiah has come and I'm still waiting. There's something wrong with that.


Michelle said something about that in her sermon Sunday, but I can't quite remember what exactly. I did type in the line I liked best here on Facebook, but there was more to it. We are still waiting around for the thing that has already happened.... to happen again? For an encore? That was part of it.

Am I waiting for an encore? No, not that!! I certainly don't want a reprise of what came before!! I feel like I'm waiting for something that was promised, but hasn't come, even though the time has arrived for it to be here. Am I waiting for something I've missed?

Yes. I certainly am.

I've been waiting for quite a long, long time. The promise has come, but I'm still in a holding pattern. That's so hard! I'm a girl of action, movement, not stillness, not hesitation.

And yet.... So many times in my life I've been the one to be still when others act, to hesitate when others rush out. Why? Because I couldn't see the promise was already here? But I didn't have it yet. Now that I do, what should I be waiting for?

Well, I guess I know the answers to that. I just don't like it. It isn't me. It isn't ..... yare (yes, I looked up that spelling). Yeah, that weird term from that great old movie, The Philadelphia Story. Good old Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart. Love 'em!

I don't know what that word yare could mean, really. Daddy didn't teach me all the sailor terms he must have learned in the navy in WWII, and around Long Beach and Newport and Balboa. But it apparently means something really good and square and right. And that's just what my situation is not: good and square and right. Not yare. Not a good floating vessel, this life I'm in right now.

But it's one I wouldn't trade for anything else in the world! All it needs is a little adjustment here and there. Then I think it will be quite yare indeed.

yare (pron: yar) (adj)
Definition: Describing a boat that handles with little effort. A good sailing design, quick and capable.

There, just like I thought. Good and square and right. And quick, yeah, I like that. Capable, well I could be more of that, I suppose.

Just under it in the Nautical Dictionary I found online is this:

yaw (n)
Definition: The turning of a boat off course caused by seas arriving at an angle.
See Also: pitch, roll

Yes, that's how I feel. Not yare, but yawing. Seas at an angle (not angel) have definitely arrived. Why they couldn't have arrived straight on, when a sailor was ready and in good position for them, I'll never know. But that's how it occurred, and that's how I have to take them. Seas at an angle to the rest of my life, proving my boat not yare (pron: yar), causing me to pitch and roll ridiculously, like a school girl.

But I wouldn't have it any other way. Not for the lessons I've learned, not for the knowledge I could have gained no other way. And not for the heart as ready as mine is now to give so much more than to receive.

Lord, I want to be yare, please. I'm ready. Please square me up so I quit this yawing.

Simply waiting,

Patty

Seasons

It seems this season for me has been about changes. I appear a changling to all my friends and acquaintances, and probably my children as well. My family doesn't know what to expect each time they call me and I actually remember to call back.

What is this about?

I have made so many decisions this past year, only to turn around and undo them, only to turn around and try and redo them. I am spinning like a top, it seems, never settling in one place long, never feeling I've found that niche or just the right work for me.

I start off really determined to get some things done, but they go unfinished nonetheless. I am not like this. Where is the real me? Where have I gone?

I remember the Scripture passage that says I should not be like a wave of the sea, pummelled and wafted to and fro by every whiff of change in the world around me. Yet that's exactly how I've been this year. Why?

Is it middle age? Is it other changes in my environment? Is it uncertainty about my kids' futures? Is it the elephant in our living room that has yet to be named out loud?

One thing it isn't: Simple. My life's questions are not simple. Many want to give simple answers to them, but I turn instead to One who never gave a simple answer, and asked some very complex questions during his short stay on earth.

Matthew 8:26    He said to them, "Why are you afraid, you men of little faith?"
Matthew 9:15    And Jesus said to them, "The attendants of the bridegroom cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they?
Matthew 12:48  But Jesus answered the one who was telling Him and said, "Who is My mother and who are My brothers?"
Matthew 14:21  Immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and took hold of him, and said to him, " You of little faith, why did you doubt?"
Matthew 15:16  Jesus said, "Are you still lacking in understanding also?
Matthew 16:8    But Jesus, aware of this, said, " You men of little faith, why do you discuss among yourselves that you have no bread?
Matthew 16:15  He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" 
Matthew 17:17  And Jesus answered and said, "You unbelieving and perverted generation, how long shall I be with you? How long shall I put up with you?

Matthew 17:25  He said, "Yes." And when he came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, "What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth collect customs or poll-tax, from their sons or from strangers?"

Matthew 18:1   At that time the disciples came to Jesus and said, " Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?"

Matthew 20:22 But Jesus answered, "You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?"

Matthew 20:32 And Jesus stopped and called them, and said, "What do you want Me to do for you?"

Now there's a loaded question if ever I saw one!!

Matthew 21:16 And Jesus said to them, "Yes; have you never read, ' OUT OF THE MOUTH OF INFANTS AND NURSING BABIES YOU HAVE PREPARED PRAISE FOR YOURSELF'?"

Matthew 21:31 "Which of the two did the will of his father?" 

Matthew 21:42 Jesus said to them, "Did you never read in the Scriptures,' THE STONE WHICH THE BUILDERS REJECTED,THIS BECAME THE CHIEF CORNER stone;THIS CAME ABOUT FROM THE LORD,AND IT IS MARVELOUS IN OUR EYES'?

Matthew 22:18 But Jesus perceived their malice, and said, "Why are you testing Me, you hypocrites?

Matthew 26:10 But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, "Why do you bother the woman?

Matthew 26:55 At that time Jesus said to the crowds, "Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest Me as you would against a robber?

Matthew 27:46 About the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, "ELI, ELI, LAMA SABACHTHANI?" that is, "MY GOD, MY GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?" 

And these are only Jesus' questions recorded in Matthew. In movies, and I've seen a lot of them about the life of Jesus, whenever He asks one of these questions the hearers get funny looks on their faces. They seem to think he is crazy, or simply cannot understand the question. Complexities abound in the answers, and they are not easily come to by mere mortals.

Seems to me I'm asking some similar questions these days, but I've settled the big one, I think. Death I have no problem with. It's life that's getting me all mixed up, all tangled in a macrame knot, only not so neat.

How much suffering are You going to tolerate before You clean this up, Lord?

Where do I fit in all this?

How does the life I'm living right now lead to Your promises in the future?

When will you let me in on Your secret plan, eh Lord?

If this, then why that??

If we're to live new lives, why are we steeped so in traditions that don't serve today or tomorrow's children well, but only tie our hands when we could be doing good things?

If the life of a Christian, lived rightly aligned, exudes joy, why is mine exuding so much angst?

What do you want me to do about all this?!

And what about him, Lord?? How does THAT fit in Your plan???

If You fit me for these various activities, why don't You give me time for each one? When do I do each one? DO I pursue them all, or let some simply die out and become very focused on one as I was able to in my college days? 

How will I know what You want me to do?

On more close scrutiny I see that Jesus' complex answers were really simple after all. But it seems His disciples weren't always ready for simple answers. They wanted it to be more complex than it really was, I think. And so, like me, they created more questions for themselves, more confusion than was necessary.

Am I ready for simple answers? Or do I want complex ones because our world honors that more? Do I hold complexity more highly than simplicity? Am I splitting hairs?!

Perhaps reviewing each one of the answers given in Scripture to Jesus' questions will help me find my own answers. But there aren't answers given, except a little in parables sometimes. Jesus very often leaves people to find their own answers. So apparently this is nothing new. 

Open my eyes that I may see glimplses of truth Thou hast for me;

Place in my hands the wonderful key that shall unclasp and set me free.

Silently now I wait for Thee, ready my God, Thy will to see,

Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit Divine!

Simply searching,

Patty

Play That Song!

I recently had a problem with the radio/cd player I use in the kitchen. I’ve enjoyed having this device, as it makes work seem like play at times. When I am in the worst mood for cleaning, but it must needs be done, I simply plop in one of my favorite cd’s and voila! No more mood and a clean kitchen.

But the other day as I listened to one of my favorite cd’s my daughter had created for Mother’s Day last year, I encountered a slight problem: the machine skipped all through one of my favorite songs. As usual I went over and pressed the “Forward” key ever so slightly, hoping to jar it to its senses as I’ve done so often before. No response. Then I simply skipped to the next song, but nothing happened. All sound stopped, and when I looked to see where the cd was stuck, the message in the window was merely a cryptic, “Er”. This told me it was hopeless. Still, though, I proceeded to attempt a resuscitation, pressing “Forward” over and over, turning the machine off and on, even trying another cd. Eventually I attempted to “re-boot” the contraption, as I’d done once before with good results: I unplugged it, waited a few seconds, then plugged it back in and turned it on. No go. The little blue relative of Robin Williams’ electronic girl-friend in Flubber refused to acknowledge my Herculean efforts. All I could ever get out of it after that was a silent “Er”.

Unless I use the radio. The radio works fine. I have it on at this moment, to the classical station, 89.9 FM. That’s great. Beautiful guitar music playing right now, lovely and meditative, perfect for writing. I do have problems, though, when trying to tune in certain other stations: 95.9, 107.9. They simply don’t show up. I get them fine in the car, but never in the house. Don’t know why car radios are so wonderful while stationary ones in the house are for the birds. Oh well. I bought a new model for the kitchen, but it still doesn’t get those stations. Rather annoying. At least now I can see if I’m in the right place on the dial, though, as it’s digital. The old one creaks and groans as I attempt to find the stations I love and know are out there, just beyond my window but refusing to play in the house. So I use this radio only up here, doing specific tasks that I do once a day, if that. I simply can’t count on that little device anymore, since it’s connections have gotten rather undone, gone haywire, been tuned into the wrong source, or something.

I mused this morning that what we do does not matter an iota in heaven, but whom we let ourselves be guided by does. God wants us to be so connected to Him that His song will keep playing in our lives, even when we hit a snag and He has to push “Forward” for a split second to get us unstuck. As long as we don’t get sucked into the mindset where all we can see is the snag, and so His pushing “Forward” gets Him nothing but “Er” on our screen, and a silence from us that is nothing like the pleasing song He created us to play.

Thank God though, we are not simply mechanical, electronic machines! My old CD player will never know the joy of playing God’s songs again, and so I have relegated it to a place upstairs, where I will only use it for the radio when I’m paying the bills or writing on the computer. I have bought a new one to replace it, a better one, supposedly.

Does God replace us? Does He relegate us to a corner and bring out a new model? Does He reduce His expectations of us to far less than they were before because we don’t measure up? Does He stop delighting in us when we stop listening to Him well enough to sing His song? Does He leave us in a closet somewhere, or a corner of the house He uses only occasionally, so He won’t be as disappointed in us as often?

Does He keep on pushing the “On” switch, though, sending the “juice” of His power through us, giving us life daily so we can sing whatever song comes out of the radio? Yes, He does. Even when the songs we tune to are not His; even when we choose to tune our dial to the songs of the Hopenots1, and even of Satan himself. The Lord our God, the King of Heaven, still gives us breath to sing, even those songs. He does not unplug us. He gives and gives and gives us life.

But He goes downstairs and plugs in a new radio/cd player in the kitchen – where He spends most of His time, where the family of God congregates, and His song is sung most beautifully by many voices, led by the one who is more tuned in to Him.

Fascinating, this parallel I’m drawing. Keep reading, if you will. Please.

Sometimes He comes to the corner, because He has to pay His bills and he likes to dream new things.2 But He dreams better in the living room, where He has a full stereo complete with nice, hefty speakers and a very nice, 3-CD changer and radio, and all His CD’s – AND: a piano, 2 keyboards, drum, saxophone, guitar, clarinet, 2 violins, 3 song flutes, a recorder, ocarina, 3 harmonicas, and one huge amplifier. (Did I miss anything , kids?) He sits in the Holy recliner and gazes out at His creation, and dreams up new ones. He writes new songs and imagines new quilts that bring new people together in new ways to tell a new story to yet more new people. This is His favorite CD player. It never stops singing His song. Even when faulty CD’s are placed in it, it remains connected to Him so well that He changes the CD and it goes right on playing. Not like that one that was just relegated to the remote corner of the house, unable to pick up even all four of His stations available here.

He climbs the stairs, though, everyday, to spend time with that old, decrepit radio/cd player. He never gives up on it entirely. He still does find it useful for at least one song or two, while He wrestles with bills and knotty word problems. He does not cast it entirely away.

“A bruised reed He will not break,
And a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish;
He will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not be disheartened or crushed,
Until He has established justice in the earth;
And the coastlands will wait expectantly for His law.”

Thus says God the Lord,
Who created the heavens and stretched them out,
Who spread out the earth and its offspring,
Who gives breath to the people on it,
And spirit to those who walk in it,
“I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,
I will also hold you by the hand and watch over you,
And I will appoint you as a covenant to the people,
As a light to the nations,
To open blind eyes,
To bring out prisoners from the dungeon,
And those who dwell in darkness from the prison.
I am the Lord, that is My name;
I will not give My glory to another,
Nor My praise to graven images.
Behold, the former things have come to pass,
Now I declare new things;
Before they spring forth I declare them to you.” Is. 42:3-9

Wow. Let’s look at that again. God finds us faulty and does what? Wait, I’m not sure I heard that right. Instead of simply relegating us to the corner, where He visits us once a day if that, He says He’s going to make us “a covenant to the people” and “a light to the nations…”. Really? But I have NO qualifications for this kind of work, really. I mean, Lord, You just saw how I messed up that last song. Really, I make all the wrong choices daily, You know that! How can You think I’d be any good at Your work?

But His Word through His radio/cd player called Isaiah continues: “…to open blind eyes, to bring out prisoners from the dungeon, and those who dwell in darkness from the prison.”

Really? Me??

Yes, that’s what He seems to be saying to us, His bruised reeds. We might be so bruised we can’t stand up. We might be so dim we can’t even find our way out our own door. But He says He has work for us, a Song He wants us to play loud and clear. We might find it unbelievable, knowing ourselves so well as we think we do. We might be condemning ourselves for our mistakes, even more than He does. We might do the same for fellow travelers in this world, co-workers or underlings. “You messed up, buddy, so out you go! You’re replaceable!” Not so our DJ in the divine radio station. He sends us a Song and He says “Play it for Me!” He asks only that and nothing less than that. AND He makes us able. Yes He does!

“I am the Lord, that is My name; I will not give My glory to another….” He chooses us bruised, dim ones because it is so obvious that we are not broadcasting our own songs on our own power. There is no way, if His Song reaches those it’s intended to reach, they can see it as coming from me! All who know me know how MY powers have waned, know how MY dial is tuned wrong, know MY songs are weak, know how I am unable to live up to the calling He gave me. If anyone hears His Song now, it’s not because of me, praise His name!

He sees me here, defeated, worn out, spent on things He never called me to do, and He says, “Tune in: I have a job for you. You’re done with all that other stuff, now try something new.”

“Behold, the former things have come to pass,
Now I declare new things;
Before they spring forth I declare them to you.”

I have no idea of the things He is planning. I do have an inkling as to what number He wants me to dial to on His radio, but what He will accomplish through me I have no idea. I like it that way. When I try to plan out each move, each step on the way, I stumble and fall into the creek. I find the wrong station, end up broadcasting the wrong songs. So I’m going to let Him send the Songs, and when I hear them I’ll just sing along until I learn the tune by heart, to sing over to myself when I feel lost in the night’s darkness.

Sing to the Lord a new song,
Sing His praise from the end of the earth!
You who go down to the sea, and all that is in it.
You islands and those who dwell on them.
Let the wilderness and its cities lift up their voices,
The settlements where Kedar inhabits.
Let the inhabitants of Sela sing aloud,
Let them shout for joy from the tops of the mountains.
Let them give glory to the Lord,
And declare His praise in the coastlands. Is. 42:10-12

The Lord is sending good news through us. His great desire is for all people to know He loves them and is on His way with justice and mercy. He is coming to rescue the bruised reeds and dim wicks like me! He is coming to make the blind see, to free the prisoners from whatever dark prisons they’ve found themselves in by whatever means they got there! He gives a new Song, and He bids us play it out loud.

And we don’t have to worry that we can’t do it, because we’re not strong or bright, we’re “neither wise, nor strong, nor good, we’ll do the best we can”.3 We don’t have to stand on our own!! Contrary to the teachings of our capitalistic American society, we don’t have to go it alone!

“I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,
I will also hold you by the hand and watch over you,
And I will appoint you…”

That’s Good News, folks. That’s something to turn up your volume for!

Simply playing His Song,

Patty

1. See Max Lucado’s The Song of the King
2. Bear with me here: Since we are created in the image of God, I love to imagine God doing what I do, in a God kind of way.
3. A line in “Make Our Garden Grow” from the opera Candide by Bernstein

O Lord, Our Lord, How Excellent is Thy Name in All the Earth!

Psalm 8

 ¹O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.
 ²Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.
 ³When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
 ⁴What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
 ⁵For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.
 ⁶Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:
 ⁷All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;
 ⁸The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.
 ⁹O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!

Simply Astounded

A "Friend of a Friend" posted this on his status on Facebook, after his graduation (I assume):

"What does a brand new iTouch, gratuitous amounts of s'mores ingredients, (including stupidly enormous marshmallows,) $900!!!!!!, a new laptop on the way AND a new Bari Sax on the way as well mean to me?! That my relatives are ridiculously jacked about me graduating, even more so than I am! But what does it mean to you,... my dear friends? Oh yes, that's right, road trip. TO ANYWHERE IN THE [BLEEP] WORLD!!! Interested?"

I post this here simply to illustrate the ridiculous atmosphere in which children are sometimes steeped in wealthy circles. I worry about this child. You see by this that he only thinks they are happy about his graduation, he is not looking at his future or his past, but thinks they are weird, judging by his words about them. I do too.

Children do not expect such luxury, even rich children. They observe how people work for a living and save for extras, and they expect to do the same - until they are trained to expect otherwise by their parents and relatives. Graduation from high school is a milestone, yes, but not such an uncommon one - even if your grades are horrible. I know, mine were. I was never so happy as when I saw that my diploma folder actually held a diploma.

What did I receive to celebrate this? A watch from my father that was state of the art - and which I did in no way appreciate simply because it looked like a man's watch. I thought it was hiding something else in the box. (Hurt my father's feelings terribly and I can hardly stand to remember that to this day, but c'est la vie: hurting memories are part of this life also). When they saw my unbelief - "How could they? Didn't they know me better than THAT? How could they think I'd want a man's watch??"** - they were moved to take it back and get me something I had wanted for a long time: a STEREO! I know I didn't deserve it.

And this purchase of a stereo, with all components, for their second child, with credit as they could not afford to pay cash, was extravagant on their part!

Put it next to what we read above, and it paints quite a picture in my mind. The hard-working (he had two jobs) father's gift, thought about long and hard I'm sure, to his daughter upon her high school graduation of an item worth more than he could afford, because he thought it rather the best item of its kind, on one hand, replaced by something that was even more meaningful to her right where she was in her life and for who she really was; the affluent family's gifts, possibly thought about more than a minute, but probably not, seemingly flung carelessly at the teen without word of why or how, completely inappropriate at his age..... A lopsided picture.

Jesus tells us in Matthew chapter 6: "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Perhaps this grad's comments posted on Facebook hit me hard because I had just come from a concert at my church. The choir sang so beautifully, and everyone was inspired to give to the cause. There was more money in that plate as it passed than I ever see on a Sunday morning in church. A World Vision spokesman showed slides of the people in Haiti attempting to dig out from the devastation. We were left with the vision of a girl dancing joyfully - a girl for whom the light of life had almost gone out when her father and other loved ones were killed, her home lost, and other tragedies related to the earthquake came upon her. As the choir sang my favorite of the pieces on the program that night, her image hung above us, witness to an inner spark of joy no money can buy, but which our money could feed and grow and spread to others in her situation.

My God, my portion and my love, my everlasting all,
I've none but thee in heaven above, or on this earthly ball.

What empty things are all the skies, and this inferior clod!
There's nothing here deserves my joys, there nothing like my God.

In vain the bright, the burning sun, scatters his feeble light;
'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon; if thou withdraw, 'tis night.

Let all that dwell above the sky, andd air, and earth, and seas,
Conspire to lift Thy glories high and speak Thine endless praise.

The whole creation, join in one, to bless the sacred Name,
Of Him that sits upon the throne, and to adore the Lamb.

Of Him that sits upon the throne, and to adore,
And to adore the Lamb! Adore the Lamb!
(By Isaac Watts and F. Lewis. Arr. Mack Willberg)

This is what I'd gift my children with. This is far purer than gold, lasts longer, is worth so, so much, much more!

The final chords rang out loud and clear and long, raising the rafters. Of course we gave. The pastor even asked for the "widow's mite" from any of us hanging onto a few last dollars - I was one. Yes, I took out some (but not all, I'm afraid) of the few dollars in my wallet.

Of course, I don't know anything about this graduate. I don't know what his grades were like. I don't know if there really was a doubt as to whether he would graduate, and so possibly the gifts were a reward for doing it. I don't know whether he rather is a responsible young man (though by his language I think not). I don't know whether he'd been saving up for something with money he'd earned somewhere. I really am not in a position to judge him or his family.

Which is why I'm asking for your thoughts on the subject. What does it say to you? I'd love your input in a comment below.

I wanted to post about how astounding this gift is to this teenage boy. But instead I find  myself more astounded at God's gift to me through the benefit concert last night, of music and words joined in the songs I heard. God met me where I was and drew me further on, into His boundless love and toward His everlasting kingdom of love, showing me His amazing grace, which is astounding. Don't want my kids to miss out on that gift!

Simply astounded,
Patty


** It was not until decades later that I realized the real pain was in my father's heart, that his daughter did not know him better than that.....

Stitches for Haiti

So I decided I shall stick by my first pledge of $1,000 for Haiti, even though I only raised $511 at my Mothers to Mothers - A Benefit for Haiti, on Mother's Day. I decided to sell some items on Etsy. At present I have only listed the scarves you see at left. But in the future I plan to create many more items to sell for Haiti. I am planning to open a store of my own, and this is an excellent way to see what and how things sell, while raising money for mothers and children in Haiti to complete my pledge donation.

Please take a look, and do feel free to offer suggestions for my shop on Etsy and items as well.

Thanks!

Simply selling,
Patty

The spiritual life is a stern choice. It is not a consoling retreat from the difficulties of existence, but an invitation to enter fully into that difficult existence, and there apply the Charity of God, and bear the cost. -- Evelyn Underhill

I took this from a friend's post on Facebook. Thank you, Kathy.

The above quote is something I've never read before. It grabbed hold of me instantly because I've been working on this concept in my life for some time now. I find today that there are several ways I can apply it's teaching.

Life in general
Marriage
Young people's romantic relationships
Friendships
Parenthood
Work

The first claim in this saying is one that I grew up with, in some ways. My father could be very stern when his ire was riled. My mother put on a stern face in church, when she received my report card from school, and when I hit my sister. I was told that Christian girls did not behave in such ways as playing with my hair in church, staring out the window in school daydreaming, or hitting my sister. We were also taught for some unknown reason that Christians did not dance or play cards or drink any form of alcohol or wear bikinis. (Well, I can understand those last two.) Somehow too, maybe through our parents' portrayal of our rich neighbors as having strayed from the path, we were taught to equate money with evil, and the things money could buy with a sinful life. Included in that in a way was an education past high school. Somehow, the people whom my father considered learned and about whom he spoke with reverence because of their knowledge were still not considered to be walking in The Way. Maybe it was because in order to get learning you had to have money, and when you were getting learning you got exposed to a whole lot of things not allowed by our church, like drinking and dancing and bikinis (unless your college was near La Jolla, where they did without the bikinis). As well as my parents, all the adults at church wore stern faces throughout worship on Sundays, and most other times there as well. They always seemed to be unhappy with us three girls, perhaps especially me and my little sister, since we were the runabouts of the family. I'd listen, however, when reprimanded and hang my head and cry, where my sister simply didn't seem to notice. She had just as much fun as she pleased sans guilt, thank you.

So I knew that the Christian life was a stern one, oh yes.

The summer before my 5th grade year in school my mother suddenly "got religion" and decided the family would be far more likely to go to heaven if we attended the Baptist church our neighbor did. It was a good decision for me, actually, as I found the faces in the new church to be very friendly, the sermons understandable, the singing far more fun, and I made friends quickly. As soon as I realized I was ok even though I got bad grades in school, I was happier than I'd ever been before. Of course, it helped that the church we now attended was in no way connected to the school we now attended. We had been at the parochial school run by our previous church until then, where everyone knew everything you'd ever done wrong, and you didn't even get a reprieve on Sundays as the same kids were in the Sunday School. Now I had a chance to start over from the very beginning, a clean slate, a fresh start, a new day. I took it!

This is what I call the Charity of God.

Soon we learned that we were chosen, the elite, the ones God picked from the beginning to be in His kingdom and do His work. What that work was we learned was to save souls out of the world outside and bring them into His fold inside - inside OUR walls, not other churches'. We knew WE had THE Word, because our pastor was the only one around who preached straight from the Bible - not just any Bible, mind you, the King James Version of the Bible, which our church claimed to be the only "authorized" version in existence on the globe. This was the only thing that mattered to the adults in the church, and they taught us well. As long as we knew Scripture, and came to church regularly, accepted Jesus, were baptized by immersion, went to Sunday School AND C.E. (Christian Education) in the evening, prayer group on Wednesdays and Pioneer Girls and Boys' Brigade, and went on all the church outings, and went forward for altar calls, you were going to heaven no matter what else you did or how you behaved toward other Christians. And it didn't even matter an iota how you behaved toward non-Christians, as they were lost and therefore deserving of the damnation they had chosen, and not of our charity. But, of course, God wanted us to go door to door telling them how lost they were and how much better off they'd be if only they'd say the prayer and come join us in our club- er, church. As the years went by, though, and I grew into my teen years and through high school, I began to see that there were other ways of existing in the world without being of the world, and still fulfill the law of Christ. We were called by our youth leader to be disciples of Christ, not just mere Christians, but followers of His way in every aspect of our lives. He made sure we had access to the Word of the Lord in our everyday English, not only the King James version of the Bible. He spent time with us as a group on outings and studying the Word, and always had time if one of us came by his office with a problem. He never looked at us sternly, even when we messed up. He was our savior. Then the church decided they didn't like his personal charismatic style of faith, though we hadn't seen any of it in our youth meetings or any interactions with him, and fired him. The guy they got in after him was psychologically abusive. The choir director lorded it over me in rehearsal, forbidding me to help my dad learn his notes, and I was out of there. My senior year of high school I said good-bye to the church that had taught me to sing instead of sulk. I knew God was calling me out of the "ivory tower" into the "world of woe". There was no more charity of God there anymore. It was only full of stern choices. The day I walked out of there forever the congregation was singing "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling", one of my favorite hymns. I knew it was the right thing to do. And I was not alone: Love had left the building.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I wandered my way to a faith that was more open, more friendly, more user-friendly. My one goal in life was to keep from alienating people further by my preachy ways or cliquey, jargonny, church slang. I set out to be different from that congregation, to be a different kind of city set on a hill, a softer light to the world, a beacon of hope instead of a ray of judgment. I wanted, above all, to be-friend the world, not judge it, not condemn it. I knew all too well my own short-comings, and if God could love me anyway I was no one to cast out the outcast. So I embarked on life's journey.

Christians sometimes talk of the slippery slope, referring to allowing things the Bible expressly forbids, or to allowing things the Bible may not forbid but that have always been forbidden by the Church as leading down the slippery slope to the things the Bible does forbid, like whoring, divorce, homosexuality, fornication, lying, swearing, cheating, stealing, murdering, women preaching in church when there are men present, yeah. These things are all forbidden in Scripture, but the things that aren't but were thought to lead to them, like drinking wine or having a beer with your buddies, playing Go Fishin' or Rummy, dancing, saying some bad words nobody could tell us why were bad, placing anything on top of the Bible on the shelf..... these led to the other things, so they were stern no-no's for us. Well, I did them. I thought, why not? I made a lot of friends too. I did more than them, though. Because I found that the elders of the Church had been right. Those things led to the others. But I had a lot of fun, and I had a lot of friends, and I got where I wanted to get by a gift of God through a guy named Bill Hall. So I must not have been wrong, must I? God must like us to live a bit loosely, really. Because a lot of people stopped going to church in the 70's as a fall-out from the 60's, even after Vatican II where the Pope changed all the sacred rules Christians have lived and died by for centuries. And I noticed that when some leaders acted more like just everyday folks instead of so weirdly different from the rest of the world, the youth groups grew, yeah, which would have to mean the Church would keep on growing instead of continuing to die, right? And we Christians who let our hair down got a lot happier too. We just had a great old time of it!

Until one day sitting up on the slope of an underpass on the Rose Parade route on New Year's Day I found myself, with all my so-cool friends, jeering at the Savior who had saved me from the deep depression I found myself battling as the result of the sternness of our first church. I found myself jeering at Him! and at His followers who were riding on the float from the Lutheran Laymen. I! A disciple of the One who poured out his life's blood for my little, insignificant, sinning self, mocking and jeering at Jesus!

This was neither the stern choice nor the charity of God, this jeering.

My life did not turn back. Oh no, I can't let myself off that easily. Not there, nor for years after, did I follow the Voice that I heard that day, saying "Didn't you promise to follow Me?" No, I'm sorry to say, I wasted many years still after that day. There are far too many people running around the world thumping their Bibles in the faces of poor, over-wrought, under-paid, insecure, lost, desperate, single mothers and fathers and teen mothers and fathers and sick people. I didn't need to add my voice to theirs. Besides, I really didn't know what I wanted to say. I just wanted to sing. And I was going to play the world's cards and win at least a chance to learn how to sing really well. Oh yes I was. And I did. I'm a college graduate with letters after my name, one of the first in my dad's family. I've directed three church choirs, sung countless solos for church services, funerals, weddings, you-name-it, been a member of some of the most prestigious singing organizations, traveled the UK and Scotland, Hawaii, sung for President Nixon, portrayed various peasant types and high society ladies in operas in two major cities for money, I've vacationed every year at a resort on the beach, I've had a brand new house built to our specs, I've begun to start a business...... I could go on but why? I don't need the acclaim (small though it fittingly be, if that). I got what I wanted, by hook or by crook. I played by the rules, and won a small taking.

But that isn't the charity of God, nor a stern choice at all. That was easy.

What I find to be a stern choice is this: Many years ago I made some promises, both to God and to myself. I made a promise to my spouse. I made unspoken promises to my family. I've broken them all at times and in ways. I found myself despicable once, and turned around. I found myself despicable some more, and turned around. I found the world despicable, and turned around. I found my life despicable, and couldn't turn around, because if I did I'd be ruining the lives of at least three others. This is the stern choice. I can't walk away, I can't start over and do it right, I can't wipe the slate clean, I can't ever do it again, I can't, I can't, I can't, I.... can't.....

I'm a mess. My life is a mess. My kids are a mess. My spouse is a mess. Even my dog is a mess. (Why the cats aren't a mess too is beyond me.) I've gotten to do some really amazing things, for one in my family of origin. But now it's time to take stock and re-evaluate. Now it's time to put your money where your mouth is, Patty. Now it's time to make good on those promises, to God, to spouse, to kids, to self. (Yes, I do mean them in that order). Now it's time to be stern, and make the choices the world doesn't make. It's time to continue the game, even though you know you are going to lose. It's time to respond with something that at least looks like love, even when you can't find any inside yourself, one more time at least. It's time to stop jeering at the Messiah and start hollering for Him to save you, because that's all you have now. This is where the rubber hits the road. This is your refining by fire, hopefully to gold and not dross. But I am not able to do these things. I tell myself many days that I can't go on like this. I can't dredge up from the dried up bottom of the well one more "I love you" in the face of cold indifference, or make one more lunch in my sleep that somebody won't eat, wipe up one more puddle that somebody else should have wiped up without throwing a fit, tiptoe around one more morning to keep from waking the dead upstairs. I can't.

But this is the charity of God. He did it for me, when He couldn't walk one more step with that wood weighing down His whip-scarred back; when He couldn't look around at the women without saying a word for his mother, but not one more word for Peter and me and Thomas and the others; when He should have cursed the guards who murdered Him, when He could have sent the thieves dying deserved deaths both down to the lowest hell with Satan forever damned - He didn't. He took one more breath and made a promise of love to    them, and to everyone on earth since them and before. He couldn't, but He did.

This was the charity of God, and God's stern choice.    

How can I, puny human woman that I am, ever imagine I could do better??

This sternness of choice, this "hard saying", that to me to live is Christ and to die is gain... This is my choice. That charity of God, that He gave His life for my pitiful existence - not just to gain life for me, but to gain my freedom to live it - this charity of God I apply now daily, hourly, moment by moment, by His power alone. I bear the cost. What have I paid for this? What ransom have I been charged? What has been the cost? Is there a cost? I haven't noticed. When I look around me all I see is blessing. No, there is no cost on my part. Jesus already paid it.

That's why I give it to the world, free of charge, no strings attached, like He gave it to me.

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
Oh make me Thine forever! And should I fainting be,
Lord let me never, never outlive my love for Thee!

Amen

We Are Different - Not Like the Animals

This morning as the sun rose and my little dog snoozed in my lap, I mused thus:

We are different – not like the animals. We need spiritual nurturing to continue on earth. We have our differences which must be fed. I mean our different kinds of needs for our different callings. We can’t be the things that make us who we are without feeding those things in us consistently. Animals are what they are and behave as they behave regardless where or who or what or why or how. Jeffy is just a dog and will always act like one.

I, on the other hand, can be a devoted mother, wife, friend, singer, secretary, wharehouse worker, artist, seamstress, writer, choir director, bell ringer – or all of the above, in any arrangement I choose. But these things must be nurtured in my for me to be any of them. Otherwise, I’m just a human animal, ingesting what human animals ingest, secreting what human animals secrete, and multiplying myself.

But God called us out of the muck to be far more than mere human animals. He gave us royal gifts of intelligence, creativity, compassion, self-sacrifice…. And the fruits of the Spirit. He gave us a way to Himself even, and showed us how to walk therein. He gave us the key to being more than just animals, and He expects us to utilize it. He made us humans His sons and daughters and invited us to create in our space in the same way He has created in His.

But as a race we have rejected His calling, His gifts, His invitation. We have turned every one to our own way. We have chosen to be gods of ourselves – self managers. We have said to our Maker, “We don’t need a Maker, we can make ourselves, thank you.” We have said, “We don’t need a Father, fathers are bad. Mothers are good, we’ll worship our mother, the earth.” We have turned to our own way and royally spoiled our space and our race.

And our Father has let us. Oh, how I wish He would stop us! But that’s not His way. His way is Love.

He loves the creatures He made like animals and then glorified and lifted from out of our animalistic behaviors to live in light with Him. He knows we must exercise our wills or cease to be human. So He lets us, in spite of our disastrous choices. One day He will put an end to our messing up His art work. But for now He is keeping silent, though we rail and beg and plead desperately for Him to stop us.

He will wait for His perfect time. He will stick with His perfect Plan. His ways are not our ways. He knows how to stay on the course He charted, even without a compass. He is able to keep from sullying His space, even when we change it with our pollution. He knows how to keep giving when we’ve spit in His face and sent His gifts back.

He has written into nature His perfect Love, in the gift of Spring renewed each year just to remind us we don’t have the final word on anything, and death isn’t the final word on Life.

Hallelujah!

Praise the Savior, ye who know Him!
Who can tell how much we owe Him?
Gladly let us render to Him
All we are and have.

Jesus is the name that charms us.
He for conflict fits and arms us.
Nothing moves and nothing harms us,
While we trust in Him.

Trust in Him, ye saints, forever!
He is faithful, changing never:
Neither force nor guile can sever
Those He loves from Him.

Keep us, Lord, O keep us cleaving
To Thyself and still believing,
Till the hour of our receiving
Promised joys with Thee.

Then we shall be where we would be,
Then we shall be what we should be,
Things that are not now, nor could be,
Soon shall be our own.

Thos. Kelly
German
#144 Inspiring Hymns

How Can I Keep From Singing?

     This morning I woke up and immediately began complaining in my mind about some things that rubbed me the wrong way the night before. Suddenly I realized that I have a choice: I can choose to continue every morning remembering the ills of the day before, and thus starting the day unhappy with some people; or I can choose to begin a new day fresh, using Love as my tool to create an environment that is healthy for not only me, but for my family and all we come in contact with as well.

     So I wrote a little poem:

In the morning
I take Love
As my companion,
My goal,
My judge,
My guide,
My rule.

Yesterday is gone and passed,
Tomorrow is a dream that won't last.
Today is what I have to fill,
Fill it with loving is what I will.

Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

Amen

     When I reached the last lines, taken from a beloved hymn, I realized that much of my exhaustion and disinclination to work hard at singing comes from my dissatisfaction with life. I am going to try an experiment, and I wonder if you would like to try it too. I am going to start each day by praying this prayer and living by this rule, hopefully, throughout each day. I want to see if I have more energy and more desire to sing my songs, and perform this concert that is coming in one week from today.

     I bet I will. What do you think? If I'm not putting so much energy into stewing in my own juices, but expending it in loving through life, will it be something like exercise? Will it be that the more I give away the more I have? I'm thinking it's kind of like the old Pioneer Girl song:

Love is something -
If you give it away,
Give it away,
Give it away.
Love is something -
If you give it away,
You'll end up having more!

It's just like a magic penny:
Hold on tight, and you won't have any!
Lend it, spend it and you'll have so many,
They'll roll all over the floor! Oh!

Love is something -
If you give it away,
Give it away.... etc.

     That was one of my very favorite songs, especially as it had hand motions with it. So I've never forgotten it. Unhappily, though, I had not learned its lessons as well as one would hope. I'm glad I remembered it today. So I'm thinking, is it like exercise? Do you grow more energy the more love you expend?

     Let's find out, shall we?

     Along with the necessary increase in exercise at this age, I'll add a little increased exercising of the love muscle. I'm expecting the joy of childhood singing to be there next weekend.

     After all:

Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

Simply yours,

Patty

Easter "Up Close and Personal"

I first heard the hymn when I joined others of the Chorale in helping our director mourn the loss of her mother at her funeral. I had not known her, so it was not difficult for me as some other departing services have been. But when the last hymn was sung, then something got to me. It was this: I did not know the hymn, and so looked around a bit at the congregation as I listened. Pall bearers came forth and lifted the coffin from its resting place at the front of the sanctuary, and reverently carried it, very slowly, down the aisle and out the door to the waiting hearse.

This is a difficult thing for someone who was raised Baptist. We never spent time discussing or thinking on funerals or memorials, as our belief that the soul had gone either to heaven or hell already was uppermost in our teachings. Add to that Paul's conjunction in a letter to one of the early churches to not "mourn like the heathens do", and we had a zealous tendency to stuff it at times of loss, when others honestly and simply cry. We hadn't learned how to mourn.

As I watched the coffin make its slow way down the aisle, my eyes fell on my director in the front pew with her Presbyterian minister husband. She was finally crying too. She had been strong for our last concert, while her mother lay dying in her hospital bed at home. I had caught only one tiny tear during "All Poor Men" in our Christmas line-up. But now it was time for her to say good-bye forever to a woman who had been such a beautiful Christian role model for her daughter and son-in-law, besides simply her own good mother. That's when I nearly lost it.

My faith had taken quite a beating during my education years and beyond, and now I was 3,000 miles away from my own faith-filled mother, from all my family and my life-long friends. I had a hard time with funerals at any time usually, because they seemed to shout out a final answer: "THERE IS NO HEALING!" This death-knell to faith in prayer was quickly followed by the question, "So is there no resurrection too?" This question surfaced again as I watched the coffin retreating.

But then on my ear fell the words of this hymn I had never heard before. "Jesus lives, and so shall I. Death! thy sting is gone forever." The words were so strong. Where I doubted, each word of this hymn answered with no wavering, the tune lines strong and undefeated. My attention became riveted on it as I watched that evidence of death's victory receding further and further, until it finally was loaded and out of view, driven away, and the doors to the church closed on death.

That was not the final answer. This is:

Jesus lives, and so shall I,
Death! thy sting is gone forever.
He who deigned for me to die,
Lives, the bands of death to sever.
He shall raise me with the just:
Jesus is my hope and trust.

Jesus lives and reigns supreme;
And, His kingdom still remaining,
I shall also be with Him,
Ever living, ever reigning.
God has promised: be it must;
Jesus is my hope and trust.

Jesus lives, I know full well,
Naught from Him my heart can sever,
Life nor death nor pow'rs of hell,
Joy nor grief, henceforth forever.
None of all His saints is lost;
Jesus is my hope and trust.

Jesus lives, and death is now
But my entrance into glory.
Courage, then, my soul,
For thou hast a crown of life before thee;
Thou shalt find thy hopes were just;
Jesus is the Christian's trust.

Lyrics ~ Christian F. Gellert, 1715 - 1769
Trans ~ By Philip Schaff, 1819 - 1893
Music ~ Johann Cruger, 1598 - 1662
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmMKD3PmLW0

Holy Week

It would have been much clearer for us if God would have placed directional signs in our paths: This way-> education, this way-> start a family, this way-> take that job, this way-> retirement now, this way-> buy a house..... It would have been ever so plain as the noses on our faces. But He didn't. He buried all knowledge and wisdom about Himself in an old Book we scarcely understand most of the time, and in people's hearts and minds. But it's up to us to decipher the Book, and up to us to heed the words of wise people, and also to figure out just who is and isn't wise in this world. Why?

It sure leads to some dark doubts. Is God really there? How can I truly know He is guiding my life? Why, if He is there and guiding my life, didn't He guide the lives of those children who died in Haiti, crushed under their own houses right next to their parents who survived, or vice versa? Is He watching us and laughing or frowning at our puny efforts to see the way He so clearly knows?

What pitiful beings we can become when we give way to the darkness and wallow in our uncertainties! But it's easier sometimes, really. I mean, when you look at it as jobs we have because we're humans, then it gets simpler: Because we have brains, we have to make choices about what we're going to think. We use our senses to gather information to make these decisions. What we allow our senses to pay attention to is our choice, being humans. The animals don't have these choices. They are stuck in their instincts. What are our instincts? Pretty similar to the animals, except we've got blunted senses that don't convey instinctual directions to our motor memories the way theirs do, just a "fight or flight" quickened heartbeat and heightened adrenalin, which mainly makes us sweat.

So, to keep to the point, our choices are myriad daily. Not only that, but we're born or develop, whichever you choose, with this sense of guilt when we make the wrong choices, which triggers our one left-over instinct and makes us sweat, and so our decision-making is hampered from the get-go.

This morning I came upon one of those times when my lack of animal instincts and my human responsibility collided to created something I can only call a mini-episode of the dark night of the soul. Considering yet again what direction I should put my whole self into, as I've been putting only bits and pieces of myself into anything ever since the kids were born, I once again had to admit there is no clear path in this life. Others seem to find one, but down the road a ways they always find it wasn't such a clear path after all. So I shouted to God to put some road signs already!

All I ended up with was a prayer in a hymn, learned by many listenings to a cassette tape recording of a concert by our school choir about my freshman year of high school while I spent summers painting by number in my room by the open window filled with a box fan against the Southern California heat:

Spirit of God, descend upon my heart;
wean it from earth; through all its pulses move;
stoop to my weakness, mighty as thou art,
and make me love thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
no sudden rending of the veil of clay,
no angel visitant, no opening skies;
but take the darkness of my doubt away.

Hast thou not bid me love thee, God and King?
All, all thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind.
I see thy cross; there teach my heart to cling.
O let me seek thee, and O let me find.

Teach me to feel that thou art always nigh;
teach me the struggles of the soul to bear.
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh,
teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Teach me to love thee as thine angels love,
one holy passion filling all my frame;
the kindling of the heaven-descended Dove,
my heart an altar, and thy love the flame.

I never quite understood those words in high school days, except for the words of the second verse: I didn't want to see visions, no sir! I was petrified by my mother's constant discussions of Satan and his ways, of people's having seen him and others having seen spirits. I did not ever, ever want to see anything but the physical world, unless it were Jesus Himself. I didn't want to hear voices and I didn't want to speak in tongues. I never wanted anything but the things I could see with my normal, human eyes and things I could pick up and handle, and people I could hug or sing with. I wouldn't mind Jesus, because I knew no matter what form He took it would be filled with love and peace, not ghostly scariness.

I also didn't understand, then, the darkness people's souls got into sometimes. I had a simple, child-like faith I wish I'd never educated myself out of, and I knew with total certainty God was not only there, but holding me in His hand every minute of every day. That didn't keep me from falling into human, everyday fears, but I always had my faith to hold me up.

Then, as I said, I grew up and went out into the world, where things weren't answered anymore by the Book and my parents words, or the words of my pastor and church founding members. They were answered by men and women toiling through their days to the answer, with great difficulty. Sometimes the Book was consulted, but usually it wasn't. In fact, most often in the world outside my little ivory tower the answers in the Book were scoffed at and explained away, even when they provided a direction, a clear path, and thus a way to inner peace.

My search for knowledge and beauty led me so far astray from where I began, I didn't even remember who I was anymore. I continued attending services in churches, and truly believed the faith I had learned as a child, but more and more it became a choice of the will, not a fact of the heart.

I continue in this way daily. Each day I deliberately choose to follow the God whose ways I love. Each day I sift through facts and fictions of the faith I profess with all my heart. Each day I find myself praying along with John Donne:

BATTER my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due,
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason, your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie:
Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe;
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.

I was once privileged to sing these words with the Susquehanna Chorale. I have never forgotten them, because as my doubts multiplied through the years they have been the only words that do justice to my soul's prayer. They were where I began this morning in my journal. I don't want this responsibility, this job of choosing daily the right way, this labor of the mind I brought on by choosing to be a child of the enlightenment, someone who uses my own, God-given intellect to learn new, interesting things and make decisions about where I live and who I go through my days with. By sharpening my mind I opened a Pandora's box of unanswered questions that just won't meekly go back into the box and stay quiet when I tell them to.

This is my point, though long in my getting to it: I believe that this very difficulty proves the answer, that it is much easier both to blindly believe in God and to blindly not believe in God, but that to remain relevant and discern daily duty to Him is the most difficult task a human can attempt. And thereby He is proved. As Tolkien wrote in The Lord of the Rings (from the recent movie):

Merry: [to Frodo] How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?
Frodo: I think a servant of the Enemy would look fairer and feel fouler.

The prophet Isaiah says the same of The Suffering Servant, for-telling Jesus:

He had no form or comeliness that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
he was bruised for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that made us whole,
and with his stripes we are healed. (53:2-5)

The world wants an easy answer. It's human nature to want things to be simple. Life is hard as it is. If someone professes to bring peace he darned well better make it simple and easy, or no one's going to listen to him. But Jesus just plain and simply doesn't do that. He is not pretty. He is, in fact, ugly. We don't want to look at Him still hanging on the cross. We don't like it, it ain't a purty sight.

Jesus said, "Come unto me, all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon me and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Have you ever been in the hospital or bedroom of someone dying of prostate cancer? It ain't a purty sight, and even worse when it's your beloved father. How is that burden easy??

Thanks be to God that Jesus came as an ugly outcast and died a hideous death on a cross meant for you and me!!

That takes the darkness of my doubt away. That makes Easter Sunday possible amidst the ruins of our lives. That makes us able to sing the great Alleluia! with the huge congregation crammed into the pews, as the trumpets blast for all they're worth and the kettle drums sound the announcement - "He is risen!"

Thanks be to God, He didn't make the answers easy for Jesus either. And because of Him we live through this life with difficulty, but oh joy in the morning! At the end of it is the great Alleluia with the angels, but better yet, with our loved ones gone before who suffered through to their reward.

Amen! Alleluia!!

Ramblings on a Fat Tuesday

Tuesday. Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. Fastnacht. Shrove Tuesday. Ash Wednesday Eve.

No woman ever grows up planning to live all on her own with no one to share life with, unless she is messed up in the head. Not my dream, this. But who ever said God gives us our heart’s desire? Oh yeah, only King David, right….. And Solomon, the wisest king who ever lived.  But have I done what’s necessary first? How does the Psalm go?

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart,

And lean not unto thine own understanding;

In all thy ways acknowledge Him,

And He shall direct thy paths.

And again: 

Delight yourself in the Lord

And He will give you the desires of your heart

Commit your way to the Lord,

Trust also in Him

And He shall bring it to pass.

Yes, David and Solomon said it. So, I have been expecting me to receive the desires of my heart without me having delighted myself in the Lord – is it that? But I do so delight myself in the Lord! Or maybe they meant delight only in the Lord….? Is God that picky?

Do I trust in the Lord with all mine heart? Good question. I don’t think so. I think I trust in Him with just a tiny bit of my heart and none of my mind, leaning most often unto mine own understanding. 

Do I acknowledge Him in all my ways? Just what does it mean to acknowledge Him? And do we ever do anything in all our ways? Or what does that phrase mean? And what is it exactly that He shall bring to pass? My desires? My dreams? My plans? Just my stinking schedule for this day alone?! Please!

Commit your way to the Lord – commit is a scary word. I shy away from commit. I don’t like commit. Commit means forever you are going to have to do this, even when your heart calls you elsewhere. Commit is a word not found in the ADDers dictionary. Commit, if done at all by the ADDer, is only done at his or her own prompting. And when it is done it is called Focus, and it is done entirely, completely, whole-heartedly and unswervingly. Commit does not exist by that name for me. So let’s use the word Focus. I love Focus.

I Focus on sewing and quilting and crocheting and knitting very well. When I do beautiful things emerge eventually. But I can’t Focus and make beautiful things and be a good wife and mother at the same time. So I don’t Focus anymore. But right now I guess I am Focusing on this Scripture. So maybe I can do this thing.

But now that I’ve examined that tangent, I must admit that my Focus is not the same as David or Solomon’s Commit. My Focus is self centered, coming from my own mind, emanating from my own ideas, directed only by me. David wrote of committing all that to God. I think he was trying to say I have to give up that autonomy, which is why I run from the word commit so immediately and like lightening.

ADDers don’t give up their autonomy, ever, because we’ve found ourselves stuck in boring, creativity-crushing places all too frequently because of a mere commitment of our autonomy to somebody else. And we honor our commitments.

I don’t want to commit anything to You, Lord – let’s be honest here, because You know anyway. I don’t want to commit – give up to You – anything in my life. I have seen how You devalue people, how You toss away lives like chaff or dust. I have watched You throw away programs and beautiful things already in place that help people, nurture them, create a space for those who have none – and all after those who made these constructs committed them to You. I can’t trust anything to You. Not my ideas, not the desires of my heart, not my life’s dreams, certainly not my children!

Because You don’t really care about them like I do.

In my world I am god, not You.

I can trust myself.

Far better than You.

And that’s exactly why my dreams lie in ruins all about me; my children struggle daily with things I took completely for granted growing up in the playland I did; my family lives in chaos more often than not, not one of us feeling as valued as we really are; and I look back with regrets over a life that didn't turn out at all as I planned it.

So, Lord, thank You for listening to my little diatribe. I guess I don’t make a very good god for myself or my family. I guess I’ve done a completely rotten job of introducing them to the real God, the One who truly can carry their sorrows and light their way in the world. Please help me commit my way unto Thee. Help me acknowledge You in all my ways. Because I want You to bring “it” to pass, whatever “it” may be, as only You know what that is and whether “it” is good for me and mine. 

Thank You, Lord.

Simply thank You.

Sad News in my Inbox

Oh, it's not sad news about any of my family, or anyone extremely close to me, really. It's not sad in that someone died. It's just sad, and it's news, and it's about two very wonderful people who have already had more than seems their fair share of troubles. But it was in my Inbox, and it makes me sad.

To one I returned a prayerful message of support. To the other I did not yet, as the news came via a mass mailing generated by our church choir director. I will send this person a message when I have something better to say besides, "How sad!".

That's why I'm here right now. I've come here to process this news and this feeling, and hopefully come out of this time with peace and words of support for my friends. Already I have a starting point, a verse which came to me as I typed the message to one friend.

"The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song." Psalm 28:7

I love this verse. I am a singer from birth. When I'm happy, I sing. When my heart is hurting, I seek a song to express it. When I doubt, or strive in prayer for words, it's the words of songs that I think of first. I thought first of this hymn:

"When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
"It is well, it is well with my soul."

From there words simply flowed, from the Spirit to the page, and I found myself typing a prayer just thought up on the spot that fit the circumstance perfectly. These were not my words, I am a bumbler when it comes to words, which is why I sing - somebody else can think them up much better than I! I guess Somebody did.


So just now, while attempting to remember why I thought I had to type this in here, on the Oprah show my son was watching in the next room there came a singer who performed the "Hallelujah" from Shrek that I've loved for years. How right for my mood, how perfect the words for my friend's situations! I once had a pastor who preached an entire sermon on this song. That was before I ever saw Shrek. I can't hear it now without crying at some point. I've learned what "it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah" really means.

Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah lyrics

And I think I know why that pastor took the entire sermon slot to expound upon a pop song not many had yet even heard. His point, if I remember right (and that's debatable), was that the singer kept on singing "Hallelujah". He kept on singing it, over and over. He said that's the life of faith, that someone decides that his praise is broken, his life means nothing, his hope is dead - but he keeps on singing "Halleujah". Doesn't stop. Goes on and on, singing this one word: "Hallelujah".

This word is Hebrew הַלְּלוּיָהּ. In our favorite church Latin it's Alleluia. Means the same thing. From Wikipedia:

In the Hebrew Bible hallelujah is actually a two-word phrase, not one word. The first part, hallelu, is the second-person imperative masculine plural form of the Hebrew verb hallal. However, "hallelujah" means more than simply "praise Yah", as the word hallel in Hebrew means a joyous praise, to boast in God, or to act madly or foolishly.The second part, Yah, is a shortened form of the name of God YHWH, sometimes rendered in English as "Yahweh" or "Jehovah". in Hebrew means a joyous praise, to boast in God, or to act madly or foolishly.

So, praise God. Praise God when your daughter's upcoming marriage dissolves and simultaneously you're summoned to defend yourself in a court of law - you, a fine, upstanding citizen and humble Christian. Praise God when you've walked with a family member through their own personal hell, then buried one of your best friends, then your wife gets breast cancer. Praise God. Praise God when you receive your notice this time that your job is being cut, and you just put your daughter in an expensive college because it's the right thing to do for her. Praise God. Do this mad, this crazy thing, and do it in a joyous way!

Not because we're happy. Not because we think if we do God will remove the horrors and the heartache from us. Not because we're good mules and do what we're told. Not because we just always have so we always will because we're creatures of good habit. Not because we're afraid if we don't we'll go to hell when we die of this thing.

We praise God in horrible times because we praise God! We praise God in terribly sad times because we praise God! We praise Him alike in good and in bad, knowing exactly what's coming next and knowing nothing about tomorrow; anticipating good things and fearing the worst. Praise God!

We can't hold it together, folks. We try and we try so hard we break with trying to hold all the pieces in place long enough to take one crummy picture to remember the moment by. But we can't do it. We're a cold and broken people, and if we don't realize it and start foolishly singing a cold and broken Hallelujah, we're going to disappear entirely, because we're not strong enough to exist in and of our human selves. Nope. Sorry. Can't do it. We're not magical beings, and all our amazing brains are only piddly compared with the universe God created.

So we choose to praise, instead of curse. We choose to walk in faith alone, when there is nothing under our feet resembling solid earth, when the rug has been pulled, when the pit of our stomachs are turned to quivering water.... because He is God, and we are His people and the sheep of His pasture, and that's what God's people do.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

We praise Him because we're His sheep and He is the Good Shepherd, who knows the sheep and just what makes us tick. He knows what we need before our requests are even on our lips, He has already answered them, provided exactly the right thing, filled the order to perfection, better than we can ourselves because He knows so much better what we truly need. 

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Sing praises to the God of your life, who is still the God of your life whether you feel happy or sad, secure or scared to death. Praise Him with singing, and praise Him with dancing. No sitting in the pew praise, this! No mumbling behind a hanky! Stand up and hit that high C! Make a spectacle of yourself, already! Go ahead and break the family rules, draw attention to yourself, stick out like a sore thumb, I dare you! Just see what singing a resounding Hallelujah! can do for your outlook.

If you think I'm talking a lot of hot air, just know that I have tried this, and I cannot describe the balm that came over me in the midst of a heart-breaking Thanksgiving celebration while my father lay wasted away in his bed down the hall and the family joined in proclaiming Psalm 136 in chorus, whether they thought I was crazy or not. Dad died the next December 29, 2002. He is now singing forever:

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

  

Someday I'll join him in harmony, but I join him every time I sing down here while I live out this life I've been called to sing through.

Hallelujah!

Simply praising,

Patty 

Please visit my fundraising page at Mercy Corps

http://www.mercycorps.org/fundraising/patty

Dear Friends,

I know you have all been watching the news as I have, anguishing over the unfathomed losses in Haiti from the recent devestating earthquake. If you've been wondering what you can do, wonder no more! I have set up a fundraising page on the Mercy Corps site you can use to donate whatever amount you can. For now I've set a goal of $1000, but if I near that soon, I will raise the goal.

If anyone would like to match whatever amount I can raise, please let me know and I will publicize it here.

Simply aching for those families,
Patty

Now it can be Christmas

I just realized I had forgotten to post this here, so I'm sharing it late for those who haven't seen it on Facebook. As it happened, I never made those cookies. But I will simply make twice as many next year.

Patty

Thursday, December 24, 2009 at 4:15pm

 

We used to bake cookies with Mom at Christmas time, then take the plates to neighbor friends' families. It wasn't Christmas till we did that. Spritz or Press cookies, and Refrigerator Roll Dough Sugar Cookies, out of the old Betty Crocker cookbook that they re-released a few years back. (I bought one for my daughter, but she doesn't use it because it's old fashioned - oi!).

We helped Mom decorate them by lightly pressing colored sugars on them after she painted them with egg whites. Our fingers turned Christmas colors! We listened to Tennessee Ernie Ford and the Boston Pops and Perry Como, and the Robert Shaw Chorale, and a recording of carols called something like "Santa's Christmas Elves Sing Carols" that had songs like "Oh Come, Little Children" and "Up On the Housetop Reindeer Pause", which I did not hear for decades until recently.... I still turn on those records at least once in the Christmas season, usually Christmas Eve day while I bake (though I've lost the Santa's Elves one and have never seen it anywhere else). I will be baking later today (I hope!), and it will finally really be Christmas.

There are times during the season when I say, "Now it's Christmas!" Each one of these times is when something I used to do, hear, smell, taste comes back to me in reality. Baking cookies is one of the most sacred of these memories, maybe because it was passed down from our mother, and I even have her cookie cutters now because she doesn't do it anymore. The Christmas music is a given - without it there is no Christmas. I start in about October 1st, or even earlier, as I did this year because it hadn't rained in so long, when it did come back it was like Christmas in So. Cal. Christmas music is the backdrop for everything Christmas.

Then ought to come Christmas card writing, but we haven't been able to do that at the right time since the kids were born almost 19 years ago. I don't multi-task, which is evident to anyone entering our humble domicile. Stuff is strewn from one end to the other. To make a plan and follow it was the realm of youthful freedom, never to be experienced again until empty-nest time. Not that I'm looking forward to that..... How will there ever be Christmas without expectant voices and people bounding out of bed at 6:00 am on Christmas morning? Well, I'll leave that for a future time. This is about now.

Then present choosing.... oh boy. First I have to settle the bank account, then I have to settle the billed accounts, then I have to settle my conscience. Then I have to find a way to communicate with the absent and absent-minded professor of the family as to what he thinks we should give the kids this year. And plan and execute distance Christmas giving for relatives and beloved friends far away - if there is money for it. But that's all part of the game of Christmas time. Often about now I start making gifts because I can afford that and they mean so much more than store bought anyway, only to forget about a half-made afghan or set of place mats in the run up to the Big Day. Eventually I realize it was silly of me to imagine I could ever finish that handmade item in time to mail it anyway, and go out and buy something.

Then it's time to think of inviting people to our annual Musical New Year's Eve Party. Only it was really time about three months ago, because people seem to have made their New Year's Eve plans by October 1st already every year, so two people show up. But I can try, can't I? Sure!

Along about December 1st I realize I haven't got anything ordered online for anybody, and start stressing about it because I only remember what it is I want to order when I'm driving the car, which is no place to turn on the laptop and start choosing gifts I can afford from companies that can ship by Christmas. The police are taking a dim view of things like that these days, for some reason. So I remember around 1:00 am when I wake up to go to the bathroom, and can't get back to sleep till 5:00 am, which means I don't wake up till about 7:30 am, just in time to push my son into the car and recklessly drive him to the high school and shove him out the door on the corner because I refuse to sit in that long line of cars, which means he'll be late anyway. Yes, early December is a very interesting time of the Christmas season. But the choir is gearing up to it's big shebang, and that makes it more Christmas yet.

The choir does its big shebang. Sometimes I have the privilege of singing a solo, which makes it so much more special for me. I almost feel professional when I can do that. I don't do the solos I used to, that made it Christmas for my husband years ago. He used to say, "It's not Christmas until you sing that," but these old, neglected vocal chords just can't negotiate the high G in "Gesu Bambino" anymore, nor the building tessatura of "O Holy Night", especially at 11:45 pm with candles breathing all my oxygen. That used to make it Christmas. There's a lovely, young soprano who can do it quite easily now, so I let her. But it's not quite Christmas.

There used to be several other things that made it Christmas for me. One of them was caroling to the shut-ins. But in our enlightened stage of being as a Christian society (I'm talking about the Church here), Christmas caroling has been relegated to the trash heap along with Christmas parties, which used to follow the caroling, at least in my experience. It simply amazes me that a church with at least 1500 members cannot get up a caroling party to minister to our sick and aging members, and others, sometime in December. I think this will have to be a duty of mine in coming years, since others don't seem to be interested in creating that avenue of ministry. But I digress. Enough maybe to say it simply can't be Christmas completely without that activity somewhere in the calendar, preferably close to Christmas itself.

There's the tree, of course. Getting the tree was always a family activity. It was especially cherished because it was something Dad did too, and in fact we never did it without him because he was the guy strong enough to carry it, and knew just what kind of tree was healthy, etc. He drove us all around town, hitting every Scout or Lions' Club lot and the grocery and department stores' too. We sang carols all the way. We didn't have to get a tree the first time, or the second time, or even the third. We had to find the perfect tree, that all of us agreed on. Boy, that was hard! But it was good, because this time with my family, riding around town seeing the lights and city street decorations most cities don't use anymore, and singing carols was a precious heaven to me. I miss it. It's not thoroughly Christmas without it.

Often we combined tree hunting with our yearly trip to Hastings Ranch, without which Christmas simply could not come. If you don't know Hastings Ranch, you're not a Southern Californian. Ask one, they'll tell you how each street in the neighborhood was decked out in themes: Candy Cane Lane, Santa Claus Avenue, Christmas Tree Street, etc. You thought you'd been transported to the North Pole, except for the temperature! For us kids it was heaven, truly enchanting, completely escapist. When we entered the development, all arguings ceased, we broke out in song, and all joined in with one voice: "O come all ye faithful!" or "Deck the halls with boughs of holly, falalalala, la-la, la la!" or "We three kings of orient are, bearing gifts we've traversed afar..." And we pretended we were the Three Kings, traversing afar through Santa's winter wonderland. Our parents were never so happy with us. The enchantment included the lights of the valley below. Yes, it was a fairytale I've never seen anywhere else. Nothing can equal Hastings Ranch at Christmas!

Then there's wrapping and putting the presents under the tree, and baking the cookies with Mom, school presentations: with one voice each First Lutheran School class recited a portion of the Christmas Story from Luke 2, until by 8th grade we had learned the entire thing: "

1And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.

2(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

3And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

4And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

5To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

6And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

7And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

8And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

12And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

14Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

15And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

16And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

17And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.

18And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

19But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.

20And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

But I had learned the entire thing by the second year, I think, as we listened to each other rehearsing several times before we performed it on the last day of school (or was it in church the Sunday following?). Does anyone teach children this way anymore? It's very effective, and not thoroughly Christmas without it, which is why Charlie Brown Christmas is so beloved of people our age, I guess. Another of the things that make it truly Christmas is that little cartoon. Check it out.

These childhood memories make my Christmas. Our lives are founded on memories. That's why when you take a bull-dozer and flatten a piece of property - houses, trees, fences, driveways, ivy, trash heap full of rats, three-car garage packed full of an old woman's memories, and every blade of grass that ever was on that property - you murder a vital part of a human's soul. Yet, miraculously, that part of that soul is not dead, not gone, not forgotten. It's kept alive by memories of those trees, that house, those rats in the ivy-covered trash heap, that walnut tree we used to climb every day against our mother's fearful wishes for our safety. And the music inside that house lives in that soul, and the music of the voices of that family dances in that heart, and it's Christmas wherever she is at Christmas time, because she carries those memories wherever she goes.

But Christmas - Christ Mass - comes to me most certainly only on Christmas Eve, only when, all alone, I've put away the choir music or solos and my black folder into my slot in the choir room, I don my coat and singers' scarf against whatever weather is out there by 12:30 am on December 25th, I hold my keys in my right hand, put my left hand in my wool coat pocket, and walk across the frosty asphalt to my waiting car, under the starry host of heaven, and look up and breathe in the "ruach" of the One that hovered over the face of the waters at Creation.

Crisp and clear comes the angel song, "Gloria in excelsis deo, et in terra pax!" For me alone, Christ is born, in the middle of a frozen night, in a frozen time when people's hearts are hard against Him, and my life before is dead, and my hopes for the future doubtful.... for me all alone in a frosty night, Christ is born, free gift of a loving Father God; free with no attachments, not deserved, no payback expected - just free: Christ, the Messiah, Savior of the world - for me.

I drive home, in silence or listening to a previously recorded St. Olaf Choir on NPR, pondering in my heart as I negotiate stop lights and freeway and avoid possibly inebriated fellow revelers, still looking for or perhaps carrying home this very same Gift. I come in quietly, ready to play Santa to a sleeping household. I finish my final duty of Christmas, then sit for a few moments in front of the tree, pondering the One represented in that tiny, ceramic figure in the ceramic hay and manger in the little wooden, moss-covered stable under my tree.

Then it is Christmas indeed. Leave the cookies and the lights and the carols and the shopping and the greetings. Leave the work still to be done, the worries and the hopes. Leave the noise and bustle and the loneliness and longings: It is Christmas in my heart. It is Christmas for the world. Mine to give freely away as It was given to me.

And now it is Christmas for you as I give to you what I've received. Please accept my Gift to you, that comes with love from the Father. It's for you, just you alone, after all. You, in the midst of all others, receive the One come down for you.

Merry Christmas to you all, and may you experience today whatever makes it Christmas finally for you, in your heart.