tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795238657381677362024-02-06T19:04:13.272-08:00My Simple Song "Sing God a Simple Song... "-BernsteinPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-58987018828601966692020-03-21T20:23:00.001-07:002020-03-21T20:23:26.578-07:00<header class="entry-header" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #444340; font-family: "Source Sans Pro", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 175px; padding: 1.3em 1.6em 0px 1.9em; position: absolute; transform: translateY(-100%) translateY(0.4em); width: calc(100% - 175px); z-index: 1;"><h1 class="entry-title" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; font-family: Yrsa, sans-serif; font-size: 32px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: color 0.2s ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">What I Would Say to You This Saturday of Covid-19</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">(This post is for Kathryn Elise Rose Farrell McDonald O’Conaill – though the initial verse is for another. But after the verse, my words are only for one pair of hazel eyes.)</span></div>
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Comments are not needed, though a communication from the one this is for is prayed for every day.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />“…but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries… Your dream and the visions that passed through your mind as you were lying in bed…” <br />-The Bible, The Book of Daniel, Chapter 2<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />No matter what, I remain your mother. And a mother’s love is forever and ever, and only grows with time. Don’t ever forget that. No matter how we erred, love was the reason. That we didn’t know how to show it does not really matter, in the long run. Love never dies. There will never be another human being on this earth who will love you as much as your mom and dad. And don’t forget you have a brother, who wants to love you, if you’ll only let him.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />You are beautiful, and I don’t wish for you ever to have been anyone but who you are. Know that, believe it, and remember it for always. Always. I have vastly changed since I tried, without enough wisdom, to raise you in my faith. And mostly it is due to finding you, your real you, and loving you more than myself still, falling on my face before God all through Lent one year ago in repentance, waiting to be forgiven, and being lifted up by Grace to go on, working on learning the things I had blocked from my so frightened, fundamentalist-raised mind. I see what I had missed in my fear. Too late, I know, but anytime is better than never at all. Know this, because it’s true. <em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Perfect Love casteth out fear.”</em> In the words of the old song, “I’ve found it so; I’ve found it so.”<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />I pray for you to believe in the wide, vast, all-encompassing Love of the Great Creator Spirit, whom I will always call my Father God, but you may call by another name, even not a god-like name, something from another faith tradition, no faith, whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ve tried life without faith, and it simply does not work. Anyone who says they have survived this life totally and completely alone is lying to you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else calls God, or what name you want to give the Life-sustainer, but He/She/It/They is there, keeping humanity in existence in spite of ourselves. I choose to worship Him as a Holy Father, because all God’s promises, that I took to be for me, have always proven true. God never leaves us nor forsakes us. God with us, Immanuel, is here. And God is Love. And Love knows no bounds, and the darkness has never overcome It.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />The One I know as God is beyond all language anyhow, and also infinitessimally tiny, as tiny as a Cell, a Zygote, a Fetus, a Baby, as large as a Man on a cross for no crimes, a God up from the grave leading prisoners of lies, a Vision in the great, great cloud of witnesses…. and beyond. My prayer is that you will remember God, and know that you are enfolded in the center of the Being that we know as Love personified, and hold close the certain knowledge that that God is with you, will never leave you, sticks closer than breathing, is the breath of your life forever, will never ever let you fall, has kept you your whole life through and brought you even to this very point in time together with Them.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />When you want to disbelieve, or your mind can’t grasp the right side (or the left side…?) of itself long enough to believe, or however you want to think of it – when you can’t believe, just know God is greater even than your disbelief, look at your life and how on earth you have come to survive this long and think what for? Maybe that will help. It has helped me to survive this far, split in pieces by my three other family members, striving to pull myself back together in some shape, hoping always beyond hope to live into healing for not myself, but you and your brother, and even your father.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />But only God can say if that is the plan. I just know it’s the only plan worth living for, and so I live. Healing, forgiveness, and love are the only reasons I exist now.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />You hold that in your hands, and I hold you in my heart for always, always. When I am gone, as perhaps may happen in this curren crisis, you can look here and see, and know beyond any shadow of a doubt that you are loved, held, forgiven if there be anything to forgive, prayed for even from heaven, where the God of all prepares a place for you as He has me and your brother, and even your dad. And one day we will be reunited with all our warts washed clean off with only the shining joy remaining.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Shalom to you now, shalom, my beloved one,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />May God’s full mercies bless you, my dear one,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />In all your living, and through your loving,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Christ be your Shalom, Christ be your Shalom.</em>*<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" /><br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Until we meet again, here or in heaven, and all your life through, may God hold you in the palm of God’s hand.</div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Hide me in the shadow of your wings<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Keep me as the apple of your eye<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />In the shadow of your wings I sing for joy<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Who can harm me if you are for me?<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Blessed be your name forever!</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">All around me the waves grew high<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />The sea was violent with the sound of many waters<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />The ocean, raging, came at me at midnight<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Who will save me from these powerful foes?</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Lord is my rock and strong deliverer.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Hide me in the shadow of your wings<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Keep me as the apple of your eye<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />In the shadow of your wings I sing for joy<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Who can harm me if you are for me?<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />Blessed be your name forever,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />And ever!</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Amen!</em></div>
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(<u>Psalmodish</u>, 2011)</div>
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<figure class="aligncenter size-large" style="box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; display: table; margin: 0.8em auto;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-550" data-attachment-id="550" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="psalmodish-browns-ferry-park" data-large-file="https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg?w=489" data-medium-file="https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg?w=225" data-orig-file="https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg" data-orig-size="489,652" data-permalink="https://pattyfarrell53.wordpress.com/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park/" sizes="(max-width: 489px) 100vw, 489px" src="https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg?w=489" srcset="https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg 489w, https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg?w=113 113w, https://pattyfarrell53.files.wordpress.com/2020/03/psalmodish-browns-ferry-park.jpg?w=225 225w" style="box-sizing: inherit; display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%;" /><figcaption style="box-sizing: inherit; caption-side: bottom; clear: both; display: table-caption; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; margin: 0.8em 0px; text-align: center;">Psalmodish, Brown’s Ferry Park, Tualatin, OR</figcaption></figure></div>
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*(<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Song of Shalom, Mexico/Elise Eslinger, Alt.</em>)</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-9758842602799200132019-02-25T11:50:00.000-08:002019-02-25T12:02:39.469-08:00On My Face<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is just what I do, and I'm told I do it well. I write emotions. Sigh... Oh well. Though no one who can pay money really seems to want to pay money for writing emotions, it's what I do, so I'll do that.<br />
Emotions aren't always appreciated by others, though. Self-focus is perceived by many as self-centeredness. This is tragic, at times, because it separates people and keeps them from understanding each other.<br />
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And why do I remain so self-focused in my writings? If I were really mature, as I well ought to be by this age, I'd be focusing on others in my writings, not on myself, right?<br />
But no one can clearly see others if the log isn't first taken out of their own eye. And my self-focus has this purpose, only for a time, only to finally clear the huge, redwood-tree log out of my way, to clearly see all the people around me. See them for real, in truth, in compassionate acceptance for the people they truly are.<br />
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That's it. That's my purpose. That's my focus. For that reason.<br />
So I share emotions, because they are the feedback of our souls, and I find I am not alone in this journey of self-understanding for the purpose of living strongly in the world with clear other-understanding.<br />
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Clear away the motes and the logs and the bricks and the walls I've put up between myself and those that I fear, because I don't understand them, because the Bible condemned them, because my parents reject them, because my own self is averse to their existence due to all the above. Clear it away! Have nothing between the me and the them, the me and the you.<br />
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Nothing, that is, except a cross, which beam connects with God, which arms connect me to you.<br />
If that One came to be lifted up across the walls we raise between each other and a ladder to God on High, how can we turn our backs on Him, on His sacrifice, on His Way, the Way of the Cross of our own walls and motes and logs.<br />
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On my knees.<br />
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On my face.<br />
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On my face and on my knees before God, before you, I humbly offer my sacrifice: walls and logs and motes of tradition and rules and judgment and alienation and ostracizing and aversions.<br />
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And my apologies - such a weak word for what I feel, but what other is there? - for my blind part and my conscious part in your lifelong struggles.<br />
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Love is Lord of heaven and earth; how can I keep from singing it to <i>you</i>?<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRhujopTr9k&start_radio=1&list=RDBRhujopTr9k">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRhujopTr9k&start_radio=1&list=RDBRhujopTr9k</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-88093769579889963732019-02-07T10:10:00.001-08:002019-02-07T10:10:34.925-08:00I am debating taking this blog down.<br />
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I am not who I was when I began it, I am not even who I was when I changed it, nor even who I was last week, or even yesterday.<br />
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It is full of innocence and ignorance. Life is <i>never</i> simple. <i>Never</i>.<br />
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I will take the writings off, and save the images, and perhaps refer to them in the future. But they are not who I want to present to the world, ravings of someone who thought she knew something about life, about God, about love.<br />
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So I'm going to take them out of the world as far as I can, and save them only to remind myself how blind I've been.<br />
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I only know this: God is good. All the time.<br />
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Simply repentant - no, not "simply", not ever again, for <i>nothing</i> is simple, <i>ever again</i>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Patty</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10607033">https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10607033</a><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-10322813575097653912015-01-28T08:39:00.000-08:002015-01-28T08:39:05.179-08:00Faith in the Night<div class="clearfix" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15.3599996566772px; zoom: 1;">
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">January 28, 2015 at 7:11am</span></h2>
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You thought your family was the safest thing to put your trust in; the surest, the most solid foundation, the best bet. You poured all your love and sweat and tears into these two or three monsters, enjoying most of it - even the dirty bits, because you knew they would grow up and be gone one day. You knew they would become loving adults, eventually, giving back some at least of what you were draining yourself of to raise them in the most healthy way possible, given the circumstances. Family - it's what's touted all around this country now as the one thing that trumps all others, and what will keep you going when it's rough, and what will pull you up when you fall, and what it's all worth it for. Family.</div>
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Until they rise up and don't call you blessed.</div>
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No, they don't always bless their mother, or their father. Sometimes for no apparent reason they demand their share of the inheritance and ride off into the sunset, cursing your name.</div>
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Or just dissolve into a heap of brain sickness.</div>
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Or both.</div>
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So then you have to wonder, whence does my help come? If Family is not the solid thing I thought it was, what or who or Who is? </div>
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Its all well and good to preach about trusting in the Solid Rock of our God, but when He is less solid than your family, and they vanish from under you, what then?</div>
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I put my entire faith and everything I am in my children, my husband, my home. I didn't even know I did it. It's just what we do here in America, even we who call ourselves Christians. While preaching and teaching and believing that we ourselves put our faith wholly in the One True God, follow His Son Jesus' teachings, and pray listening for the Spirit daily, we actually take our security and serenity from our families, careers, retirement packages, etc.</div>
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I know I did, without realizing it, until they weren't there anymore to bolster my feelings for me. Then bye-bye comfort, bye-bye any feeling of accomplishment, bye-bye that cozy feeling of being surrounded by people who understand you, bye-bye security. Nothing left to cling to. So sorry. But you'll have to put your faith where you mouth is from now on.</div>
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Remember that? Faith? Faith.... </div>
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"Faith is the essence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" - or so you'd been taught long ago, and you'd always said you believed it. But you never really knew what you were talking about, and neither do most other people you come in contact with in your safe, comfortable, middle-class life. You just don't. Oh, you can't be blamed, really, because you've had no reason to learn what faith really is about. You may have been saved at some point from your own guilt through faith in Christ's cleansing blood, or some other denominational preference from the Gospels. But you've never had the chance to really test and prove that faith.</div>
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Till now. Till you lie awake and bereft at 2:00am and wonder, "Whence does my help come?" You're the only one who can do this; the only one who can walk by the side of the loved one, pay the bills, unstop the drain, keep the wolf from the door, keep the children from the evils of the world they are not ready for yet.... And you are not enough.</div>
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This is where faith comes in. Real faith. The real deal faith. The kind of faith the folks in South America and Africa, and Russia, and Iraq, etc. are practicing every moment of every day, or so I've heard. Faith that we Americans only sing about but never really have to learn of first hand.</div>
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Where do they get this faith, those beleaguered folks far away? Where did our forefathers get theirs? We're told their world was much harder than ours here in the good ol' US of A in the 21st century. Is that where they got their solid faith? </div>
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I asked for a chance to prove my loyalty to God, years ago when I was a rash, young thing. I was going to be true, I was. I was ready to do and dare, and be a Daniel. I was just itching for the chance to trust God to the death, like the Christians in the lion arenas. </div>
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But I wasn't in 1st century Jerusalem or Greece or wherever those first Christians proved our faith. So I waited in vain for a chance to prove mine, not seeing the chances in front of my face, of course. I worked on blending in with the culture around me, because more than anything I craved inclusion, acceptance, and a happy circle of friends to which I truly belonged.</div>
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Only I didn't belong anywhere until I went to college and found my music family in the choir at Chapman. I wonder if this was how my daughter felt before and when she found Willowbrook.... I knew who I was then and evermore.... Until I had children. Then I REALLY knew who I was forevermore.... Until they started growing up. </div>
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Then I had nothing.</div>
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"Faith is the essence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."</div>
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My faith apparently had become nonexistant, one of those things not seen and only hoped for. Three long years I toiled to remember who I was, Whose I was, and why I thought I was here. But my poor brain, creative as it is, cannot conjur the presence of God. He remains on His own terms hidden in the shadows and springing forth in the bright sun, lurking behind the clouds and buried in the ground with a loved one. He is not subject to conjuring, nor to anything else. But His own Love for us.</div>
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This is why we venerate the family; it mirrors God's love for us, for the Church. In the middle of the night, if I am not to die of a heart attack brought on by the stress of carrying my son and my daughter in my mind constantly, I must remember the faith I grew at the age of 10, 11, 12..... and through my high school years. I must recall the innocence of that trust, a very child-like thing, not seeking to reason or to find explanations, only accepting. </div>
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Because to tell the truth, that's the only thing there is to do at 2:00am when you lie awake and bereft wondering who's going to replace the light bulb you can't reach, or decide where your brain sick son will live, or make the connection with your daughter that she'll finally understand....</div>
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"Remember," Luke Skywalker mouthed in the fighter jet, as the voice of Alec Guinness shut out the sounds of the world-altering battle around him.</div>
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Remember... "I AM with you always, even unto the end of the world."</div>
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Faith. That's all there is to it.</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Simply in faith,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Patty</span></i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-53160938647062059802014-09-27T11:17:00.000-07:002014-09-27T11:17:03.395-07:00<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xap1/v/t1.0-9/s180x540/947241_494623657341062_8318562000584614626_n.jpg?oh=6a8a59e6bd7b1d9be2b3d923c7613540&oe=54BAE89C&__gda__=1418071641_3bb04088bb65b2cd4e4391230d35c14e" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="photo_img img" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xap1/v/t1.0-9/s180x540/947241_494623657341062_8318562000584614626_n.jpg?oh=6a8a59e6bd7b1d9be2b3d923c7613540&oe=54BAE89C&__gda__=1418071641_3bb04088bb65b2cd4e4391230d35c14e" title="" width="290" /></a><b>Message of the Wee Hours</b><br />
<br />
<span class="photo photo_right"></span><br />
<blockquote>
<i>I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,</i><br />
<i>from whence cometh my help.</i><br />
<i>My help cometh from the Lord,</i><br />
<i>which made heaven and earth.</i><br />
<i>He will not suffer thy foot to be moved:</i><br />
<i>he that keepeth thee will not slumber.</i><br />
<i>Behold, he that keepeth Israel</i><br />
<i>shall neither slumber nor sleep.</i><br />
<i>The Lord is thy keeper:</i><br />
<i>the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.</i><br />
<i>The sun shall not smite thee by day,</i><br />
<i>nor the moon by night.</i><br />
<i>The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil:</i><br />
<i>he shall preserve thy soul.</i><br />
<i>The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in</i><br />
<i>from this time forth, and even for evermore.</i><br />
<i>Psalm 121 (KJV)</i><br />
</blockquote>
Married with these words:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Psalm 91 (KJV)</i></span><br />
</blockquote>
<br />
Have
you ever woken up in the middle of the night bright and chipper and
ready for the day? Even after going to bed late, like at midnight? Well,
I have! Many a time, indeed. Last night was probably due to the diet
Pepsi I had in the afternoon. I keep forgetting I cannot drink pop
drinks with caffeine in them and expect to sleep at night. Silly me!<br />
<br />
I
had duly fallen asleep around 10:30, after watching an old movie I'd
never seen, Bonjour Tristesse, just as an old movie I've heard of all my
life but probably never watched was starting, From Here to Eternity. I
got up and went to bed around 11:00, putting the house to sleep as
usual. I went to sleep with no problem.<br />
<br />
However, at
midnight I was awakened by a very loud, incessant BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEP right in my ear! I'd forgotten I had inadvertently turned on an
alarm I didn't know my new bedside clock had, linked to a button I must
have pushed the night before while looking for an OFF switch for the
radio I couldn't see in the dark. I finally found the way to turn off
the horrible BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP in my ear, by holding down the off
switch. Ok! What will they think of next?!<br />
<br />
Somehow I went back to sleep soon after that.<br />
<br />
But
I was rudely jolted out of sleep at 2:30am by my cat jumping in the
window right above me and rattling the "nice" vertical blinds. I've had
so much turmoil over this coming ISP meeting, (which I called but which
is being railroaded by the case manager and her supervisor), that OF
COURSE I could not go back to sleep. I rolled over and my mind
immediately went to work on the problem again. To no avail, AGAIN.<br />
<br />
I
tossed over and over for THREE HOURS, trying again and again with my
dull intellect and scant information about The System and The Laws to
solve the unsolvable. The cat continued her hijinks until I finally got
up out of bed and put a stop to her swiping at the shower curtain, by
shutting the bathroom door with her outside it.<br />
<br />
Still no sleep.<br />
<br />
I
suddenly remembered that I am a Christian, and that my mother made
darned sure my head would be chock full of Bible verses before she would
ever let me out the door as a teenager and a young adult. Oh yes. I'm
supposed to repeat Scripture when I can't sleep. And pray. Oh that's
right.<br />
<br />
But how many times have I remembered these verses,
and how many times have I prayed these prayers? And none of them helped.
Everything stays the same. My daughter hates me, my son is caught
inside his own mind, and my husband has exiled me forever from my home
and hearth. My son refuses to allow his father to be present for any
reason to help me fight his battles. My debts are greater than I can
ever pay, short of dissolving the small retirement which is all I have
left of 30 years of marriage, and the debts mount daily in spite of my
making payments each month due to the usury of the credit card companies
and the government banks. And I cannot get a job, no matter how many
ways I stand on my head or jump through blazing hoops. Nothing is ever
solved by my repeating Bible verses and praying in the middle of the
night.<br />
<br />
However, it's all I have. So I decide to let the
questions stop, decide to just let go, decide to call on the Force,
otherwise known as God. I figure if He's really out there He's got to
hear me calling Him to duty, right? I mean, that's what God wants,
right? So there I lay, tossing and turning still, but now willing to
hear what the Spirit is saying to the churches, or at least to me.
Right? Of course right!<br />
<br />
Into my mind come the words, "The
Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand." Well, long have I known that
one. I wondered why it mattered that I knew that one. These words got
mixed up in my head with words from another great Psalm, and in the wee
hours they floated in and out of my consciousness for awhile. And then I
began thinking on what that phrase means that says, "the Lord is thy
shade upon they right hand." I remembered a summer Bible study with Beth
Moore videos and study book, a great gathering of sisters at Lake Grove
Presbyterian some years back, in which we studied the Psalms of Ascent.
This phrase was discussed, and it was explained that in battle a
warrior's left side was shielded by his left arm, while his right was
only protected by the sword in his right hand. When his right hand was
lifted toward an enemy then, his right side was left undefended from
other foes. Hence the importance of having a "right hand man", so to
speak. And a "shade" is a protection, or it might be a shadow, or a
doppelganger, I supposed.<br />
<br />
The past weeks and months have
been fraught with new worries about my son's future and totally
unsolvable situations for which I have been the sole responsible
person, and I have made mistakes and I am going to continue making
them, feeling totally and utterly alone, even surrounded by loving
church family and supported by my family members and friends. No one is
able to be present, and even if they were they don't have the
knowledge of The System and The Laws to really be helpful. A body just
for moral support would simply make me look silly, I want to avoid that
indeed. But I cannot stand in my human ignorance and think I can take
on this System. I cannot sit at that table alone and protect my son
from whatever they are bound and determined to make happen in his life.
They have assembled laws and rules that shut a parent out entirely if
they so choose, and they seem to be so choosing. They will take over
this meeting, I know this. And I have no earthly power to stop them. If
you know anything about me, you know this is the greatest evil in my
life, not to be able to do anything about the wrongs being done my son,
as was the other greatest evil, the wrongs done my daughter.<br />
<br />
So
I thought of God as my Right Hand Man in the struggle in which I am
currently embroiled daily, until I fell asleep a bit after 5:30am. I had
finally given up solving the puzzle alone, and let my Right Hand Man
take over. In the morning I looked up these two Psalms, which I've
copied above. I read them now with great peace which passes all
understanding. And that is saying quite a mountain for me.<br />
<br />
So
since I am powerless, and God loves the powerless, these words I've
copied above are for me. "Great peace have they which love Thy law, and
nothing shall cause them to stumble," is another great Psalm that was
given me one day at Moms In Touch, and it is so true. So very true. When
I remember my Heavenly Doppelganger Shadow, protecting my vulnerable
right side while I try to find the answers for my children, I no longer
feel I am struggling alone, or struggling at all. Because He's the one
doing the struggling, and for Him it's no fight at all. He's already won
it.<br />
<br />
Now that I am aware of my utter powerlessness, I can
give up and let Him who knew no wrong take the wheel. Don't you love how
I mix my metaphors. I do. I love that they are coming in one after the
other now in poetic phrase after poetic phrase, to comfort, to bolster,
and to accompany me on my way. I hope I remember them all when I get to
the meeting on Tuesday alone. But, as you can see here, I'm not truly
alone, am I?<br />
<br />
I smile as I type that last paragraph.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
Jesus, take the wheel,<br />
Take it from my hands.<br />
Cause I can't do this on my own.<br />
I'm letting go.<br />
So give me one more chance,<br />
Save me from this road I'm on.<br />
Oh Jesus, take the wheel. (Carrie Underwood)</blockquote>
<br />
Thank
You for saving me from this road I've been on, always thinking I'm the
only one who can help me, my son, my daughter, and my husband. And thank
You for the message of the wee hours.<br />
<br />
Amen<br />
<br />
<span class="photo "><img alt="" class="photo_img img" height="476" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xpa1/v/t1.0-9/10603317_494623544007740_4594275098331045530_n.jpg?efg=e29sYXQ6MTYwfQ%3D%3D&oh=f9dd9d44ca537682f85f6ba9d0236c71&oe=54CFFFF1&__gda__=1418503753_a491b7bd75ac5c6fcdbb5afe92e7807c" title="" width="640" /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-76910498833780466772014-06-06T16:26:00.001-07:002014-06-06T17:01:22.299-07:00A New and Unusual SongHi,<br />
<br />
It's been a long time. So much has changed and sea-change has occurred. Life is so much different now, more than I ever could have anticipated.<br />
<br />
I am going to see what I can do with this blog. I am hoping it will be a fun new adventure for me. I've already begun one that will make me money - housecleaning for a cleaning company. But I want to bring in as much as I can as fast as I can, to pay off debt quickly. So I'm looking in any direction that can possibly make me some money. Maybe this blog can help as well.<br />
<br />
I didn't want to focus on money. It's not who I am. But when you're cast adrift with nothing else, you're not hired in the jobs you thought you were able to land, and nowhere to turn, that's what you do. Or at least that's what I'm told. I think it's good, in a way. It means I won't be able to listen anymore to the voices in my head that are really just my "inner critic".<br />
<br />
In the book, <i>Cash In A Flash</i>, authors Mark Victor Hansen and Robert G. Allen talk about our "inner winner", as the part of us that knows us best and recommends actions to flesh out our souls, so that when we listen to our "inner winner" we ultimately become the person God intended us to be from birth. I think this is true. I've tried to do this all my life, and it has led to accomplishing much more than I should have had any reason to expect, given my family and financial status in the world.<br />
<br />
But what about when listening to your "inner winner" doesn't result in the wins you expected? What about when you suddenly realize your "inner winner" is a bit out-dated or over-the-hill? What do you do then?<br />
<br />
I don't know. So I've embarked on a journey to find out how to make a living FIRST, and then listening to my "inner winner". Hansen and Allen say that's the wrong way round. Maybe that's true. Or maybe they are barking at the moon. But either way, I've begun to do both, and I'm not quitting until I find some answers.<br />
<br />
When my daughter was about a year and a half, I saw a poster on the wall in a pastor's home with a few, poignant words, and I never forgot them. They were from some writing by the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, and I have always tried to live by them. Here is the passage in a fuller version:<br />
<br />
"I beg you... to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer..." (quoted from the front of a greeting card I have in a frame).<br />
<br />
I had some questions back then too. I've lived some of them, and in so doing have now wound up alone in the world, and I do not like that. That is not what my "inner winner" would have prompted me to do, to strike out all alone in the world. So I'm going to continue to live the questions I now have, and pray and hope that in the future I live along into an answer that includes another person. It's the only kind of faith I can come up with at present.<br />
<br />
Thanks for staying with me all this time. A true friend can be found by applying my father's test: A friEND is a friEND to the END (which is how he taught me to spell the word).<br />
<br />
Have a nice day. Now go live your questions, and hopefully that will include being a true frIEND to someone!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-49701270935910010652013-07-18T11:52:00.001-07:002013-07-18T12:04:24.555-07:00"I'm worn...."<br />
Well, it's been almost a year since my last post. I didn't meant to leave it this long, it just happened that way.<br />
<br />
As you've seen, if you've read any here, my life split apart a couple years ago, interrupting my songs and crashing my plans and sending me headlong into a tailspin, from which I have yet to see the light of recovery at the other end of the vortex-tunnel.<br />
<br />
The song "Worn", by Michael Donehey of Tenth Avenue North, says it best, and today I'm posting those words here for you. I will post a url so you can hear them sung, and this is now my daily prayer.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I’m Tired I’m worn<br />
My heart is heavy<br />
From the work it takes<br />
To keep on breathing<br />
I’ve made mistakes<br />
I’ve let my hope fail<br />
My soul feels crushed<br />
By the weight of this world</i>
<i><br />
And I know that you can give me rest<br />
So I cry out with all that I have left</i>
<i><br />
Let me see redemption win<br />
Let me know the struggle ends<br />
That you can mend a heart<br />
That’s frail and torn<br />
I wanna know a song can rise<br />
From the ashes of a broken life<br />
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn<br />
Cause I’m worn</i>
<i><br />
I know I need to lift my eyes up<br />
But I'm too weak<br />
Life just won’t let up<br />
And I know that you can give me rest<br />
So I cry out with all that I have left</i>
<i><br />
Let me see redemption win<br />
Let me know the struggle ends<br />
That you can mend a heart<br />
That’s frail and torn<br />
I wanna know a song can rise<br />
From the ashes of a broken life<br />
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn<br />
Cause I’m worn</i>
<i><br />
My prayers are wearing thin<br />
Yeah, I’m worn<br />
Even before the day begins<br />
Yeah, I’m worn<br />
I’ve lost my will to fight<br />
I’m worn<br />
So, heaven come and flood my eyes</i>
<i><br />
Let me see redemption win<br />
Let me know the struggle ends<br />
That you can mend a heart<br />
That’s frail and torn<br />
I wanna know a song can rise<br />
From the ashes of a broken life<br />
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn<br />
Cause all that’s dead inside will be reborn</i>
<i><br />
Though I’m worn<br />
Yeah I’m worn
</i></blockquote>
In an article about the group, I read that this song was generated by Mr. Donehey's recent fatherhood. A piece of me wants to tell him that if he thinks he's worn now he can just wait and see how worn this child will make him in about 15 years.<br />
<br />
But another part of me waits on revelations I am newly acquiring in yet another Beth Moore study, as I attend our Women's Summer Bible Study at church. We are studying James, the brother of Jesus, through the eyes of others in the early church, and through his own writing. This is the second week, and already I am understanding a tiny bit about where God might be seeing me on this journey.<br />
<br />
But I am worn, oh yes, I'm worn. I had stopped singing, my piano rarely making a noise to disturb the peace of this quiet neighborhood. I only sing when asked by someone at church, really, which is quite rare. Part of my journey is trying to find where on earth I am meant to sing. I am still asking that one.<br />
<br />
Lately, a message arrived in the mail announcing the resignation and imminent moving away of my dear friend and pastor, Libby. I merely put that fact on the back burner. I couldn't handle it with any grace at the time, so I left it alone.<br />
<br />
Recently I was privileged to help seniors of our church worship in their retirement home, accompanying Libby's leading there. This is a monthly service I volunteer, requested by Libby and finally taken up by me when it was clear my solo "career" was ending. No one wants classical music anywhere anymore, and just barely at church. There I am not needed, really, since there are so many, and a hired soprano is given the limelight. But I don't need the limelight anymore, and that's fine.<br />
<br />
My voice suffers. It's an old adage among singers, "Use it or lose it." And it's true. I haven't used it, and I often lose it. And I know I need to get back in it, but <i>I'm worn.</i><br />
<br />
My daughter is on her own journey of choice far away from anything or anyone that might remind her of her family. I leave that in God's lap.<br />
<br />
My son is riddled with anxiety and other emotional disturbances, having been diagnosed 6 times over the past 6 years by about 6 specialists, and now has a new diagnosis and a new specialist. He wreaks havoc on furniture and house with intermittent outbursts neither he nor I can control, and for which we have yet to find a source or a cure - and he is the sweetest human being God ever created. Being now 19 years old, I am not allowed to find him help, and so his problems stretch on and on, since he can't see them himself as well as I can. But I have been learning to leave that, too, in God's lap.<br />
<br />
I will soon move in to an apartment. The owner of this lovely home decided she wanted to live here instead of Arizona. I can't think why. It's far gloomier here than there in winter. Perhaps it is the heat in summer, though it's been far hotter here than usual, with no air conditioning.... but she can install it if she wants. It's her home. Mine is occupied by my former spouse. I leave that, too, in God's lap.<br />
<br />
So to an apartment I must go, as my spousal support was reduced due to my ex-spouse's company folding and him losing his part time position with his former employer (though right now he is working for them in another capacity). He is to inform me immediately when he finds other employment, or so the court decided. We settled. I thought I was getting the good end of the deal that way. Who knows? I left that in God's lap. I must be done with lawyers; they are too expensive for the resources God has given me.<br />
<br />
I have not lived in an apartment since 1986, when I left one for good, as far as I could see. However, I couldn't see my divorce then, or I never would have left Southern California and my parents and my friends. When I was divorced, I lost my two best friends here, and have had to try and do a lot of things alone for the first time. I suppose it's good for me, or so my dearest friend, who lives in Texas, tells me. But I digress.... some more.<br />
<br />
I only got on here to say that <i>I'm worn,</i> and that even so <i>I wait</i>.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"For they that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not be weary, and they will walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31.</i></blockquote>
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="background-color: white;">I am worn, Lord, but I wait. Please, let me know a song can rise from the ashes of<i> this</i> broken life.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="background-color: white;">In Jesus' name,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="background-color: white;">Amen.</span></span><br />
<br />
Simply waiting,<br />
<i>Patty</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-METBrlP3xU" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">YouTube: Worn by Tenth Avenue North</a>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-89706464400375836922013-07-18T10:45:00.003-07:002013-07-18T10:45:31.745-07:00 Sept. 21, 2012<br />
<br />
Simple Journey<br />
<br />
Don't we wish! Life is nothing like a simple journey, is it? If it seems so, then perhaps something is missing, like living!<br /><br />So
many of us have extremely rocky paths to traverse, and I am one of
them. The first half of my life seemed to go so smoothly, yet I was
always finding something to discontent me. Finally I decided to approach
life simply, instead of complicating every issue as I went along my
simple path of marriage, homemaking, motherhood...<br /><br />Then everything changed - EVERYTHING.<br /><br />Now
my life is not at all simple, and it is a very, very unsettling
journey. Knowing that others also are walking precarious paths, I put
here the things I find most comforting, most consoling, most settling,
most uplifting. Funny, I almost always find them simple, pass over them
in my urgent quest to find The Answer, forgetting He is found in every
blade of grass, leaf, or drop of water, if I simply take time to see it
again.<br /><br />I hope these words serve a purpose for you, my readers,
especially an encouraging one. For that's the reason I'm here, and
that's the purpose of this blog.<br /><br />Simply sharing,<br /><br /><i>Patty</i>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-59727963915447684252012-09-21T08:51:00.002-07:002012-09-21T08:52:18.710-07:00Level Ground<br />
Yesterday was a day of new beginnings, stepping out in faith, and learning experiences.<br />
<br />
I've had a couple of dreams for almost all of my adult life. One was to be a writer, and the other was to create quilts I could sell for real money. <br />
<br />
Yesterday I entered into both worlds for real for the first time. I spent most of the day up by the Columbia River at the Portland Expo Center, viewing a dazzling array of art in quilt. At the end of the day I attended a Christian writers group at a local church, hearing the story of a real author's journey of faith and writing. Then I came home and thought about it all, and went to sleep. When I woke up this morning, the two had melded into one huge, grace-filled learning experience.<br />
<br />
First I'll tell you how I came to be at the Expo Center. A few years back I was bitten with the machine quilting bug. I took quilting classes, following up my beginnings at In The Beginning, a quilt shop in Seattle, when my daughter was not even a year old. This time, I was transported suddenly out of my singing self and into a new me I didn't even know. I found myself in Tacoma, Washington, at a quilters' convention called Innovations, with a focus on machine quilting. I had come with only the thought of trying out the machines, but while I was there I began to think this was the direction my life should take. But the costs are astronomical. And so, I used the machines on display there to practice, wanting to see if I could justify such a purchase. One of the sales women got disgusted with me spending so much time at her booth and made a comment which sent me flying back to the familiar life of singing for about 5 more years. <br />
<br />
Simultaneously (as always, I cannot stick with one thought until it's completed), I was working on becoming a writer. I took two online classes through the community college, and thought I might publish an article or two. Sadly, they were rejected by all five magazines to which I sent them in such hopes, and I went back to my familiar world of singing. After all, I <i>knew </i>God had called me there, but these other areas might simply be larks, passions that needed taming, therapeutic hobbies, or simply yet two more symptoms of my theoretical ADD. So I stuck with the sure thing awhile longer.<br />
<br />
Until my world completely came apart last year.<br />
<br />
When you are crushed, sometimes everything gets squished out of you. I mean all my soul was drained, my spirit seemed dead, my dreams buried, and the future non-existent. Having lived 30 years married to someone I completely depended on for my livelihood and a lot of other things, I now had to learn to live on my own at the age of 51, to build a career at a time in life when most people were winding down into retirement and learning to rest on their laurels. I had to do this at a time which was for me the absolute worst time, having had my rug snatched from under me, my safety net evaporating, my friends retreating, my purpose obfuscating. My children both dove into vortexes of self-defeat, my husband utterly refused to even discuss reconciliation or counseling, my home was taken from me, which meant my son as well, and my confidence was rocked to pieces. My old self died and was buried with the marriage. I hung at the end of a very long rope, of which only the tiniest thread persisted to remain, and that was sheer will to keep the faith of my fathers and mothers.<br />
<br />
I've said many a time over this past year and a half since my daughter went away with a con man:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
If the LORD had not been on our side— <br />
let Israel say— <br />
if the LORD had not been on our side <br />
when people attacked us, <br />
they would have swallowed us alive <br />
when their anger flared against us; <br />
the flood would have engulfed us, <br />
the torrent would have swept over us, <br />
the raging waters <br />
would have swept us away. (from Psalm 124)</blockquote>
If I had not had an extremely firm foundation of faith in a loving Father in heaven in my Baptist upbringing, I have no idea if I'd be alive or dead, in this lovely rental home or in a gutter, seeking a career now or a drunk on Skid Road. I know one thing, I might well be in a crazy ward somewhere, living in a made-up world in my own mind rather than face the dreary reality of this world and winters in Oregon alone. But I did have that upbringing, I did have those two loving parents to model my loving God's attitude toward His children, and I do have His word, every word of promise in the Bible on those days I feel completely defeated.<br />
<br />
And so, winding back around to the purpose of this blurb, yesterday I took His promises by the horns and attended those two events. I had known for some time now just what I told God He was planning for me to do with my "widowhood". I was going to buy one of those unGodly expensive machines (nobody should charge so much for a machine!), and I was going to quilt for His people. And in the process I was going to be discovered and win awards and people were going to line up to have me quilt their works of art. Oh yes, I knew He would provide if I would just go and choose a model, and actually order one on credit. I knew it in my bones. This was the direction He wanted me to go, because I wanted to go that direction so much myself. God provides when we step out in faith, oh yes, and so I knew all I had to do was go there and purchase, and the money would flow in. I still believe that, when God is at the helm.<br />
<br />
At the Expo I signed up for credit on two different machines, not wanting to limit myself, in case one wouldn't give me credit. I didn't want to limit God either, and having a hard time knowing which machine I liked better I figured that way God could decide better for me, since I'd narrowed His choices to only two. I know this sounds contradictory, but it's me, so that's par for my course. I both thought I was giving God a free hand and limiting His choices to save Him time.<br />
<br />
Then, exhausted and hopeful, I went home and got a drink of water, let the dog out, fed the cat, and then went off to my writing group, pen and notebook in hand. I took some of my writing, but hadn't had time to review it, so I'm glad she didn't call on me! The group ended up sitting in a circle and listening to a self-published writer tell her story. It was interesting, and sounded somewhat like my own Christian journey through self-doubt, to confidence in my plan for God, to....<br />
<br />
And this is the surprising thing that is causing me to write all this loooong account: that author shared one thing that stayed with me all night, through all the deliberating of my brain over long-arm machines, debating which room would be best to put one in, whether it will even fit in either of them, how they should be configured. She shared how, every time she receives a letter from a publisher after submitting a book, she gets on her knees and prays a prayer of acceptance of God's will, whatever the message in the letter. The reason she shared this is because one time she did not, but sent off her response to an editor who was taking too long for her, and lost the contract.<br />
<br />
This made me think about myself: was I taking time to pray before making the decision to spend so much money I don't have on one of those machines? Was I willing to accept that I might not get a loan, and what that would mean? Would I be able to get down on my knees and offer my work to God for whatever He sees fit to reward me with, even if it's nothing monetary?<br />
<br />
This was an eye-opener for me. I had been there before, when singing for church. It was easy then, because they never pay, but was worried about my reputation. I mean, if I hit a bad note, it would never be forgotten, I thought, and my future as a singer would be in the toilet. So I had to give my performance to Him as an offering in order to become what my favorite teacher calls transparent, so He could shine through regardless of my failings. Could I do that in a business though?<br />
<br />
It seems I have to. As a matter of fact, this morning I realized that all the plans I had decided for God to have for me would just have to give way to physics. The long-arm sellers and their assistants all said I need to purchase a frame large enough to quilt at least a queen size quilt if I'm going into business. But the physics of my room say, Oh no you don't! Not only that, but the numbers on the order sheets say the rest: You don't have the money, girl.<br />
<br />
God says, Do your best for Me, and I'll take care of the rest. Right? So this morning, I may go back to the Expo, but I am not planning to purchase a machine there. I will go there to listen, listen to God, and to the quilts I see that have already been quilted, and to people other than the vendors, such as other quilters. I am going to just be there, listen for the Song of the King, so I can learn it well enough to sing it when it's my turn.<br />
<br />
"Let your good Spirit lead me on level ground"<b>*</b>, was in my mind when I got out of bed this morning. I don't want to follow the Pied Piper of my own desires and ambitions. I've done that already and made a huge mess of the greatest treasures God could give me, my family. All I want to do now, for the rest of my life, is follow that good Spirit.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading. May your spirit be blessed by this simple song.<br />
<br />
Simply following,<br />
Patty<br />
<br />
<b>*</b>Teach me to do your will, <br />
for you are my God; <br />
may your good Spirit <br />
lead me on level ground.<br />
Ps. 143:10<br />
<span id="goog_518960837"></span><span id="goog_518960838"></span><br />Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-18966998737288501862012-06-08T09:42:00.001-07:002012-06-08T11:42:38.269-07:00Kaleidoscopic Living<br /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpstob9eCd7OFsgtjSm7cPQFlBDndi5IQx-ssCdfdcI8THx3rc9H5Zxk-1YixrRbSt3XhIbArtxzI5zYEWvaAWFVU-T_zAe34EOw_pcqX-7Al5ILjAvF4qVOhIiRpxWn9H13B34MthPY/s1600/kaleidoscope-collage.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpstob9eCd7OFsgtjSm7cPQFlBDndi5IQx-ssCdfdcI8THx3rc9H5Zxk-1YixrRbSt3XhIbArtxzI5zYEWvaAWFVU-T_zAe34EOw_pcqX-7Al5ILjAvF4qVOhIiRpxWn9H13B34MthPY/s200/kaleidoscope-collage.gif" width="200" /></a>This has been my life since November 30, 2011, when I walked away from my marriage and my home.<br />
<br />
Each day I face a kaleidoscope of choices and decisions. My life has begun to look very much like the pieces of a kaleidoscope, instead of the patchwork quilt I saw it as in the past. The patches have come unsewn, torn, ripped from their neighbors stitches to lie strewn around me in tatters. They present a colorful walk, sometimes, but usually they just present a mess.<br />
<br />
I spend all day everyday trying to pull them back together. I try to make sense of the messes I stumble over. Sometimes the wind blows the pieces in my lap and I seem to be required, alone, to judge whether they are fit to keep, or to be purged from my life forever. This is a weighty responsibility when you learn that these pieces I speak of are actually people and career steps.<br />
<br />
Long ago my kaleidoscope was filled with beautiful threads of all different shades of color. It was my job to put them together in a design that was pleasing. But some of the pieces I could never quite place. They just seemed to drift around in the viewer on the periphery of the ones I'd fitted into the design of my life. But they didn't go away.<br />
<br />
Then one day, I decided it was time to make sense of ALL of the pieces. Only, that meant I'd have to undo the ones I'd already fit together in the center of the picture. I fell to ripping and shredding, and eventually was rewarded with a blank space once again and lots of little, colorful pieces, though ragged edged, lying around the outside from which to choose for my design.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKEOI7Pj3fCo4VJEmgpUA-RR_B-RUYHhsc0woBUJ5wcvGjxPOrkuYx-WD737GytbHxLrjMAxtTD-rMziA-H-KR03kqaRRlUTX62O0ywLgxe09Sl-fOWAm2lg_AsjBoi-tDmVSSdEGWfI/s1600/kaleidoscope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKEOI7Pj3fCo4VJEmgpUA-RR_B-RUYHhsc0woBUJ5wcvGjxPOrkuYx-WD737GytbHxLrjMAxtTD-rMziA-H-KR03kqaRRlUTX62O0ywLgxe09Sl-fOWAm2lg_AsjBoi-tDmVSSdEGWfI/s200/kaleidoscope.jpg" width="200" /></a>I stared at the blank space a long time, trying to get an image in my mind of what the design should look like, with ALL of the shreds included. I stared and stared. The longer I stared, the less certain I was of my decisions; and the less certain I was of my decisions, the fewer pieces I began to see on the periphery; and the fewer pieces I began to see, the more I began to realize I was still left with those I'd had all along in the middle.<br />
<br />
And when I looked again in the middle of my blank space, I realized that the only pattern that made sense there, with the colors that were left on the periphery, was the pattern I'd had all along.<br />
<br />
Then someone shook the kaleidoscope, I woke up the next day and found a completely different view , all the pieces lying on the sides, and the blank space waiting. Once again I was being required to make decisions I had never had to make on my own, deal with problems that had not been only mine in the making, but now seemed were only mine in the solving. Then again, the kaleidoscope was shaken, and the view changed.<br />
<br />
This happened over and over and over, for months. Each day I found a new pattern in the kaleidoscope, confusing, yet if I stared long enough I could see it made some sense, somehow. But the next day I'd wake up to a new arrangement of the pieces, and I'd have to come up with a solution to the puzzle.<br />
<br />
This is my life now: a kaleidoscope of problems and solutions that don't often match up into a picture that makes sense. But when it does, most often a day passes and the entire picture changes, so that I am constantly on my toes, waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering what the next day will bring, knowing it probably won't be good. I never move, but the view constantly changes day by day.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYBP6EdjXfZZMndxq1vwV2sqN5sUSjMREb-1GDv2dxOqSbtwBFfkJy8mR-5D7b_RmloOxq1WBc-k9KEEndyjINMLlNDkM8NTqkpAkqtPm1I7KI4MhuulpXoKQm3RZ575Q9hUYQB4sTrc/s1600/kaleidoscope_quilt_ideas-774537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYBP6EdjXfZZMndxq1vwV2sqN5sUSjMREb-1GDv2dxOqSbtwBFfkJy8mR-5D7b_RmloOxq1WBc-k9KEEndyjINMLlNDkM8NTqkpAkqtPm1I7KI4MhuulpXoKQm3RZ575Q9hUYQB4sTrc/s200/kaleidoscope_quilt_ideas-774537.jpg" width="200" /></a>I turn daily to my God, his Word, my faith experiences of a lifetime, my fellow pilgrims in The Way. Seldom do I find answers in any of those places.<br />
<br />
Lately I've had a block between me and a choir anthem. "Children of the Heavenly Father" has been a lifetime favorite of mine ever since I first heard it and sang it with the Bethany Church choir in Sierra Madre, California, way back in the 70's. It must have been Father's Day. That's when churches use that hymn, it seems, as pastors and music directors search for hymns and songs to accompany the perennial "God of our Fathers". That's when our church is using it this year. And I can't sing it. I even signed out for that Sunday, and don't plan to attend.<br />
<br />
<br />
I have no father of my children to sit beside that day. I no father of my own to celebrate that day. And most of all, I have no children of their father to show him honor that day. This is a part of the kaleidoscope. My daughter ran away with a con man a year and some ago, my son has moved out away from both parents and will not speak to us because he didn't like the way we tried to get help for his emotional disturbances. And there is no hope that either one will ever be with us again, at this point in time. They have written off their parents entirely as evil beings who want only to harm them. And friends and would-be counselors have reinforced this perception, it seems.<br />
<br />
So can't I be forgiven for my unwillingness to mouth these words that one day of the year?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="lyrics">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YibvhQZsf116rjUf3pUVAYvWULS8On5Ze6kWAhvuZ6GB6YEFpGAKdE7khxl5WfePQCsIxnR72YVX_6JTOmsDi53GHOlPuZLkwFB9AewBz0Qz4QTD7ei1wFXWwP7svpSu-t9wpnYySgQ/s1600/is.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YibvhQZsf116rjUf3pUVAYvWULS8On5Ze6kWAhvuZ6GB6YEFpGAKdE7khxl5WfePQCsIxnR72YVX_6JTOmsDi53GHOlPuZLkwFB9AewBz0Qz4QTD7ei1wFXWwP7svpSu-t9wpnYySgQ/s200/is.jpg" width="132" /></a>Children of the heav’nly Father
<br />
Safely in His bosom gather;<br />
Nestling bird nor star in Heaven<br />
Such a refuge e’er was given.<br />
<br />
God His own doth tend and nourish;<br />
In His holy courts they flourish;<br />
From all evil things He spares them;<br />
In His mighty arms He bears them.<br />
<br />
Neither life nor death shall ever<br />
From the Lord His children sever;<br />
Unto them His grace He showeth,<br />
And their sorrows all He knoweth.<br />
<br />
Though He giveth or He taketh,<br />
God His children ne’er forsaketh;<br />
His the loving purpose solely<br />
To preserve them pure and holy.<br />
<br />
How can this be true?? With my once zealously Christian daughter claiming to be a Pagan, my son refusing to think of anything else at all except where he will live when he has to leave my friend's home, so that he is failing school. And he refuses to go to church at all or be in any way involved with God's people, like his earthly father. How can I believe that God protects them, when my daughter was scooped up by the Pied Piper of Manzanita last year, and saw fit to take out restraining orders on her parents so that we had to go to court against her to get them lifted? How can I believe God is watching my two sparrows when my son's anguished wailing over his uncertainties, even in the high school in front of girls, reaches my ears and I know that the only thing I can do, since my presence seems to cause him fits, is simply walk away and let my friend take him home to her place? How?? Where?? Where is this so-called loving Father God now? I mean, is there ANY Scriptural basis for this outrageous claim???<br />
<br />
Worse, where was He when millions, MILLIONS of children died of hunger in West Africa, and when so many die of war, or basic inhumanity??! Totally innocent!!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiU4N-y6d2k0JWiEFJrV-jpTyuZ_2SxWMrdtNZNLb_DSpeT914BT0qJX6GD3zzEAQT_gtO72CqeyyGajSAIrTpAO8xnLnhV1dPme20Ak6opFdmOVPDfPfjw6l_T1OB4Cf_OuOtzQUzxU/s1600/kaleidoscope-view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiU4N-y6d2k0JWiEFJrV-jpTyuZ_2SxWMrdtNZNLb_DSpeT914BT0qJX6GD3zzEAQT_gtO72CqeyyGajSAIrTpAO8xnLnhV1dPme20Ak6opFdmOVPDfPfjw6l_T1OB4Cf_OuOtzQUzxU/s200/kaleidoscope-view.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I thought I had laid all these questions long, long ago. But when it's your own children hurting, you realize they will always recur. I thought I had put on the full armor of God early on so that I would be able to withstand these onslaughts. But I find I am caving under them. Sure, I know the right answers. But what good do they do really? Aren't they just a balm we throw over the fires of people's confusion and pain to make it easier for ourselves to endure? Aren't they just lovely words that soothe and calm and pacify long enough to get through this miserable life, after all?<br />
<br />
Oh, this is heresy!! Especially on a blog that purports to be encouraging, right?<br />
<br />
Yeah, I know. I agree. That's why, before I came here to write my confusion, I first took a minute to check in with the "heavenly Father" of the poem by <a href="http://www.cyberhymnal.org/bio/s/a/n/sandell-berg_kw.htm" target="_blank">Karolina W. Sandell-Berg</a>. And what I found, when I sat alone in my room, listening for the answer, was an answer that worked for me.<br />
<br />
It might not work for you, but it works for me. Does it make me able to sing that hymn this Father's Day. Not at this time. But it does help me make sense of this kaleidoscope for today, at least.<br />
<br />
Here's the answer I was given:<br />
<br />
*I* am a child of the heavenly Father. I can review my own experiences:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6a18dElP-txWcrfdpLTu7nGS15pAAe5EaR7hxBmbcuFHnW9s9cXxdXQXbOMVkvJJGUO_A2HaV-1NKaLyaAX2I6kKnIOt0xi_AuUkfCV7cZv0e02r5e5mI7ljqvbjpTA6IA6Np8nvSuV8/s1600/kaleidoscope5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6a18dElP-txWcrfdpLTu7nGS15pAAe5EaR7hxBmbcuFHnW9s9cXxdXQXbOMVkvJJGUO_A2HaV-1NKaLyaAX2I6kKnIOt0xi_AuUkfCV7cZv0e02r5e5mI7ljqvbjpTA6IA6Np8nvSuV8/s200/kaleidoscope5.jpg" width="200" /></a>1. Has he been there for me all my life? Yes, he has.<br />
2. Has he tended and nourished me? Yes, and I can list ways he's done that.<br />
3. Has he spared me from evil things? Yes, I can name some evil things that should have come my way and didn't, by his grace, and some that did and I was spared from, ditto.<br />
4. Though I can't tell about death yet, I can certainly say that life has not been able to sever me from him, and even when I turn my back, he has been there for me, providing for me, making sure what I need is always attainable, always within reach.<br />
5. He has shown me his grace, and he sure seems to have known my sorrows, at least at some very poignant times, and he most definitely has given me jewel-like gifts at key points in my life along the The Way.<br />
6. Has he ever really forsaken me? Apparently not, as I find these answers here today just because I sat down and asked for them. I have felt his presence like a warm, heavy comforter in the cold night, and like a vibrant joyful electric surge hanging in the air around me, just because I asked and decided to believe the answer.<br />
<br />
He has never forsaken me, even when I could not feel his presence, even when evil seemed to be all there was in the room, fear and terror and death. I know that he was there with me, because his words rang in my ear the next day, and do still. When I asked the question, "I needed him, but I couldn't feel his presence, why?" The answer came: "But he was there." And that's all the answer needed, really. That was the promise. That is the answer. And that's the answer now.<br />
<br />
I can't sing that last verse right now, because I can't see how it's "his loving purpose solely to preserve them, pure and holy" when he allows my sweet little girl to grow up in him and then lets her run off into the sunset with a bad man more than 20 years her senior, an adulterer who's made this little one to stumble. I can't see that as part of his "loving purpose". But I don't have to understand (as I was reminded only yesterday by a close friend). I just have to keep on walking, keep on walking, keep on walking, walking, walking. This was his word to me a year ago, just after my daughter left, while I waited, ridden with fear for her safety; and that is still his word to me. "What is that to you, you follow me," he says when I ask about my children's lives and his purpose.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOLGqSKfwlX8xPPghSZiMFerIgB8-HQTPatQP0mi2E5yw-TCdhNNjlV0tTpyIWd2NIJeIoS2zHXjBTxm9id0kuarKXyvX0Fm0KH9jGQeu8R9o6oqikg2MdLsnAKlp5ANpcdZzA0G7tqs/s1600/sandell-berg_kw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOLGqSKfwlX8xPPghSZiMFerIgB8-HQTPatQP0mi2E5yw-TCdhNNjlV0tTpyIWd2NIJeIoS2zHXjBTxm9id0kuarKXyvX0Fm0KH9jGQeu8R9o6oqikg2MdLsnAKlp5ANpcdZzA0G7tqs/s200/sandell-berg_kw.jpg" width="128" /></a><br />
Looking up the words to the hymn, I found the story of the poem's author. Look it up, perhaps it will surprise you as it did me. I also found the Scripture that it appears to be based on:<br />
<br />
" See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are."<br />
1 John 3:1a <br />
<br />
And the last two verses, usually left out, just illustrate further how intimately involved our heavenly Father wants to be in our lives:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lo, their very hairs He numbers,<br />
And no daily care encumbers<br />
Them that share His ev’ry blessing<br />
And His help in woes distressing.<br />
<br />
Praise the Lord in joyful numbers:<br />
Your Protector never slumbers.<br />
At the will of your Defender<br />
Ev’ry foeman must surrender.</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
Someday I will be able to sing this hymn again, I know now. And when I do, I will be sure to include these last two verses. How I love the imagery of the Defender making every "foeman" of mine surrender! I believe it will be so. And the first will be my own human intellect, requiring visible evidence; requiring that life go pleasingly for me if I'm to believe all my heavenly Father has promised.<br />
<br />
My question last evening during rehearsal, as I stared at the statue of Jesus with the child in our courtyard, was this: Even if they push you away, heavenly Father, you are strong enough to stay in their lives for their own good, and you have promised to never leave us nor forsake us, so where are you now???<br />
<br />
His answer is: "I am there. And what is that to you? You follow me."<br />
<br />
In my mind's eye, I see Him smiling as He says these words to me. He has a place for me, and it's only myself I am to be accountable for now that my children are grown and making their own decisions. They will always have him to turn to. I will pray that they turn to him. That's my job. And I intend to do it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI7va07tNQ_reiaNhvumyyNHfYqcH7cuHtniUNLqU4Y2my-U8IrQtmTR0QKNRhccAkzAfvm1MKnJPdqakQfLuFxNdtz_ivCQWHnRKu_T6fbxxlctkHXM7zQGWJch9eOQWnWXgaRrauY4/s1600/kaleidoscope1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI7va07tNQ_reiaNhvumyyNHfYqcH7cuHtniUNLqU4Y2my-U8IrQtmTR0QKNRhccAkzAfvm1MKnJPdqakQfLuFxNdtz_ivCQWHnRKu_T6fbxxlctkHXM7zQGWJch9eOQWnWXgaRrauY4/s320/kaleidoscope1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Peace,<br />
Simply Patty<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-82400630538631511412012-04-11T10:13:00.000-07:002012-04-11T10:40:31.072-07:00The Lord Liveth, and Blessed Be The Rock<br />
A song of thanksgiving and praise for finally finding answers for the five-year-long questions about our son's mental health issues.Think of me wherever the text says "David" or refers to "the king" in any way, and imagine my enemies as my son's disorders and syndromes, and those who stood in the way for so long of our finding answers to his dilemmas, and our own ignorance and fear:<br />
<br />
<h4 class="western" style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Psalm 18</span></h4>
<h5 class="western" style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The LORD
Praised for Giving Deliverance.</span></h5>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<i> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>For
the choir director. A </b><b>Psalm</b><b> of David the servant
of the LORD, who spoke to the LORD the words of this song in the day
that the LORD delivered him from the hand of all his enemies and from
the hand of Saul. And he said,</b></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-size: x-small;">I love You, O LORD, my
strength.” <br />The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my
deliverer, <br />My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge; <br />My shield
and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. <br />I call upon the
LORD, who is worthy to be praised, <br />And I am saved from my
enemies. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The cords of death
encompassed me, <br />And the torrents of ungodliness terrified me.
<br />The cords of Sheol surrounded me; <br />The snares of death
confronted me. <br />In my distress I called upon the LORD, <br />And
cried to my God for help; <br />He heard my voice out of His temple,
<br />And my cry for help before Him came into His ears. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14129"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14130"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14131"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14132"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14133"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14134"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Then the earth shook and quaked; <br />And the foundations
of the mountains were trembling <br />And were shaken, because He was
angry. <br />Smoke went up out of His nostrils, <br />And fire from His
mouth devoured; <br />Coals were kindled by it. <br />He bowed the
heavens also, and came down <br />With thick darkness under His feet.
<br />He rode upon a cherub and flew; <br />And He sped upon the wings of
the wind. <br />He made darkness His hiding place, His canopy around
Him, <br />Darkness of waters, thick clouds of the skies. <br />From the
brightness before Him passed His thick clouds, <br />Hailstones and
coals of fire. <br />The LORD also thundered in the heavens, <br />And
the Most High uttered His voice, <br />Hailstones and coals of fire.
<br />He sent out His arrows, and scattered them, <br />And lightning
flashes in abundance, and routed them. <br />Then the channels of water
appeared, <br />And the foundations of the world were laid bare <br />At
Your rebuke, O LORD, <br />At the blast of the breath of Your nostrils.
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14135"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14136"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14137"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14138"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">He sent from on high, He took me; <br />He drew me out of
many waters. <br />He delivered me from my strong enemy, <br />And from
those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me. <br />They
confronted me in the day of my calamity, <br />But the LORD was my
stay. <br />He brought me forth also into a broad place; <br />He rescued
me, because He delighted in me. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14139"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14140"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14141"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14142"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14143"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness;
<br />According to the cleanness of my hands He has recompensed me.
<br />For I have kept the ways of the LORD, <br />And have not wickedly
departed from my God. <br />For all His ordinances were before me, <br />And
I did not put away His statutes from me. <br />I was also blameless
with Him, <br />And I kept myself from my iniquity. <br />Therefore the
LORD has recompensed me according to my righteousness, <br />According
to the cleanness of my hands in His eyes. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14144"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14145"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14146"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14147"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14148"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">With the kind You show Yourself kind; <br />With the
blameless You show Yourself blameless; <br />With the pure You show
Yourself pure, <br />And with the crooked You show Yourself astute.
<br />For You save an afflicted people, <br />But haughty eyes You abase.
<br />For You light my lamp; <br />The LORD my God illumines my darkness.
<br />For by You I can run upon a troop; <br />And by my God I can leap
over a wall. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14149"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14150"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14151"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14152"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14153"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14154"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14155"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">As for God, His way is blameless; <br />The word of the
LORD is tried; <br />He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him. <br />For
who is God, but the LORD? <br />And who is a rock, except our God, <br />The
God who girds me with strength <br />And makes my way blameless? <br />He
makes my feet like hinds’ <i>feet</i>, <br />And sets me upon my high
places. <br />He trains my hands for battle, <br />So that my arms can
bend a bow of bronze. <br />You have also given me the shield of Your
salvation, <br />And Your right hand upholds me; <br />And Your
gentleness makes me great. <br />You enlarge my steps under me, <br />And
my feet have not slipped. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14156"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14158"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14159"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14160"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14161"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I pursued my enemies and overtook them, <br />And I did
not turn back until they were consumed. <br />I shattered them, so that
they were not able to rise; <br />They fell under my feet. <br />For You
have girded me with strength for battle; <br />You have subdued under
me those who rose up against me. <br />You have also made my enemies
turn their backs to me, <br />And I destroyed those who hated me. <br />They
cried for help, but there was none to save, <br /><i>Even</i> to the
LORD, but He did not answer them. <br />Then I beat them fine as the
dust before the wind; <br />I emptied them out as the mire of the
streets. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14162"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14163"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14164"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">You have delivered me from the contentions of the
people; <br />You have placed me as head of the nations; <br />A people
whom I have not known serve me. <br />As soon as they hear, they obey
me; <br />Foreigners submit to me. <br />Foreigners fade away, <br />And
come trembling out of their fortresses. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<a href="" name="en-NASB-14165"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14166"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14167"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14168"></a><a href="" name="en-NASB-14169"></a>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The LORD lives, and blessed be my rock; <br />And exalted
be the God of my salvation, <br />The God who executes vengeance for
me, <br />And subdues peoples under me. <br />He delivers me from my
enemies; <br />Surely You lift me above those who rise up against me;
<br />You rescue me from the violent man. <br />Therefore I will give
thanks to You among the nations, O LORD, <br />And I will sing praises
to Your name. <br />He gives great deliverance to His king, <br />And
shows lovingkindness to His anointed, <br />To David and his
descendants forever. </span></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>
</div>
<br />
I would have given everything I ever possessed five years ago, to have had the intensity of attention our son has received these past five days. But it was not the Plan. Now we are ready to receive any diagnosis that is true. Then we were not; in fact, the true diagnosis was present in the minds of family friends, if we had only understood. Now we begin to see, and now we begin to accept. What is forthcoming, let it be forthcoming. We are all ears, and our wills are subdued.<br />
<br />
Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!<br />
<br />
<i>The Lord liveth, and blessed be the Rock, </i><br />
<i>and may the God of our salvation be exalted! </i><br />
<i>The Lord liveth, and blessed be the Rock, </i><br />
<i>and may the God of our salvation be exalted!</i><br />
<br />
Praise with me the God of Easter, the Lord of the Resurrection, Jesus, our King and our Friend!<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<i>Simply praising, </i></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<i>Patty</i></div>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-84892840647172681632012-02-23T07:25:00.007-08:002012-02-23T14:58:27.739-08:00Leftovers<p><br />
<b><i>"And when they were filled, he saith unto his disciples, Gather up the broken pieces which remain over, that nothing be lost."</i> John 6:12 (ASV)</b><br />
<br />
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_vrpMrQ--0<br />
<br />
<i>Nothing is lost on the breath of God,<br />
nothing is lost for ever;<br />
God's breath is love, and that love will remain,<br />
holding the world for ever.<br />
No feather too light, no hair too fine,<br />
no flower too brief in its glory;<br />
no drop in the ocean, no dust in the air,<br />
but is counted and told in God's story.<br />
<br />
Nothing is lost to the eyes of God,<br />
nothing is lost for ever;<br />
God sees with love and that love will remain,<br />
holding the world for ever.<br />
No journey too far, no distance too great,<br />
no valley of darkness too blinding;<br />
no creature too humble, no child too small<br />
for God to be seeking, and finding.<br />
<br />
Nothing is lost to the heart of God,<br />
nothing is lost for ever;<br />
God's heart is love, and that love will remain,<br />
holding the world for ever.<br />
No impulse of love, no office of care,<br />
no moment of life in its fulness;<br />
no beginning too late, no ending too soon,<br />
but is gathered and known in God's goodness.<br />
</i><br />
(Colin Gibson, 1994)<br />
<br />
<br />
It's been a year. <br />
<br />
Recently I had the opportunity to sift through my life's pieces, because I moved. This move was not by choice, but ordered by the Court, as I divorced my husband of 30 years. If you've ever done anything like it, you will know the place from which this comes today.<br />
<br />
As I sorted my sewing room paraphenalia (spelled incorrectly in the dictionary, but that's another story), I separated my quilt scraps by color. However, there were several pieces that defied sorting, as they were made of several different colors. No one color could be said to be the dominant theme, so I put them in a drawer marked "multi".<br />
<br />
This morning, as I meditated on my unconventional life of 52 years, I got the feeling I am myself a similar kind of "multi", un-categorize-able, in-between, neither this nor that, undefinable, defying pigeon-holing, paint spatter strewn across life's canvas, an un-corral-able wild, messy, chaos of a human being. <br />
<br />
Whereas the fabric fits neatly in the organizer drawers in color categories I chose, except for this "multi" fabric, I don't fit neatly anywhere in the world. Colors slop over the sides of any activity I choose to attend. Threads of red stick out of the green school settings. Frayed edges of blue won't hide under the yellow folds of jobs I attempt to hold down. Black mixes with the white, and makes grey days. And I don't know which to concentrate on clarifying first.<br />
<br />
This isn't only my personality. Equipped with an extremely creative frame of mind, the world itself is not clearly one thing or another to me. Growing up in it hasn't helped me at all. Add to that the kind of partner I chose at 17, a direct opposite of myself, and you have quite the dichotomy constantly percolating underneath. Time, then, wreaks havoc and causes the fabric to wear very thin. Add to that mix the most chaotic family circumstances, and voila! "Multi"! <br />
<br />
Where on earth do you put this life?? If I were a letter, would the post office have a slot for me? If I were a laundry item, would there be instructions for my handling? What if I were a car? On which corporation's lot would you find me? Would I be a "Smart Car", or a Cadillac, or an SUV, or a mini-van, or perhaps a station wagon? Perhaps I'm a dish in the cupboard. Which cupboard? The fine china closet, or the kitchen shelf?<br />
<br />
The problem is I have capabilities in all categories, traits that lend themselves to each. And since you wondered, I'm so introspective because I am way too complicated for my own mind, and so have never found a home. I thought I had one, years ago, in college. But afterward, I could not find one for all the tea in China, and a lot of money and hours spent thinking about it. So I had children. But the children are (mostly) grown, and one has flown the coop and the other is extremely troubled, flies the coop inside himself these days.<br />
<br />
So I've come to this place in life, where I look back and see chaos, and look forward and see more of the same - unless I lasso one of the whirling thoughts and put it to work. Thus this blog, thus this piece, thus this image of a "multi" piece of fabric, me.<br />
<br />
Can such a scrap be useful at last?<br />
<br />
I notice something else about my little correlation: the scraps are leftovers, cut from the whole cloth. I am a leftover too, cut by my own hands, severed from the whole as distinctly as if I'd taken a pair of shears and cut a swath, which indeed I did. I, with my own hands, cut a gash through our family that is unrepairable. I, even I, a daughter of the King who is all about wholeness, in my journey toward wholeness for myself and my children, created these "broken pieces" of a family, of which I am one. A "leftover". Like the bread Jesus prayed into being in the passage from which the verse above is excerpted, I am extra and broken and not needed today.<br />
<br />
But I am "gathered", and saved, that I might not be "lost". Maybe that's just where I belong, in a disciple's basket, awaiting another feeding event, ready to be used, to be devoured by hungry children or adults. Or perhaps waiting to be remade into another dish, a casserole at a church potluck (my favorite version of the heavenly feast on earth). Or a quilt scrap, waiting for the right place in a quilt that will cover a homeless child someday. <br />
<br />
Jesus Himself noticed me, waiting in the wings, lying on the floor all dejected and waiting to be swept up into the garbage, and saw the colors, and said, "Gather her up, that she might not be lost." <br />
<br />
So I ride in the LGPC** basket, for now.<br />
<br />
I'll take it.<br />
<br />
<i>Simply gathered,<br />
Patty</i><br />
<br />
<br />
**Lake Grove Presbyterian Church in Lake Oswego, OregonPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-39811635920896469392011-08-05T07:50:00.000-07:002011-08-05T07:50:45.894-07:00GenerationsGenerations. Yeah, that's what the man was talking about. But really, was it?<br />
<br />
My Human Development Across the Lifespan professor has a way of packaging a neat little sermon into a lecture about the latest read on child and adult development from our textbook. You think you're listening to a lecture on, say, personality types and how they develop. Then all of a sudden you realize you're being hoodwinked, and you are now in a political motivation talk with your fellow hoodwinked students. Personally, it doesn't bother me in the least, considering my professor's views are almost exactly the same as mine. Or it didn't much until yesterday.<br />
<br />
Oh, there <i>was </i>the time he laid abuse at the door of single mothers. But I could see that, as it was also in the book, though I still do not agree that they are the largest population of abusers of children. But yesterday was different. The prof began talking about this generation of young adults - MY daughter and son - and the girl next to me and I just looked at each other with skepticism.<br />
<br />
I don't think so.<br />
<br />
My seat neighbor thought of her younger brother, and his extreme depression. I thought of my daughter and her escaping, and my son who has ideas but not the slightest faith that they will ever do any good, given the bureaucratic shredder they'll be put through.<br />
<br />
I thought of the dark music that I see coming out of the young people, the art, the movies they love - Twilight, even Harry Potter - and how these young people are depicted and how they depict themselves, and I thought, "No, they do not look at their future positively."<br />
<br />
I think kids and young people these days have a very grim view, and a very good grasp on reality. How can they not? We've shoved it in their faces since before they were born! Starting wtih lessons in kindergarten about how the earth has been beat up by their parents and grandparents, they were taught that they were the saviors of it and that we are counting on them to fix it for us. All through elementary, middle, and high school, the message is pounded into them: "Save us! Save us! Save us!!"<br />
<br />
Would you feel positive about your future under those circumstances? I don't think so. And they don't, no matter how much the professors in colleges think the do. Perhaps they have polled college students and come up with a skewed curve or something. College students would be more positive than the average schmo: they're getting themselves out of the situation they were born into, they're making better lives for themselves. They would tend to be looking to a brighter future than the guy on the street, still unable to get a job due to the economy, trying desperately to help his single mother feed his younger siblings. Or the young single mother who went to cosmetology school to get a roof and some food for her children, and now she's stuck. Or the gifted young man working at Fred Meyer who has a plan for the economy that just might work, but will never see the light of day in this society. But our parents and grandparents let them know every day how we count on them, how it's they who have now the responsibility of undoing what we've become<br />
<br />
I would run away too. Or develop Tourette's Syndrome out of nerves. Or maybe just end it all, if I weren't such a coward. Or, if I had that supreme chance, I'd make a movies full of the darkness of it all to tell my parents what they've done to us, or write a book about it, or sing songs - or more like rap raps - full of the despair I'd be filled with.<br />
<br />
If... I didn't have the absolute knowledge of the love of a God who is Father to me, who holds the world in his hands, who already has the solution for our earth's future all figured out, and who is bringing into being that solution daily, hourly. If I didn't know that the Creator will never abandon the creation, but will one day bring it into health and unity with him through his great redeeming love act in Jesus on the cross and on Easter Day, when he raised him from the dead - then I'd be somewhat tempted to engage in the same self-pity, go nutsy, or even "postal".<br />
<br />
But I do know it. I know it with every cell of my physiology. I know it with all my heart. I know it with my entire, puny, human, distracted mind. I've been allowed to live long enough, it seems, to have lived along into the answers Rilke was talking about when he said to "live the questions". Even as my life is shatters to pieces around me, I know most definitely that though all our efforts seem useless, and the world is becoming darker and darker around us, the darkness has no effect on the answer, because it's already been spoken in Jesus from an empty grave, which has no victory anymore. I know it as sure as day follows night, water flows downhill, and the world turns eastward. The Creator still holds the creation and all that is therein, which includes us human beings, even though we messed it up real bad. <br />
<br />
And he holds our children. And he has the Final Answer.<br />
<br />
A mighty fortress is our God,<br />
A bulwark never failing.<br />
Our helper he amid the flood<br />
Of mortal ills prevailing.<br />
For still our ancient foe<br />
Doth seek to work us woe.<br />
His craft and power are great,<br />
And armed with cruel hate,<br />
On earth is not his equal.<br />
<br />
Did we in our own strength confide,<br />
Our striving would be losing,<br />
Were not the right man on our side,<br />
The man of God's own choosing.<br />
Dost ask who that may be?<br />
Christ Jesus, it is he!<br />
Lord Sabaoth his name,<br />
From age to age the same.<br />
And he must win the battle.<br />
<br />
And though this world with devils filled<br />
Should threaten to undo us,<br />
We will not fear for God hath willed<br />
His truth to triumph through us.<br />
The prince of darkness grim -<br />
We tremble not for him,<br />
His rage we can endure,<br />
For lo, his doom is sure:<br />
One little word shall fell him.<br />
<br />
That word above all earthly powers<br />
No thanks to them abideth.<br />
The Spirit and the gifts are ours<br />
Through him who with us sideth.<br />
Let goods and kindred go,<br />
This mortal life also;<br />
The body they may kill,<br />
God's truth abideth still.<br />
His kingdom is forever.Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-38795631846224407922011-06-23T08:47:00.000-07:002011-06-23T08:47:19.959-07:00It has been harrowing.<br />
<br />
I would not wish this on my worst enemy..... well, maybe my <i>worst</i> enemy..... No. Not even him. No parent should ever, ever, ever have to go through what I'm experiencing. But then, what makes me so special?<br />
<br />
Last January my daughter ran away with the gypsies. She .... or somebody.... sent back messages to the effect that she did not wish to be contacted by anyone who knew or loved her; that we were to simply pretend she never existed, and that she was going where she could escape our life-long "control and abuse"; she .... or someone ..... sent a message to her brother saying she was "going away to protect" him. Protect him? From what? who?? How???<br />
<br />
These questions have never been answered. My daughter left a trail of tears and broken hearts behind her to rival the Trail of Tears. And my family is a house divided. Already re-evaluating my own life decisions, this threw a wrench in the works the like of which I have never experienced, nor ever ever ever wish to again. I do not know what the outcome will be, and I do not know how long it will be before I do know.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, I've been thrown into a tail-spin that sends me lurching from one end of myself to the other, asking the questions any loving parent would ask herself:<br />
<br />
"How did she get to this place?"<br />
"What was it I said - did?"<br />
"How can I help her now?"<br />
"Is she safe??!!"<br />
"Where could she possibly be??"<br />
"How can I find her?"<br />
"What on earth should I say when I see her again?"<br />
"How can I possibly ever forgive the people who led her down this path???"<br />
<br />
Pondering these questions has led me over and over to my pastor, counselor, best friends, specialists, and daily - sometimes hourly - to prayer and Scripture. I keep the radio tuned to the Christian stations I abhorred for so long because of the shallowness of the music - yes, I've been a music snob most of my life. No longer. I need the Word in any way, shape, or form these days, so I'll take it from anyone in any form.<br />
<br />
The other day, the Word came to me from my pastor, who I'd gone to pray with over a revelation found in my daughter's journal from a year ago. Apparently, she'd been planning an "escape" since childhood. The earth had seemed to drop from under me, and I ran to the Lord, who is "my strong tower". After sharing the journal and praying, Libby suggested I read a little book she pulled off the shelves lining the study walls: <i>The Prodigal God</i>, by Timothy Keller. <br />
<br />
This morning, reading in chapter two, I came across this, in reference to the father in the story dividing his property and giving up the half to his younger son:<br />
<br />
"However, this division of the estate only occurred when the father died. Here the younger son asks for his inheritance <i>now</i>, which was a sign of deep disrespect. To ask this while the father still lived was the same as to wish him dead. The younger son was saying, essentially, that he wants his father's things, but not his father. His relationship to the father has been a means to the end of enjoying his wealth, and now he is weary of that relationship. He wants out. Now. 'Give me what is mine,' he says."<br />
<br />
My daughter asked for her money. She didn't have any, but she thought she did, perhaps because her grandmother had recently died, and she'd heard how she would inherit from her someday. But she didn't, though perhaps she didn't know that. She wanted the money which had been in her account - a refund from the fine institution of higher learning she had withdrawn from in the fall. But that money was never hers: it was payment I made for her. It is safely now in a savings account, awaiting her brother's entrance into college in a couple of years, if he should choose that; or my own, as I am going back to school. But it was never hers.<br />
<br />
In the story of The Prodigal Son, the father gives him the money. I've never understood why, and so have done the exact opposite. We feared the people who enticed her away, and we feared her own confusion. We feared she would wake up one day and regret it, and then have no way to mend her life. But perhaps we made a mistake.<br />
<br />
"The father's response is even more startling than the request. This was an intensely patriarchal society, in which lavish expressions of deference and respect for elders and particularly for one's parents were of supreme importance. A traditional Middle Eastern father would be expected to respond to such a request by driving the son out of the family with nothing except physical blows." <br />
<br />
No, we did not drive her out - she had already taken herself out. And "blows" were not my way of communicating - I'd unlearned that way long ago. Words, however, I sent her, in any way, shape, or form I could find to send them. I called, but no one answered. I left at least one voice mail message, but then her phone went dark. Her father called the people who got her into this mess, but they stone-walled and would not let us speak with her. I sent email after email, posted on Facebook, and sent private messages. None were answered, and my own Notes on my Facebook account that were written specifically for her were mocked and jeered by her. This I knew because she left us her cell phone later, when she left her car at the police station for us to pick up, and informed us through a "Cease and Desist" email sent to her father's work account. Nothing I could do would bring anything good, only bad.<br />
<br />
And so I quit. I "ceased and desisted". I let her go.<br />
<br />
Oh, we still feared she had been kidnapped by the gypsies. In fact, to this day I do believe that is the correct interpretation of these events. But she doesn't know it, yet. She still thinks, apparently, that she's made the great escape from a responsible life and a family who would strongly encourage her to be true to herself, her gifts and her talents, and her own commitments. She still thinks, apparently, that she's got it good and that she'll never have to face the music she left behind. I am truly sorry that she is still digging her hole so very deep, because all the responsibilities she left, as a person over 18 and a legal adult, are still waiting for her here. Since we have no address for her, we are keeping them safely for the day when she returns and takes them up again, the day when she'll have to pay all the back-bills and answer to the IRS. No, she doesn't know yet that she's been kidnapped.<br />
<br />
Perhaps we have the wrong approach. Perhaps we should have acted as the father in the parable, who instead of giving the culturally required "blows", gave what was asked:<br />
<br />
"This father doesn't do anything like that. He simply 'divided his property between them.' To understand the significance of this we should notice that the Greek word translated as 'property' here is the word <i>bios</i>, which means 'life.' A more concrete word to denote capital could have been used but was not."<br />
<br />
So the father "divided his life between them." Oh yes. I know what that is. Oh yes. My life has been torn in two ever since my son's Tourette's surfaced. "How can I give enough of myself to him, and still have something left for my daughter?" was my constant question to myself during his middle school years, in which we had only questions and no answers from doctors or anyone else. When finally we had a diagnosis, there was so much research to try and find a cure, try and find something, anything, that would subdue the whole body twitches and tics that so disrupted his everyday existence, and ours. His sister was a casualty of that time. How can a parent divide herself in half and survive? So the father "divided his life between them," and suffered death to half himself, as he watched his son run off into the sunset with his inheritance, thinking perhaps it were better if he actually were dead, as I have thought at times.<br />
<br />
I will keep reading this book. I need it. I am eager to find out the writer's perspective on how the son came to himself in the pig trough, turned around (the literal translation of "repent"), came humbly back to his family home. I do not want to project, but how can I help praying this will be the end to my daughter's current story? Of course I am hoping this! Of course I am typing it here so she will see it - if she is looking! Of course I risk driving her further away in the process! I will give up anything -<br />
<br />
Perhaps I didn't give up enough, though, according to the parable. Perhaps I should have let her take the money out of her account and squandered it on the pigs, and then she would have sooner seen her position in the pig trough. But our fear was that somehow she was being used (and I still believe it is so) to get not just the little bit that was in that account, but everything we own. Fear.... our enemy's great tool, which he wields with exquisite accuracy, aided by the fine intellect of our daughter. What a travesty! He could have gotten not only the half, but the whole of our estate, we feared. And so we put the kabosh on her taking money out of the account which was rightfully mine, instead of doing as the father in the parable and simply letting her have it all.<br />
<br />
But the question will be there until she returns, "Should we have done as the prodigal's father? Should we have helped her run away with the gypsies?" <br />
<br />
Recently I read a short line in a small gift book in a place called Sleighbells, a Christmas shop near our home; her former boyfriend/fiance works there. I was there to buy fudge from him - he's the fudge sampler, and very good at it, too. My visits there are therapeutic for both of us. But this time I actually found a Word, in this tiny book. Perhaps I should have bought it, but I have bought too many things, thinking they are the cure. So I simply wrote down this line:<br />
<br />
"Every parent is at sometime in his life the father of the unreturned prodigal, with nothing to do but keep his house open to hope." (John Ciardi)<br />
<br />
So that's what I do. No matter where I am to be found after this, my home, even in someone else's house, will be open to the hope that one day I'll hear a knock or the doorbell, the phone will ring, and it will be my prodigal wanting love. And one thing has never changed since she left: I will always love her, wholly, passionately, truly, and unregrettingly.<br />
<br />
No matter what she does to me.<br />
<br />
"You can't outrun grace."<br />
<br />
<blockquote>You’re best friends with the word “regret”<br />
And you’re afraid that your life’s been wasted<br />
You don’t think people really change<br />
And you’re a mess and you’ll always be the same<br />
And you doubt if you’ll ever get it turned around<br />
<br />
So you’ve been running, searching for something<br />
But you’re looking in a place you don’t belong<br />
But it’s never too late, you can’t outrun grace<br />
No, mercy doesn’t care what you’ve done<br />
So, come home. So, come home<br />
<br />
You can try and fix your broken empire<br />
And put bricks on a cracked foundation<br />
But you’d be building castles on the sand <br />
There’s power in the blood of Jesus<br />
And your Father’s screaming “just come home”<br />
And He’s reaching out His hand<br />
<br />
I know you’ve been running, searching for something<br />
But you’re looking in a place you don’t belong<br />
But it’s never too late, you can’t outrun grace<br />
No, mercy doesn’t care what you’ve done<br />
So, come home. So, come home<br />
<br />
From the shadows, from the wrong roads,<br />
From the darkness, from the unknown,<br />
To redemption, something beautiful,<br />
To a new love, to a new home<br />
<br />
I know you’ve been running, searching for something<br />
But you’re looking in a place you don’t belong<br />
But it’s never too late, you can’t outrun grace<br />
No, mercy doesn’t care what you’ve done<br />
So, come home. So come home.*</blockquote><br />
Just come home...<br />
<br />
<br />
*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLU6LLIBbt0&feature=relatedPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-43826964144983148372011-03-16T07:06:00.000-07:002011-03-16T07:17:17.678-07:00Princess Living<i>Dear friends,</i><br />
<br />
Recently God has seen fit to test me, and to allow satan to "sift me like wheat" (a paraphrase of something Jesus said to Peter once). There are a few circumstances in my life right now which, given alone, would each "sift" the heart of the bravest princess in the highest kingdom. I have three such. And often I feel am indeed "sifted like wheat", poured out through little holes in my own heart continually throughout each day.<br />
<br />
But I looked up that quote, and it happens after Jesus creates the ritual of Communion, the historic gathering of the Church to commemorate the Last Supper. I remember what Peter did later, how he denied Jesus three times in the courtyard, waiting for the verdict to come down on Jesus. How he cursed and swore to prove he was not a follower of the Meek One. How he then went and cried his soul out in anguish - because he'd done the denying Jesus had predicted? because Jesus was about to be crucified? because all his dreams of the Kingdom-come-right-now were vaporizing before his eyes?<br />
<br />
I've been there, and recently.<br />
<br />
I won't go into detail on any of the three sifting circumstances now in place in my life. But you need to know they are no less powerful to me than Jesus' impending crucifixion to Peter. Sometimes it seems to me my Savior disappears, vaporizes, in the midst of the doubt-producing events occurring as I type this. As a child of the King, raised to act as such, taught to walk in the light and not in the darkness, schooled to show myself approved unto God, this presents yet another hardship: how to consistently walk through it all, carrying myself like the princess I am.<br />
<br />
I have a beloved friend, my best friend since high school, whom I can call at any time of the day or night, and talk about anything my heart desires. Such a friend is worth more than her weight in gold, especially in these times. Lately I've been calling just about every other day or so, and she never fails to remind me that I am a princess of the Most High King, never fails to help me figure out what that means for the day I'm in. It seems in this time - when I finally think I've found a footing on this shifting ground, and then one of the three trying circumstances tugs at my strings and pulls me out of kilter - it seems there are no answers for how a Christian woman can walk like a princess of the Most High King. There are too many stressors, too many unknowns, too many surprises in this life. How can one stick to something so archaic as princesshood amid the daily American life of a mother in this new century? How can I hold to the promises and "just keep walking" with my head high and a smile on my face, while all around me the waters are raging and the mountains are crumbling and the things I placed my trust in long ago are evaporating? Where is the instruction? What are the rules? <br />
<br />
This morning I logged onto my email to read the daily devotion and verse I receive automatically from the Bible Gateway website. Lately these have been unusually appropos to my situation. Hm, funny thing that... Today is no exception. Here is the verse, arrived in the night while I slept, generated months ago by whoever placed it in the memory banks of the website's computer:<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">Colossians 3:12</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.</i></span></div><br />
I love this verse for more than one reason. First, it tells me I am chosen. Second, it tells me I am loved. And third, it instructs me how to walk. I may not like the idea of walking in this manner. I'd much rather throw a fit and go into hysterics and lean on those who offer themselves far more than is called for. But God commands his children to "clothe yourselves" in the fruit of the Spirit, clothing that becomes a child of His. I find this command precious to my soul.<br />
<br />
Also, when Jesus had risen from the dead and gone to meet the disciples on the lake shore, frying fish for their breakfast, He made sure to let Peter know he was forgiven. He didn't ask anything of him except love. He didn't tell him how bad he'd been, He didn't show him up in front of the others, He didn't rake him over the coals for his triple betrayal. He simply asked if he loved Him, and gave him the task of feeding the flock of the Church, including the little ones. How amazing! How it goes against all modern concepts of how to pick a CEO! Who's going to run the Church of Jesus? Why, the guy who failed the most at supporting Him in His hour of need!! Of course! What??<br />
<br />
So when I fall flat on my face at being a princess, the Most High King doesn't give me a dressing down in front of His court. He lifts me up gently and assigns me a new job that only He can see me fit for. And He gives me instructions in His Word. And these instructions are nothing new, I've grown up with them. But now I see them as more beautiful than ever before, now I see them as not a choice, but a command, more than ever before. Now I take on this command, and devote myself to wearing daily the clothes of a princess of the Most High King, "compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience".<br />
<br />
Against such there is no law.<br />
<br />
Simply walking,<br />
<i>Patty</i>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-12296322550462238522011-02-18T05:07:00.000-08:002011-02-18T05:07:44.902-08:00Words From Wise OnesSometimes Charles Spurgeon gets it just right where others fail:<br />
<blockquote><br />
God often takes away our comforts and our privileges in order to make us better Christians. He trains his soldiers, not in tents of ease and luxury, but by turning them out and using them to forced marches and hard service. He makes them ford through streams, and swim through rivers, and climb mountains, and walk many a long mile with heavy knapsacks of sorrow on their backs. Well, Christian, may not this account for the troubles through which thou art passing? Is not the Lord bringing out your graces, and making them grow? Is not this the reason why he is contending with you? <br />
<br />
"Trials make the promise sweet;<br />
Trials give new life to prayer;<br />
Trials bring me to his feet,<br />
Lay me low, and keep me there."<br />
<br />
</blockquote>This may bother some folks, but right now it is a comfort to me. And to some folks I would say, like God said to Job:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>"Will the faultfinder contend with the Almighty?<br />
Let him who reproves God answer it....<br />
"Now gird up your loins like a man;<br />
I will ask you, and you instruct Me.<br />
"Will you really annul My judgment?<br />
Will you condemn Me that you may be justified?<br />
"Or do you have an arm like God,<br />
And can you thunder with a voice like His?<br />
"Adorn yourself with eminence and dignity,<br />
And clothe yourself with honor and majesty.<br />
"Pour out the overflowings of your anger,<br />
And look on everyone who is proud, and make him low.<br />
"Look on everyone who is proud, and humble him,<br />
And tread down the wicked where they stand.<br />
"Hide them in the dust together;<br />
Bind them in the hidden place.<br />
"Then I will also confess to you,<br />
That your own right hand can save you."</blockquote><br />
And though I have complained at times, I say with Job:<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote>"I know that You can do all things,<br />
And that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted.<br />
'Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?'<br />
"Therefore I have declared that which I did not understand,<br />
Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know."<br />
'Hear, now, and I will speak;<br />
I will ask You, and You instruct me.'<br />
"I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear;<br />
But now my eye sees You;<br />
Therefore I retract,<br />
And I repent in dust and ashes."</blockquote><br />
For I am trusting that like Job, the LORD will bless my latter days more than my beginning. And I am following the Song of the King, not the song of the Hopenots.<br />
<br />
It helps more if you are going to sing, if you will please sing the first, and not the second. I'm not a fan of Charles Ives, and I have very finely tuned musical ears, so more than one song at a time just reeeeeeally bothers me. Ya know. <br />
<br />
Thanks. Won't you join me?<br />
<br />
<i>Simply singing,</i><br />
<i>Patty</i>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-34763038481086454462011-02-02T09:10:00.000-08:002011-02-02T09:14:58.577-08:00A letter to my friends<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Dear Friends, </i></div><br />
I wanted to keep you in the picture where my own emotional state is, as I know you all have prayed about that too. <br />
<br />
Yesterday, I woke up around 3:15am, and started crying because I couldn't give my little girl a party for her birthday, or even go and see her, or wish her happy birthday and expect she will see it. So I started praying, and searching the Scriptures, and waiting on the Lord. For two hours I did this. I posted "I love you" all down her Facebook wall, in hopes somehow she could see it, but I don't think she looks at it anymore at all.<br />
<br />
Then, around 5:30am, as I was reading the Psalms, God brought to me over and over certain ones of the songs He gave his people all those centuries ago that exactly speak to my situation. I pondered this, and other evidences of God's love in my life recently, and understood that He wants me to TRUST Him. My daughter had given me some warning of all this, a couple weeks before it happened. But being Christmas and New Year's, I had pushed it all into the back of my mind (which was, I'm sure, what some intended). I reviewed her words to me, as far as I can remember them in my addled brain, and the word that most came to the fore was TRUST. She wanted us to trust her. And so I have decided to do just that, really trusting in GOD'S ability to keep her safe, and her intention not to harm us whom she loves. She made me understand then that she wanted to keep us from any more pain and hardship than was necessary. <br />
<br />
I believed then that she was getting into some kind of trouble, but didn't know what, nor how to get her to listen to me, so didn't push it at the time. And the holidays sent it clean out of my mind, together with a life decision I was working on, and an unexpected, positive, life-changing experience. For this I have been full of guilt at times, as the enemy hurls his darts at me. But God is faithful to remind me of His forgiveness, and gives the peace which passes all understanding in this situation. I know I am loved with a love as vast as the ocean, and I know I am in the center of His will, seeking a way to serve Him completely at last. <br />
<br />
And so I came to peace in the end, TRUSTING in God's almighty hand on my daughter, TRUSTING the Spirit within her, TRUSTING her own intentions as they are good. If the lesson in TRUST had not begun in December, I do not know if I would have been able to face yesterday. But God is able, who delivers me from the wily snares of the enemy. And His timing is oh! so perfect!<br />
<br />
And so throughout her birthday, I was given guidance and assurance that I could rest on His unchanging love, and I laid down the heavy burden of rescuing my daughter from the place she'd got herself by her ignorance of the world, and took up the burden which is light, which is simply TRUSTING the omniscience, omnipotence, and omnipresence of the God of the universe instead.<br />
<br />
<blockquote><i>Praise God from whom all blessings flow,<br />
Praise God all creatures here below.<br />
Alleluia! Alleluia!<br />
Praise God, the Source of all our gifts,<br />
Praise Jesus Christ, whose power uplifts,<br />
Praise the Spirit, Holy Spirit,<br />
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!!</i></blockquote><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Simply loved,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Patty</span></i>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-13194873067280139622011-01-29T15:22:00.000-08:002011-01-29T15:22:18.339-08:00Re-echoing the Praise of the LordJanuary 15, 2011, will forever mark the day between my former existence as a happy mother of two, and my new existence as a mother of one teenage, musical, artistic, very intelligent Boy Scout whose beloved big sister suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, ran away and left him in a clinically anxious state, and one..... what kind of girl??<br />
<br />
On that day our daughter, aged 19 going on 20, broke up with her boyfriend of 3 years, with whom she was practically engaged - had indeed made plans - in a most rude manner, over the phone. When I learned of this, I began delving into her friendships and found out she had cut off ALL ties with ANY of her friends. Facebook seemed the only connection she had left open. Over the next 24-36 hours we discovered she was in thick with a cult, and was lobbing accusations of abuse at us, her parents. We have subsequently learned that she has not attended ANY of the classes or sessions she enthusiastically set up for herself in the previous weeks, including her new college, George Fox, who verified that she had canceled all her classes. This in itself proved to us that our daughter was not acting out of her own will. To say this was disconcerting or even alarming would be a grave understatement of our feelings as parents. We were TERRIFIED for our daughter's safety!<br />
<br />
We attempted to call, but were met with the immediate voice mail message.We called the host family where she was staying, but were stone-walled. As all messages from her appeared to have been written by someone else, we feared the worst. Yet when the police went to the home in which we last knew she was staying, they told us she was fine, an adult, and we should just back off.<br />
<br />
The threats in her messages seemed to intensify over the next days, as I strove by using Facebook to reach my daughter herself somehow. It was clear her computers and telephone had been hijacked by the cult, and messages were being sent by people other than our daughter. Her voice on the phone and in messages was hers, but it was oddly changed, with a robotic quality that scared us very much. She was obviously repeating words she'd been coached to use. What were they feeding our daughter? What kind of mind manipulation were they using? Who could we get to help us?! The police were useless, and counselors were all out of town or otherwise occupied, including our daughter's own sleep therapist. The help friends gave us in the way of websites to visit and books to read merely added to my confusion, as it was all too new for me to digest all the information and sort out what would be helpful to us. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. This cult leader knew what he was doing.<br />
<br />
The other day, our daughter left the car we'd bought for her to drive, along with everything to do with it (including the AAA card I'd gotten for her safety, cut in several pieces), her house key, and her cell phone, parked in front of the police station. She sent us a "Cease and Desist" letter, we believe was crafted by the cult leader, which was also sent to the policeman on the case. We thought this very odd, and that prompted a visit from me personally. I demanded to know what was going on with my daughter. The two policemen who had seen her the day before sat down with me very patiently and went over it all again. Basically they told me for the umpteenth time that since she was over 18 they could do nothing, and she has the right to do as she pleases. They also told me that if she wanted a restraining order she would have grounds, given the number of times we had attempted to contact her within a week. This feels like a threat. Me! Threatened by my own daughter together with my hometown police for attempting to protect her!!<br />
<br />
So we have had to take our hands completely off this situation. We have no knowledge of our daughter's whereabouts. We have no way to find out. We know she is penniless and without any form of transportation, except what she is able to beg from others. We know she has probably got somebody to buy her a new cell phone, because she removed the battery and SIM card from hers when she left it in the car (which is theft, as those batteries are not cheap).<br />
<br />
To say this keeps me awake nights would be yet another vast understatement of the facts.<br />
<br />
But I am a child of the King. My daughter is a child of the King. All my life I have heard the promises, sung them, lived by them, taught them to my children. My daughter knows who she is, and in her heart is buried the Word of God, the Sword of the Lord, hidden in her heart with songs and memory verses and stories from Bible School, Sunday School, recordings of Christian singers and choirs she's sung in, and lullabies I used to sing her, one of which we sang together in my Mothers Day concert on behalf of Haiti last spring, another of which we sang together just last month at her grandmother's funeral. And if my life has not acted as witness to the Truth of those Words I sought to teach her, it is myself at fault, and not the promises.<br />
<br />
We are not powerless.<br />
<br />
I have been extremely distraught over this until now. I have gone ballistic on Facebook with so many posts people have hidden me or just turned it off. Some of them sent me messages, as they were very concerned for me. I thank God for them. They were right. So I turned off Facebook and gave my login information to my best friend to check for any messages from my daughter. Of course there haven't been.<br />
<br />
I have had difficulty smiling at people, answering their "How are you today?" in the store without saying just a plain, "Awful!" I have shed tears at odd times in odd places. And I cannot stand to look at the row of Growing Up Girls in the cupboard, waiting for the time my daughter should move out and have her own china closet to keep them in safely. This Tuesday, February 1, will be her 20th birthday. I can not even think of it. There has NEVER been a year I was not planning a party or get-together to celebrate God's leaving this most amazing child with us another year.<br />
<br />
I have gone over and over what reasons my daughter could have for so breaking the hearts of everyone, EVERYONE, who loves her. I admit we have made mistakes, and I admit my attention has not been fully on her words in the last two months. If only she would come and sit down with me, and talk, just the two of us together, for a little while. Perhaps we could understand each other somewhat and put this behind us. I am not even permitted to ask for that. Not even permitted to try and apologize for whatever it is she is so unhappy about that she had to remove herself. But her words and actions beforehand lead me to believe she was not unhappy with us until she went with the cult, who twisted her mind around in knots and confused her so she doesn't know which way is Home.<br />
<br />
I'd been hoping for a song to come to me, like they always do, that would speak to this situation. It's how I pray, and God is always faithful to send one. But there seemed no song for this. There are no words for this. But as I walked in the park today with my little dog, Jeffy, the sun came out. There were many people in the park today, as it was a planting day. The river was lovely, reflecting the houses on the other side. They were upside down... just like my life has been turned by my daughter.<br />
<br />
As I walked through the filtered sunlight with Jeffy skipping beside me, finally a song came to me. It's on page 518 of The United Methodist Hymnal, copyrighted 1989, which includes a few musical contributions by my daughter's Godmother, Elise Eslinger,which has nothing to do with this; and it goes like this:<br />
<br />
<blockquote><i><span style="font-size: small;">O Thou, in whose presence my soul takes delight,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">On whom in affliction I call,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">My comfort by day and my song in the night,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">My hope, my salvation, my all!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Where dost thou, dear Shepherd, resort with thy sheep,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">To feed them in pastures of love?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Say, why in the valley of death should I weep,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Or alone in this wilderness rove?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">O why should I wander, an alien from thee,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Or cry in the desert for bread?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">And smile at the tears I have shed.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Restore, my dear Savior, the light of thy face,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Thy soul-cheering comfort impart;</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">And let the sweet tokens of pardoning grace</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Bring joy to my desolate heart.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">He looks! and ten thousands of angels rejoice,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">And myriads wait for his word,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">He speaks! and eternity, filled with his voice,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Re-echoes the praise of the Lord.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">(Joseph Swain, 1791 - Ps. 23)</span></i></blockquote>I will praise Him. Though I have no earthly reason to right now, I will sing praises. It's who I am, a daughter of the King, and it's the job He gave me when I was born. And I intend to act, above all, like a true daughter of the King acts, by the grace of God.<br />
<br />
Put that in your pipe and smoke it! And you can take that to the bank.<br />
<br />
Simply T-R-U-S-T-ing,<br />
PattyPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-47677924189725411112011-01-13T03:51:00.001-08:002011-01-13T03:52:26.486-08:00Love is of GodIt was as if it were a death, and an old one at that.<br />
<br />
She sifted through the photos, old photos, of their youth. They were still the same, those children. They hadn't grown or changed, they were still laughing just as they did so long ago, still walking across the tarmac to their waiting family, still planning to make the move that directed their entire lives and who their children would be and why they would eventually part ways.<br />
<br />
And that was the answer, the reason at the core. They hadn't grown together. It's impossible for two vines to grow together if one refuses to grow, refuses to act like a vine but must immitate a fence post. The one growing vine will curl around it and even put tentacles into the fence-post-like vine, but eventually it must shoot out and away, seeking other company in the sunlight.<br />
<br />
And so she had, while he stayed in his childhood, afraid to grow toward the light, and even shunning the touch of her leaves, planting himself firmly in the mud, and ridiculing her as she reached with all her might upward, ever outward, toward the joyous, rain-filled air. They were never alike. They were planted wrongly in the garden.<br />
<br />
Oh, it wasn't the Gardener's fault. But it was so nonetheless. Some underling had made the mistake, seeing the vine reaching, reaching toward the other in its shoot days. The Gardener had simply allowed it, to give the underling a lesson perhaps. But the underling hadn't got it, had left the two, she wrapped around him, he unwilling to grow, all the years locked by the rule of the garden - no one must move what has been planted - for so many, many years. And little vines had come up through the soil between them, sheltered by the growing vine from the intense sun of summer and worst rain of winter. But the two vines did not grow together. It was impossible.<br />
<br />
The little vines were grown large enough now to stand much of the sun and rain on their own. She was almost as dead as the vine-turned-fence-post beside her. The rain fell gently on her upturned leaves: "Come out! Come out! Higher, climb higher into the open space where the sun will shine! We are almost finished watering the earth for awhile, the light will come again. Lift up your head!"<br />
<br />
And so she did, as she put the pictures back into the disintegrating album. She looked up, and looked around. And she wasn't disappointed, there was the light! There was a whole garden all around her! And she knew there was the Gardener, though she couldn't yet see Him. And there were other vines, and especially that one....<br />
<br />
Then she heard the voice of the Gardener saying, "Lift up your head, your redemption draweth nigh." And she knew it was time to put away the former things, for behold, all things are becoming new! And she stretched out her tendrils toward that other vine with all her might, but something gave her pause, something undescribable here.<br />
<br />
But reach she must. The Gardener had said it, and that voice she never disobeyed had commanded her to LIVE. So live she must.<br />
<br />
She put away the old photos. She would begin tomorrow to sort them all, like she'd planned for so many years, but life had got in the way. Just like it had got in the way of her growing toward the light. She would grow in a new direction, alone in the garden if necessary. She would be growing, though, and living. If not, she would end up a fence post, good for nothing but hemming in and saying "No!", even when "Yes!" is what's written.<br />
<br />
This was her salvation.<br />
<br />
<blockquote><i>But as surely as God is faithful, our message to you is not “Yes” and “No.” For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was preached among you by us — by me and Silas and Timothy — was not “Yes” and “No,” but in him it has always been “Yes.” For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ.</i></blockquote>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-18750919656708114712010-12-28T02:28:00.000-08:002010-12-28T02:29:02.633-08:00Waiting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgngwKNsVKh5nlwHVp1aJBeVDKYJ7B3vnsIlFSvcAfEc1rlu91znbmTIwoZUk3FjcWfHYMgIISlULlwNmkZT_3cGPP0jJ8urvHYEF2NPjRZRFoEvGbPc4feVqmEv5y4YYRNc3S7oVjHAsw/s1600/sailboat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgngwKNsVKh5nlwHVp1aJBeVDKYJ7B3vnsIlFSvcAfEc1rlu91znbmTIwoZUk3FjcWfHYMgIISlULlwNmkZT_3cGPP0jJ8urvHYEF2NPjRZRFoEvGbPc4feVqmEv5y4YYRNc3S7oVjHAsw/s1600/sailboat.jpg" /></a></div>Waiting. <br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
<br />
But I'm still waiting. The Messiah has come and I'm still waiting. There's something wrong with that.<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
Yes. I certainly am. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
yare (pron: yar) (adj)<br />
<b>Definition:</b> Describing a boat that handles with little effort. A good sailing design, quick and capable.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Just under it in the Nautical Dictionary I found online is this:<br />
<br />
yaw (n)<br />
<b>Definition:</b> The turning of a boat off course caused by seas arriving at an angle.<br />
<b>See Also:</b> pitch, roll<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Lord, I want to be yare, please. I'm ready. Please square me up so I quit this yawing. <br />
<br />
Simply waiting,<br />
<br />
PattyPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-63944005806465858942010-11-21T05:46:00.000-08:002010-11-21T05:46:38.668-08:00SeasonsIt 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.<br />
<br />
What is this about?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Matthew 8:26 He said to them, "Why are you afraid, you men of little faith?"<br />
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?<br />
Matthew 12:48 But Jesus answered the one who was telling Him and said, "Who is My mother and who are My brothers?"<br />
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?"<br />
Matthew 15:16 Jesus said, "Are you still lacking in understanding also?<br />
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?<br />
Matthew 16:15 He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" <br />
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? <br />
<div style="color: black;"><b style="color: black;"></b>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?"</div><div style="color: black;">Matthew 18:1 At that time the disciples came to Jesus and said, " Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?"</div><div style="color: black;">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?"</div><div style="color: black;">Matthew 20:32 And Jesus stopped and called them, and said, "What do you want Me to do for you?"</div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
Now there's a loaded question if ever I saw one!!</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">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'?"</div><div style="color: black;">Matthew 21:31 "Which of the two did the will of his father?" </div><div style="color: black;">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'?</div><div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;">Matthew 22:18 But Jesus perceived their malice, and said, "Why are you testing Me, you hypocrites?</div><div style="color: black;">Matthew 26:10 But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, "Why do you bother the woman?</div><div style="color: black;">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?</div><div style="color: black;">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?" </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">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.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">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.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">How much suffering are You going to tolerate before You clean this up, Lord?</div><div style="color: black;">Where do I fit in all this?</div><div style="color: black;">How does the life I'm living right now lead to Your promises in the future?</div><div style="color: black;">When will you let me in on Your secret plan, eh Lord?</div><div style="color: black;">If this, then why that??</div><div style="color: black;">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?</div><div style="color: black;">If the life of a Christian, lived rightly aligned, exudes joy, why is mine exuding so much angst?</div><div style="color: black;">What do you want me to do about all this?!</div><div style="color: black;">And what about him, Lord?? How does THAT fit in Your plan???</div><div style="color: black;">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? </div><div style="color: black;">How will I know what You want me to do?</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">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.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">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?!</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">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. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Open my eyes that I may see glimplses of truth Thou hast for me;</div><div style="color: black;">Place in my hands the wonderful key that shall unclasp and set me free.</div><div style="color: black;">Silently now I wait for Thee, ready my God, Thy will to see,</div><div style="color: black;">Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit Divine!</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Simply searching,</div><div style="color: black;">Patty</div><div style="color: black;"></div>Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-11184126860497063562010-07-29T09:50:00.000-07:002010-07-29T09:50:16.673-07:00Play 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.<br />
<br />
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”.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Fascinating, this parallel I’m drawing. Keep reading, if you will. Please. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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“A bruised reed He will not break,<br />
And a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish;<br />
He will faithfully bring forth justice.<br />
He will not be disheartened or crushed,<br />
Until He has established justice in the earth;<br />
And the coastlands will wait expectantly for His law.”<br />
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Thus says God the Lord,<br />
Who created the heavens and stretched them out,<br />
Who spread out the earth and its offspring,<br />
Who gives breath to the people on it,<br />
And spirit to those who walk in it,<br />
“I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,<br />
I will also hold you by the hand and watch over you,<br />
And I will appoint you as a covenant to the people,<br />
As a light to the nations,<br />
To open blind eyes,<br />
To bring out prisoners from the dungeon,<br />
And those who dwell in darkness from the prison.<br />
I am the Lord, that is My name;<br />
I will not give My glory to another,<br />
Nor My praise to graven images.<br />
Behold, the former things have come to pass,<br />
Now I declare new things;<br />
Before they spring forth I declare them to you.” Is. 42:3-9<br />
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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?<br />
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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.” <br />
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Really? Me??<br />
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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!<br />
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“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! <br />
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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.”<br />
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“Behold, the former things have come to pass,<br />
Now I declare new things;<br />
Before they spring forth I declare them to you.”<br />
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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.<br />
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Sing to the Lord a new song,<br />
Sing His praise from the end of the earth!<br />
You who go down to the sea, and all that is in it.<br />
You islands and those who dwell on them.<br />
Let the wilderness and its cities lift up their voices,<br />
The settlements where Kedar inhabits.<br />
Let the inhabitants of Sela sing aloud,<br />
Let them shout for joy from the tops of the mountains.<br />
Let them give glory to the Lord,<br />
And declare His praise in the coastlands. Is. 42:10-12<br />
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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. <br />
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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! <br />
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“I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,<br />
I will also hold you by the hand and watch over you,<br />
And I will appoint you…”<br />
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That’s Good News, folks. That’s something to turn up your volume for!<br />
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Simply playing His Song,<br />
<br />
Patty<br />
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1. See Max Lucado’s The Song of the King<br />
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.<br />
3. A line in “Make Our Garden Grow” from the opera Candide by BernsteinPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-70065558255718036442010-06-24T07:49:00.000-07:002010-06-24T07:49:40.011-07:00O Lord, Our Lord, How Excellent is Thy Name in All the Earth!<h4>Psalm 8</h4> <sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14014">1</sup>O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14015">2</sup>Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14016">3</sup>When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14017">4</sup>What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14018">5</sup>For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14019">6</sup>Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet: <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14020">7</sup>All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field; <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14021">8</sup>The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-14022">9</sup>O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-79528741638353591542010-06-06T09:45:00.000-07:002010-06-18T07:26:11.536-07:00Simply AstoundedA "Friend of a Friend" posted this on his status on Facebook, after his graduation (I assume):<br />
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"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?"<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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! <br />
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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.<br />
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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."<br />
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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.<br />
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My God, my portion and my love, my everlasting all,<br />
I've none but thee in heaven above, or on this earthly ball.<br />
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What empty things are all the skies, and this inferior clod!<br />
There's nothing here deserves my joys, there nothing like my God.<br />
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In vain the bright, the burning sun, scatters his feeble light;<br />
'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon; if thou withdraw, 'tis night.<br />
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Let all that dwell above the sky, andd air, and earth, and seas,<br />
Conspire to lift Thy glories high and speak Thine endless praise.<br />
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The whole creation, join in one, to bless the sacred Name,<br />
Of Him that sits upon the throne, and to adore the Lamb.<br />
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Of Him that sits upon the throne, and to adore,<br />
And to adore the Lamb! Adore the Lamb!<br />
(By Isaac Watts and F. Lewis. Arr. Mack Willberg)<br />
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This is what I'd gift my children with. This is far purer than gold, lasts longer, is worth so, so much, much more!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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Simply astounded,<br />
Patty<br />
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** 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.....Pattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-779523865738167736.post-36951831153252196202010-05-28T10:51:00.000-07:002010-05-28T10:51:58.475-07:00Stitches for HaitiSo 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.<br />
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Please take a look, and do feel free to offer suggestions for my shop on Etsy and items as well.<br />
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Thanks!<br />
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Simply selling,<br />
PattyPattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11487030789575973167noreply@blogger.com0