For Such a Time as This?

 Pretentious title? Maybe. Many have used that phrase recently to sound an alarm. Why do I use it, then? Because I'm reading the book of Esther in the Bible, and even though I've read it many times and heard the phrase many times recently, it rings loudly still.

Why are you here? For what time were you put on the planet? I ask myself these questions almost daily. The world changes occurring now come only after my own titanic shifts in what was once a happily settled life. Or at least, happily on the surface. So I've experienced what everyone is going through in the country now on a personal level already. I asked myself more times than I can say, and hurled the question at God even recently, "Why am I here?!!"

Can it be, that from the wreckage of a personal life can come wisdom for the age of drastic change? Only God knows. God, who is above all things good. God, to whom I've entrusted my existence all my life, and who has never failed me. God, who holds the planets in balance and places the stars in the black night sky to light our darkness.

I've been nurturing a few summer flowers on my little balcony, outside my sliding door. They've brought me joy with their spots of color in the brown/grey world in my apartment view, looking on the parking lot as it does. Last week a raccoon climbed up and ravaged some of the pots. I have no idea what he could have been looking for in my pots, but dirst was pulled out all around the pots, as deep as the halfway mark or more. It feels like a rape, by a wild animal.

I think the country is feeling that way right now about our present political climate. At least 2/3 of us, anyway, according to the polls, if not more. We cry, "How long, oh Lord?!" over and over again in our prayers. We don't recognize the country our parents gave their life blood to save once upon a time, and taught us respect and love ourselves. 

I found myself weeping after listening to the news on public radio - where has my country gone? It breaks my heart. Someone has climbed up to the heights of our beautiful pedestal in Washington and ravaged all that was good and loving and kind there, and it's spreading far and wide. What is going on in Heaven?? How can God allow it?? What is to be done by decent, everyday, citizens buried already under our own survival efforts??

Then I read in Esther, "...who knows if perhaps you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” Can it be coincidence that these words fall upon my consciousness at just this moment by accident? No one has brought me to any "kingdom", that's for sure! Yet still, the words ring loudly, like a call to arms from the Liberty Bell itself.

But am I writing for the sake of political victory, political gain, or any political motive? No. My motivation is love and charity, compassion and empathy - the qualities modeled by Jesus and so disdained by people bearing His Name today in positions of power. Because I also bear that Name, and I seek to follow where He called me so very many years ago now. And everyone who has left home and family for the sake of Christ's calling feels the same. If not, it's not Christ's call they've heard and followed.

We feel embattled, alone in our houses watching and reading the news these days, or out in the public square, seeing and hearing enemies of our faith taking our Lord's name in vain, working for those things Jesus decried and died fighting against, working to down His Name and squash everyone different from themselves. We, who heard the call of God to "love your enemies, do good to those who hate you," etc., don't even recognize the ones in power using our beliefs as a tool to gain more power as brothers and sisters in the faith - their lives do not bear witness, as Jesus said, "you shall know them by their fruits." [Matthew 7]

For such a time as this were we trained to recognize Christ's fruit? For we see so clearly today what is good fruit and bad fruit in our public places, and "Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven." 

But far be it from me to assume God has made me His mouthpiece. Go read it for yourself and pray about what it might be saying to you. I am in no position to judge you. I only call out bad fruit I am seeing.

Soli Deo Gloria

 

What I Would Say to You This Saturday of Covid-19

(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.)

Comments are not needed, though a communication from the one this is for is prayed for every day.

“…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…”
-The Bible, The Book of Daniel, Chapter 2

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.

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. “Perfect Love casteth out fear.” In the words of the old song, “I’ve found it so; I’ve found it so.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Shalom to you now, shalom, my beloved one,
May God’s full mercies bless you, my dear one,
In all your living, and through your loving,
Christ be your Shalom, Christ be your Shalom.*

Until we meet again, here or in heaven, and all your life through, may God hold you in the palm of God’s hand.

Hide me in the shadow of your wings
Keep me as the apple of your eye
In the shadow of your wings I sing for joy
Who can harm me if you are for me?
Blessed be your name forever!

All around me the waves grew high
The sea was violent with the sound of many waters
The ocean, raging, came at me at midnight
Who will save me from these powerful foes?

The Lord is my rock and strong deliverer.

Hide me in the shadow of your wings
Keep me as the apple of your eye
In the shadow of your wings I sing for joy
Who can harm me if you are for me?
Blessed be your name forever,
And ever!

Amen!

(Psalmodish, 2011)

Psalmodish, Brown’s Ferry Park, Tualatin, OR

*(Song of Shalom, Mexico/Elise Eslinger, Alt.)

On My Face

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.
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.

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?
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.

That's it. That's my purpose. That's my focus. For that reason.
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.

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.

Nothing, that is, except a cross, which beam connects with God, which arms connect me to you.
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.

On my knees.

On my face.

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.

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.

Love is Lord of heaven and earth; how can I keep from singing it to you?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRhujopTr9k&start_radio=1&list=RDBRhujopTr9k

I am debating taking this blog down.

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.

It is full of innocence and ignorance. Life is never simple. Never.

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.

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.

I only know this: God is good. All the time.

Simply repentant - no, not "simply", not ever again, for nothing is simple, ever again.

Patty

https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10607033

Faith in the Night

January 28, 2015 at 7:11am

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.

Until they rise up and don't call you blessed.

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.

Or just dissolve into a heap of brain sickness.

Or both.

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? 

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?

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.

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.

Remember that? Faith? Faith.... 

"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.

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.

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.

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? 

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. 

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.

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. 

Then I had nothing.

"Faith is the essence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

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.

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. 

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....

"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.

Remember... "I AM with you always, even unto the end of the world."

Faith. That's all there is to it.

Simply in faith,
Patty

Message of the Wee Hours

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the Lord,
which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved:
he that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, he that keepeth Israel
shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is thy keeper:
the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.
The sun shall not smite thee by day,
nor the moon by night.
The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil:
he shall preserve thy soul.
The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in
from this time forth, and even for evermore.
Psalm 121 (KJV)

Married with these words:

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;
There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.
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.
He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.
Psalm 91 (KJV)

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!

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.

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?!

Somehow I went back to sleep soon after that.

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.

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.

Still no sleep.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

I smile as I type that last paragraph.

Jesus, take the wheel,
Take it from my hands.
Cause I can't do this on my own.
I'm letting go.
So give me one more chance,
Save me from this road I'm on.
Oh Jesus, take the wheel. (Carrie Underwood)

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.

Amen

A New and Unusual Song

Hi,

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.

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.

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".

In the book, Cash In A Flash, 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.

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?

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.

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:

"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).

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.

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).

Have a nice day. Now go live your questions, and hopefully that will include being a true frIEND to someone!

"I'm worn...."

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.

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.

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.

I’m Tired I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left
Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn
I know I need to lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won’t let up
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left
Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn
My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah, I’m worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah, I’m worn
I’ve lost my will to fight
I’m worn
So, heaven come and flood my eyes
Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause all that’s dead inside will be reborn
Though I’m worn
Yeah I’m worn

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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'm worn.

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.

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.

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.

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.

 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.

I only got on here to say that I'm worn, and that even so I wait.

"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 am worn, Lord, but I wait. Please, let me know a song can rise from the ashes of this broken life.
In Jesus' name,
Amen.

Simply waiting,
Patty

YouTube: Worn by Tenth Avenue North

 Sept. 21, 2012

Simple Journey

Don't we wish! Life is nothing like a simple journey, is it? If it seems so, then perhaps something is missing, like living!

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...

Then everything changed - EVERYTHING.

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.

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.

Simply sharing,

Patty

Level Ground

 Yesterday was a day of new beginnings, stepping out in faith, and learning experiences.

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.

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.

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.

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 knew 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.

Until my world completely came apart last year.

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.

I've said many a time over this past year and a half since my daughter went away with a con man:

If the LORD had not been on our side—
   let Israel say—
 if the LORD had not been on our side
   when people attacked us,
 they would have swallowed us alive
   when their anger flared against us;
 the flood would have engulfed us,
   the torrent would have swept over us,
 the raging waters
   would have swept us away.  (from Psalm 124)

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.

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.

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.

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....

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.

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?

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?

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.

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.

"Let your good Spirit lead me on level ground"*, 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.

Thanks for reading. May your spirit be blessed by this simple song.

Simply following,
Patty

*Teach me to do your will,
   for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
   lead me on level ground.
                       Ps. 143:10

Kaleidoscopic Living

This has been my life since November 30, 2011, when I walked away from my marriage and my home.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.


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.

So can't I be forgiven for my unwillingness to mouth these words that one day of the year?

Children of the heav’nly Father
Safely in His bosom gather;
Nestling bird nor star in Heaven
Such a refuge e’er was given.

God His own doth tend and nourish;
In His holy courts they flourish;
From all evil things He spares them;
In His mighty arms He bears them.

Neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever;
Unto them His grace He showeth,
And their sorrows all He knoweth.

Though He giveth or He taketh,
God His children ne’er forsaketh;
His the loving purpose solely
To preserve them pure and holy.

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???

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!!!

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?

Oh, this is heresy!! Especially on a blog that purports to be encouraging, right?

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 Kar­oli­na W. San­dell-Berg. And what I found, when I sat alone in my room, listening for the answer, was an answer that worked for me.

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.

Here's the answer I was given:

*I* am a child of the heavenly Father. I can review my own experiences:

1. Has he been there for me all my life? Yes, he has.
2. Has he tended and nourished me? Yes, and I can list ways he's done that.
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.
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.
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.
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.

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.

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.

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:

" See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are."
1 John 3:1a

And the last two verses, usually left out, just illustrate further how intimately involved our heavenly Father wants to be in our lives:

Lo, their very hairs He numbers,
And no daily care encumbers
Them that share His ev’ry blessing
And His help in woes distressing.

Praise the Lord in joyful numbers:
Your Protector never slumbers.
At the will of your Defender
Ev’ry foeman must surrender.

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.
 
 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???

His answer is: "I am there. And what is that to you? You follow me."

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.

Peace,
Simply Patty

The Lord Liveth, and Blessed Be The Rock

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:

Psalm 18

The LORD Praised for Giving Deliverance.

    For the choir director. A Psalm 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,

“I love You, O LORD, my strength.”
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge;
My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised,
And I am saved from my enemies.

The cords of death encompassed me,
And the torrents of ungodliness terrified me.
The cords of Sheol surrounded me;
The snares of death confronted me.
In my distress I called upon the LORD,
And cried to my God for help;
He heard my voice out of His temple,
And my cry for help before Him came into His ears.

 

Then the earth shook and quaked;
And the foundations of the mountains were trembling
And were shaken, because He was angry.
Smoke went up out of His nostrils,
And fire from His mouth devoured;
Coals were kindled by it.
He bowed the heavens also, and came down
With thick darkness under His feet.
He rode upon a cherub and flew;
And He sped upon the wings of the wind.
He made darkness His hiding place, His canopy around Him,
Darkness of waters, thick clouds of the skies.
From the brightness before Him passed His thick clouds,
Hailstones and coals of fire.
The LORD also thundered in the heavens,
And the Most High uttered His voice,
Hailstones and coals of fire.
He sent out His arrows, and scattered them,
And lightning flashes in abundance, and routed them.
Then the channels of water appeared,
And the foundations of the world were laid bare
At Your rebuke, O LORD,
At the blast of the breath of Your nostrils.

 

He sent from on high, He took me;
He drew me out of many waters.
He delivered me from my strong enemy,
And from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me.
They confronted me in the day of my calamity,
But the LORD was my stay.
He brought me forth also into a broad place;
He rescued me, because He delighted in me.

 

The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness;
According to the cleanness of my hands He has recompensed me.
For I have kept the ways of the LORD,
And have not wickedly departed from my God.
For all His ordinances were before me,
And I did not put away His statutes from me.
I was also blameless with Him,
And I kept myself from my iniquity.
Therefore the LORD has recompensed me according to my righteousness,
According to the cleanness of my hands in His eyes.

 

With the kind You show Yourself kind;
With the blameless You show Yourself blameless;
With the pure You show Yourself pure,
And with the crooked You show Yourself astute.
For You save an afflicted people,
But haughty eyes You abase.
For You light my lamp;
The LORD my God illumines my darkness.
For by You I can run upon a troop;
And by my God I can leap over a wall.

 

As for God, His way is blameless;
The word of the LORD is tried;
He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him.
For who is God, but the LORD?
And who is a rock, except our God,
The God who girds me with strength
And makes my way blameless?
He makes my feet like hinds’ feet,
And sets me upon my high places.
He trains my hands for battle,
So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You have also given me the shield of Your salvation,
And Your right hand upholds me;
And Your gentleness makes me great.
You enlarge my steps under me,
And my feet have not slipped.

 

I pursued my enemies and overtook them,
And I did not turn back until they were consumed.
I shattered them, so that they were not able to rise;
They fell under my feet.
For You have girded me with strength for battle;
You have subdued under me those who rose up against me.
You have also made my enemies turn their backs to me,
And I destroyed those who hated me.
They cried for help, but there was none to save,
Even to the LORD, but He did not answer them.
Then I beat them fine as the dust before the wind;
I emptied them out as the mire of the streets.

 

You have delivered me from the contentions of the people;
You have placed me as head of the nations;
A people whom I have not known serve me.
As soon as they hear, they obey me;
Foreigners submit to me.
Foreigners fade away,
And come trembling out of their fortresses.

 

The LORD lives, and blessed be my rock;
And exalted be the God of my salvation,
The God who executes vengeance for me,
And subdues peoples under me.
He delivers me from my enemies;
Surely You lift me above those who rise up against me;
You rescue me from the violent man.
Therefore I will give thanks to You among the nations, O LORD,
And I will sing praises to Your name.
He gives great deliverance to His king,
And shows lovingkindness to His anointed,
To David and his descendants forever. 

 

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.

Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!

The Lord liveth, and blessed be the Rock, 
and may the God of our salvation be exalted! 
The Lord liveth, and blessed be the Rock, 
and may the God of our salvation be exalted!

Praise with me the God of Easter, the Lord of the Resurrection, Jesus, our King and our Friend!

Simply praising, 

Patty

Leftovers

"And when they were filled, he saith unto his disciples, Gather up the broken pieces which remain over, that nothing be lost." John 6:12 (ASV)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_vrpMrQ--0

Nothing is lost on the breath of God,
nothing is lost for ever;
God's breath is love, and that love will remain,
holding the world for ever.
No feather too light, no hair too fine,
no flower too brief in its glory;
no drop in the ocean, no dust in the air,
but is counted and told in God's story.

Nothing is lost to the eyes of God,
nothing is lost for ever;
God sees with love and that love will remain,
holding the world for ever.
No journey too far, no distance too great,
no valley of darkness too blinding;
no creature too humble, no child too small
for God to be seeking, and finding.

Nothing is lost to the heart of God,
nothing is lost for ever;
God's heart is love, and that love will remain,
holding the world for ever.
No impulse of love, no office of care,
no moment of life in its fulness;
no beginning too late, no ending too soon,
but is gathered and known in God's goodness.

(Colin Gibson, 1994)


It's been a year.

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.

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".

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.

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.

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"!

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?

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.

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.

Can such a scrap be useful at last?

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.

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.

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."

So I ride in the LGPC** basket, for now.

I'll take it.

Simply gathered,
Patty


**Lake Grove Presbyterian Church in Lake Oswego, Oregon