Valentines Confession

My husband is out of town this Valentines Day. I’m not worried, though.

Even though I’ll miss Rich, I’ll be fine.

You see, I’ve another lover.

Tucked inside a bedside book reside his letters.
They kindle my fire, deepen my desire…

You’ve captured my heart, dear friend.
   You looked at me, and I fell in love.
   One look my way and I was hopelessly in love!
How beautiful your love, dear, dear friend…
The kisses of your lips are honey, my love,
   every syllable you speak a delicacy to savor.

The sweet, fragrant curves of your body,
the soft, spiced contours of your flesh
Invite me, and I come. I stay
until dawn breathes its light and night slips away.
You’re beautiful from head to toe, my dear love,
beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless.

…you’re a secret garden,
   a private and pure fountain.
Body and soul, you are paradise…

You’re so beautiful, my darling, so beautiful…

As night arrives on Valentines, I’ll make flame, place icons and play chant.

As I wait, I will rise and sway, and whisper His name.

Open and ready, I will hear “Jodi,” then see His face, His eyes full of love.

My Lover, my Bridegroom will come.

Swaying softly in his embrace, we will become one. Forever we are one…

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Although I’ll miss Rich this Valentines Day, I am looking forward to One-on-one time with Jesus, the Lover of my soul.

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*Italicized text is taken from Song of Solomon (The Message version).
(By and large, the Church sees the Song of Solomon as an allegory of the love between God and His people, Christ and His church and Christ and the soul).

Hoarding Happens

Maybe you hoard and you don’t even know it…

Recently, I watched show on pack rats or hoarders.  It was an intervention show, the kind where either the court or loved ones see a problem and intervene to help the person deal with their “issue.”

I’m not a pack rat, so was mesmerized by the hold “stuff” had on these poor souls.

The first image I remember seeing was a woman winding her way through her home to get to the front door to let the professional organizer in.  Her path was flanked by waist-high piles of boxes, newspapers, clothing and trash.  It was hard to imagine anyone actually “living” in that home, for there were no open areas, no available places to sit or sleep.  She pointed out where she sat to watch TV and the couch was covered high with “stuff.”

One of the show’s two interventions was prompted by a court order–a woman’s husband had to leave the house for health reasons until it was habitable.  The other was prompted by loving family members.  In both instances the professional organizers weren’t there to toss, organize and clean, they were there to help the hoarder release their grip on their stuff.  Nothing was thrown without permission, nothing was boxed unless the pack rat gave a nod.

The hoarders struggled with releasing simple things like newspaper comics and outdated, blank calendars.  Tears flowed at the thought of parting with items acquired at garage sales and newsstands, items that had no monetary worth.  The process of editing was slow and painstaking.  Each was losing something dear to them, something that held their affection and each “yes” to the dumpster or give away pile was heart wrenching.  Their hearts were fed by the acquisition of “stuff” yet they were never satisfied, they were always grasping for more.

While watching, I felt my jaw drop.  I could not imagine being so sentimental about so much stuff.  I could not imagine surrounding myself with piles of this and that.  I could not see how living like that would be life-giving.

Then it hit me–we all do it.  In one way or another we fill our inner “homes,” our inner lives with “stuff.”  Instead of hoarding piles in our physical home, we shove our calendar chock full of “stuff to do.”  Instead of acquiring unneeded socks, hangers and dishes, we stock our mind with worry, shopping lists, carpool calendars, work meetings, obsessive thoughts, church committee agendas. In doing so we create an inner cacophony that deafens us to the Voice of God, to what really needs our attention, to what is actually life-giving.  We create an inner space that cannot be maneuvered, that is paralyzing and consuming.

One lady in the show said, with desperation in her voice, something like this: “If I don’t get rid of it, it will consume me.” I think she was on to something: that whatever is filling our lives will consume us. Eventually it’ll take over and make our life unmanageable. Soon we’ll be managed by our stuff, instead of managing our stuff.

I think I need to double check what is filling my heart and mind. I need to look and see what I bring home and plop down in my inner living room. Does it create room for God or does it crowd God out?  Does it have eternal merit?  Does it bring life to others?  Does it glorify Christ?

Maybe I’m a hoarder of the internal kind, maybe I cling to things unseen. Maybe I grasp at ideas instead of Jesus, maybe I fill the day’s agenda without asking Him for His agenda, maybe I crowd out time with Him for time with everyone else. Something to pray about, something to ponder…

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Thanks to blog friend, David Rupert, and his insightful post Cluttered places, cluttered minds, for the inspiration to revise and re-publish this post.

Why I Like Blue Jeans…

A repost for those who like blue jeans…

I threw out an old pair of Levi’s yesterday. Into our bedroom’s small, green trash can I stuffed them.  Faded blue was white, frayed edges hung low, loose threads here and there. Even so, not worthy of trash, I thought…but then the hole just below the back pocket, that forced the issue. I don’t mind wearing worn jeans, but “holes in questionable places” jeans just aren’t me. So, these dear old friends are quickly becoming landfill tenants.

By and large, what I wear matters little to me–any of you who know me, know it’s true. A quick glance through my closet would horrify any fashion consultant. Most of what I own was given as a gift or as a hand-me-down. I hate shopping for clothes, so tend to go with what is on hand: sweaters from the 90′s, turtlenecks rescued from our teenaged son’s trash, dresses from my great aunt’s cast-offs, items dubbed “did you get that from Laura*?” by my teenaged daughter. Not so with jeans, though. No one can successfully bestow jeans on me, my body shape sneers at anyone who thinks they can…

So, I’m forced to shop. And, for me, shopping for jeans is an arduous task fraught with peril at every clothing rack. Different cuts, sizes and colors overwhelm my psyche and trigger a primal instinct for flight to the nearest exit. The thought of a wall of denim gives me a certified case of the creeps. Guaranteed is umpteen trips to the dressing room, therefore abundant amounts of unhurried time is required; all limbs must be in good working order for the dressing room workout; and shopping friends must remain scarce (I don’t want to know WHAT you think. This is a private matter between me and the mirror–thank you very much!)

My relationship with blue jeans is a personal one…one that began long, long ago…  Levi’s and I reach all the way back to my twelfth birthday when I received my first pair of  jeans (thank you Aunt Sharry!). After ripping the gift open and squealing with delight, I ran to the bathroom, wriggled into them as fast as I could and bolted back for family viewing. They all agreed: they fit well, except for the waist where they hung a bit big and at the bottom where Aunt Sharry quickly folded a cuff. Once a belt was in place, I looked great and oh, so grown up. Finally, I’d moved from polyester to denim–twas a big deal for my tween self!

I wore them often and eventually broke them in (for young whipper snappers: back in the old days new jeans were stiff and unyielding, requiring time, washing and bending before one could move without discomfort–I’m not kidding!). They served me well, til puberty kicked into high and they couldn’t hold me anymore. Blue jean graveyards should exist, landfills just don’t do them justice.

What do these hip hugging mainstays mean, though, I wonder? Maybe I feel a cultural connection with other Americans when I wear them. Maybe I like their versatility, as all fashion experts assert that anything can be worn with jeans (although none of them would couple anything in my closet with a pair of jeans). Maybe a bit of that or a bit of this fits here…could be.

What keeps coming back to me, though, is that they’re a constant through time. To think my twelve-year-old self wore a pair of Levi’s blue jeans and that my forty-four year old self still wears Levi’s blue jeans carries some comfort. They’ve been at every turning point, heartache and joy in my life. They were there when my parents divorced, when I went on my first date, when I got my first job, when I went to college, when I said “I do”, when I nursed my first child, when that child went off to college…. I’ve prayed, sung, wept, laughed and screamed in blue jeans. They’ve been there all the way, fully present and soothing me with their quiet touch.

In a way they remind me of One who has been present through all those times and more…and, thankfully, I’ll never have to throw Him in the bin. Nope, He has stuck closer than any inseam Levi’s could devise.

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

Thank you, Jesus, for sticking closer to me than I am to myself…for sticking closer to me than anyone else or anything else and through absolutely everything I’ve ever known. How to express my gratitude, I don’t know…but I am forever grateful…yes…forever I am grateful…

*name changed to protect the innocent, kindhearted soul whose taste in clothing I like

–pic taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Denimjeans2.JPG

 

A Two Minute Time-Out

The Christmas season is frantic and no fun. Time shrinks, lists expand, demands bully.

Everyone wants a piece of us, everything must be done. A hard deadline looms.

The babe crying in the manger is drowned out by colliding shopping carts, canned Christmas music and clinking party glasses.

Like children, we stomp our feet, scream and sob when so-and-so doesn’t give us what we want or such-and-such doesn’t happen.

We need a time-out:

Do Nothing for 2 Minutes

Also found at www.donothingfor2minutes.com.

Falling Upward

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Richard Rohr has taken the wisdom of Christian mysticism and made it palatable, understandable and practical. As we live longer and longer, we get a chance to grow up spiritually and Fr. Rohr acts as a guide for the how, why and what of spiritual maturity.

Not for the content Western mindset. In its pages, hungry spiritual seekers may discover their desires deepened and challenged, leading them toward the half of life that calls them: some adults need to start the first half, others are ready for the second.

A contemplative mindset, a non-dualistic outlook, a beatitude-filled perspective awaits those who follow Jesus on the narrow path that widens all.

A potent, yet easy read I highly recommend.

Live Like a Leaf Dying

our maples

I just learned something grade school kids hear in science class: most leaves don’t change color.*

As autumn releases summer into winter, as the sun progressively turns in early and rises late, a leaf’s greenness (fueled by chlorophyll) fades and what is revealed is a leaf’s true, ever-present hue.

In our backyard are two maple trees, one glowing golden, the other chlorophyll green (no, the photo doesn’t do justice to “glowing golden,” you’re going to have to trust me on this). All summer their leaves drank in the sun, succored and saved. But now it is time for the leaves to take off their chlorophyll mask, release their work and show us themselves. In a final flash of brilliance we get to see their breathtaking essence, what was always there but was masked by task and purpose. As you can see in the photo, one “gets it,” the other, being hugged by its brother, not so much. Eventually, we all know, the younger will follow the elder. Death is universal, some just deny and fight it more than others…

I wonder if the same is true for task-oriented and purpose driven people. I wonder if, in our last moments, we finally release our have-tos, our to-dos, our possessions and personas and become who we are underneath it all.

I wonder…do we need to be on our deathbed before we realize and reveal our essence, our being, our beauty?

silver maple leaf

*Photos: Fall Colors — National Geographic.

Gossip as Self Help?

Image by Iguanasan via Flickr

Even though I haven’t posted much this year, I’ve kept up with some bloggers. This post, by Janet Hagberg, just came through my inbox and I think it is fabulous, so I share it with you…

Gossip as Self-Help?

When I was in high school there was a tight group of girls who formed the inner clique. Then there were several girls who hovered near the clique in hopes they would be accepted. They are called wannabees. I was one of those girls, friends with some of the clique members and desperately wanting to be accepted by the rest. Rosalind Wiseman, in her book Mean Girls, wrote about high school cliques and the incredible power they h … Read More

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How Do You Make Decisions?

How do we make moral decisions?  Do we rely on our gut or do we opt for what gives us the most pleasure or do we use reason, or, or, or? Or, do we choose evil…

Cannot view? Visit http://www.ted.com/talks/damon_horowitz.html

Ethics, justice, morality, philosophy are divorced from faith and religion in this talk–Mr Horowitz doesn’t go there, which is understandable since his audience is known for being a techie bunch that bulges with agnostics and atheists. I forgive him. He only had a few minutes, after all.

In the clip, he invites the audience to reflect on how they made their last big decision.  I joined in on the time of reflection and found that I didn’t line up with any of his philosophical decision-making options. I’m not saying I’ve never used any of them, I think I’ve used all of them at one time or another–even recently.  But, with the one that came to mind, I took a different approach: I prayed for God to show His will for my decision and I, who was freaking out about doing the responsible thing, asked Him to take responsibility for making the decision. In letting go, the answer came and when it came, the struggle ended and peace and joy flooded my soul. I followed through, and, when the going got rough, I found peace and assurance in knowing I was right where I belonged and was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I expect great good came from my obedience. For sure, blessings bathed me…

As life would have it, I’m in the “trying to make a wise decision” boat again, I’m actively seeking God for the next step.

Horowitz talks about how hard it is to make ethical decisions, what a struggle it is.  I suppose without God’s will, God’s wisdom leading, we’ll always struggle and, undoubtedly, we’ll always come up short.

Forever I Will See You

A blog post for my fellow vollies and staffers, you know who you are…eavesdropping allowed for everyone else. :)

I’ve grown accustomed to your face, to the glimpses and smiles, to the silence in the chatter, to the ways we move as one yet, for each other, create space.

The sea splashes, we turn to hear.  It speaks of eternity, oneness, power, humility. We try to comprehend, understand.  The message escapes us, yet somehow we live it.

Empty milk jugs, baaing lambs and wild winds become routine, absolutely normal.  We remember another place, another time, a dream we must reenter, but not quite yet. Jugs, lambs, winds are our now, so we sit together just to sit together, we walk together just to walk together. We linger, for the time is short, the ending in sight.

Like Dun I, we stand up yet bow low. We hold hands as we let go.  Rainbows bridge us into new tomorrows, into colorful beginnings, into the kaleidoscope of life. Waving we say hello, waving we say good-bye.  Nothing lingers, yet is without end.

I’m gone, but you’re still with me.  I see your eyes in my dreams, I hear your voice in my ear, I feel your heart in my chest. Our time fades in memory, but stays sharp, deep within me.

Forever I will see you, I cannot imagine less, for I’ve grown accustomed…I’ve grown accustomed to your face…

Alive

“Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.”
–Solomon 2:10-12

Flowers bud, lambs frolic, seas roar…the land is alive and I swear, He speaks through it…