A Time For Everything

          “Hi my name is Starla and I am an eternal optimist…”  If I were to ever attend a 12 Step meeting, this would be why.  You would know me before I said a word.  I would be the girl wearing the rose colored glasses.  Once we spent five minutes in conversation you would find another very distinctive trait – the girl with a heart the size of Texas!  Yep that’s me – all five foot, one and half inches of bright and cheery girly girl lugging around this huge heart!  Having an optimistic disposition has been both a curse and my saving grace through the years, I suppose. 

            An optimist most certainly can find their way through adversity.  Goodness knows I have – more times than I could count!  Point scored for optimism and a character trait for which I am most grateful!  By the way, my middle name is Ann.  You could actually call me Annie I suppose.  Why?  Well because I’ve spent a lifetime singing,  “the sun will come out tomorrow…”  You know something?  It always does – no matter how dark the night!  That’s not really a point given for optimism, that’s just a freebee given by life!  I have a confession to make though.  Through my former years in anticipation of the dawn, I’ve slept through some spectacular starry nights.  While longing for sunshine, I’ve shielded myself from cleansing and refreshing rains and strength building stormy winds.  You see, that’s what an eternal optimist does.  It’s also why an eternal optimist often misses the whole point of being an optimist in the first place.  This is where eternal optimism loses a point or two.

            So how does an eternal optimist use their inherited knack for finding the good in every situation to their best advantage and ultimate good?  Well, I have learned the answer to this through the years and through some less than “sunshiny” days and situations.  True optimism must find practical application for every circumstance good and bad – not just unrealistic expectations filled with “champagne wishes and caviar dreams.”  Optimism is only beneficial when we embrace the fact that there is a time and purpose for every single thing we face in life.  Remember the old song by the Birds called “Turn, Turn, Turn?”  It was taken straight from ancient scripture… 

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven.

            It doesn’t take long on this earth to discover that there is a time for every single thing.  Some days are better than others.  To only embrace the sunshiny days, the fun-filled nights and the stellar experiences robs life of extraordinary moments hidden in the mundane, the routine, the somber, the ordinary.  To reject those moments is like asking the composer to omit the pauses and rests; to leave out the sustaining notes, the somber tones.  Or it is like asking the artist to only use pastels when painting a sunset or fall foliage or winter storm.  There is beauty in silence, in darkness and there is something to be gained from even the most difficult of circumstances in life. 

This is not the typical “Happy New Year” post for me, but it is a message that I feel more compelled than ever to share.  You see, the truth is, this coming year will brush our canvas with strokes of joy and pain, dark and light all creating unsurpassed beauty.  It will orchestrate a symphony of majestic fanfare, somber pauses and melancholy melodies – all of which will touch a part of our souls that most needs reaching at that moment.  This is what the New Year brings – time once again to experience life – every aspect of life fresh and new.  This year my desire is to not just day dream about what can be, pray about what should be, plan what I desire to be, or complain about what isn’t, but to live - really live and experience what is; and to allow each experience produce something in me that forever changes me and those I come in contact with each day.  There is a time for everything and to deny ourselves of certain experiences and moments really takes the joy and fullness away from all the other moments.  Life isn’t much of a life if it is just one big party.  And it isn’t much of a life if we take every moment too seriously either.  So laugh a little, cry when needed, think awhile or refrain from thinking at all and through each moment in time this coming year, be grateful to say “isn’t it great to be alive!”  Happy New Year!!!

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,     

a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

 What do workers gain from their toil?  

I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race.

 He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.  That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.  (Ecclesiastes 3)

Season Of Love

I just finished my nightly ritual for this time of year.  I walked though my house plugging in and turning on all the Christmas lights in my personal “Christmas village!”  There is nothing more magical than sitting on a quiet night basking in the glow of Christmas.  To the naked eye they are only lights, but looking through eyes of love, they are so much more. 

Now, I am curled up on my sofa watching the soft glow of the amber lights on my tree that are randomly sprinkled with a special sparkle and twinkle.  It is quite a spectacular display actually.  I know what you are thinking – “It doesn’t take much to excite her!”  I suppose you are right.  The older I get, the more I realize the value of simple moments and how extraordinary certain seemingly ordinary things are.  So you want to know what makes the string of lights across my rooftop and this twinkling set of lights dancing through my Christmas tree so fabulous?  Love…. Yes that’s right, love!  When we spent some back breaking hours in the yard, fine tuning a perfect night display, it was annoying, frustrating and wonderful all at the same time!  Those who know and love me, know what a child at heart I am, so when I am being fussy and every OCD quality comes raging forth during the process of decorating, I am met with a kind and patient understanding that is beyond words.  Perhaps it is because of love and then perhaps it is simply to keep the peace!  I want to believe it is love.  My exhausting enthusiasm was met with willing service from a loved one that day.

Normally, my decorating process begins Thanksgiving weekend.  I start with my masterpiece – my tree and then build out with all the decorations in my home and finally the yard and back porch.  This year however, I started early and reversed the order of things – saving the best for last, my Christmas tree.  This is a task I shared with someone close to me last year and so they asked if they could share this special moment again.  I was delighted, as last year was such fun and the task was much less daunting with two of us.  Due to conflicting schedules, the days passed all too quickly and we were delayed over a week for this special task.  But then the day finally came this week for tree decorating!  I was like a child on Christmas morning.  I couldn’t wait for “everyone” to wake up to open the “presents,” so before my decorating buddy arrived, I began dragging out and “unwrapping” all the decorations, ribbons, ornaments, lights etc.  Like a kid in a toy store, I didn’t know where to begin.  So, I thought I’d be practical and start testing out the lights.  Now if you have ever tested out the previous year’s lights, you will understand what I am going to say.  I felt like the mean ole’ Grinch had come and stolen Christmas from me for a brief moment.  Four strands of my lights wouldn’t burn!  When help arrived, so did the true spirit of Christmas.  Before I knew it, my sweet friend hopped in the car and headed out to Lowes.  The result of the purchase that day was more than I could’ve hoped for.  I had four huge strands of the “deluxe model” LED random twinkling lights!  As we stood facing each other winding lights around my tree, the brilliance of the moment was illuminating.  My friend could be doing much more important things than stringing lights around the tree, but it wasn’t about the tree, it was about me.  This mattered to me; this gave me joy and delighted my heart, and what delighted my heart delighted the heart of my “secret Santa.”  There was no agenda, no motive… only a heart of kindness and love that received as much from the giving as I did from the receiving. 

You know, they say that this time of year is the “season of love.”  You have to admit, it really is true.  It is a time when strangers are kinder, friends are sweeter, loved ones are more patient, neighbors are friendlier and worries melt away at the sight of glowing lights and sparkling tinsel.  I wish I could package this feeling and distribute it to the world, but I can’t.  What I can do is allow it to shine into the depths of my heart and then allow my heart to become like a luminary along my daily path.   It isn’t about producing light; it is simply about letting the light that is already there shine – the light that has been here since the first Season Of Love.   Like the day I drove over to my seventy-five year old mama’s house to help string lights around her tree because her back and shoulders get a bit weary from years of wear and tear taking care of her family.  Or the night I took a small tree, some decorations and lights to my son’s apartment.  Before I set up his little Christmas display, I spent a few hours doing what mama’s do – cleaning up the apartment!  Then, we stood the tree in a perfect spot; I wound the lights around the tree, illuminating the true light of Christmas in a way that lit up my son and his roommate.   Before you knew it, these strong young men were hanging red and gold ornaments on a tree with the wonder and delight of little boys.  I had to laugh a bit as the roommate had said only moments before “I don’t really do the decorating thing.”  Light dispels darkness with minimal effort!

As the days narrow in on Christmas Day, I hope each of us will take a moment to “stop and smell the poinsettias!”  Don’t let this be the season of shopping, parties and gifts alone.  Let it be what it has always truly been – the Season Of Love!  Christmas is still Christmas with or without all those things and activities.  To quote a familiar portion of the children’s classic How The Grinch Stole Christmas…

“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store… What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

The other day I revisited one of my favorite passages of scripture.  It gives definition to this season that we celebrate each year and that we should celebrate every day of our lives…

^“Love is patient and kind.  Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.  It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.  It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance… (other things) will become useless. But love will last forever!”  (I Corinthians 13:4-8)

   

         When I first began writing tonight, it was dusk.  There was still just a little natural light outside.  Now though, darkness has settled in, but I don’t notice it at all because my twinkling lights have illuminated every nook and cranny of the room!  I can almost feel the “warmth” of each little beacon that reaches out to me from my grand and lovely tree.  Every sparkle is a sweet reminder of all things good – giving from the heart and laughter from time shared.  I feel safe from the darkness and uniquely loved.    

Time and TLC

          

Several years ago I found myself at a dermatologist’s office confronted with the news that the spot on my right shoulder was skin cancer.  He assured me that he felt it was superficial and that he could totally remove it with a simple laser procedure.  That assurance did come with a word of caution, however.  Should they see more cancer cells at a deeper level, they would have to cut deeper and deeper covering as much territory as necessary to remove every cancerous “tentacle.”  Once the surgery began, thankfully my cancer was only superficial and was eradicated with a simple laser procedure.  After the surgery, you would’ve thought I had gone through open heart surgery or something.  That spot was ever so painful!  And it took forever it seems, for the pain to finally go away.  For over a year, maybe two in fact, I still had a lump of scar tissue that was very sore to the touch. 

            One thing I do know is that cutting deeper would not have been fun!  It would, however, have been necessary.  The metaphor this experience offers me is uncanny as I continue to experience some “pains” that can’t be seen with the natural eye.  They are however, uncomfortable.  When I healed from my skin cancer surgery, I thought something was terribly wrong still because that lump of scar tissue was not reducing in size and was still so sore.  Finally, one day I asked my physical therapist during a deep heat massage if there was anything that could be done concerning that unsightly scar and the pain it continued to produce.  She said the more I massaged that spot, the more it would work out the soreness and pain and then it would also reduce in size and consistency.  It just needed some time and TLC!  Hmmmm… Time and TLC…

            About fifteen years ago my body began to “shut down,” literally.  I won’t go into details as to all that I experienced, but suffice it to say, my physical condition was such that it was more than apparent that the pain and fatigue I was experiencing was much more than a “superficial” condition.  It took scores of tests, months of research by my determined physician, and consultations with specialists to get to the bottom of things.  By the time he discovered the root cause, my body had suffered irreparable damage that would prove to cause soreness and pain on a daily basis.  I was left with neuropathy, Fibromyalgia, degenerative disk disease and a plethora of conditions that a woman my age should have never even heard of, let alone deal with.

            As I ride the roller coast that comes with flare ups from all of these conditions, I am reminded of both the words of caution from my dermatologist and words of encouragement from my physical therapist concerning that little patch of scar tissue on my shoulder.  I am a firm believer that even in the worst of physical conditions, that there is a root cause far beyond what we can see – and often its origin isn’t necessarily physical.  By that I mean, emotional triggers, mental stresses and spiritual attitudes can totally debilitate and destroy us until we are so weak physically that daily tasks become a chore.  With this knowledge or opinion, I believe that we have to “cut as deep” as possible to bring to light those things that suck the energy and life out of us.  Sometimes, even after situations – many years even, we still have a nasty patch of scar tissue that hurts terribly, especially when touched or rubbed the wrong way!  Like that scar tissue on my shoulder though, I am finding that the emotional scar tissue that produces the physical pain, needs to be massaged and worked out.  It needs time.  I need to exhibit love and patience with myself and administer TLC on a daily basis as well as allow others to administer it when they so freely offer it.  My favorite book, the Bible says that a “merry heart does good like a medicine.”  I recognize this truth more than ever.  When my life is filled with stress, when I cover up those deep issues, when I am afraid or filled with doubt or even when I am healing from a hurt of some kind, my body lets me know.  Boy does it ever!  I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all go away.  I wish I had never had the hurt or the illness or anything in between; but I have, and I am reminded that “time heals all wounds” and “love covers all wrongs.”  So tonight, I think after I share these words with you, I am going to take some time to massage those sore places, to work out the rough patches and to administer some much needed TLC!  If you are hurting, I hope you will do the same.  Your health depends on it!!!    

Reach Out And Touch Someone

      Do you remember the phone slogan years ago that encouraged us to “reach out and touch someone?”  It was originally a phrase used by the Bell Systems and then of course by AT&T.   I think it has become an international “way of life” in the way that it was presented.  Social medial allows us to instantly “reach out” to millions of our closest “friends.”  The truth is we are reaching out, but far from “touching.”  This is not a debate as to the value or even the pitfalls of social media, as social media has become my grandest platform to share words of encouragement with others.  My post today is however, about something much more important – at least in my life.  It is about “touching.”  You see, touching is our first and most basic way of communication from the time we are born.  It calms emotional distress and anxiety; it brings comfort and serenity – relaxes us and protects us and even can heal us!  Here are a few scenarios… 

          You're in a crowded subway car on a Tuesday morning, or perhaps on a city bus.  Still-sleepy commuters, lulled by vibrations, remain hushed, yet silently broadcast their thoughts.

• A toddler in his stroller looks warily at his fellow passengers, brows stitched with concern.  He turns to Mom for reassurance, reaching out a small hand.  She quietly takes it, squeezes, and releases.  He relaxes, smiles, turns away—then back to Mom.  She takes his hand again: squeeze and release.
• A twenty-something in a skirt and blazer sits stiffly, a leather-bound portfolio on her lap.  She repeatedly pushes a few blonde wisps off her face, then touches her neck, her subconscious movements both revealing and relieving her anxiety about her 9 a.m. interview.
• A couple propped against a pole shares messages of affection; she rubs his arms with her hands, he nuzzles his face in her hair. 
• A middle-aged woman, squished into a corner, assuredly bumps the young man beside her with some elbow and hip.  The message is clear; he instantly adjusts to make room.

I’ve been a part of a 14 year experiment on the power of touch.  Well not formally – you see in the year 2000 I began to experience some health issues – mysterious and unknown issues that took doctors several years to diagnose.  The results of the trauma in my body left me with both neuropathy and a condition we know as Fibromyalgia.  For the naysayers who don’t believe it is real – walk a day in my shoes… literally; a day when it hurts to even put your feet on the floor, a night when you have to put pillows between your ankles, knees and under your arms and hands just so you can try to find a few minutes sleep.  Wade through the hours of your daily routine, with little to no sleep due to the pain and chronic fatigue that is like the “flu from hell” that never goes away.  Well you get the idea, so I’ll save the lecture on Fibromyalgia for another day.  Today is about TOUCH….  I can honestly say that if I were to have been isolated after experiencing this debilitating condition, I don’t think I would’ve survived.  Although touching things is extremely painful, being touched is like medicine.  Something as simple as a hug from my son, a stroke of my hair and head by my sweetheart, or being held by a loved one can wash away the pain like nothing else.  Other things like deep massage, a warm bath, physical therapy, taking a walk with someone hand in hand etc. rejuvenate my tired aching muscles, alleviate my chronic fatigue and refresh my weary emotions. 

I am not a physician, nor a therapist; I am not an expert of any kind – just a woman who has known a bit of suffering both physically and emotionally, and who has discovered the simple things of life that bring healing and joy, peace and comfort.  Touch is powerful!  Remember ET?  ET and Elliott are hiding in the closet while his mother is reading a bedtime story to his little sister.  Elliott brings in a box of items he wants to use to make a device to help ET “phone home.”  As he reaches in the box, he cuts his finger on a saw blade and whispers “ouch.”  ET’s healing finger, lights up, reaches back and touches Elliott’s bleeding finger and the cut disappears and ET mimics Elliott’s painful expression… “O – u – c – h…”  He doesn’t just sympathize with his pain; he empathizes with it, and does something to alleviate it.  Never underestimate touch or devalue it.  The next time you are across the dinner table from someone, think about what you are missing every time you pick up your phone to check a message.  Reach out and brush the hand of the person across from you.  The thing you will realize that you have missed most is not those messages on your phone, but that encounter with your loved one, your friend, your co-worker… that very moment – that powerful feeling ignited not by words, but by a language much easier to understand… touch.

If You Build It...

          There is a famous "mis-quoted" line in the old movie "Field of Dreams."  Most people quote:  "if you build it, they will come."  In actuality, the line states, "if you build it HE will come."  As the movie progresses, Ray - a rural Iowa farmer hears a voice telling him to build a baseball field where his corn fields are.  He builds the field and tries time and time again to figure out its purpose, but always comes up short of the true purpose.  Finally, the truth is revealed.  Ray didn't build the field for dead baseball players, for retired players or even for those who never got a chance to fulfill their dream of playing baseball.  He didn't build it as a money maker or a crowd pleaser.  The voice that told him to build the field gave him another message...  "ease his pain."  No matter who visited the field from "beyond" or who came to the field invited in the present, they did not complete the field's purpose until finally, Ray's own father comes from beyond as the "catcher" on the mound.  When he takes off his mask, Ray sees a younger version of his father and is given a second chance to pitch the ball with his father.    Ray had been given one more opportunity because he chose to listen to the voice inside.  You see, Ray and his dad had experienced a falling out over baseball when Ray was just a teenager.  At age 14, Ray had refused to play catch with his father and consequently at age 17, Ray left home, never to return and never to see his dad again.  By building a "bridge" ( a playing field) to the past, Ray found peace in the present and a second chance to make right many wrongs. 

          Thinking about this movie and the message it provides, produced emotion beyond what I expected as I sat to write today.  I thought about my own life - missed opportunities, decisions made, paths taken, plans not fulfilled, people from past and present walking through my life...  Then I thought about the dreams hidden deep in my heart, the voice that whispers in my head and resonates throughout the depths of my soul.  Passion burns deeper than ever to fulfill a dream, to accomplish a goal.  Each day that I step toward it and try to figure out "why" I am not giving up on it even when it makes no sense, even when obstacles continue to block my forward progress, I begin to realize more about my purpose.  Yes I write words on a page each day and reach out to others because of a deep desire to make a difference, but the truth is...  I push forward not so much because of them, but because of me.  You see, we all have a purpose, we all have a dream that has been deposited on the inside of us.  Each of us has a reason for living, for being here.  The world won't stop spinning tomorrow if we don't fulfill that purpose or pursue that dream, but rest assured, there will be something missing.  Each time we question that voice inside that speaks to us, that nudges us on, we are robbing ourselves, our friends, our family, our community our world of another fulfilled person who contributes to the light of life.  If we do not pursue our passion in life first and foremost for ourselves, then it will not truly impact others around us.  If you are trying to understand your purpose, to make sense of the steps forward that the whisper of your heart is nudging towards, look no further than the face in your own mirror.  If you build it he, she, you will come to a place of peace, understanding and acceptance, that will serve as a playing field for everyone who walks the bases of your life.  The joy that you find in pursuing what you love, what you are compelled to do, will be like a reservoir for others. 

          There are plenty of corn fields, but how many rural baseball fields are there?  Are you ready to step out of the ordinary, to go against status quo, of what is expected of you - to pursue a passion that makes no sense?   That seemingly will bring no profit?  Listen to that "still small voice" and begin to build!  "If you build it HE will come..."

  

The Garden Path

          Today I took a look at my little vegetable garden.  One of my tomato plants smiled at me!  Well it didn’t actually “smile,” but it did show me a sign that all the preparation and work that has been put into my garden is starting to pay off!  A little green tomato the size of a ping pong ball had shown its face on one of my plants.  I already had an “early bloomer” in another of my plants, proudly displaying two tomatoes now the size of small lemons - but seeing new growth never fails to thrill, excite and motivate me!   Actually, each plant in my garden has more than tripled in size – some even more in only three short weeks.   There really is so much love and tender care in this garden already.  Gardens are hard work, but there really are no words to describe how rewarding they can be.

          It was Easter weekend – a perfectly beautiful spring weekend.  Down South this is the target date for preparing and planting our gardens.  Before the actual work however, we had taken some time to assess things before the actual planting.  My previous garden had not done all that well, so we sent off soil samples, we researched potting soil, fertilizers and even the best types of plants.  Tree limbs that had been blocking the sun were cut down, debris was cleared, new boards were placed around the perimeter of my garden box and then the day came to start the laborious process.  My men purchased a truckload of fertile soil, brought it home and then the ground was tilled and turned, roots were chopped out of the ground and sweat poured from weary faces to the ground as an “anointing” of sorts for what was being prepared.  Next, the new fertile soil was mixed with the old, tired sandy southern soil, producing a perfect mixture ready to serve as an incubator for tiny roots to grow.  The next day, we headed to the garden center and picked out some seeds and all the little baby vegetable seedlings that we had discussed - almost tasting the succulent fruits of our labor in our minds as we thought of the ripe tomatoes, spicy peppers, crisp cucumbers, hearty squash and egg plant, peppery radishes and aromatic spices.

          That afternoon once our Easter feast was consumed, the remaining wells were dug for each plant, our “veges” were carefully positioned in their new “home” and surrounded by the nurturing soil.  Finally, the wells were filled with water that was soon absorbed into the deep ground underneath, slowly flowing it deeper - creating a reservoir for the plants to draw from down below.  Each day since then, I have drug that water hose across the back patio to the garden and filled the wells – again and again.  The sun has risen each day and shone down its life giving rays on my “babies.”  We had some torrential storms in the midst of all of this early on that threatened my garden’s existence – but to my amazement, each plant hung on through the down pours!  They survived – each and every one of them survived and thrived!       

          This whole gardening process is such a vivid life metaphor of various phases of my own growth.  I have been reminded of much of it over the course of the last few years while completing the writing of my book about my life and even more the last several weeks as I interacted with people from my past and present and took a few more walks down “memory lane.”  Memory lane is much like that path we took in preparing the garden and the same one I take to tend to my little garden each day.  The first steps broke up some hard, infertile soil.  They chopped away obstructions and dug out “sapsuckers” that would threaten new life and growth.  The next steps brought in some fresh soil to enrich the existing dry soil in order to produce a healthy environment for growth.  That soil mixed with fertilizer, was packed firmly around new plants and watered as the daily process continued along that garden path.  So each day I’ve returned down that path, watering, anticipating, plucking out weeds, and finding a peace and joy as I watch “life” taking place as my little plants thrive! 

          They say “you can never go back.”  I suppose you can’t fully nor should you.  However, we can never understand the present nor even fully embrace the future until we make sense of the past.  A dear friend reminded me of this recently.  He said… “Memory lane is strewn with potholes sometimes. We have to drive that road many times to know where the potholes are located. Things happen as part of a plan that we have to search for, locate, and then accept. We never have to settle but we need to follow a plan.”   Personally, my own walks or rides down memory lane, now and over the course of the last few years, have been the most beneficial and necessary walks I could or should ever take.  The hard soil of my life has been broken up; shadows have been dissolved in the light of truth.  The things that have tried to suck the very life out of me have been dug out and cut away.  Fresh soil of love and care, patience and understanding has been brought in and surrounded me.  All of it combined, has enriched my life and produced growth.  The soothing streams of acceptance and encouragement have watered my parched soul.  The gentle hands of both God and man who love me, have taken the time to pluck out weeds that have tried to choke out my growth and life.  God has carefully tended to my life’s garden as well as the labor of friends and family with love and care.  I have been able to develop my own gardening skills and now I am seeing the fruits of all this labor of love! 

          Life is all about growth.  It is a process.  There are no shortcuts to a healthy productive garden, and certainly none to a healthy productive life.  In a few minutes I will walk out my back door, drag that green garden hose across the patio and tend to my little garden one more day.  This morning I did the same thing in the garden of my heart, during a time of prayer and meditation.  If you haven’t walked the “garden path” of your life lately, I suggest you take that first step – memory lane just may be calling for you to re-visit a few times.  Listen to its whisper and pay attention to the pot holes along the way.  Happy gardening!!!

Editor's Note:  A special THANK YOU to Jason and Josh for your labor of love in helping me prepare our amazing garden!!!!  And thank you Dad for letting us borrow the tools I didn't have at hand.  You are the best :)

Tune In

Yesterday I was talking to someone about childhood television programs that we used to faithfully watch each day.  I am telling my age by bringing this up, but “back in the day” when it came to the end of a certain program that was a daily broadcast, a deep voiced announcer would fade in with an audio announcement that would say something like this… “Tune in again tomorrow for more…”  It would be more of the story, more adventure, more… something.  Some of you may remember the original “Batman” series.  That announcer would invite the audience to “tune in again tomorrow – same bat time same bat station!”  “Tuning in” was our ticket to more of what we loved. 

In my own life, I have recently experienced this concept of “tuning in” in a way that I haven’t before.  It seems like it should be a natural process for all of us.  I should certainly understand it’s concept with all the years of musical training I had in my formative years.  “Tuning in” meant joining together in perfect harmony, adjusting our instruments, our voices and sometimes, even our attitudes, so that beautiful music would transpire.  If someone was even the least bit out of tune, the entire musical piece was tarnished and diminished in some way.  Also, “tuning in” sometimes meant waiting in anticipation for our turn within a particular musical composition.  Not every instrument was designed to showcase its ability with every single note.  There was always a delicate balance necessary in order to create a beautiful “symphony” of sound. 

Perhaps you aren’t musically gifted, but each of us has harmony deposited into our being.  By that I mean, we all desire to have a life of balance and flow, of peace and blessing, of fulfillment and achievement, of laughter and love.  Why does it seem to be such a struggle at times?  For me personally, I think it has much to do with my ability to step into the areas of life that I have been afforded both gifts and opportunity for.  Each of us has a certain essence that is uniquely ours.  That simply means that we all have certain, gifts, talents, characteristics, personalities that were divinely designed for a unique purpose in life to both enhance our lives and to bless others.  When we don’t step into those things, we somehow come up short and miss so much of what our lives can be or that should be.  Also, when we ignore the importance of timing in regards to “tuning in,” then we also come up short.  Just like the days of the old television programs where we had to “stay tuned” for more, we knew there was more to come… tomorrow or next week, but there was more if we could just wait for that moment and tune in at the proper time.

One of my favorite Biblical passages states, “don’t become weary in doing good for you will reap a harvest in due time if you don’t lose heart.”  The art of “tuning in” brings a dimension to life that is otherwise missed.  When we take those steps towards our purpose and essence, when we flow in our natural gifts and talents given by God without fear of what’s to come, and when we begin to allow life to simply “happen” rather than trying to force it, everything that we are longing for, striving for, hoping for has a way of unfolding for us!  So whatever you desire in life, “tune up” and “tune in” and before you know it, you will have a harmony of life beyond what you ever imagined!!!!!

"To Be Or Not To Be..."

          I have a cousin who is only six months younger than I.  For the period of time that she and her family lived near us, we were more like sisters than cousins.  Our family said we argued like siblings before we could really even talk!  When we only knew a few words, we quickly learned how to use that limited vocabulary to interact and keep the “conversation” going.  When I would say “yes,” she would immediately say “no.”  If I said “no,” she would respond with an emphatic “yes!”  We are both very strong willed individuals, so I am certain these debates probably lasted for quite some time.

          This morning as I took some time to reflect over my goals and actions of the previous year and outline my plans for the year, this memory of my cousin and I popped into my head.  No matter what it is that we set out to accomplish, achieve, or experience in life, there are always voices inside our head arguing the pros and cons of it all.  That is not necessarily a bad thing, as we do need to weigh our options, our actions, our motives etc. very carefully before we step forward.  However, if we continue the debate too long, we find ourselves stuck – stuck in limbo, stuck in mediocrity, stuck in fear, stuck in regret, STUCK!  Have you ever been there?  I have!  Sometimes we can argue so long, and wait too long until the moment or the opportunity has passed, to where the momentum leaves never to return, and to where support from others is withdrawn and we are left alone to pick up the pieces and regroup from it all.

          If you are looking in the mirror of your life and having that argument with yourself “to be or not to be…” take a moment not to just talk, but to listen.  Sometimes when we debate something in our life too loudly we miss the lesson, we miss instruction and we miss what the universe is plainly showing us.  You’ve heard it said “don’t miss the forest for looking at the trees.”  Last year, I jumped headfirst in a writing project for my first book.  I had been dabbling at it for a few years, but never really committed to its completion.  Once I jumped in, the momentum would ebb and flow.  “Life” stepped in a few times to deter my forward momentum.  Some of those things were beyond my control – such as a neck/spine surgery that had me out of commission for over three months.  But rather than allowing the argument “to be or not to be” consume me, I took some time to listen, to figure out what needed to be done to move forward again.  As I did, the writing project that I thought was complete began to grow and morph.  I began to understand more and more that everything happens in its time if you allow the process to continue and not debate it continually.  There were a few moments I wanted to “shut the cover” of the book and just forget it.  Then when I finally did complete it, I submitted it for my proof review.  When it came back there were several necessary rewrites!  More delays!!!!!  This time however, I didn’t stare myself down in the mirror to argue or debate.  I simply put “pen in hand” (well computer keyboard - but you get the point) and began to let the most recent life lessons weave themselves into the existing tapestry of the book.  I was amazed! 

Just a few days ago, I finished my editing again and began to do my last “read through.”  On the very night that I had planned on uploading the files, I had an impromptu dinner with my son.  As I did, a conversation that has been “waiting in the wings” for several years, began to unfold.  We talked about parts of my life that my son had never asked about before.  We talked about his life and delays and experiences he had gone through and is still walking through.  He became ready to hear about things from the past that he had never had an interest in knowing before.  Suddenly, the light came on for both of us!  I realized that every single thing I had experienced over the years had deeper meaning - as they were meant to be a lesson for my son to give him understanding into his own life direction.  At that moment, we both had an epiphany of sorts.  I knew without a doubt the purpose in the delays to the completion of the book writing project and finally felt a release to cross the last “t” and dot the final “i” in the book.  Had I debated with myself too long and either rushed the book’s completion, or shelved it altogether, this life-changing moment would not have happened.  So what is the lesson in it all?  Talk less, listen more, trust the whisper of your heart, trust the process and believe that everything happens in its time just as it is meant to be.  Don’t miss it!  Don’t worry about whether something is “to be or not to be…”  Everything that is meant to be, finds its way into our lives if we slow down long enough to pay attention….

The Thanksgiving Table

Every family has some sort of tradition or another I imagine.  I know our family does.  At Christmas time, we gather in the living room around the tree. As the tiny white lights sparkle like promises, and the bright colored packages taunt the child in each of us, we pause to reflect on what Christmas truly means.   First we read the Christmas story, and then we take turns and reflect on what God has done for us or brought us through during the year.  There is some laughter and a lot of tears, but it is an amazing, sweet and reverent moment.  We end by joining hands, praying with and for each other and thanking God for amazing love and blessings and mostly for the greatest gift of all - Himself.

At Thanksgiving, we have a similar tradition around our Thanksgiving table.  Every year the feast is pretty much the same on our table - turkey, dressing, cranberry salad, apple salad, green salad, stuffed eggs,  green beans, corn casserole, broccoli casserole, sweet potato casserole, yeast rolls, and enough desserts to open our own sweet shop.  Before partaking of the feast spread out in front of us however, we each take our turn to express those things in our lives that truly fill us - the things we are most thankful for and the blessings we've received through the year.  Some years have been happy ones, others downright painful in fact, but through them all there has always been something to give thanks for.  We have always been able to give thanks not just for what was “on” that table, but around our Thanksgiving table.  Being close to each other around the family table has been thanks enough.  Now don’t get me wrong.  We are far from the “Cleaver” family.  We bump elbows, fuss about who sits where, laugh over some embarrassing moment at the expense of another family member; we fight over the last piece of pie, call dibs on who gets the sofa after dinner and we get on each others nerves while trying to clear the table.  But in it all, we give thanks. Even if the world has walked out on us in one way or another, family has stepped in or rather stayed in, has always been there, always supportive and loving, accepting and forgiving.

          I must admit, this year is one of my "happy" years because of the tangible blessings that God has given me since this same time last year as well as some difficulty He has brought me through.  Still I have to say, the joy and thanksgiving that I feel in my heart are not new emotions, because I've felt them each and every year that my family has gathered around our Thanksgiving table.  It didn’t matter if I had celebrated marriage or relationship and we had added a seat at the table, or if I had endured the pain of divorce; it didn’t matter  if I had been given a job promotion or a pink slip, if my food pantry was stocked or bare, if I had been deathly ill or the picture of health, if I had soared in life or fallen flat on my face; I was still met with the same love and acceptance that had been extended to me the year before and the year before and the year before.  Why?  Because what God had given me to truly be thankful for was not in what I did or didn't have, what I had done or didn't do, been or failed to be, who had come in or gone out of my life.  What I had to be thankful for was surrounding me.  I was  thankful for the embrace of my son as he complimented the food;  for the chit-chat between he and my nephew about things that the rest of us were clueless on; for the sparkle in my grandmother's eyes as she told stories from years ago; for the laughter of my brother and I as we recounted childhood memories; for the service of my mom's busy hands around the table; for the surprise look on my sister-in-law's face at stories that she may not have heard before and how she reminded me that family is not just flesh and blood.  I was thankful for the prayer of that gray-haired man with the dark eyes that was sitting at the head of the table - my dad, who had no idea what an impact he truly had on our family.  Yes, each year whether good or bad, I still had, still have and always will have something to be thankful for - God’s blessings around the Thanksgiving table.

No matter what you have faced this year or in life, take some time this Thanksgiving at “your” Thanksgiving table to express your thanks for what’s around that table.  And let it not just be an annual family tradition, but a daily way of life.  Never stop giving thanks and mostly never stop expressing and “living” thanks for what truly matters in life.  One day, tomorrow will not come for someone sitting around your Thanksgiving table (or at the table in your heart) so please, while you have the chance, let them know just how thankful you are for them - for the tangible arms and hearts of Divine Love extended to you through each person around your table...     

"Let Me Show You Something"

        It was just a box – a simple velvet lined box.  It had been pulled in and out of Paw Paw’s dresser drawer so many times that it was a bit scuffed and tattered – much like him and every other person who served along side of him.  What was in that little box?  It was Paw Paw’s greatest treasure, his most vivid memory and symbol of something larger than what the young boy those many years ago could comprehend, and what the elderly gentlemen proudly displaying it could adequately express.  However, the look in his eyes each time he held that box in his calloused wrinkled hand, told the story magnificently.  Every time we went to visit my grandparents, we knew that at any given moment, Paw Paw would retreat into a world of memories, walk into the bedroom, open a dresser drawer and come back with his treasure – Paw Paw’s Purple Heart. 

All you had to do was take a moment to sit still in his lap or sit at his feet and before long, the stories would roll off his tongue, then the light would begin to sparkle in his eyes as he would say “let me show you something.”  Off he would go down the hall, and then in a flash, be back beaming from ear to ear with that velvet lined box.  Slowly, he would open the box and release the sound of gunfire, the dampness of trenches and the excitement and fear on the face of a mere child who found himself across a huge ocean listening to the chatter of languages he was never even able to read. Paw Paw had quit school in the 3^rd grade due to a family tragedy that took both his parents, so he was not even able to read anything in English nonetheless a foreign language.  One line he learned overseas seemed forever stuck in his brain - “comme ci comme ça.”  We knew each time we spent a few moments with Paw Paw, that we needed to ask him how he was doing.  This gave him that rare opportunity to respond in a foreign language… “just so-so” he would say in French with his own delightful mountain man dialect.

Can you imagine what it felt like to be an orphan of sorts shipped across the ocean and coming face to face with “death?”  Like so many young boys during this time, Paw Paw also lied about his age to have the chance to do something significant with his life and for his country.  At the ripe old age of sixteen, Paw Paw became a “man” in World War I.  The truth be told, from that time until now, there have been scores of boys who left home as a son, a brother, a cousin, a neighbor, a classmate or playmate yet when it was time to return, in their place a man walked down that country road home, or that city sidewalk through town.  Some of them never got to walk that road home.  Some of them rolled their way, while others were sent back in another velvet lined box and carried “home” by the angels. 

Today, as I think of Paw Paw’s Purple Heart, I think of the hearts of the scores of young men and now women who give everything they have to offer with no expectation of anything in return, simply because of the sound of “freedom’s song” ringing in their ears.  I wish I could sit with each of them like we did Paw Paw through the years and hear their story, see their symbol of freedom, experience the fear and excitement and feel the sense of pride and honor that radiates from the light in each of their eyes.  Since I can’t sit with each of them, I will do what I can to “pay forward” words of hope and encouragement, determination and perseverance - fanning the flame of freedom.  May we never allow the song of freedom fade from our ears or the story of liberty slip from our hearts and souls.  I, for one, do not want their sacrifices to be in vain.  I refuse to bow down to tyranny or give in to selfish oppressors who want to smother our pride and strip away our dignity one liberty at a time.  Thank you, Veterans for reminding us each day what it means to be free and what it takes to stay free.  God Bless America!!!!!  

Editor's Note:  I want to also express my gratitude to Dad who served in the Air Force.  I am forever grateful for him, for all the others in our family who have proudly served our country, and to Paw Paw.  What an honor to be the recipient of freedom!

                                            Paw Paw Rich