Bowl of Cherries

Life is a bowl of cherries!

Psalm 68:11

        Sometimes we need to contend for the cherries!  I got the rake to pull down the tree branches.  I hauled out the ladder and climbed up, reaching as far as I could stretch, to find the beautiful cherries over run with ants!  Fighting the crawling critters, I tossed the cherries in a deep bowl, immediately filling it with water overflowing, washing away the enemies.  Careful to only save the flawless ones, I finally have a bowl of cherries.

        The war for the cherries increases my appreciation, making them taste sweeter,

        You are a valiant warrior!  Determined, faithful and courageous you are!

        May your eyes focus on the spoils of war.  Glory in your life’s cherries! 

p.s. I left the bowl of cherries in the kitchen for a moment.  My daughter, Gwenn, wandered out of bed, into the kitchen and helped herself to the overflowing bowl.  I feel to add a cautious word.

        Guard your bowl!  Don’t let anyone steal your cherries!

Mr. Flint's Driver's Ed

I was just 15, anxious for life, but determined to be a "good girl".
"Good Girl's" have to resist the temptation to experience what everybody else is doing in 1975 in Yucca Valley, CA.  And everybody was experimenting with something or someone.  So I locked myself away in the good girl closet, with my books.  They were the only entertainment and reality that was comfortable.

The problem with being a good girl is the passivity you have to maintain mentally to be so withdrawn from your surrounding that you protect yourself from alluring indulgences.  You are so disengaged that you can't cope with the real world.  So I was pretty much just a virgin who couldn't drive.

My parents would not teach me.  They liked my academic performance, but the privileges of a good girl weren't bestowed to me.  Like learning to drive.  Instead all learning was achieved via the school, so they mentally had delegated my driving to the school's responsibility. 

I don't remember much detail about Mr.Flint. Short, skinny, glasses, sarcastic and in his late twenties; he had been teaching long enough to have lost all illusions about being a teacher.  In the 70's teaching was tough.  Teachers had lost all authority in the classroom, so looking back, he was likely much nicer than credited.  But his reputation was hateful.

The first question posed was, "Who had driven before?"
Boy one's dad taught him when he was 14 in the family truck in the dessert.
"Wonderful!" was Mr. Flint's reply.
What?!  He just admitted his father had broken the law! And Flint declared that wonderful!?
The next girl shyly admitted she'd been driving with her sister for 6 months.
"Great!" Flint's eyebrows lifted with hope.
Boy two's grandfather helped him get his permit and prepared him for drivers ed during summer vacation.
"Okay!!" Mr. Flint was actually beginning to smile.  Until I opened my mouth.
"I've turned a car on to warm up the engine in winter."
All joy drained from his face, and in disappointment he muttered, "I knew it was too good to be true."

My nickname was "Whiplash."  Academically I was an excellent student, but practical application was painfully lacking.  I learned to operate a vehicle passing the class.  

With my permit, I drove back and forth to school with friends and  relatives, seldom my parents, who'd never pop for insurance therefore I never got my license.  The excuse was I wasn't a good driver.

I don't know if that was true.  Loyal to parental disgression, as good girls are, I told myself it was.  Watching my 20 year old daughter learning to drive, helped me to realize the revelations I began my story with.  She loves her books.  It wasn't until she had worked two part time jobs for over 6 months that she wasn't terrifying behind the wheel.

When did I learn to drive?
I was 23, with two children, working as a daily operations manager in a non-for-profit.  I was tired of being dependent on others.  My husband would take me out driving on country roads in the rain after he got home at night.  In the rain, because it was the only time he wasn't working after his day job outside on the farm we lived.  Tom could drive 55mph in reverse on that farm.  He doesn't believe in wasting time turning a vehicle around.  I couldn't do so well.  So he still says I'm not very good at backing up. 

I failed my first driving test by turning right on red where a sign forbade it. But the second time I passed!  I was wise to those tricky signs!  I was determined to be in the driver's seat.

Sweet Basil

I purchased organic sweet basil at a market three years ago.  When the plants went to seed,  I saved a few blossom stems, and in the following spring germinated the seed.  I saved the $3 and enjoy the happy feeling of "growing my own".  Due to summer travel, I was negligent of my basil plants this year, returning home to woody bushes covered with bloom stalks.  The plants were so thick, the yellow finches were roosting in them!  As I drank my coffee one morning enjoying the birds, I realized they were not roosting, but eating my seeds!  Charming as it was, it fired a protective passion in me to harvest my seeds before the little birdies stole them all!  I went out and harvested a ridiculous amount, then stopped and realized I would never use them all. I saved them anyway, to dry and package away for next spring.

A week of drying later, early on Saturday morn I began to process them.  Praying as I worked I started pondering the parable of the sower and the seed.  Luke 8:11 states "The seed is the Word of God." (NIV)  I started thinking of all the seed I have neglected in my life.  Just like the plants in the garden, because of neglect the birds had come and made a feast upon my next years crop.  How many "words," or "seeds" have I missed the fruit of because I neglected to save and germinate them?  At moments like this I rededicate myself to the sweet messages in the Bible and to respond to the quiet promptings of the Holy Spirit.  I want to walk in respectful gratitude, stewarding faithfully His gifts of "seed" while not self-righteously keeping score in the harvest.   I purpose to live intentionally in hope that when the day comes my conversation with the Father will follow the line of...  

"When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’  
‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’
(Matthew 25:39-40 NASB)

Crusty Pans

July 2, 2013

Upon entering the kitchen this morning I found the neglected dishes from yesterday, awaiting me.  I entertain hopes my daughters will take initiative and clean them, but deep down I know, I really wish they would do the job, I, myself, don't want to do.  The dried on oatmeal in the pan promised to be stubborn, so I left it soaking in the suds while drying the other dishes.  When I returned to the pan, the residue, hydrated by the soapy water, was easily removed.  I reflected, the crust in the pan was like so many other issues in my life, set aside for another day when I'd feel stronger and fresher, ready to attempt the task of clean up.  I used to condemn procrastination.  But sometimes wisdom tells us to set things aside and soak them in prayer and worship, until the rough things in life are subdued, softened in the Word, easily removed.  Impatiences for progress can masquerade as diligence. But I am also painfully aware, I pray for God to do the dishes for me in my life.  God is in the water, but He calls me to engage and get the job done with Him.

Before I could cook the next meal the pan had to be cleaned.  The last meal was great, but I have to throw out the residue in preparing for the present day's vittles.  Lord, help me clean the sides of this vessel, my life, so I can be busy cooking the next meal.  I want to be found busy serving proper food for the proper time, when you come.  As always, thank you again, for your merciful love., and the gracious way You are always with me.  Even when I set things aside for another day.

The pans are clean and all is in order.  Lord, what shall we cook today?  Do you feel like a simple fare, or three hours to a Mexican feast?  Yeah, it is hot today.  We'll go simple, but nutritious!  New day, new meal suited for it!

Matt 24:45-47
“Who here qualifies for the job of overseeing the kitchen? A person the Master can depend on to feed the workers on time each day. Someone the Master can drop in on unannounced and always find him doing his job. A God-blessed man or woman, I tell you. It won’t be long before the Master will put this person in charge of the whole operation.

The Message

Sometimes worship is merely a subtle pause in our life, to commune with our loving God.

My daughter has a girlfriend she is forever encouraging.  She goes through episodes of fear, anxiety and stress.  My daughter will try to comfort and support her during life's traumas.  One day I commented to my daughter, "I think you friend just needs Jesus!"  Emma acknowleged likewise, explaining everytime the subject comes up, her friend throws up a wall.  "It is a belief system which works for you, but not for me." her friend states with finality.  Her friend's family background is strict Catholic.  She equates all talk of Jesus with the tight rules and regulations presented to her by family traditions.  
It causes me to reflect how I was reared, in a Protestant denomination, where "Repent and believe!" were the mantra.  Repenting was defined as turning away from sin.  Sins were the activities which gratified the flesh.  Oh, that awful Flesh!  When I accepted Christ as Savior I was encouraged to "try not to sin again."  Even as a child, I didn't think that was going to work. Every time I stumbled, I felt like the betrayer of the Savior, pausing to hear if a rooster crowed.   My efforts at goodness birthed an entitlement attitude.  Being an obedient daughter came with promise.  It will be well with me.  I was earning blessing.  The disease of self-righteousness took a long time to diagnose, and so long to eradicate from my life.  I am with my daughter's girlfriend when it comes to religion.  Forget it!  

In my Christian walk, I am happy to agree with the Psalmist who wrote, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies shall never come to an end.  They are new every morning."  The love of Jesus is more real to me now than every before.  When you realize just how great a love Father God and Jesus had for mankind, you are in awe.  Jesus died for all my sin, yesterday's, today's and tomorrow's.  All was forgiven when He died in my place.  I humbly accept Jesus' righteousness as my own, to wear like clothing, as at the Bridal feast in the parable.  I belong at the wedding feast for I am clothed in proper wedding attire.  Jesus' righteousness enrobes  me. Nothing of my own efforts affords me the right to be called a brother at that fellowship, save Jesus' redemption.
 
 Repentance is not behavior modification; repentance is a changed attitude.

If you look at sin as something which creates a riff, or separation, between you and God, then repentance should be turning from that separation.  "Believe" in the Amplified Bible is described by the phrases, "trust in, cling to, rely on."  "Repent and believe" implies you should turn away from your separation from God, and now, trust in, cling to, and rely on Him.  Be in the moment with God.  Every moment, be with Him.  Acknowledge God's presence with you.  The Bible is a road map to relationship.  It is full of people who knew God.  If you are a parent, you know every child's relationship with you is different and unique.  Because we are all individuals.  Our relationship with God is one of a kind.  No two will look exactly alike.  They are not supposed to.  The Bible is a book of examples of what you could have with God individually!  That is exciting!  We are not in a box!  Jesus said, "I am with you always."   The question is, do we want to be with Him?   

Gratitude is the only response.  Thankfully recognizing the goodness of God's provision through Christ's sacrifice inspires worship.  What does worship look like?  It has so many faces!

At the inauguration of President Obama on January 21, 2012, I caught a glimpse of a man worshipping.  After the ceremony when all were exiting the grand stand, heading off to the inaugural luncheon, there was a man who hung back.  He tried to pause unnoticed by the door, pressed to one side.  He was overlooking all the people who had come, committing the view to memory, having a moment of reverence.  I had my own moment of reverence, as I prayed for mercy, wisdom and grace to follow our President, to saturate him in this next term and to fill his heart as he stood there by the door, modestly cherishing this gift, his place in history.

Sometimes worship is merely a subtle pause in our life, to commune with our loving God.  

Jesus, thank you for suffering on that really, really rough day, enduring all that horrible stuff, so I could have this really, really good peace every day.

Psalm 51 
10 Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
11 Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit. 

"Happy Christmas, my Lady!"

For Christmas this year we decided as a family to spent our money and time together on a day trip to San Francisco.  We pondered where to go, and what to see.  Our lovely neighbor, who yearly travels on a charter with friends, shared her experience at the Dickens Christmas Faire along with her newspaper from London, which encouraged us to give it a go!  So, jolly well, we did!!! 

Every year after Thanksgiving, a portion of the Cow Palace in Daly City travels through time arriving at London town during the Dicken's era.  Players in costume and character, perform, sell their wares, and celebrate the beautiful giving spirit of Christmas!  On stages through out the exhibition, live enactments offer frivolous fun.  Skits, songs, dances, & jugglers engagedly took us to another place in history.  This did not appear laborious for them, even though we chose to go on the day before the end, when the energy and passion for a stage run loses energy and steam.  No, these folks were really enjoying the moment!  And so did we!


I could give you a blow by blow review, but that is not my purpose. (Though the Turkish coffee in Golden Square deserves an honorable meantion.)  As my husband and I rested near the roasted chestnut vender, we noted how our daughter and her friend had truly entered interactively in the occasion, like so many other guests, dressing up on period clothing.  When we were their ages, in the 60's and 70's life was different in America.  Dressing up as Hippies and protesting, any and everything, was the role play of the time.  Today, it isn't unsual to see youth and adults alike, step into fantastic alter egos.  The gray headed actors, along with college students, even mother and child duos make up the troupe of actors participating in this event!  Christmas here is about the fellowship, and the activities are relational.  Games, dancing, art lessons, dressing up, hand-on crafting booths, and of course, eating and drinking are the communal focus of the holiday celebration.  It was quite appropriate our adventure to commemorate Christmas, away from gifting, would land us at the Dickens' Christmas Fair! 

As we dined at Red Robin in Fairfield on our trip home, we discussed our costumes for next year.  Our newest annual jollity will be visiting London town, via the bay area.  



As they say in Old London,

 "A Happy Christmas to all!"

The Year the Christmas Tree Broke

It was Christmas 2000.  For 23 years of marriage I had collected, gathered, and hoarded anything Christmas.  It was my holiday!  I loved anything Christmas, but especially Santas.  The magic Santa promised to bring on Christmas I was forever seeking.  Each room had a theme.  Ascending the apartment stairs, trees sang and escorted you.  Polar bears in the master bedroom, snowmen in the girl's room, the boys had a lodge look; but the living room was Santa's,  I was making cross-stitched Christmas stockings with a different style of St. Nick on each one!  My tree was covered with gifted ornaments from the school children of the private school I'd taught in for 20 years.  I hoped my living room gave the growing youth that tingling feeling, when viewing their art work chronicled on the tree.   
Despite my husband's objections, this year I was adding collectables in an effort to upscale my decor.  "We have too many children for those fragile ornaments.  Someone is going to knock them off the tree and you'll get upset and angry."  In my enthusiasm, I couldn't see how my children were actually beginning to dread the season.  My efforts to emphasis serving and giving to others during the holidays was actually wearing them out.  I was so caught up, I didn't realize my efforts were taking the joy out of the season I so loved.  I couldn't see myself as an angry bear if everything wasn't just right.  I didn't see the disappointment in the children's eyes when I rearranged the ornaments they had hung, rearranged because it wasn't balance, or good enough for mom.  I was doing what my mom had always done, not learning from her mistake, but entitled to repeat it. 

The apartment was decorated, but I was still tweaking the living room tree.  My second son, Seth, 15 years old was resigned to help me.  He wanted to be anywhere but there.  I remember his determination to be passively submitted, because no one could win in a battle with MOM.  I felt the tree was off center from the window about 3 inches.  For the final decorating act, I wanted him to pick it up and move it by reaching within the branched to grab the trunk.  Seth was cooperating the best a 15 year old boy can.  But something happened when he reached within the tree.  Some how this artificial treasure of a Christmas tree broke in half and fell over in the center of the room, breaking one of my precious new collectables!  Remorse, and anger came in an instant, but my ears tore my attention away as I listened to my son burst out, "I broke the Christmas tree!!!"  Laughing hilariously he kept repeating, "I can't believe it!  I broke the Christmas tree!  I didn't mean to, but I broke the Christmas tree!!!"  Seth was laughing so hard he couldn't control himself.  No fear of Mom subdued him, and after all, I couldn't hurt him anymore than I already had.  In that moment, I felt like the Grinch having an epiphany revelation.  I could posture in anger, irrationally blame Seth and totally ruin any joy for this Christmas, or I could accept the truth.  We should have left well enough alone!  Seth was more beautiful and important than that tree could ever be.  Nothing in my home should be of more value than the people in it.  I took in the laughter, realizing the virtue of the moment.  Having been critized for adoring my children even as they misbehave, I tried to pull myself back into character.  I remember questioning the sincerity of his apology, as he "laughed like an idiot", I think I said.  That sounds like something I would have said.  But Seth's laughter cracked something in me, which needed shattering.  I remember it now, trying to lean into the lesson, and relive the glory of that instant. I want love, mercy and kindness to flavor my life, more!  Thank you, God, my son broke the Christmas tree of 2000!  It was one of my life's highlights.

Since the day the Christmas tree broke, my definition for perfection has changed.  I am told I am not as "linear" as I used to be.  I find myself opposed to tight structure, or predetermined standards.  God created the trees, called them good, but you'll never see an absolutely symmetrical one in nature.  Maybe aligning with God views includes judging irregularities as "good and beautiful."  If the neighbors are offended by my droopy lights, well, maybe they should just get over it!  I have!