Tuesday, December 13, 2005
The dishes are soaking, the drier is humming and I am folding a load of laundry while I compose my thoughts to write. The air is thick with the smell of poopy diaper and I am giving it another two minutes before I go searching out the kiddo that lovingly gift-wrapped that present for me… *sigh* why wait? So that I am sure they are done and I don’t end up changing the same poop three changes in a row. He he, twelve people just clicked away thinking this was way more info than they wanted. Ah well, this is part of what my life is about these days. To be honest, I am glad it stinks. Can you imagine how raw the poor kid would be if I had no clue and he/she stayed in it?
The Den and living room (transformed into the playroom for the daycare) are joined, yet gated, so that I can watch the kids while I type. In this case, I am also folding laundry. This way, the little ones can’t come and play in my piles like they were leaves. The den also acts as the infant sleeping room with a changing table, and two pack and plays set out here. My computer is off to the side, as is the piano, accessible to my own kids and in the living space so they are monitored, yet separate from the daycare play section so they aren’t playing near the wires. This arrangement seems to be working for me for now, but I don’t know how many kids I can bring in without it getting too crowded. The layout of my house kind of limits it getting too big.
I don’t know why I wrote all that above. No one is going to be interested in reading it, there is nothing transforming or informative in it, simply me going through the layers of my mind, getting down to the place where I can access the stuff that does matter.
Lately I have been able to get more writing done.
Writing, that matters to me. Lot’s more than maybe it should. I have thought a lot about it, what it is attached to inside me that makes it so important for me to write. It isn’t glory or fame, if that were the case, I think I would be better at getting more of my stuff out there and under the noses of editors. Right now, it’s about getting better at it. It’s about the act of creating and having a place to channel it.
My husband is a wonderful man, one who completely commits himself to whatever it is that he is doing. Translation: when he is at work he gives 110 % and when he is home, he gives 110 % and he seldom has time that he can call his own that’s all about or just for him. I push him out the door to spend time alone or time with friends or even time with a book as often as I can. But he can’t help but feel jealous of the time I take for myself to write or read. Sometimes, when I am obsessive about a story or a project, and the laundry slides or the house is a wreck, he will make a comment about how I still had time to write. He doesn’t take the time for himself and so I sometimes feel quite guilty for taking the time that I do for my own nourishment.
The thing is, I know that he needs me to drag him into having fun. I know he needs me to develop those relationships with other people and bring them into our circle so that he can reap the rewards of an intimate social group, even though he doesn’t have the time to maintain them on his own. So I also know that this is part of me that he loves. I try hard not to take it personal, cause I know it’s the differences of who we are that make us such a strong couple and better together than apart. It’s also the place where he and I are the most raw with one another too.
I need to develop myself on a level that rests outside of children. Something outside of what I have always done. I have a crazy fear of becoming a boring old woman who can only talk about the weather and her housework. (Politely ignore the first 2/3rds of this entry while I was working my way down to this section, okay?)
How do you balance what your dreams for your future are, with the needs of your family? One day and one decision at a time I suppose, but the tension, the tightrope of walking that line can get difficult. I don’t have the same issues that some families do. Some women were in vital careers before having kids, and then had to make the decisions about how much time they devote to the family or their careers. I have many friends who have college degrees that they aren’t using while they raise their kids. One of them made it all the way through med school and then stopped to have and raise her family. Even though I never made it to college, never had a career bigger than caring for children, I still feel the desire to learn new things. I want to grow and stretch my mind, I need it. I need it like the air I breathe.
And….
And it makes me crazy, because at this stage in the life of my writing ability, it looks so much like a leisurely hobby.
Am I whining? Yeah.
Thanks for listening to me whine. I don’t know if it’s better or worse than a rant, but it feels good to articulate it and maybe somehow make a connection with someone else.
Thank you for walking beside me for yet another day.
Sometimes it's nice to see life from someone else's point of view. I am a mother, writer and amateur photographer. This is what the view looks like from where I am standing.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
A Protestant at a Catholic Retreat House
December 3, 2005
God said, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
I wonder how often I get to know God, moments of really knowing him, because of my inability to be still. There is always the housework, the kids, the phone, the TV or radio going, how often am I really sitting still?
We don’t like confrontation. We don’t like being told we are doing something wrong or sinful. I think that is why many of us don’t let ourselves get quiet with God. Protestants don’t go to confession, so we can keep our sins to ourselves. Where they fester and grow and consume us.
Because that is the nature of sin; what it is designed to do. God likened it to yeast because it grows in the dark, places. What He wanted us to do, was to take our sin directly to Him. To expose those dark places to his light, killing the bacteria of sin, not to another human who has not the power to forgive, nor cleans us from that sin. God wanted to remove the barriers between his people and himself.
But the problem us, many of us do not come.
When he commanded the Israelites to leave Egypt that Passover night, he told them to take their bread unleavened, to leave the sin behind. It was only a symbol a subtle statement he was making, but the truth is still there.
Catholics, though they go to a priest for that absolution – they do indeed go. While a priest does in fact hear those sins … So does our loving and mighty God; the one who placed his spirit within our hearts to test us and know our authenticity.
Catholics know how to meditate and center their thoughts on a king, one they genuflect to and revere. Protestants treat him with an intimacy that he invited us into when he called us his children. We no longer live in a Monarchy and it’s difficult to imagine how to slip off the shell of an awful sinner, and wear the crown of a prince or princess as it says we become when we are born again into this family. It’s an interesting dichotomy between the God that the Catholics and the Protestants each portray. We have drawn lines and shed blood over the centuries between these two factions, but it is the same God we serve and try our best to become family with.
I am at a Catholic retreat center, a place where they encourage you to sit and meditate. A place designed to slow you down long enough to expose your sin and hurts to God. They offer the sacrament of confession and reconciliation, they offer their time and ear for counseling and they offer a quiet place to rest and put yourself back into balance.
Because I am not Catholic, and I have not taken the traditional steps that are part of this order, I don’t risk offending those who do not understand why I come here. So I have never done confession in the Catholic tradition. They have a complex series of oral quotes and replies that I do not know. There is a sacredness to their traditions that I would not step on.
But they don’t mind if I attend the retreat. I enjoy their conferences where they speak of the love of God and I recognize his character and nature within their eyes and the way they offer peace to me. I have found much healing in these hallways.
I think that is why I am writing this, to honor them and this place. To recognize that God is bigger than we are, that he has ever reached down to us to met us at our own points of need, no matter what our background. We are all from such vast experiences and cultures, is it so hard to believe that He can meet us where we are and draw us to Him from that point? It is a relationship.
I will use my own children when describing the next thing I want to say, because God used the analogy of children and parents when establishing our relationship with Him from the beginning. When my children were babies, I revealed myself to them by meeting their needs. I forgave them when they behaved badly, I bandaged their boo boos, I disciplined them when they needed it and I always, always, always told them that I loved them.
When they grew older I needed to show them that they could trust my word when I spoke. This meant that when I told them to stay in the yard, I had to follow up and do something about it when they didn’t obey. When I made a promise, I had to keep it so that later on, when I needed them to trust me with things they were too young to understand, they would still obey me until I could provide them with answers that would satisfy them.
When we come to God, we are first as little babies, who throw temper tantrums when we don’t get our way. We hold him responsible for the things that happen to us, without giving him control of our lives. We want it both ways.
Gradually I think we grow to a place where we understand that prayer is more about changing us and how we view things than it is about changing the circumstances. Not to limit God or make it sound as though he only operates under stealth any more… not so; only that we must come to that place where we surrender our control. Surrender our need to be right, to exact vengeance and to shape things to our liking. Prayer reminds us of our relationship to him; that being, one where we have permission to approach him on a personal level, yet never forgetting that he is the King. It puts our relationship with Him into proper perspective,
When we accept his authority in our lives and in our circumstances, when we are no longer trying to fight him for control, then he has the freedom to move in our lives and the changes, the transformation from baby to adult can begin. Here is where we find joy in the midst of strife, where we can be at peace even during war-time. When we release our burdens and hurts and pains that we cloak ourselves with, (that define who we think we are), then we are free emotionally to move freely within the circles that he has set us within. We are then able to be the part of God who has skin on to offer help and hope to those who are still struggling and lost.
As humans we are so quick to judge one another, to assign blame for the circumstances of others on whatever sin we think we see. Do you know how God sees us? He sees us harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd. Did you know that he left the ninety nine for you? That when no one else believed in you, he did? That through those long hard years when I personally held on to the sin I did and the sin others did to me in order to make myself strong, he was showing how weak he’d made himself? He left the glory of heaven in order to make it possible for me to be with him, while I was still sinning, before I ever knew what choices I would make.
He knews the outcome because he sits outside of time, he created it for us to live in. So he knew what I would choose, but that never once made it any less my choice or my responsibility to choose. It never made my struggles any less real.
This has turned into an evangelical letter. It wasn’t intended to, it’s just the way I lean into things I suppose. Thank you for letting me rant and spill the things in my heart, especially if you followed me through this far, even though I worked myself into preaching, I thank you. I get stirred up and I just can’t keep it quiet.
Have a great day today.
God said, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
I wonder how often I get to know God, moments of really knowing him, because of my inability to be still. There is always the housework, the kids, the phone, the TV or radio going, how often am I really sitting still?
We don’t like confrontation. We don’t like being told we are doing something wrong or sinful. I think that is why many of us don’t let ourselves get quiet with God. Protestants don’t go to confession, so we can keep our sins to ourselves. Where they fester and grow and consume us.
Because that is the nature of sin; what it is designed to do. God likened it to yeast because it grows in the dark, places. What He wanted us to do, was to take our sin directly to Him. To expose those dark places to his light, killing the bacteria of sin, not to another human who has not the power to forgive, nor cleans us from that sin. God wanted to remove the barriers between his people and himself.
But the problem us, many of us do not come.
When he commanded the Israelites to leave Egypt that Passover night, he told them to take their bread unleavened, to leave the sin behind. It was only a symbol a subtle statement he was making, but the truth is still there.
Catholics, though they go to a priest for that absolution – they do indeed go. While a priest does in fact hear those sins … So does our loving and mighty God; the one who placed his spirit within our hearts to test us and know our authenticity.
Catholics know how to meditate and center their thoughts on a king, one they genuflect to and revere. Protestants treat him with an intimacy that he invited us into when he called us his children. We no longer live in a Monarchy and it’s difficult to imagine how to slip off the shell of an awful sinner, and wear the crown of a prince or princess as it says we become when we are born again into this family. It’s an interesting dichotomy between the God that the Catholics and the Protestants each portray. We have drawn lines and shed blood over the centuries between these two factions, but it is the same God we serve and try our best to become family with.
I am at a Catholic retreat center, a place where they encourage you to sit and meditate. A place designed to slow you down long enough to expose your sin and hurts to God. They offer the sacrament of confession and reconciliation, they offer their time and ear for counseling and they offer a quiet place to rest and put yourself back into balance.
Because I am not Catholic, and I have not taken the traditional steps that are part of this order, I don’t risk offending those who do not understand why I come here. So I have never done confession in the Catholic tradition. They have a complex series of oral quotes and replies that I do not know. There is a sacredness to their traditions that I would not step on.
But they don’t mind if I attend the retreat. I enjoy their conferences where they speak of the love of God and I recognize his character and nature within their eyes and the way they offer peace to me. I have found much healing in these hallways.
I think that is why I am writing this, to honor them and this place. To recognize that God is bigger than we are, that he has ever reached down to us to met us at our own points of need, no matter what our background. We are all from such vast experiences and cultures, is it so hard to believe that He can meet us where we are and draw us to Him from that point? It is a relationship.
I will use my own children when describing the next thing I want to say, because God used the analogy of children and parents when establishing our relationship with Him from the beginning. When my children were babies, I revealed myself to them by meeting their needs. I forgave them when they behaved badly, I bandaged their boo boos, I disciplined them when they needed it and I always, always, always told them that I loved them.
When they grew older I needed to show them that they could trust my word when I spoke. This meant that when I told them to stay in the yard, I had to follow up and do something about it when they didn’t obey. When I made a promise, I had to keep it so that later on, when I needed them to trust me with things they were too young to understand, they would still obey me until I could provide them with answers that would satisfy them.
When we come to God, we are first as little babies, who throw temper tantrums when we don’t get our way. We hold him responsible for the things that happen to us, without giving him control of our lives. We want it both ways.
Gradually I think we grow to a place where we understand that prayer is more about changing us and how we view things than it is about changing the circumstances. Not to limit God or make it sound as though he only operates under stealth any more… not so; only that we must come to that place where we surrender our control. Surrender our need to be right, to exact vengeance and to shape things to our liking. Prayer reminds us of our relationship to him; that being, one where we have permission to approach him on a personal level, yet never forgetting that he is the King. It puts our relationship with Him into proper perspective,
When we accept his authority in our lives and in our circumstances, when we are no longer trying to fight him for control, then he has the freedom to move in our lives and the changes, the transformation from baby to adult can begin. Here is where we find joy in the midst of strife, where we can be at peace even during war-time. When we release our burdens and hurts and pains that we cloak ourselves with, (that define who we think we are), then we are free emotionally to move freely within the circles that he has set us within. We are then able to be the part of God who has skin on to offer help and hope to those who are still struggling and lost.
As humans we are so quick to judge one another, to assign blame for the circumstances of others on whatever sin we think we see. Do you know how God sees us? He sees us harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd. Did you know that he left the ninety nine for you? That when no one else believed in you, he did? That through those long hard years when I personally held on to the sin I did and the sin others did to me in order to make myself strong, he was showing how weak he’d made himself? He left the glory of heaven in order to make it possible for me to be with him, while I was still sinning, before I ever knew what choices I would make.
He knews the outcome because he sits outside of time, he created it for us to live in. So he knew what I would choose, but that never once made it any less my choice or my responsibility to choose. It never made my struggles any less real.
This has turned into an evangelical letter. It wasn’t intended to, it’s just the way I lean into things I suppose. Thank you for letting me rant and spill the things in my heart, especially if you followed me through this far, even though I worked myself into preaching, I thank you. I get stirred up and I just can’t keep it quiet.
Have a great day today.
Taking Stock
December 2, 2005
We all have moments of self doubt, times when we reflect and take stock of what our lives have become verses what we wanted them to be. We cling to our childhood dreams of what we wanted out of life before our own choices and those of others shaped us.
And what do we do with those moments? Do they draw us into bitterness? Do they lead us into acceptance? Or do they do the unexpected thing and carve a new career, lifestyle or spiritual renewal out of the flesh of the past?
Sometimes it takes great courage to simply get up the next day and care for the ones in your keep by doing the thing you don’t like in order to provide for the ones you love. Sometimes it takes courage to follow the serenity prayer and trust that all things have purpose and that what you are doing matters. And sometimes, yes, the bravest thing is to change and remake yourself. Scary, that one. It means that you are trusting without evidence that your vision of a future will be better than the one you are living now.
I have done each of these things in turn in my own lifetime. I have accepted what I cannot change, I have followed the ordinary in order to touch the extraordinary and I have stepped outside the pattern and chosen to remake myself. All of them carry risk, even the ones that seem safe and familiar, there is the risk of loosing yourself and being consumed by the pattern.
Sometimes the changes come weather we will them to or not. Death will do that to you, and so will love. Both are catalysts for change, both carry with them the seeds of change. God designed it so that once the grief lessens, life begins again. Once the powerful emotions of love cool, you are propelled by that love into a new pattern. And so the wheel turns.
Patterns. It becomes easier to see them as I grow older.
But what does that mean for me? For the here and now, that is. How does this reflection focus the lens of my attention? I don’t know. I used to think I knew what I wanted out of life. Then my choices and those of others narrowed my field of vision, made all but a few paths in front of me possible. So, I stepped onto them and followed one foot after another until one day I realized that I was on a path that lead me into darkness. It took a great deal of courage to step onto a new one. I have been on paths since then that seemed dark too, but the companion beside me, lit my way, shining a light at my feet.
Today I sit at a house of prayer. A silent retreat center, one with lovely gardens, winding paths and a special spot reserved for the memory of the woman who bore my husband, taught him how to love and welcomed me into her family. I was a divorced woman with a past, a woman who was not Catholic like she had raised her family to be, but nonetheless opened her heart to me and my son. Her name rests on the door of this retreat center, and a secluded garden with a statue of St. Joseph resides in the back.
Patterns and cycles, the wheel that comes back and moves time forward with it. As an individual human, I take stock and ask myself if I am pleased with the patterns my life has created. Are the pictures and stories of my life beautiful and strong? Am I complacent or active, growing or stagnating? Do I carry burdens I aught not, in favor of the ones I should be lifting? What is the state of my heart? Am I loving with open hands or am I a tight fist, curled in to protect its self? What am I pouring my life into? Is it the things that are most important or the things that shout the loudest?
I used to be far more flexible and teachable, I have found that this sort of examination is getting harder to do the older I get. However, it is necessary. I need to know that I am not wasting this one life that God has given me, because I see how fragile it is. Sherri died, my mother-in-law died, young Tim died… and I know that we are not promised tomorrow. The thing about death that compels me to think about it often is that it is so very final. I feel the clock ticking in my own body, and I hear it’s echo in those I love around me. I will only get one shot at this life, there is no do over. So I am keenly aware that I must make the most of every year, every moment. I am not pulled into the fear of death, I know where I will go when I die. But I fear not leaving a legacy, a taste of myself behind.
I am laughing at myself, what arrogance to want to set myself beyond my years, but I must be honest, this is what I want. I want to leave the printed word of my spirit behind for my kids to read and somehow know me. I want my husband to know that his love freed the caged bird that was my spirit and allowed me to dream higher, to let me soar as high as my wings could carry me. I want my friends to know that my life was made better and stronger for them being in it. Their stories … mattered to me more than my dishes and housework, that their companionship fed and nourished me. That I found purpose and joy in being part of their stories in return.
If you really want to know me, look through the pictures I took, see life through my eyes. Look through the conversations I have had and stories I have written. That’s where I am. Look in the eyes of my children; see their character and their nature, see my smile on their lips, my twinkle in their eyes and my form in theirs. Don’t look for me in the repose of death, but in the memory of the song. This is what I want; this is the immortality I seek.
So here I am, reflecting on the patterns my life has taken. And I know that this day will never come again. I know that the choices I make in these moments of pause have a fundamental impact on how I govern my time and resources when I return to the real world.
What choices have you made? Will you be able to look back on your life and say you did what you wanted to? Will you understand the role of the companion who guides stumbling feet? Will you let yourself forgive and unclench that tight fist of your spirit? In all these things there are choices, and each of them takes courage. To remain under pressure with grace is courage. To accept the thing you cannot change and heal the chaffing you’ve done under them requires courage, and to step outside the pattern completely and trust in that other vision takes the greatest courage of all.
I will close for now, I seem to have a great many questions and it’s time I focused these questions on my life and the specific issues that I deal with cannot share in this open forum.
Thank you for sharing the first leg of my journey with me. I will do the rest in private, It’s nice to know that out there somewhere are others, brothers and sisters who also take stock and ask themselves the tough questions, working to be flexible to change.
We all have moments of self doubt, times when we reflect and take stock of what our lives have become verses what we wanted them to be. We cling to our childhood dreams of what we wanted out of life before our own choices and those of others shaped us.
And what do we do with those moments? Do they draw us into bitterness? Do they lead us into acceptance? Or do they do the unexpected thing and carve a new career, lifestyle or spiritual renewal out of the flesh of the past?
Sometimes it takes great courage to simply get up the next day and care for the ones in your keep by doing the thing you don’t like in order to provide for the ones you love. Sometimes it takes courage to follow the serenity prayer and trust that all things have purpose and that what you are doing matters. And sometimes, yes, the bravest thing is to change and remake yourself. Scary, that one. It means that you are trusting without evidence that your vision of a future will be better than the one you are living now.
I have done each of these things in turn in my own lifetime. I have accepted what I cannot change, I have followed the ordinary in order to touch the extraordinary and I have stepped outside the pattern and chosen to remake myself. All of them carry risk, even the ones that seem safe and familiar, there is the risk of loosing yourself and being consumed by the pattern.
Sometimes the changes come weather we will them to or not. Death will do that to you, and so will love. Both are catalysts for change, both carry with them the seeds of change. God designed it so that once the grief lessens, life begins again. Once the powerful emotions of love cool, you are propelled by that love into a new pattern. And so the wheel turns.
Patterns. It becomes easier to see them as I grow older.
But what does that mean for me? For the here and now, that is. How does this reflection focus the lens of my attention? I don’t know. I used to think I knew what I wanted out of life. Then my choices and those of others narrowed my field of vision, made all but a few paths in front of me possible. So, I stepped onto them and followed one foot after another until one day I realized that I was on a path that lead me into darkness. It took a great deal of courage to step onto a new one. I have been on paths since then that seemed dark too, but the companion beside me, lit my way, shining a light at my feet.
Today I sit at a house of prayer. A silent retreat center, one with lovely gardens, winding paths and a special spot reserved for the memory of the woman who bore my husband, taught him how to love and welcomed me into her family. I was a divorced woman with a past, a woman who was not Catholic like she had raised her family to be, but nonetheless opened her heart to me and my son. Her name rests on the door of this retreat center, and a secluded garden with a statue of St. Joseph resides in the back.
Patterns and cycles, the wheel that comes back and moves time forward with it. As an individual human, I take stock and ask myself if I am pleased with the patterns my life has created. Are the pictures and stories of my life beautiful and strong? Am I complacent or active, growing or stagnating? Do I carry burdens I aught not, in favor of the ones I should be lifting? What is the state of my heart? Am I loving with open hands or am I a tight fist, curled in to protect its self? What am I pouring my life into? Is it the things that are most important or the things that shout the loudest?
I used to be far more flexible and teachable, I have found that this sort of examination is getting harder to do the older I get. However, it is necessary. I need to know that I am not wasting this one life that God has given me, because I see how fragile it is. Sherri died, my mother-in-law died, young Tim died… and I know that we are not promised tomorrow. The thing about death that compels me to think about it often is that it is so very final. I feel the clock ticking in my own body, and I hear it’s echo in those I love around me. I will only get one shot at this life, there is no do over. So I am keenly aware that I must make the most of every year, every moment. I am not pulled into the fear of death, I know where I will go when I die. But I fear not leaving a legacy, a taste of myself behind.
I am laughing at myself, what arrogance to want to set myself beyond my years, but I must be honest, this is what I want. I want to leave the printed word of my spirit behind for my kids to read and somehow know me. I want my husband to know that his love freed the caged bird that was my spirit and allowed me to dream higher, to let me soar as high as my wings could carry me. I want my friends to know that my life was made better and stronger for them being in it. Their stories … mattered to me more than my dishes and housework, that their companionship fed and nourished me. That I found purpose and joy in being part of their stories in return.
If you really want to know me, look through the pictures I took, see life through my eyes. Look through the conversations I have had and stories I have written. That’s where I am. Look in the eyes of my children; see their character and their nature, see my smile on their lips, my twinkle in their eyes and my form in theirs. Don’t look for me in the repose of death, but in the memory of the song. This is what I want; this is the immortality I seek.
So here I am, reflecting on the patterns my life has taken. And I know that this day will never come again. I know that the choices I make in these moments of pause have a fundamental impact on how I govern my time and resources when I return to the real world.
What choices have you made? Will you be able to look back on your life and say you did what you wanted to? Will you understand the role of the companion who guides stumbling feet? Will you let yourself forgive and unclench that tight fist of your spirit? In all these things there are choices, and each of them takes courage. To remain under pressure with grace is courage. To accept the thing you cannot change and heal the chaffing you’ve done under them requires courage, and to step outside the pattern completely and trust in that other vision takes the greatest courage of all.
I will close for now, I seem to have a great many questions and it’s time I focused these questions on my life and the specific issues that I deal with cannot share in this open forum.
Thank you for sharing the first leg of my journey with me. I will do the rest in private, It’s nice to know that out there somewhere are others, brothers and sisters who also take stock and ask themselves the tough questions, working to be flexible to change.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Feeling Isolated Today
November 21, 2005
Okay, I have to tell you this very cool thing we are doing at the www.notebored.com/board. I have started a thread inviting everyone to an imaginary Christmas party. We all imagined what the room would look like, (dimensions, features and such) and now we are decorating it. All who participate –those who reply to the thread- will share stories, traditions, recipes and whatever else comes along. On the week of Christmas, we will trade presents. If it’s the thought that counts, and a picture is worth a thousand words (not to mention that if it’s imaginary you can gift your friends without the thought of a budget) then giving imaginary presents will be fun.
Does this sound weird? Maybe. If it sounds fun to you, you are welcome to join us.
Isn’t it sad when the most interesting or exciting thing that’s happening in your life is a playful conversation thread at an online community? Well, I guess that’s not entirely true, I have a birthday party to bake a cake for, Alyssa turns 12 today. That’s kinda exciting LOL, especially for her.
The daycare is busy, and that’s good. But it also means that my writing time has been cut down drastically. I am able to keep up on some of (not all of) the threads at the NoteBored. I can have the computer on all day long, but only able to check messages or catch up a thread here or there. I haven’t sat down long enough to really write on a story or even feel like I can participate in an instant message conversation in … months it feels like. At first, it made me feel grumpy, then stifled. Now I am feeling isolated.
For instance, I started this post at about 8:30 this morning. It’s now nearly 11:00 and I have checked kids in, got them breakfast, did dishes, started a load of laundry, did a round of diaper changes, had a tickle fest and read a picture book, and in between all of that, I have been pecking one graph at a time here. What doesn’t translate well here, are the many times I stop what I am doing to monitor and deal with the kids that doesn’t involve just doing a job… It’s more about heading off conflicts between sibs, teaching the older ones how to deal gently with the toddlers who want to play with the older ones but don’t have the people skills or the vocabulary yet to manage it. It’s about listening to the way the kids are talking to one another and making sure they are using their words and being kind to one another. Sometimes I have a toddler who has just learned the fine motor skill of throwing something, teaching them to not throw toys, just because they now can is a challenge! I have kids that drool and drip, they need to be wiped up and the toys they are playing with have to be set aside to be washed before being kicked “back into play” so to speak.
Ahhh, I am probably boring you all to death. My job isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t have new challenges, just the same ones that have to be done over and over again. Kissing boo boo’s, tying aprons for dress up, setting the timer and putting kids on the potty every 40 minutes, comforting children who don’t understand why mommy and daddy have to be gone, the repetitive conversations about where mommy is and when she is coming back…
Underneath it all though, I know I am making an impact on families. I know that my home is a safe place to be. Miss Dee’s is a house of kindness and compassion for each other. They are learning through consistent reinforcement how to treat one another.
Yeah, it’s all those things. And it’s all good.
But it’s not glamorous or challenging to me.
I do have glamorous clients though. Really! I have two mommies who are models, a few who are speech therapists; a few computer programmers, one is even a best selling novelist… how cool is that?
In spite of all the whining you just heard, I think that what I do is valuable, I find satisfaction in the fact that I do it well. Very well. It’s just that, I have been doing this since I was 13. I did public care for kids until I had my own, then spent 15 years raising my 5 till they were in school full time, and now at 37 I am back to it.
How many of us would like to be doing other things but can’t because they have to feed their families and pay their bills? So my whining is really minor in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes it feels good to just spit it out and let it go though, you know? I have found that it’s very hard to hold on to the blessings God would give us because our hands are full of our own wants, desires and dreams. How can I possibly be of use to Him if I am constantly trying to get my own way? So, today I am letting it go (like I do many days) and opening my hands to what He has for me to do, finding the joy in these moments, and refusing to let the wishing for other things spoil my today.
So, now it is cleanup time. I will switch the laundry to the drier and check diapers again before setting the kiddos up for lunch. (Yes, it’s now closer to noon.) I am going to post this now, before we do clean up, otherwise it won’t be until after 1:00 before I can sit down again.
Thank you for tagging along with me today. Somehow I don’t feel as alone when I journal my thoughts.
Okay, I have to tell you this very cool thing we are doing at the www.notebored.com/board. I have started a thread inviting everyone to an imaginary Christmas party. We all imagined what the room would look like, (dimensions, features and such) and now we are decorating it. All who participate –those who reply to the thread- will share stories, traditions, recipes and whatever else comes along. On the week of Christmas, we will trade presents. If it’s the thought that counts, and a picture is worth a thousand words (not to mention that if it’s imaginary you can gift your friends without the thought of a budget) then giving imaginary presents will be fun.
Does this sound weird? Maybe. If it sounds fun to you, you are welcome to join us.
Isn’t it sad when the most interesting or exciting thing that’s happening in your life is a playful conversation thread at an online community? Well, I guess that’s not entirely true, I have a birthday party to bake a cake for, Alyssa turns 12 today. That’s kinda exciting LOL, especially for her.
The daycare is busy, and that’s good. But it also means that my writing time has been cut down drastically. I am able to keep up on some of (not all of) the threads at the NoteBored. I can have the computer on all day long, but only able to check messages or catch up a thread here or there. I haven’t sat down long enough to really write on a story or even feel like I can participate in an instant message conversation in … months it feels like. At first, it made me feel grumpy, then stifled. Now I am feeling isolated.
For instance, I started this post at about 8:30 this morning. It’s now nearly 11:00 and I have checked kids in, got them breakfast, did dishes, started a load of laundry, did a round of diaper changes, had a tickle fest and read a picture book, and in between all of that, I have been pecking one graph at a time here. What doesn’t translate well here, are the many times I stop what I am doing to monitor and deal with the kids that doesn’t involve just doing a job… It’s more about heading off conflicts between sibs, teaching the older ones how to deal gently with the toddlers who want to play with the older ones but don’t have the people skills or the vocabulary yet to manage it. It’s about listening to the way the kids are talking to one another and making sure they are using their words and being kind to one another. Sometimes I have a toddler who has just learned the fine motor skill of throwing something, teaching them to not throw toys, just because they now can is a challenge! I have kids that drool and drip, they need to be wiped up and the toys they are playing with have to be set aside to be washed before being kicked “back into play” so to speak.
Ahhh, I am probably boring you all to death. My job isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t have new challenges, just the same ones that have to be done over and over again. Kissing boo boo’s, tying aprons for dress up, setting the timer and putting kids on the potty every 40 minutes, comforting children who don’t understand why mommy and daddy have to be gone, the repetitive conversations about where mommy is and when she is coming back…
Underneath it all though, I know I am making an impact on families. I know that my home is a safe place to be. Miss Dee’s is a house of kindness and compassion for each other. They are learning through consistent reinforcement how to treat one another.
Yeah, it’s all those things. And it’s all good.
But it’s not glamorous or challenging to me.
I do have glamorous clients though. Really! I have two mommies who are models, a few who are speech therapists; a few computer programmers, one is even a best selling novelist… how cool is that?
In spite of all the whining you just heard, I think that what I do is valuable, I find satisfaction in the fact that I do it well. Very well. It’s just that, I have been doing this since I was 13. I did public care for kids until I had my own, then spent 15 years raising my 5 till they were in school full time, and now at 37 I am back to it.
How many of us would like to be doing other things but can’t because they have to feed their families and pay their bills? So my whining is really minor in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes it feels good to just spit it out and let it go though, you know? I have found that it’s very hard to hold on to the blessings God would give us because our hands are full of our own wants, desires and dreams. How can I possibly be of use to Him if I am constantly trying to get my own way? So, today I am letting it go (like I do many days) and opening my hands to what He has for me to do, finding the joy in these moments, and refusing to let the wishing for other things spoil my today.
So, now it is cleanup time. I will switch the laundry to the drier and check diapers again before setting the kiddos up for lunch. (Yes, it’s now closer to noon.) I am going to post this now, before we do clean up, otherwise it won’t be until after 1:00 before I can sit down again.
Thank you for tagging along with me today. Somehow I don’t feel as alone when I journal my thoughts.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Freshman in Heaven
Friday, November 11, 2005
This evening we are having something at my house called a “sing-a-long” where a bunch of us gather with a guitar and sing songs and just enjoy each others company. This is something we have done off and on for several years. A family that has always been part of our sing alongs, and was planning on attending this one, just lost their youngest child, Timothy in a car accident a few days ago. I haven’t put my thoughts into the journal because I would start crying again, and I have a house full of kids that just wouldn’t understand why Miss Dee is sobbing over there in the corner.
It’s hard to know the right words to comfort the family, there are no human words that are big or deep enough. I have watch Tim grow from a 5 year old, through all his years as a scout. He is… was a freshman in college, and now he is a freshman in heaven.
It just doesn’t make any sense… none. We all want to find reasons, something to blame or conditions that put it all into context. But the truth is, random accidents happen to all of us, good and bad, the result of living in a fallen world. It still hurts, like a soul ache that throbs.
Sunday, there will be the service… pray for this family? I don’t want to give out personal info on other people on the net. It’s enough to tell you that his name is… was Timothy, God knows the rest. Pray for the family, to be buoyed during their grief, pray for the family and friends who will be asking God questions on their own mortality, but most of all, pray for softened hearts, that draw close. I think that grief, has the ability to clean us out and make us stronger, but it also has the capacity to harden us and turn us away from what is best and good. Pray for protection from the enemy while they are vulnerable, and for them to remember that nothing can snatch them from the
Father’s hand. Not even death.
I am posting a poem that I wrote for another dear friend, who died of Cystic Fibrosis last year. This is the song my heart sings at death…
For Sheri
Flowers fade
And willows weep
For the season that has passed.
We the creation
Whom God has made
Are like unto the grass.
We have our place
In time and space
Set in the frame work of
His hand.
His breath within
Despite our sin
To pursue His bride
The plan.
The time is short
For man is frail
And cannot count tomorrow.
So seize the day
And grasp the hand
That was wounded unto sorrow.
Look closely now
At the flower that was
And peer at the myst’ry revealed.
For the shroud, of death
Is the afterbirth of life
And there, are the seeds of eternity sealed.
I will leave you with a closing thought. Call your loved ones today, the ones you don’t see often, and remind them that they are loved. Talk to that one person who you have a problem with, you know the one, and make it right. We aren’t promised tomorrow. Seize the day!
This evening we are having something at my house called a “sing-a-long” where a bunch of us gather with a guitar and sing songs and just enjoy each others company. This is something we have done off and on for several years. A family that has always been part of our sing alongs, and was planning on attending this one, just lost their youngest child, Timothy in a car accident a few days ago. I haven’t put my thoughts into the journal because I would start crying again, and I have a house full of kids that just wouldn’t understand why Miss Dee is sobbing over there in the corner.
It’s hard to know the right words to comfort the family, there are no human words that are big or deep enough. I have watch Tim grow from a 5 year old, through all his years as a scout. He is… was a freshman in college, and now he is a freshman in heaven.
It just doesn’t make any sense… none. We all want to find reasons, something to blame or conditions that put it all into context. But the truth is, random accidents happen to all of us, good and bad, the result of living in a fallen world. It still hurts, like a soul ache that throbs.
Sunday, there will be the service… pray for this family? I don’t want to give out personal info on other people on the net. It’s enough to tell you that his name is… was Timothy, God knows the rest. Pray for the family, to be buoyed during their grief, pray for the family and friends who will be asking God questions on their own mortality, but most of all, pray for softened hearts, that draw close. I think that grief, has the ability to clean us out and make us stronger, but it also has the capacity to harden us and turn us away from what is best and good. Pray for protection from the enemy while they are vulnerable, and for them to remember that nothing can snatch them from the
Father’s hand. Not even death.
I am posting a poem that I wrote for another dear friend, who died of Cystic Fibrosis last year. This is the song my heart sings at death…
For Sheri
Flowers fade
And willows weep
For the season that has passed.
We the creation
Whom God has made
Are like unto the grass.
We have our place
In time and space
Set in the frame work of
His hand.
His breath within
Despite our sin
To pursue His bride
The plan.
The time is short
For man is frail
And cannot count tomorrow.
So seize the day
And grasp the hand
That was wounded unto sorrow.
Look closely now
At the flower that was
And peer at the myst’ry revealed.
For the shroud, of death
Is the afterbirth of life
And there, are the seeds of eternity sealed.
I will leave you with a closing thought. Call your loved ones today, the ones you don’t see often, and remind them that they are loved. Talk to that one person who you have a problem with, you know the one, and make it right. We aren’t promised tomorrow. Seize the day!
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Swan Lake
I am a shutter bug. I love taking pictures. This one is of a man made lake that we pass twice a week when we go to the tutor's house. Off to the right you will see swans that are tiny white dots. All spring / summer we have watched this male and female swan sit on the nest and then raise three baby goslings, who are soon to fly south. I think of this lake as Swan Lake because of the family of 5 that live there. 
Monday, November 07, 2005
Hard Day
What do you do with your hard days?
Monday, November 07, 2005
Today was a hard day. I had an infant who just wanted mommy. He is nursed and wouldn’t take a bottle. If he were hungry enough I believe he would take that bottle just fine… but mostly he was mad. So he cried… for a long time. Everyone’s nerves were stretched until he finally fell asleep. Then it was time to start the evening routine with my own kids. That means homework and dinner and oh so many of those little things… Today, before I start dinner (while Bill came home and rescued me by taking the one with homework up stairs) I wanted to sit and just collect myself and remember why I do what I do.
My nerves are shot, my kids are reacting off the stress and then in walks my husband to chaos. This little one isn’t sleeping soundly and will wake up soon, so my time here with you is limited. But I raised a question. Why do I do what I do? What’s the most important thing? It’s so easy to get lost in the shuffle of the everyday, you know; where you deal with the loudest thing instead of the most important thing. How do sort priorities when the world and it’s distractions are shouting at you… or in my case, crying at me.
*deep breath*
I am glad I have a refuge, a quiet place in Christ. I am glad that he gently leads me. Today I need his gentleness.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Today was a hard day. I had an infant who just wanted mommy. He is nursed and wouldn’t take a bottle. If he were hungry enough I believe he would take that bottle just fine… but mostly he was mad. So he cried… for a long time. Everyone’s nerves were stretched until he finally fell asleep. Then it was time to start the evening routine with my own kids. That means homework and dinner and oh so many of those little things… Today, before I start dinner (while Bill came home and rescued me by taking the one with homework up stairs) I wanted to sit and just collect myself and remember why I do what I do.
My nerves are shot, my kids are reacting off the stress and then in walks my husband to chaos. This little one isn’t sleeping soundly and will wake up soon, so my time here with you is limited. But I raised a question. Why do I do what I do? What’s the most important thing? It’s so easy to get lost in the shuffle of the everyday, you know; where you deal with the loudest thing instead of the most important thing. How do sort priorities when the world and it’s distractions are shouting at you… or in my case, crying at me.
*deep breath*
I am glad I have a refuge, a quiet place in Christ. I am glad that he gently leads me. Today I need his gentleness.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Fall Beauty
Today is just beautiful. Fall won't be here long, the leaves are already beginning to drop to the ground. This picture was taken a few weeks ago as the colors were in full riot. Today most of them are looking neekid so when we get a day with gentle wind and high 70's like today, I soak it up, knowing that these days are numbered. I don't know where you are in your life, what kinds of stresses you are under. But if you get the chance, step outside and soak up the beauty in that moment. Store it up and treasure it. I am.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
On NaNo and Soothing
TriMo Begins September 1st 2005 / Ends November 31st 2005
13,022/50,000 Words Written
Ritt’s End LLC: Today I got my billing out, that counts.
Church: Base Camp: I need to plan the agenda for the lock in happening this Friday. Maybe this was a bad week to give up caffine? I have the Parent letter created, just waiting on feedback from other leaders, and then I will publish it as a pdf file and also send it out as an e-mail.
Notebored:Well, I have a children’s book / poem I need to give a crit for. It’s so well done I am nearly green with envy. There are only a few verses that need smoothing, but it’s a joy to read. I just need to wipe the green out of my comments and give an objective crit for it.
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: I just started “Magic Street” by Orson Scott Card. I will let you know more about it when I am done.
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George. (Nearly done with this one, my daughter has been really into it and I’ve treasured the time spent with her.
Oh yeah, my friend Lindsey gave me the book “No Plot? No Problem!” by Chris Baty, the founder of the National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as “NaNoWriMo.” I am nearly done with that, and the NaNo started a few days ago. I hope that the excitement from that chases me into finishing mine on time!!!!!
Movies(s) I have watched recently: Series of Unfortunate Events. Oh man is it fun!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Today and yesterday I had a full house of kids in the daycare. I love taking care of kids. I love watching them grow and cheering with them as they accomplish those amazing things that happen to them when they are this age. Usually I am able to juggle them and getting some writing in. But not lately. That’s been hard, because I need to let out my creative energy in one form or another. It keeps me sane.
So the pressure is on to fine tune my responsibility juggling to allow for that part of my life and yet still keep the house and our own kids on a stable orbit. The question becomes, can I manage all of this alone when busy season comes? Can I hold all the edges together when Bill is unavailable because of work and I am lonely as all get out? This is where my wilderness is, the dry and empty time when I want to stuff that empty spot with other things. It is the opportunity for my biggest spiritual growth, if I let it. LOL, it isn’t even here yet and already I am stressing over it. Dreading it.
Back to the daycare though, lately I have had a few kids who don’t normally cry, do a lot of it. It is hard to watch them gulp back tears and know that I can’t fix it for them. Only their mommies can. I am so used to being the mommy and being able to sooth and comfort… to find that I can’t do that for them is hard. Mostly, it’s just a phase thing. Each child goes through periods of separation anxiety. It is a healthy kind of pattern in their growth. So, I just do my best to redirect them and offer new things for them to think about and to do.
Naptime is nearly done and I will need to put away mats and change diapers. My own kids are getting off the bus soon too. It’s been a full day with daycare kids but now I need to change gears, frisk kids at the door for their homework, protect the pantry and offer only one after school snack (as opposed to what I affectionately call pantry grazing) and make sure that those who should, are practicing their instruments. Today is Wednesday… so I don’t have to race anyone to the tutor…Yay!
I will leave you to your own Wednesday afternoon routines. Thank you for walking alongside my afternoon with me.
13,022/50,000 Words Written
Ritt’s End LLC: Today I got my billing out, that counts.
Church: Base Camp: I need to plan the agenda for the lock in happening this Friday. Maybe this was a bad week to give up caffine? I have the Parent letter created, just waiting on feedback from other leaders, and then I will publish it as a pdf file and also send it out as an e-mail.
Notebored:Well, I have a children’s book / poem I need to give a crit for. It’s so well done I am nearly green with envy. There are only a few verses that need smoothing, but it’s a joy to read. I just need to wipe the green out of my comments and give an objective crit for it.
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: I just started “Magic Street” by Orson Scott Card. I will let you know more about it when I am done.
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George. (Nearly done with this one, my daughter has been really into it and I’ve treasured the time spent with her.
Oh yeah, my friend Lindsey gave me the book “No Plot? No Problem!” by Chris Baty, the founder of the National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as “NaNoWriMo.” I am nearly done with that, and the NaNo started a few days ago. I hope that the excitement from that chases me into finishing mine on time!!!!!
Movies(s) I have watched recently: Series of Unfortunate Events. Oh man is it fun!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Today and yesterday I had a full house of kids in the daycare. I love taking care of kids. I love watching them grow and cheering with them as they accomplish those amazing things that happen to them when they are this age. Usually I am able to juggle them and getting some writing in. But not lately. That’s been hard, because I need to let out my creative energy in one form or another. It keeps me sane.
So the pressure is on to fine tune my responsibility juggling to allow for that part of my life and yet still keep the house and our own kids on a stable orbit. The question becomes, can I manage all of this alone when busy season comes? Can I hold all the edges together when Bill is unavailable because of work and I am lonely as all get out? This is where my wilderness is, the dry and empty time when I want to stuff that empty spot with other things. It is the opportunity for my biggest spiritual growth, if I let it. LOL, it isn’t even here yet and already I am stressing over it. Dreading it.
Back to the daycare though, lately I have had a few kids who don’t normally cry, do a lot of it. It is hard to watch them gulp back tears and know that I can’t fix it for them. Only their mommies can. I am so used to being the mommy and being able to sooth and comfort… to find that I can’t do that for them is hard. Mostly, it’s just a phase thing. Each child goes through periods of separation anxiety. It is a healthy kind of pattern in their growth. So, I just do my best to redirect them and offer new things for them to think about and to do.
Naptime is nearly done and I will need to put away mats and change diapers. My own kids are getting off the bus soon too. It’s been a full day with daycare kids but now I need to change gears, frisk kids at the door for their homework, protect the pantry and offer only one after school snack (as opposed to what I affectionately call pantry grazing) and make sure that those who should, are practicing their instruments. Today is Wednesday… so I don’t have to race anyone to the tutor…Yay!
I will leave you to your own Wednesday afternoon routines. Thank you for walking alongside my afternoon with me.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
We've Moved Ritt's End and The NoteBored has a new home.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
So many changes since I last wrote! Where to start? One of the biggest is that The NoteBored has a new home. www.notebored.com/board. The young man who had sponsored us during our fledgling beginning shut down his server space and it was necessary to move onto our own home. It was good timing for us in that we had grown large enough to warrant it and his sheltering of us until this move was wonderful of him. I am very grateful indeed.
The daycare business has it’s own domain now as well, look for it at http://www.rittsend.com/.
It’s been a while since I last wrote, been sick, been coding for the new site (yet to be revealed css powered index page for the notebored) and been busy as the daycare has grown, nearly doubling in clients and time reserved on my drop in daycare calendar. So, I am sorry for the long silence (to those few who really do look me up to find out what’s going on, and not the ones who speed by my blog from Blog Explosion or the half dozen other Blog Exchanges that I am part of.) And a special thanks to Lindsey who kicked me in the butt to update. And another thank you to Joy who has been standing in for me and keeping the challenges running. I am so painfully behind on the TriMo challenge… but resolved to keep at it. Don’t give up on me!
I have a new laptop and wifi ability, so as we speak, I am typing from the comfort of my bed, feet under the electric blanket. (It’s cold these last few days!) So I have been spending a great deal of time transferring over programs and documents and setting up my preferences.
At church we are doing the Beatitudes in Sunday school and the Sermon on the Mount throughout this semester. It’s been good! The kids are responding and showing a fantastic ability to take what they are learning and applying it to their everyday situations. It’s humbling when you talk about mourning and entering into another persons grief, what it’s purpose is and how it changes you – and then that very week the kids in our community are dealing with a high school student who hung himself … the sheer force of emotion that hits you when you actively involve yourself into another person’s pain.
Our first group activity was to a corn maze. We were astonished at the “cuts” that had been broken through the maze. We came to it late in the season I suppose because the short cuts were as beaten down and wide as the main paths. They supplied us with maps, but they quickly became confusing and useless in some cases because of those shortcuts. Afterward we spent time talking about the spiritual parallels in our life where right and wrong paths had been blurred. It was mostly a theoretical conversation until my husband helped to tie it down into a place where most of them could relate. Ripping CD’s DVD’s and software. Most of them had pirated copies and accepted pirated copies for their own collections all of their lives. They honestly didn’t know where the boundaries were.
Bang!
Suddenly a trip to a corn maze on a youth group event made an impact on the linkage between belief and action… (Praxis, in the greek) Several of the kids, after grasping that it was wrong, made public confessions to change their behavior.
I love middle school kids. They are at the age when they are taking the faith of their parents and are examining it for themselves. Do they believe it? What does it look like on them? Can they have their own faith that stands outside of their parents and will they be taken seriously? Can they stand separate from the world and still be accepted by their peer group? These are powerful forces that are shaping todays kids, and they are doing it without the social protection that some of us oldtimers had.
just deleted about three paragraphs of ranting about specifically how hostile this world is toward our kids. One day I will be able to say it without sounding as though I am ranting, but it boils in me just below the surface. The Momma Bear in me is riled and fiercely protective of our kids… *sigh* I won’t apologize for it but I will temper it for another time
We also met together (jr and sr high in joint service) to worship together in drama and song… actually we had a skit, a concert and time of quiet reflection where we confessed the things that prey on us, our fears. Then we broke into small groups and prayed together. It was very awesome!
I sense the Holy Spirit is moving and doing a new thing. There is a revival within our congregation locally and also globally as I talk to other believers about what He is doing in their communities. I strongly feel the call for the believers to stay awake… The Bridegroom approaches!
So, what else is going on here? I am becoming more and more involved with the familes that bring me their children. The stories of their life as I get them in those little snippits between pick up and drop offs… I won’t relay them to you, because It’s not my story to tell, but I pray for them, that while I am ministering to them through the care of their children, the Holy Spirit would also be preparing the soil of their hearts; that they would come to a place where they are ready to enter into a dialoge with Christ. Some of them have lives that are saturated in pain and every day is an effort of will to find something in it to cherish. Most often, their bright spot, that one thing that is more important than the job or any other interpersonal relationship is their kids. And that puts me in a very effective place to make an impact. No, I am not vocal about Jesus with them, we don’t pray before snacks or lunch, I don’t use that opportunity to educate them on Christianity. That would be deceptive and unethical.
What I do, is teach them how to share, how to honor one another, how to be respectful even when angry or provoked. I teach them tenderness and most of all, that their mommies and daddies love them beyond reason and miss them terribly when they have to go to work. This is my ministry to that family.
Then, one day it is my hope that they ask me the question… what makes it different at my house than any place else they know? Then I will have an answer ready for them, one that they will (hopefully) be prepared to hear.
Well, here is where I need to stop for a while. I have a lesson to prepare and an e-mail to Lindsey to reply to…
Thank you for spending part of your day with me.
So many changes since I last wrote! Where to start? One of the biggest is that The NoteBored has a new home. www.notebored.com/board. The young man who had sponsored us during our fledgling beginning shut down his server space and it was necessary to move onto our own home. It was good timing for us in that we had grown large enough to warrant it and his sheltering of us until this move was wonderful of him. I am very grateful indeed.
The daycare business has it’s own domain now as well, look for it at http://www.rittsend.com/.
It’s been a while since I last wrote, been sick, been coding for the new site (yet to be revealed css powered index page for the notebored) and been busy as the daycare has grown, nearly doubling in clients and time reserved on my drop in daycare calendar. So, I am sorry for the long silence (to those few who really do look me up to find out what’s going on, and not the ones who speed by my blog from Blog Explosion or the half dozen other Blog Exchanges that I am part of.) And a special thanks to Lindsey who kicked me in the butt to update. And another thank you to Joy who has been standing in for me and keeping the challenges running. I am so painfully behind on the TriMo challenge… but resolved to keep at it. Don’t give up on me!
I have a new laptop and wifi ability, so as we speak, I am typing from the comfort of my bed, feet under the electric blanket. (It’s cold these last few days!) So I have been spending a great deal of time transferring over programs and documents and setting up my preferences.
At church we are doing the Beatitudes in Sunday school and the Sermon on the Mount throughout this semester. It’s been good! The kids are responding and showing a fantastic ability to take what they are learning and applying it to their everyday situations. It’s humbling when you talk about mourning and entering into another persons grief, what it’s purpose is and how it changes you – and then that very week the kids in our community are dealing with a high school student who hung himself … the sheer force of emotion that hits you when you actively involve yourself into another person’s pain.
Our first group activity was to a corn maze. We were astonished at the “cuts” that had been broken through the maze. We came to it late in the season I suppose because the short cuts were as beaten down and wide as the main paths. They supplied us with maps, but they quickly became confusing and useless in some cases because of those shortcuts. Afterward we spent time talking about the spiritual parallels in our life where right and wrong paths had been blurred. It was mostly a theoretical conversation until my husband helped to tie it down into a place where most of them could relate. Ripping CD’s DVD’s and software. Most of them had pirated copies and accepted pirated copies for their own collections all of their lives. They honestly didn’t know where the boundaries were.
Bang!
Suddenly a trip to a corn maze on a youth group event made an impact on the linkage between belief and action… (Praxis, in the greek) Several of the kids, after grasping that it was wrong, made public confessions to change their behavior.
I love middle school kids. They are at the age when they are taking the faith of their parents and are examining it for themselves. Do they believe it? What does it look like on them? Can they have their own faith that stands outside of their parents and will they be taken seriously? Can they stand separate from the world and still be accepted by their peer group? These are powerful forces that are shaping todays kids, and they are doing it without the social protection that some of us oldtimers had.
just deleted about three paragraphs of ranting about specifically how hostile this world is toward our kids. One day I will be able to say it without sounding as though I am ranting, but it boils in me just below the surface. The Momma Bear in me is riled and fiercely protective of our kids… *sigh* I won’t apologize for it but I will temper it for another time
We also met together (jr and sr high in joint service) to worship together in drama and song… actually we had a skit, a concert and time of quiet reflection where we confessed the things that prey on us, our fears. Then we broke into small groups and prayed together. It was very awesome!
I sense the Holy Spirit is moving and doing a new thing. There is a revival within our congregation locally and also globally as I talk to other believers about what He is doing in their communities. I strongly feel the call for the believers to stay awake… The Bridegroom approaches!
So, what else is going on here? I am becoming more and more involved with the familes that bring me their children. The stories of their life as I get them in those little snippits between pick up and drop offs… I won’t relay them to you, because It’s not my story to tell, but I pray for them, that while I am ministering to them through the care of their children, the Holy Spirit would also be preparing the soil of their hearts; that they would come to a place where they are ready to enter into a dialoge with Christ. Some of them have lives that are saturated in pain and every day is an effort of will to find something in it to cherish. Most often, their bright spot, that one thing that is more important than the job or any other interpersonal relationship is their kids. And that puts me in a very effective place to make an impact. No, I am not vocal about Jesus with them, we don’t pray before snacks or lunch, I don’t use that opportunity to educate them on Christianity. That would be deceptive and unethical.
What I do, is teach them how to share, how to honor one another, how to be respectful even when angry or provoked. I teach them tenderness and most of all, that their mommies and daddies love them beyond reason and miss them terribly when they have to go to work. This is my ministry to that family.
Then, one day it is my hope that they ask me the question… what makes it different at my house than any place else they know? Then I will have an answer ready for them, one that they will (hopefully) be prepared to hear.
Well, here is where I need to stop for a while. I have a lesson to prepare and an e-mail to Lindsey to reply to…
Thank you for spending part of your day with me.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Monday, September 12, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Asleep in the Light Part II
I recently wrote a post called Asleep. I confess that the word image I used was not an original one. My sister-in-law gave me a CD by Keith Green that had the song "Asleep in the Light" on it, and I realized just how closely my post followed this song. I am laughing at myself, because I hadn't made the connection on a visceral level until now, even though the words have been in my soul for a long while. Have you ever memmorized a song that was beyond your maturity level and then gone back to that song and still been able to sing it word for word - but this time the lights go on? That's what this was for me.
Well, the reason I wanted to make this post was because I found the words to that Keith Green song on the internet. I am posting them here and hope that I am not violating any copywrite laws.
Asleep in the Light
Do you see, do you see
All the people sinking down
Don’t you care, don’t you care
Are you gonna let them drown
How can you be do numb
Not to care if they come
You close your eyes
And pretend the job’s done
Oh bless me lore, bless me lord
You know it’s all I ever hear
No one aches, no one hurts
No one even sheds one tear
But he cries, he weeps, he bleeds
And he cares for you needs
And you just lay back
And keep soaking it in
Oh can’t you see it’s such a sin
’cause he brings people to you door
And you turn them away
As you smile and say
God bless you, be at peace
And all heaven just weeps
’cause jesus came to you door
You’ve left him out on the streets
Open up open up
And give yourself away
You see the need, you hear the cries
So how can you delay
God’s calling and you’re the one
But like jonah you run
He’s told you to speak
But you keep holding it in
Of can’t you see it’s such a sin
The world is sleeping in the dark
That the church just can’t fight
’cause it’s asleep in the light
How can you be so dead
When you’ve been so well fed
Jesus rose from the grave
And you, you can’t even get out of bed
Oh, jesus rose from the dead
Come on get out of your bed
How can you be so numb
Not to care if they come
You close your eyes
And pretend the job’s done
You close your eyes
And pretend the job’s done
Don’t close your eyes
Don’t pretend the jobs done
Come away, come away, come away with me my love
Come away, come away, come away with me my love
~Keith Green
Well, the reason I wanted to make this post was because I found the words to that Keith Green song on the internet. I am posting them here and hope that I am not violating any copywrite laws.
Asleep in the Light
Do you see, do you see
All the people sinking down
Don’t you care, don’t you care
Are you gonna let them drown
How can you be do numb
Not to care if they come
You close your eyes
And pretend the job’s done
Oh bless me lore, bless me lord
You know it’s all I ever hear
No one aches, no one hurts
No one even sheds one tear
But he cries, he weeps, he bleeds
And he cares for you needs
And you just lay back
And keep soaking it in
Oh can’t you see it’s such a sin
’cause he brings people to you door
And you turn them away
As you smile and say
God bless you, be at peace
And all heaven just weeps
’cause jesus came to you door
You’ve left him out on the streets
Open up open up
And give yourself away
You see the need, you hear the cries
So how can you delay
God’s calling and you’re the one
But like jonah you run
He’s told you to speak
But you keep holding it in
Of can’t you see it’s such a sin
The world is sleeping in the dark
That the church just can’t fight
’cause it’s asleep in the light
How can you be so dead
When you’ve been so well fed
Jesus rose from the grave
And you, you can’t even get out of bed
Oh, jesus rose from the dead
Come on get out of your bed
How can you be so numb
Not to care if they come
You close your eyes
And pretend the job’s done
You close your eyes
And pretend the job’s done
Don’t close your eyes
Don’t pretend the jobs done
Come away, come away, come away with me my love
Come away, come away, come away with me my love
~Keith Green
Sunday, September 04, 2005
A Present and a Commitment
TriMo Begins September 1st 2005 / Ends November 31st 2005
1,590/50,000 Words Written
Things to do today (yeah right… I know it won’t all get done.)
Home: Sort through my inbox (always!) This weekend we will be doing fall cleanup. Cleaning out closets, switching from summer to winter clothes, taking down the pool, that sort of thing.
Ritt’s End LLC: I have the new license application on hand. So I will be filling in all those blanks, plus I have a huge check to write to the Red Cross for Steve and Janet’s CPR and First Aid course, my yearly CPR refresher class and my daughters Babysitter’s course (where she too will gain her CPR and First Aid certification along with things geared toward caring for kids.
Church: Base Camp (evening meetings): FirstWork needs to be compiled on Monday/Tuesday and it would be good to finish the outline for the first several weeks in our “Extreme Faith” unit. Mostly, we will be talking about the drastic ways in which the world is from the way Christ leads us to be. Let me apologize now, much of what I sort through for creating this curriculum will spill out here in my journal. I never was very good with chewing with my mouth closed.
Notebored: The weekend is the time to read, crit and vote for the Wednesday challenge on the NoteBored, and the writing period for Liberty Hall’s 90 minute flash happens during the weekend too. Check out his site at www.munsil.net to see if you have what it takes to write a story in 90 minutes!
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: I finished Drums of Autumn and am on to the next in the series, The Fiery Cross, by Diana Gabaldon.
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George. Oh yeah, my friend Lindsey gave me the book “No Plot? No Problem!” by Chris Baty, the founder of the National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as “NaNoWriMo.” I am one chapter into that.
Movies(s) I have rented or bought: Hmmm, nothing new recently.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
A Present and a Commitment
I am so excited! Not only did I get a book from my friend Lindsey in the mail, but another friend, Karen, gave me a book of poems that she wrote. I will be returning it, as it’s the only copy she has, but I am so very thrilled at being able to read it.
Poetry is such a personal thing, a view into the soul. This book, in many ways is the distillation of her life, the footsteps of her past. There fore, I am deeply honored. If you want to get to know her, she has just started a blog of her own and here is her url: http://spaces.msn.com/members/awritersramblings/ I highly recommend getting to know her. Granted, her blog is new, but this lady has good things to say.
On other news, I made a commitment to ride in next years DALMAC with Bill and a handful of other people. It’s exciting to know that I will be in training next year to do this bigger-than-life thing that I might never have done on my own. I am looking forward to the training, but slightly afraid of going. The route is here on this map. (I am taking the shorter, green route which is 277 miles.)
So, by this time next year I will be going on this long bike ride and hopefully in better shape than I have been in since I started having babies. Today I am excited about it. Will someone please remind me that I am supposed to be excited when I begin the training rides and my butt is saddle sore? Remind me how I am on my way to having a lean body when my muscles cramp? *grin* To be honest, I am thrilled at the idea of having hubbie to myself with no kids and wind in my hair for four days. I have always supported him in biking and encouraged him to go on the DALMAC in 2003, which he did. This will be as good for him as it will be for me.
1,590/50,000 Words Written
Things to do today (yeah right… I know it won’t all get done.)
Home: Sort through my inbox (always!) This weekend we will be doing fall cleanup. Cleaning out closets, switching from summer to winter clothes, taking down the pool, that sort of thing.
Ritt’s End LLC: I have the new license application on hand. So I will be filling in all those blanks, plus I have a huge check to write to the Red Cross for Steve and Janet’s CPR and First Aid course, my yearly CPR refresher class and my daughters Babysitter’s course (where she too will gain her CPR and First Aid certification along with things geared toward caring for kids.
Church: Base Camp (evening meetings): FirstWork needs to be compiled on Monday/Tuesday and it would be good to finish the outline for the first several weeks in our “Extreme Faith” unit. Mostly, we will be talking about the drastic ways in which the world is from the way Christ leads us to be. Let me apologize now, much of what I sort through for creating this curriculum will spill out here in my journal. I never was very good with chewing with my mouth closed.
Notebored: The weekend is the time to read, crit and vote for the Wednesday challenge on the NoteBored, and the writing period for Liberty Hall’s 90 minute flash happens during the weekend too. Check out his site at www.munsil.net to see if you have what it takes to write a story in 90 minutes!
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: I finished Drums of Autumn and am on to the next in the series, The Fiery Cross, by Diana Gabaldon.
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George. Oh yeah, my friend Lindsey gave me the book “No Plot? No Problem!” by Chris Baty, the founder of the National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as “NaNoWriMo.” I am one chapter into that.
Movies(s) I have rented or bought: Hmmm, nothing new recently.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
A Present and a Commitment
I am so excited! Not only did I get a book from my friend Lindsey in the mail, but another friend, Karen, gave me a book of poems that she wrote. I will be returning it, as it’s the only copy she has, but I am so very thrilled at being able to read it.
Poetry is such a personal thing, a view into the soul. This book, in many ways is the distillation of her life, the footsteps of her past. There fore, I am deeply honored. If you want to get to know her, she has just started a blog of her own and here is her url: http://spaces.msn.com/members/awritersramblings/ I highly recommend getting to know her. Granted, her blog is new, but this lady has good things to say.
On other news, I made a commitment to ride in next years DALMAC with Bill and a handful of other people. It’s exciting to know that I will be in training next year to do this bigger-than-life thing that I might never have done on my own. I am looking forward to the training, but slightly afraid of going. The route is here on this map. (I am taking the shorter, green route which is 277 miles.)
So, by this time next year I will be going on this long bike ride and hopefully in better shape than I have been in since I started having babies. Today I am excited about it. Will someone please remind me that I am supposed to be excited when I begin the training rides and my butt is saddle sore? Remind me how I am on my way to having a lean body when my muscles cramp? *grin* To be honest, I am thrilled at the idea of having hubbie to myself with no kids and wind in my hair for four days. I have always supported him in biking and encouraged him to go on the DALMAC in 2003, which he did. This will be as good for him as it will be for me.
Friday, September 02, 2005
The Moment Of Crisis
TriMo Begins September 1st 2005 / Ends November 31st 2005
875/50,000 Words Written
Things to do today (yeah right… I know it won’t all get done.)
Home: Sort through my inbox (always!) Today I have begun the TriMo novel I am working on with Tim. I am excited! Also today I have my friend Lindsey coming to visit. She moved recently and so visits from her will be an “on purpose” thing and so are treasured!
Ritt’s End LLC: Write, stuff and mail a fall-season parent letter. This happens to coincide with the dreaded billing that I am working on today. I did get all my fliers delivered like I wanted, so that’s good.
Church: Base Camp (evening meetings): Today I need to get FirstWork out… It’s days late because of the influx of kids for the daycare. Business is good, but it wrecks havoc on all the other plates I spin!
Notebored: Today is Friday, that means I close down the writing period for this weeks challenge and set up the polls, fess up thread and guessing frenzy threads. Monday I’ll close the polls and set up a “reveal thyself” thread where we find out who wrote what story.
Writers Hideout E-Zine: Okay, I admit that nothing has happened yet beyond my mock up and crazy idea for how to market it. But, I am afraid that if I don’t put it out there in front of me, I will loose it in the shuffle. Plus, when I am working on it, I have a place to record progress.
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: I finished Drums of Autumn and am on to the next in the series, The Fiery Cross, by Diana Gabaldon.
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George. Shattered Dreams is the book I am journaling through, where I read a chapter and then spend my quiet times internalizing the truths and letting the Spirit lead me through the Word for confirmation and prayer in applying those principals. A Young Woman After God’s Own Heart is the book that my daughter and I are working through in my discipleship time with her. I am LOVING the time with her alone, without any of the other girls competing for my attention.
Movies(s) I have rented or bought: Hmmm, nothing new recently.
Friday, September 02, 2005
The Moment Of Crisis
So many changes since I last wrote! Where to start? Well, Ritt’s End is growing. I will be applying for a new license for up to 12 children, and hiring on help. Business is that good these days. I have two people coming to interview for placing their kids in my care. Yikes! One of them is today at 2:30, Do I have anything clean in my closet to wear for that “first impression” that doesn’t have spit up or food stains? Most of my wardrobe these days is sweatpants and t-shirts…. Ah well, I will stress about that at 2:00 and not now. I also have a few people on the line to interview for the position of helping me as an aid.
The Raeburns, have already agreed to help (One will help me while the other one home schools their kids and they’ll trade off.) They have both quit their other jobs so as to launch into their own ministry. They are Christian clowns who do balloons and VBS’s all over the nation. (And I get them for my daycare until they are able to transition to ministry full time!!!!) You can read up about them at www.RedNoseMinistries.com. If you or your organization has any questions about booking them, you can contact them through their site.
So, the business is growing, and that’s good news. On the “every day side of things…I am glad that I got billing done yesterday. Today, I will stuff envelopes and get them in the mail.
Yesterday my girls found out about the terrible circumstances in New Orleans. It was very hard for them. I will tell you though, as a mother, I am terribly proud of my girls. They understood the enormity of the situation and their very first response was to respond with tenderness. No, I don’t enjoy seeing them cry or be hurt, but it goes deeper than that. Since we don’t have television programming in our house (only videos that we buy borrow or rent) my girls aren’t hardened by the media’s attempt to dramatize real tragedies or trivialize casual violence. They responded with tender hearts, and out of that response, prayer and help was the first thing that came out of them, well after the tears that is. So, we are deciding how we can best help as a family. I have already donated to the Red Cross, but it seems to me that there is more we can do.
It makes me grateful for the life that I have, but wary too. It’s all an illusion, you know, these things we cling to so tightly. None of those things has the ability give back. No matter how busy my schedule is (and like most Americans, I pack it) I fight to remember that these things around me, and the seeming importance of what I do, will pass away. They aught not be the thing that defines me or where I put my trust.
I know that something like this can happen here, just as easily as it did there. Because I have focused so strongly on building relationships, relationships with my God and with neighbor, even if the house and everything in it is gone, I won’t have to worry that I spent my life’s energy on something that fire, flood, quake or war can destroy. I will grieve it if it goes, sure, but the temptation in my everyday life is to be swayed by what I see, what gets waived under my nose to draw me away from what is most important… that being, my God and the people I come in contact with every day.
I realize that this may sound as though I am being self inflated, and I will take that risk, but the heart of what I am trying to get at is that for those who have poured their lives into their houses, their jobs, their soccer clubs, their gyms… and now it’s gone… what are they to do?
A bible verse comes to mind, let me go look it up and make sure I am using it in the right context before I type in here. Yes, here it is:
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy, He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade – kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1st Peter 1:3-9
Because I have taken this stand with Christ, I view terrible circumstances “grief in all kinds of trials” as the passage says, within a context of opportunities to deepen my faith. There is a saying “That which does not kill us, shall surely make us stronger” it’s the old fight or flight moment, the moment of crisis where you must dig in deeper and cling all the tighter to your faith or run from that belief because it’s let you down in some way. God, “allowing” such a thing in your life.
But what about those who don’t know Jesus? The ones who have never been tenderly held in his hand while they weep, or defended from the enemy simply because they have taken his protection? What are they to do? Who do they go to in their crisis? What do they do when all they have worked for is in ruins at their feet? Do they run faster from God? Do they cling to him as the only anchor that makes sense in the flood?
These are the ones I pray for, the survivors who must navigate the road of life after the waters have destroyed all the landmarks and bridges. Those who have lost loved ones and now must go on alone. My heart breaks and I weep for those who shake their fist at God for not protecting them from disaster when they never appealed to Him for protection by bending to His authority in their life. I pray that as they meet this crisis, and they view so close at hand how fragile this earthly life is, that the immortal God, will draw them into his embrace. For the rain falls on the just and the unjust. God, who did not spare his son from mortal death, is far more concerned with the state of our spirits. Yes, he allows terrible things to happen, becoming a follower is not protection from sickness or death. I cry for those who are lost. But more, I am deeply grieved for those who have met this crisis of faith and held even tighter to the anger. It bolts the doors of their spirit from the God who wants so badly to bring them into relationship and comfort them. The bible says “I am the way, the truth and the life, no man comes to the father except through me.”(John 11:25) Heaven, the’ goal of our faith’ as the passage above says, is reached through Him alone. I see Jesus sitting at the outside door of their hearts, knocking, pleading with them not to be angry any more but to come into discussion with Him.
So much pain. So much loss. I have spent the morning I should have been writing in my TriMo novel, unable to concentrate on anything but the strong need to pray for that segment of people who are dealing with what was left from Hurricane Katrina.
I am not usually this preachy. I don’t mean to chase people off with my viewpoints, but my heart is broken and this is what leaks out. The purpose of pain and loss is that it acts as a refiner’s fire.
For the thousands of people who shiver tonight for lack of heat, here is my prayer. I pray that the questions on mortality, the “why’s” that are raised, will be a fire that is kindled within them. That their crisis moment will be hedged from the enemy so that while those inner walls are down and they are vulnerable, questioning God, He will answer them in their deep and hungry places. I pray that those who have survived will find the courage to stand and talk to him and not run in blind anger. I pray for the children, and homeless, the defenseless ones who are now drifting on the currents of charity. And last of all, I pray for me and my family, that we would be your hands, and that you would show us how to act. Amen.
Well, my children are now down and getting breakfast, the daycare kids are here and asking for some breakfast too. It’s time to set aside my quiet time of the morning and move on with my day. My heart will linger here though as I go through the motions.
Thank you, reader, for sticking with me as I verbalized my thoughts. I realize that you may not share my faith, I pray you were not offended or felt as though I were trying to proselytize you. But I am grateful if you stayed long enough to let me share my heart’s prayer.
875/50,000 Words Written
Things to do today (yeah right… I know it won’t all get done.)
Home: Sort through my inbox (always!) Today I have begun the TriMo novel I am working on with Tim. I am excited! Also today I have my friend Lindsey coming to visit. She moved recently and so visits from her will be an “on purpose” thing and so are treasured!
Ritt’s End LLC: Write, stuff and mail a fall-season parent letter. This happens to coincide with the dreaded billing that I am working on today. I did get all my fliers delivered like I wanted, so that’s good.
Church: Base Camp (evening meetings): Today I need to get FirstWork out… It’s days late because of the influx of kids for the daycare. Business is good, but it wrecks havoc on all the other plates I spin!
Notebored: Today is Friday, that means I close down the writing period for this weeks challenge and set up the polls, fess up thread and guessing frenzy threads. Monday I’ll close the polls and set up a “reveal thyself” thread where we find out who wrote what story.
Writers Hideout E-Zine: Okay, I admit that nothing has happened yet beyond my mock up and crazy idea for how to market it. But, I am afraid that if I don’t put it out there in front of me, I will loose it in the shuffle. Plus, when I am working on it, I have a place to record progress.
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: I finished Drums of Autumn and am on to the next in the series, The Fiery Cross, by Diana Gabaldon.
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George. Shattered Dreams is the book I am journaling through, where I read a chapter and then spend my quiet times internalizing the truths and letting the Spirit lead me through the Word for confirmation and prayer in applying those principals. A Young Woman After God’s Own Heart is the book that my daughter and I are working through in my discipleship time with her. I am LOVING the time with her alone, without any of the other girls competing for my attention.
Movies(s) I have rented or bought: Hmmm, nothing new recently.
Friday, September 02, 2005
The Moment Of Crisis
So many changes since I last wrote! Where to start? Well, Ritt’s End is growing. I will be applying for a new license for up to 12 children, and hiring on help. Business is that good these days. I have two people coming to interview for placing their kids in my care. Yikes! One of them is today at 2:30, Do I have anything clean in my closet to wear for that “first impression” that doesn’t have spit up or food stains? Most of my wardrobe these days is sweatpants and t-shirts…. Ah well, I will stress about that at 2:00 and not now. I also have a few people on the line to interview for the position of helping me as an aid.
The Raeburns, have already agreed to help (One will help me while the other one home schools their kids and they’ll trade off.) They have both quit their other jobs so as to launch into their own ministry. They are Christian clowns who do balloons and VBS’s all over the nation. (And I get them for my daycare until they are able to transition to ministry full time!!!!) You can read up about them at www.RedNoseMinistries.com. If you or your organization has any questions about booking them, you can contact them through their site.
So, the business is growing, and that’s good news. On the “every day side of things…I am glad that I got billing done yesterday. Today, I will stuff envelopes and get them in the mail.
Yesterday my girls found out about the terrible circumstances in New Orleans. It was very hard for them. I will tell you though, as a mother, I am terribly proud of my girls. They understood the enormity of the situation and their very first response was to respond with tenderness. No, I don’t enjoy seeing them cry or be hurt, but it goes deeper than that. Since we don’t have television programming in our house (only videos that we buy borrow or rent) my girls aren’t hardened by the media’s attempt to dramatize real tragedies or trivialize casual violence. They responded with tender hearts, and out of that response, prayer and help was the first thing that came out of them, well after the tears that is. So, we are deciding how we can best help as a family. I have already donated to the Red Cross, but it seems to me that there is more we can do.
It makes me grateful for the life that I have, but wary too. It’s all an illusion, you know, these things we cling to so tightly. None of those things has the ability give back. No matter how busy my schedule is (and like most Americans, I pack it) I fight to remember that these things around me, and the seeming importance of what I do, will pass away. They aught not be the thing that defines me or where I put my trust.
I know that something like this can happen here, just as easily as it did there. Because I have focused so strongly on building relationships, relationships with my God and with neighbor, even if the house and everything in it is gone, I won’t have to worry that I spent my life’s energy on something that fire, flood, quake or war can destroy. I will grieve it if it goes, sure, but the temptation in my everyday life is to be swayed by what I see, what gets waived under my nose to draw me away from what is most important… that being, my God and the people I come in contact with every day.
I realize that this may sound as though I am being self inflated, and I will take that risk, but the heart of what I am trying to get at is that for those who have poured their lives into their houses, their jobs, their soccer clubs, their gyms… and now it’s gone… what are they to do?
A bible verse comes to mind, let me go look it up and make sure I am using it in the right context before I type in here. Yes, here it is:
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy, He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade – kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1st Peter 1:3-9
Because I have taken this stand with Christ, I view terrible circumstances “grief in all kinds of trials” as the passage says, within a context of opportunities to deepen my faith. There is a saying “That which does not kill us, shall surely make us stronger” it’s the old fight or flight moment, the moment of crisis where you must dig in deeper and cling all the tighter to your faith or run from that belief because it’s let you down in some way. God, “allowing” such a thing in your life.
But what about those who don’t know Jesus? The ones who have never been tenderly held in his hand while they weep, or defended from the enemy simply because they have taken his protection? What are they to do? Who do they go to in their crisis? What do they do when all they have worked for is in ruins at their feet? Do they run faster from God? Do they cling to him as the only anchor that makes sense in the flood?
These are the ones I pray for, the survivors who must navigate the road of life after the waters have destroyed all the landmarks and bridges. Those who have lost loved ones and now must go on alone. My heart breaks and I weep for those who shake their fist at God for not protecting them from disaster when they never appealed to Him for protection by bending to His authority in their life. I pray that as they meet this crisis, and they view so close at hand how fragile this earthly life is, that the immortal God, will draw them into his embrace. For the rain falls on the just and the unjust. God, who did not spare his son from mortal death, is far more concerned with the state of our spirits. Yes, he allows terrible things to happen, becoming a follower is not protection from sickness or death. I cry for those who are lost. But more, I am deeply grieved for those who have met this crisis of faith and held even tighter to the anger. It bolts the doors of their spirit from the God who wants so badly to bring them into relationship and comfort them. The bible says “I am the way, the truth and the life, no man comes to the father except through me.”(John 11:25) Heaven, the’ goal of our faith’ as the passage above says, is reached through Him alone. I see Jesus sitting at the outside door of their hearts, knocking, pleading with them not to be angry any more but to come into discussion with Him.
So much pain. So much loss. I have spent the morning I should have been writing in my TriMo novel, unable to concentrate on anything but the strong need to pray for that segment of people who are dealing with what was left from Hurricane Katrina.
I am not usually this preachy. I don’t mean to chase people off with my viewpoints, but my heart is broken and this is what leaks out. The purpose of pain and loss is that it acts as a refiner’s fire.
For the thousands of people who shiver tonight for lack of heat, here is my prayer. I pray that the questions on mortality, the “why’s” that are raised, will be a fire that is kindled within them. That their crisis moment will be hedged from the enemy so that while those inner walls are down and they are vulnerable, questioning God, He will answer them in their deep and hungry places. I pray that those who have survived will find the courage to stand and talk to him and not run in blind anger. I pray for the children, and homeless, the defenseless ones who are now drifting on the currents of charity. And last of all, I pray for me and my family, that we would be your hands, and that you would show us how to act. Amen.
Well, my children are now down and getting breakfast, the daycare kids are here and asking for some breakfast too. It’s time to set aside my quiet time of the morning and move on with my day. My heart will linger here though as I go through the motions.
Thank you, reader, for sticking with me as I verbalized my thoughts. I realize that you may not share my faith, I pray you were not offended or felt as though I were trying to proselytize you. But I am grateful if you stayed long enough to let me share my heart’s prayer.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Nesting
TriMo Begins September 1st 2005 / Ends November 31st 2005
0/50,000 Words Written
Things to do today (yeah right… I know it won’t all get done.)
Home: Sort through my inbox (always!) Open Journal page and sort out my day over coffee. Pay bills, catch up the transactions into QuickBooks. Move desk and bookshelf downstairs. Three loads of laundry. Clean off the piles on my desk and stacked beside it. If I am really efficient, I will even sort my “to file pile.” Yay! Today I don’t have to drive the tutoring loop!
Ritt’s End LLC: Catch up daycare time log. Record payments received. Make deposit. Write, stuff and mail a fall-season parent letter. Deliver stack of fliers to schools and the gym across the street.
Church: Base Camp (evening meetings): Contact volunteers for the Jr. High group and create a new schedule for 2005-2006 school year of events and meetings. Base Camp (Sunday school): Outline suggestions /ideas for curriculum units to cover for the year. FirstWork (The church prayer and praise e-mail) Get the snail mail version to the mail box, since Tuesday the e-mail version went out.
Notebored: Catch up on the crits for the Polish Challenge over at NoteBored, Sort out who is moderating the Wednesday Challenge.
Writers Hideout E-Zine: Okay, I admit that nothing has happened yet beyond my mock up and crazy idea for how to market it. But, I am afraid that if I don’t put it out there in front of me, I will loose it in the shuffle. Plus, when I am working on it, I have a place to record progress.
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: Drums of Autumn – Diana Gabaldon, Mummy – Ann Rice
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George
Movies(s) I have rented or bought: Oceans Eleven, National Treasure
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
I am in a strange kind of mood today. The closest I can relate it to, is when I was pregnant and about do deliver “any day.” It’s a nesting thing.
Bill and I have been rearranging the house to make more room for the daycare. We’ve been and turning the basement more into our living room, swapping out den furniture and the bigger TV, and the stereo cabinet for more floor space upstairs. The hope is that soon I will hire on help for the daycare and have room for up to 12 children.
Two days ago, the girls split up roommates and rooms, there is now 3 in one room and the eldest now has her very own room for the first time in her nearly 12 years. Soon I will be exchanging what clothes they have in their dressers for the winter season and the next size up. It’s amazing how long their legs grew while they were playing in shorts all summer! I see “the routine” looming, changes to the house reflect it.
To whatever degree, this journal is my effort at structuring my inner self to reflect those changes too. I don’t want to just make this public to-do list. But I do think it’s fun to have a place to record where my day goes so that it doesn’t slip through my fingers. I am easily distracted; I am hoping this will help.
Ah well, I am off to switch the load of laundry that is buzzing at me, fold that “now-done” load, put away the dishes that are drying on the sink, finish paying bills and putting stamps on the snail-mail FirstWork.
Then I am off to make sure we have a Wednesday Challenge set up, and read and crit the Polish Challenge stories.
0/50,000 Words Written
Things to do today (yeah right… I know it won’t all get done.)
Home: Sort through my inbox (always!) Open Journal page and sort out my day over coffee. Pay bills, catch up the transactions into QuickBooks. Move desk and bookshelf downstairs. Three loads of laundry. Clean off the piles on my desk and stacked beside it. If I am really efficient, I will even sort my “to file pile.” Yay! Today I don’t have to drive the tutoring loop!
Ritt’s End LLC: Catch up daycare time log. Record payments received. Make deposit. Write, stuff and mail a fall-season parent letter. Deliver stack of fliers to schools and the gym across the street.
Church: Base Camp (evening meetings): Contact volunteers for the Jr. High group and create a new schedule for 2005-2006 school year of events and meetings. Base Camp (Sunday school): Outline suggestions /ideas for curriculum units to cover for the year. FirstWork (The church prayer and praise e-mail) Get the snail mail version to the mail box, since Tuesday the e-mail version went out.
Notebored: Catch up on the crits for the Polish Challenge over at NoteBored, Sort out who is moderating the Wednesday Challenge.
Writers Hideout E-Zine: Okay, I admit that nothing has happened yet beyond my mock up and crazy idea for how to market it. But, I am afraid that if I don’t put it out there in front of me, I will loose it in the shuffle. Plus, when I am working on it, I have a place to record progress.
Current Book(s) I am reading for fun: Drums of Autumn – Diana Gabaldon, Mummy – Ann Rice
Books (s) I am learning from: Shattered Dreams – Larry Crab, A Young Woman after God’s Own Heart – Elizabeth George
Movies(s) I have rented or bought: Oceans Eleven, National Treasure
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
I am in a strange kind of mood today. The closest I can relate it to, is when I was pregnant and about do deliver “any day.” It’s a nesting thing.
Bill and I have been rearranging the house to make more room for the daycare. We’ve been and turning the basement more into our living room, swapping out den furniture and the bigger TV, and the stereo cabinet for more floor space upstairs. The hope is that soon I will hire on help for the daycare and have room for up to 12 children.
Two days ago, the girls split up roommates and rooms, there is now 3 in one room and the eldest now has her very own room for the first time in her nearly 12 years. Soon I will be exchanging what clothes they have in their dressers for the winter season and the next size up. It’s amazing how long their legs grew while they were playing in shorts all summer! I see “the routine” looming, changes to the house reflect it.
To whatever degree, this journal is my effort at structuring my inner self to reflect those changes too. I don’t want to just make this public to-do list. But I do think it’s fun to have a place to record where my day goes so that it doesn’t slip through my fingers. I am easily distracted; I am hoping this will help.
Ah well, I am off to switch the load of laundry that is buzzing at me, fold that “now-done” load, put away the dishes that are drying on the sink, finish paying bills and putting stamps on the snail-mail FirstWork.
Then I am off to make sure we have a Wednesday Challenge set up, and read and crit the Polish Challenge stories.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
I realize that absolutely none of the photos in my vacation tour showed up. :-( I did get them to work in the mirrored thread over on my website http://rittinger.admiralxp.com/index.php If you are still curious, register there and you will see the whole shabang. In the meantime, this is a picture of the sunset off of the beach at the Naval Recreation Center in Solomon Islands in Maryland. I love this sunset... ahhhh
Friday, August 19, 2005
A Day in My Life
Have you ever felt like the world was moving too fast for you to keep up? I have so many things circling out there in a nebulous loop around my head that I just can’t get them to sit still long enough to prioritize.
School is starting soon. The hardest thing for me here is that I must fight my own dislike of structure and schedules and begin waking up much earlier to get the rest of my family moving. During the summer, the daycare kids come later and I wake up when ever Bill is stumbling into the shower. Now, I must start the day running and much earlier than this night owl likes to get up. Crazy as it sounds – this intangible element is harder for me to adjust to than the frisking at the door for backpacks and the routine of doing homework.
Base Camp (The Jr. high morning Sunday school and evening meetings) Here is where I am really worried. We lost two of our volunteer helpers. This leaves Bill and I as the only ones working with the middle school youth. Bill, is a tax man and is unavailable from Jan. thru April. Can I keep the youthgroup, Daycare and home routine going alone? I remember how stressed I was last year. I really need another person who is detail oriented to help with the event details. I can do the teaching. I am passionate about communicating Christ to these kids. I am smitten with them and with the age group, nothing is more satisfying to me than sharing the life changing work of Christ. But to be very honest, I stink at details. I need help in hammering out fun events. Please pray that God would rise up someone to meet this need.
Ritt’s End (My Daycare business)
The NoteBored (Peer Review Writing Workshop) We are growing! My laid back approach to most things work in a one on one environment. It’s not so good when dealing with nearly 100 members. So we are discussing ways in which to organize and structure the growth. I have a few new moderators and I hope that the level of administration needed will not overburden them or me.
In the meantime, I am also:
Collaborating with a friend to write a longer story, each using the others strengths to build a better story and learn from each other. We’ve spent a great deal of time establishing the world building, basic plot and characters. We will soon begin the writing and it will coincide with the NoteBored’s version of the National Novel Writing Month, also known as NaNoWriMo. The NoteBored group will be starting their novels in September and finish alongside NaNoWriMo contestants in November. We are calling it NoteBored’s “TriMo”, and it’s the first one we are attempting.
There is still the endless loop for taking my daughters to tutoring twice a week. Remind me sometime to share with you all what I have learned about dyslexia.
I am also drawing up designs and gathering ideas for a revamp on my website.
I am toying around with starting my own web e-zine, called the Writers Hideout, and tying it in with a marketing idea that has a print version component that is unique in approach. I might talk about that in another entry sometime, but I am still doing the research on copy write protection and the legal ramifications of this venture. Okay, I am also waiting for my self-confidence to catch up with my bold imagination. I’ve had a friend try to kick me into gear after I spilled this grand idea, and so far I sit safely in the shadows.
My head is spinning
One thing I know: no matter how thin I spread myself, I would rather do this, be growing, than sit in front of the TV, and feel myself slowly rot.
There is a day in my life. Spitting it out here has helped me to hold it still long enough to look at it all at once. Thanks for letting me bend your ear.
School is starting soon. The hardest thing for me here is that I must fight my own dislike of structure and schedules and begin waking up much earlier to get the rest of my family moving. During the summer, the daycare kids come later and I wake up when ever Bill is stumbling into the shower. Now, I must start the day running and much earlier than this night owl likes to get up. Crazy as it sounds – this intangible element is harder for me to adjust to than the frisking at the door for backpacks and the routine of doing homework.
Base Camp (The Jr. high morning Sunday school and evening meetings) Here is where I am really worried. We lost two of our volunteer helpers. This leaves Bill and I as the only ones working with the middle school youth. Bill, is a tax man and is unavailable from Jan. thru April. Can I keep the youthgroup, Daycare and home routine going alone? I remember how stressed I was last year. I really need another person who is detail oriented to help with the event details. I can do the teaching. I am passionate about communicating Christ to these kids. I am smitten with them and with the age group, nothing is more satisfying to me than sharing the life changing work of Christ. But to be very honest, I stink at details. I need help in hammering out fun events. Please pray that God would rise up someone to meet this need.
Ritt’s End (My Daycare business)
The NoteBored (Peer Review Writing Workshop) We are growing! My laid back approach to most things work in a one on one environment. It’s not so good when dealing with nearly 100 members. So we are discussing ways in which to organize and structure the growth. I have a few new moderators and I hope that the level of administration needed will not overburden them or me.
In the meantime, I am also:
Collaborating with a friend to write a longer story, each using the others strengths to build a better story and learn from each other. We’ve spent a great deal of time establishing the world building, basic plot and characters. We will soon begin the writing and it will coincide with the NoteBored’s version of the National Novel Writing Month, also known as NaNoWriMo. The NoteBored group will be starting their novels in September and finish alongside NaNoWriMo contestants in November. We are calling it NoteBored’s “TriMo”, and it’s the first one we are attempting.
There is still the endless loop for taking my daughters to tutoring twice a week. Remind me sometime to share with you all what I have learned about dyslexia.
I am also drawing up designs and gathering ideas for a revamp on my website.
I am toying around with starting my own web e-zine, called the Writers Hideout, and tying it in with a marketing idea that has a print version component that is unique in approach. I might talk about that in another entry sometime, but I am still doing the research on copy write protection and the legal ramifications of this venture. Okay, I am also waiting for my self-confidence to catch up with my bold imagination. I’ve had a friend try to kick me into gear after I spilled this grand idea, and so far I sit safely in the shadows.
My head is spinning
One thing I know: no matter how thin I spread myself, I would rather do this, be growing, than sit in front of the TV, and feel myself slowly rot.
There is a day in my life. Spitting it out here has helped me to hold it still long enough to look at it all at once. Thanks for letting me bend your ear.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Asleep.
I am asleep in the light.
I am a Christian. I asked Christ into my life when I was 15 years old. The first miracle I ever witnessed was watching my father, who had been chained to drugs, alcohol and his own selfish pursuits transform overnight into a man free of them. My first glimpse of who God really was, was as a life changer.
I grew in my knowledge and faith, finding myself soaking up the word and his love, his soul quenching love for me when I was so broken and afraid. My spirit had become as a parched earth, cracked and hard. I had come from an abusive background, physical and sexual abuse. I had killed the hope of there being the fairytale kind love. It hurt too much to let it sit there mocking me. So I used others to get my own needs met. I assessed a room quickly to see who wanted what out of me, and if I was willing to give it or not. I manipulated in order to make sure that I was never again left without control or power.
Then, that day long ago when I was 15, I felt the first stirrings of God in the form of his Spirit. I throbbed with the fear that He was real, and feared just as equally that He was in fact real. For if there were such a thing as God, if His Spirit and His Son truly existed outside of the fairy tale that I had placed him in, then I would either have to act on it, or turn away from it entirely; for this love, this passion was larger than the tide that my life drifted in. I was hurting, half dead with soul malnourishment, flashbacks, fear of never finding anyone who would love me -- or worse, letting someone inside that wall I’d erected to keep myself safe. Love, would make me vulnerable. I was starving inside my own prison.
The thing is, My understanding of God came in parts. My hunger pulled me from the cage, starved and mangled, twisted with need and greedy for those things that satisfy I approached God for the first time. He bathed me in light, and I was ashamed of all those things that I had armored myself with. My scheming nature was exposed, and in the light of that warmth, I saw it for what it was. I saw how I had used people and reacted out of my own pain, hurting those around me. I sobbed, feeling hopeless, for those very coping skills that had kept me sane while in abuse, were no longer needed in my present state.
How to make myself clean?
How to undo what years of pain had wrought?
Why would he call me? What could I possibly have to offer Him? I was despicable and empty.
Just when I didn’t think I could stand being in that light any longer, I saw the way. I saw how it wasn’t my righteousness or usefulness but Jesus’s that made the difference. He saw things in me that I didn’t. He saw what my life would look like when that dry cracked ground was saturated with Christ. He saw the soil of my soul, with righteousness seeded into it. He could see the future, a possible future. And with trembling steps, I began my walk of faith.
Over twenty years later, I am a mother of five. I have seen the illustration of what it might be like to be called the bride of Christ when I submit to the authority and care of my husband. I have glimpsed as through a bubbled and warped glass, the nature of his love for me when I became a mother myself. He established the dynamics and relationships that we weave our lives in and out of every day, the heavenly blueprint, mirrored here. I only needed to experience it from that viewpoint to understand it on that level.
Now, I am going to church and training my children to love him too. We go to worship him and my spirit responds to him through song. I serve the body through leading the jr. high youth of our congregation. My passion for people, my dedication to Him has not stopped, though I have often been sidetracked by the busyness of life.
But still, I find that I cling to old and familiar ways. My heart has been forever changed, my life transformed and my passion is still hot, however, we live in America in a culture that is radically different from the way God calls us to live move and be. The abundant life that he calls us to is not one that satisfies our desire for more things, to get ahead in the world or to succeed. His call is not about our own happiness, making a comfortable and safe nest of our lives built by what we can own or make payments upon.
We are asleep in our safe little worlds where no one gets to see each others pain or mess. I once had an inner wall that protected me from the world, and it shielded me from others viewing my strangeness and my inner deformities. I have found that there is another wall, one I have not been able to find a way out of yet that prevents us from truly living that radical and extreme love that Christ lived out. This wall is covered in pleasure, and exudes a lassitude that invites us one and all to… sleep. Hours of our time pulsates to this wall of pleasure. Even those of us who are serious about our love for the Lord, we throb, to the metronome of it by asking that God make our friends, who’s lives are messy with cancer, divorce, mental illness become once again smooth and calm. That the distresses would be removed and the path made clear so that they would be comfortable.
I wonder at what Jesus would say to that.
So now I tremble yet again. This time, not at the inner wall that hid me, but at this outer wall of American culture and comfort where so many others and me have been napping. And I am afraid. I am afraid that I will feel this today, and tomorrow I will fall back to sleep.
In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus walked a ways out from his disciples and begged them to pray. Pray for me, he said, while he prayed for the cup to pass and for the courage to remain there. He knew the soldiers were coming, he ahd sent Judas off into the night himself, setting those wheels into motion. And now he prayed for it to pass or for another way to be made, like Abraham when the cry of the ram in the thicket released him from that terrible duty.
I am still saved, I am still one of his disciples crying out for others to see what His deep love can do, how it can transform a life… but like Peter, James and John, there in the garden, I sleep.
There is a parable of the ten virgins, warning them to keep their lamps ready, to be able to meet the Bridegroom. Our culture is different today than it was when that metaphor was used to the Israelites. A man pledged to a woman in a binding that was as strong as marriage, but the wedding itself, the ceremony and banquet didn’t happen until he had built his house and could provide for his bride and new family. Her job while he was gone, was to remain pure, assemble the necessities for the household, and keep oil in her lamp (to be ready) for the call to arise and join him, the actual wedding day could come at any time. She must be ready when he calls.
The story tells of how only half of the brides who were called were ready, and how even now the call goes out that the bridegroom comes.
*sigh*
Today I tremble. Today I feel hollowed out for the vision of the radical ways in which He calls us to live, to love and to act toward one another. We are so alone inside our inner prisons and outer walls of comfort. We see this bright vision when we are in church on Sundays, we warm our hands by it, open our spirits to it in praise… but we never actually leave the doorway of salvation, we never truly… wake up.
I am a Christian. I asked Christ into my life when I was 15 years old. The first miracle I ever witnessed was watching my father, who had been chained to drugs, alcohol and his own selfish pursuits transform overnight into a man free of them. My first glimpse of who God really was, was as a life changer.
I grew in my knowledge and faith, finding myself soaking up the word and his love, his soul quenching love for me when I was so broken and afraid. My spirit had become as a parched earth, cracked and hard. I had come from an abusive background, physical and sexual abuse. I had killed the hope of there being the fairytale kind love. It hurt too much to let it sit there mocking me. So I used others to get my own needs met. I assessed a room quickly to see who wanted what out of me, and if I was willing to give it or not. I manipulated in order to make sure that I was never again left without control or power.
Then, that day long ago when I was 15, I felt the first stirrings of God in the form of his Spirit. I throbbed with the fear that He was real, and feared just as equally that He was in fact real. For if there were such a thing as God, if His Spirit and His Son truly existed outside of the fairy tale that I had placed him in, then I would either have to act on it, or turn away from it entirely; for this love, this passion was larger than the tide that my life drifted in. I was hurting, half dead with soul malnourishment, flashbacks, fear of never finding anyone who would love me -- or worse, letting someone inside that wall I’d erected to keep myself safe. Love, would make me vulnerable. I was starving inside my own prison.
The thing is, My understanding of God came in parts. My hunger pulled me from the cage, starved and mangled, twisted with need and greedy for those things that satisfy I approached God for the first time. He bathed me in light, and I was ashamed of all those things that I had armored myself with. My scheming nature was exposed, and in the light of that warmth, I saw it for what it was. I saw how I had used people and reacted out of my own pain, hurting those around me. I sobbed, feeling hopeless, for those very coping skills that had kept me sane while in abuse, were no longer needed in my present state.
How to make myself clean?
How to undo what years of pain had wrought?
Why would he call me? What could I possibly have to offer Him? I was despicable and empty.
Just when I didn’t think I could stand being in that light any longer, I saw the way. I saw how it wasn’t my righteousness or usefulness but Jesus’s that made the difference. He saw things in me that I didn’t. He saw what my life would look like when that dry cracked ground was saturated with Christ. He saw the soil of my soul, with righteousness seeded into it. He could see the future, a possible future. And with trembling steps, I began my walk of faith.
Over twenty years later, I am a mother of five. I have seen the illustration of what it might be like to be called the bride of Christ when I submit to the authority and care of my husband. I have glimpsed as through a bubbled and warped glass, the nature of his love for me when I became a mother myself. He established the dynamics and relationships that we weave our lives in and out of every day, the heavenly blueprint, mirrored here. I only needed to experience it from that viewpoint to understand it on that level.
Now, I am going to church and training my children to love him too. We go to worship him and my spirit responds to him through song. I serve the body through leading the jr. high youth of our congregation. My passion for people, my dedication to Him has not stopped, though I have often been sidetracked by the busyness of life.
But still, I find that I cling to old and familiar ways. My heart has been forever changed, my life transformed and my passion is still hot, however, we live in America in a culture that is radically different from the way God calls us to live move and be. The abundant life that he calls us to is not one that satisfies our desire for more things, to get ahead in the world or to succeed. His call is not about our own happiness, making a comfortable and safe nest of our lives built by what we can own or make payments upon.
We are asleep in our safe little worlds where no one gets to see each others pain or mess. I once had an inner wall that protected me from the world, and it shielded me from others viewing my strangeness and my inner deformities. I have found that there is another wall, one I have not been able to find a way out of yet that prevents us from truly living that radical and extreme love that Christ lived out. This wall is covered in pleasure, and exudes a lassitude that invites us one and all to… sleep. Hours of our time pulsates to this wall of pleasure. Even those of us who are serious about our love for the Lord, we throb, to the metronome of it by asking that God make our friends, who’s lives are messy with cancer, divorce, mental illness become once again smooth and calm. That the distresses would be removed and the path made clear so that they would be comfortable.
I wonder at what Jesus would say to that.
So now I tremble yet again. This time, not at the inner wall that hid me, but at this outer wall of American culture and comfort where so many others and me have been napping. And I am afraid. I am afraid that I will feel this today, and tomorrow I will fall back to sleep.
In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus walked a ways out from his disciples and begged them to pray. Pray for me, he said, while he prayed for the cup to pass and for the courage to remain there. He knew the soldiers were coming, he ahd sent Judas off into the night himself, setting those wheels into motion. And now he prayed for it to pass or for another way to be made, like Abraham when the cry of the ram in the thicket released him from that terrible duty.
I am still saved, I am still one of his disciples crying out for others to see what His deep love can do, how it can transform a life… but like Peter, James and John, there in the garden, I sleep.
There is a parable of the ten virgins, warning them to keep their lamps ready, to be able to meet the Bridegroom. Our culture is different today than it was when that metaphor was used to the Israelites. A man pledged to a woman in a binding that was as strong as marriage, but the wedding itself, the ceremony and banquet didn’t happen until he had built his house and could provide for his bride and new family. Her job while he was gone, was to remain pure, assemble the necessities for the household, and keep oil in her lamp (to be ready) for the call to arise and join him, the actual wedding day could come at any time. She must be ready when he calls.
The story tells of how only half of the brides who were called were ready, and how even now the call goes out that the bridegroom comes.
*sigh*
Today I tremble. Today I feel hollowed out for the vision of the radical ways in which He calls us to live, to love and to act toward one another. We are so alone inside our inner prisons and outer walls of comfort. We see this bright vision when we are in church on Sundays, we warm our hands by it, open our spirits to it in praise… but we never actually leave the doorway of salvation, we never truly… wake up.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Naval Rec Ctr and Washington DC
It’s been a while since I last posted anything. We went on vacation and now I have lots of fun pictures to share.
We had a family reunion too, but I won’t share the majority of those pictures here. It just doesn’t seem fair to post pictures of other people on the web without their permission. So I won’t. But there were some really cool things to see in DC and they were definitely picture worthy!
First of all, was the drive in.
We took the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The mountains were beautiful! It surprised me how much of the countryside was undeveloped, miles and miles of forested land that made my ears pop with the up and down elevation. When we came to the top of one of those mountains and were afforded the view of the valley below, it just took my breath away. I would have pictures, except we didn’t stop and the view between the trees didn’t last long enough on any given stretch for me to get my camera booted up and ready to shoot.
We went through some tunnels.
And then we turned a corner and there was Pittsburgh! The homes were built into the mountainsides, and bridges were everywhere! There must have been some construction going on as well, for nearly everywhere I looked there were cranes. Really huge ones!
Then when we arrived at the reunion site it was late in the evening. Solomon Islands, Naval Recreation Center in Maryland, was wonderful! They had a beach, a pool complex that actually contained a baby pool a wading pool, a lap pool and diving pool; with a slide in both the lap and diving pools. On the grounds they also had put-put, paddleboat rentals, playgrounds and camping, both tent and RV. We who were there for the reunion however, stayed in the lodges. They were duplex cabins that had three rooms each; an open living, dining and kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom that had a set of bunks and a double bed (plus the couch in the living room was a hide a bed). Each cabin came with comforts like: an iron, microwave, coffeemaker dishes and utensils, a TV and a DVD player. I could have stayed a month there and still not run out of interesting things to do. All the pictures of the cabins I have though, have other people in them. So, you will have to just take my word for how beautiful they were.
The beach … the beach is a source of wonderful stories and pictures to share with you though! The first night we got there it was near dusk. We’d been in the car for what seemed like forever and the weather was just hot. After check in and a mad dash into bathing suits, and attempted to get into the pool. Our luck, they closed at 7:00 and it was only 10 minutes till that time. Undaunted we descended the small hill path to the shore. There weren’t many people around, but the few that were all stood at the waters edge looking into the lagoon. Apparently, a stingray had wandered into the swimming area and wasn’t frightened off by the splashing. On top of that, there was an infestation of jellyfish! Most of us waded in about knee deep, and some refused to enter. We Michigan folk were used to our fresh water lakes that didn’t have things that want to bite or sting you waiting under the waves. It was depressing. We felt like wimps at first, but then a little boy got stung by a jellyfish and well, it was easy to just say no after that.
I couldn’t get a picture of the ray, but I did get a couple of the jellyfish.
And here is gross one of a horseshoe crab that washed ashore and fed the flies.
Here is a picture of some wildlife that flew in and floated on the lagoon.
This one will be my next desktop wallpaper. The sunset was so beautiful; I just wanted to breathe its orange light right into my soul.
During the reunion, we had a slide show, a silent auction and lots of time for conversations. It was over too quickly, the hugs and pictures cementing into spirit and film this slice of time. We took many upon many family photos, told stories and wished time could stand still for a while longer.
Then we drove the couple hours back toward DC from Maryland. We rented a hotel, dropped our stuff and got on the Metro. This train went both underground and above. Sometimes it went deep enough to make my ears pop! About half of the stops were above ground though, so I don’t think it was a true subway. In anycase, there are several “lines” all color coded and intersecting at various points. There is also a tram that can take you on tour spots and deliver you from one end of the city, Metro entrances as well, to the other. So between the two, it’s entirely possible to walk all of DC. We were only able to hit a few spots and in the heat, it was enough!
Here is a picture of the interior of the Metro.
My picture tour starts from the “Mall” area where I was able to get great shots of the Capitol, White House and Washington Monuments, all from a distance.
Here they are:
Our first up-close view was of the WWII Memorial. This is an impressive structure of sculptures, fountains and inscriptions on the walls. I was whelmed, and not just by the heat.
It’s roughly in an oval shape with two towers that anchor either end and a fountain between.
One says Atlantic
And the other says Pacific.
All along the edges are columns that contain the names of each of the states. I like this picture because it was framed to get a closer picture of the columns and read what’s inscribed on them, but it had the Washington Monument and a flag also, balancing the picture.
It was the hottest part of the day. We’d just trekked from the metro station to this memorial and I was cowering in a sliver of shade and dearly blessed the architect that had fashioned benches along the edges. Bill and three of the girls went to the edge of the fountain and slipped their feet into the water. He told me later that while he had them there, and the power of the place held him in its thrall, he explained how freedom felt from tyranny by using the heat of the day and the cool of the water as his metaphor.
After I had recovered a little, I noticed that all along the edges of this monument, there were quotes that had been etched into the stone. Being a lover of words the quotes held a power over me that eclipsed the architecture. Here is a picture of but one of them.
From there, we went to the Lincoln Memorial. Another long trek, but this time, someone had thoughtfully planted a double row of trees along the edge of the reflecting pond with a pathway between. While still about halfway there I took a picture, knowing that once I was closer I would not be able to frame the entire building.
And here is the statue of the great man himself.
Carved into the pedestal that he sits on is this inscription. It reads: “In this temple as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the union the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever.”
For me, the coolest part was reading the Gettysburg Address out loud from the inscription along the side of the walls, and hear my voice echo words from our past.
Jessica thought it was pretty cool too. That or maybe she was just tired.
Here is another very cool picture that I took there. The reflecting pool, doing it’s job of reflecting.
Then it was time to move on. The next closest memorial was the Vietnam Memorial. There was a retaining wall triangular in nature made up of panels of dark stone each etched with the names of those died or are missing still onto the wall. At the bottom of some of those panels were flowers, pictures and mementos that people had left behind. One person even left a medal of honor there at the base. Where the WWII memorial shouted it’s victory with statues and statements of stone. The Vietnam Memorial whispered the names of those who paid their lives. This was not a temple, it was a wailing wall.
When we left there, we went off for the final long walk of the day to The White House. It was a walk made much longer by the fact that we were carrying children by this time. The heat had sapped our energy and the kids held up so well for so long, but it was near evening and they had just had it. We finally made it though, and the view was beautiful.
Here it is
I have this little quirk I’ve noticed in my photography. I like to get pictures of the girls with Bill from behind. It measures their growth, it cements the moment from their viewpoint in terms of what they are looking at, but it also shows the kids my viewpoint as I am often the caboose to Bill’s engine. This is how I remember them, hand in hand with their daddy who walks them through life. It is precious to me. This is Bill with Megan on the left, and Jessica on the right.
That was the end of our tour for the day. We went the next day to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.
The building and even inside was simply too big to get good pictures. By that I mean compositions that held enough of one thing to be able to identify what it was you were looking at. It was ginormous! They had the first airplane, Apollo capsules, missiles, an Imax theater and flight simulators, along with exhibits that were very hands on and kid friendly.
Here are a few pictures
I think my favorite exhibit was one in which a working model plane is suspend from wires over a bank of fans. The station had all the working levers, pedals and joystick of a plane that allowed you to control the pitch, roll and yaw of flight.
I can’t resist putting this one in as well, even though it’s not in focus I love the lighting, the wind blowing through Megan’s hair and Kimberly looking on.
Next came the National Archives Museum. If you have ever seen National Treasure, the building on the inside is not quite like the movie portrays. But I am ahead of myself! Here is a picture of the outside of the building. It is so large, that this picture is taken from across the street and halfway down the block.
Here is a picture of the carving at the peak of the roofline.
On either side of the massive stairs is a statue on a pedestal. Around the left side of the building (looking on) and under the stairs there is the tourist entrance. Where you are filed through a metal detector, just like at the airport. Here is a picture of the statue and the inscription, which reads: “The heritage of the past is the seed that brings forth the harvest of the future”
We had been standing in the bright sunshine and oppressive heat, waiting in line to get into the building. Once inside, it was blessedly cool and dim. I swear I could have plopped right down on the floor and snored until the next day. Then the realization hit me of just how dim it really was! There were hundreds of us lined up inside the foyer with signs posted that no flash photography was allowed. The ceiling of the entrance was lit up, and I snapped a picture of all of us in the crowded foyer waiting to view the documents.
That was the best picture I could get in the building. The movie National Treasure made it look much brighter than it really was and I won’t even bothering posting the other pictures I took. For one the light was too low, but also because the documents were so very faded, that it was difficult to read them, even with my nose pressed to the glass. The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and a number of other documents were on display there. There was a definite aura of reverence in the room, with paintings in banners along the edges of the wall, marble columns and brass accents. I hate to compare it to a mausoleum, since the heart of our country, the documents that structure it are housed there, but that is the feeling I left with. I think the wall paintings may have come out, I will post those pictures too but I am sorry of you aren’t able to see it well. I haven’t done any retouching yet.
Our last stop for the day was at Arlington National Cemetary. So off we went to the nearest Metro station and descended the escalator. By this time we were pros at the Metro and while the kids thought it was fun on the first day to try to stand up and hold the rails, by this time our feet and backs hurt and we would gladly have sat down. It was rush hour of a weekday though and they were all crammed. Here is a pic of our group looking down the tracks to see the train coming.
We’d lost our stamina, but not our sense of humor. Here is a picture of the train from the outside:
At Arlington there are rows upon rows of headstones in perfect formation. I discovered that Robert E. Lee originally owned the property and two of our Presidents are buried there, John Kennedy and Robert Taft. There are memorials scattered throughout to honor generals and distinguished people. The most impressive part of it to me, was to see the hillside ripple with headstones as far as the eye could see.
And here, if you look between the branches of the tree, you can see the hillside beyond it as it too is spotted with headstones.
Then while there, we were in time to catch the changing of the guard for the unknown soldier. The “Old Guard” watches over these three tombs night and day, rain or shine and has kept continual vigil since the practice began. They take exactly 21 steps in front of it. Pause for 21 seconds and turns to take another 21 steps. Every half hour the Guard changes and does so with a ceremony. This picture is of the commander who comes out to explain the ceremony and the significance of the number 21.
Then he walks back in that peculiar ceremonial gait to greet the new guard. There they go through an arms inspection.
After the new guard meets his approval, he marches him up to trade places with the previous guard and both of them walk back into the interior of the amphitheater that the ceremony takes place in. This whole time, no one in the audience speaks.
It was very moving for me, the air practically crackled with the crispness of the event. It had the feeling of being very intense and precise in purpose and reverence. When the reality that this ceremony has happens 48 times a day, every single day and has done so for decades… I was awed. For those of us who have lived for some of those decades the weight of the years hung in the air and provided a depth to the service – a layer that shimmered as in shadow. We ask a lot of our men and woman who risk their lives for their country. But we also honor them.
Here is the marker: “Here rests in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God.”
And that, my friends was our tour of the Capitol. I will never forget it.
We had a family reunion too, but I won’t share the majority of those pictures here. It just doesn’t seem fair to post pictures of other people on the web without their permission. So I won’t. But there were some really cool things to see in DC and they were definitely picture worthy!
First of all, was the drive in.
We took the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The mountains were beautiful! It surprised me how much of the countryside was undeveloped, miles and miles of forested land that made my ears pop with the up and down elevation. When we came to the top of one of those mountains and were afforded the view of the valley below, it just took my breath away. I would have pictures, except we didn’t stop and the view between the trees didn’t last long enough on any given stretch for me to get my camera booted up and ready to shoot.
We went through some tunnels.
And then we turned a corner and there was Pittsburgh! The homes were built into the mountainsides, and bridges were everywhere! There must have been some construction going on as well, for nearly everywhere I looked there were cranes. Really huge ones!
Then when we arrived at the reunion site it was late in the evening. Solomon Islands, Naval Recreation Center in Maryland, was wonderful! They had a beach, a pool complex that actually contained a baby pool a wading pool, a lap pool and diving pool; with a slide in both the lap and diving pools. On the grounds they also had put-put, paddleboat rentals, playgrounds and camping, both tent and RV. We who were there for the reunion however, stayed in the lodges. They were duplex cabins that had three rooms each; an open living, dining and kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom that had a set of bunks and a double bed (plus the couch in the living room was a hide a bed). Each cabin came with comforts like: an iron, microwave, coffeemaker dishes and utensils, a TV and a DVD player. I could have stayed a month there and still not run out of interesting things to do. All the pictures of the cabins I have though, have other people in them. So, you will have to just take my word for how beautiful they were.
The beach … the beach is a source of wonderful stories and pictures to share with you though! The first night we got there it was near dusk. We’d been in the car for what seemed like forever and the weather was just hot. After check in and a mad dash into bathing suits, and attempted to get into the pool. Our luck, they closed at 7:00 and it was only 10 minutes till that time. Undaunted we descended the small hill path to the shore. There weren’t many people around, but the few that were all stood at the waters edge looking into the lagoon. Apparently, a stingray had wandered into the swimming area and wasn’t frightened off by the splashing. On top of that, there was an infestation of jellyfish! Most of us waded in about knee deep, and some refused to enter. We Michigan folk were used to our fresh water lakes that didn’t have things that want to bite or sting you waiting under the waves. It was depressing. We felt like wimps at first, but then a little boy got stung by a jellyfish and well, it was easy to just say no after that.
I couldn’t get a picture of the ray, but I did get a couple of the jellyfish.
And here is gross one of a horseshoe crab that washed ashore and fed the flies.
Here is a picture of some wildlife that flew in and floated on the lagoon.
This one will be my next desktop wallpaper. The sunset was so beautiful; I just wanted to breathe its orange light right into my soul.
During the reunion, we had a slide show, a silent auction and lots of time for conversations. It was over too quickly, the hugs and pictures cementing into spirit and film this slice of time. We took many upon many family photos, told stories and wished time could stand still for a while longer.
Then we drove the couple hours back toward DC from Maryland. We rented a hotel, dropped our stuff and got on the Metro. This train went both underground and above. Sometimes it went deep enough to make my ears pop! About half of the stops were above ground though, so I don’t think it was a true subway. In anycase, there are several “lines” all color coded and intersecting at various points. There is also a tram that can take you on tour spots and deliver you from one end of the city, Metro entrances as well, to the other. So between the two, it’s entirely possible to walk all of DC. We were only able to hit a few spots and in the heat, it was enough!
Here is a picture of the interior of the Metro.
My picture tour starts from the “Mall” area where I was able to get great shots of the Capitol, White House and Washington Monuments, all from a distance.
Here they are:
Our first up-close view was of the WWII Memorial. This is an impressive structure of sculptures, fountains and inscriptions on the walls. I was whelmed, and not just by the heat.
It’s roughly in an oval shape with two towers that anchor either end and a fountain between.
One says Atlantic
And the other says Pacific.
All along the edges are columns that contain the names of each of the states. I like this picture because it was framed to get a closer picture of the columns and read what’s inscribed on them, but it had the Washington Monument and a flag also, balancing the picture.
It was the hottest part of the day. We’d just trekked from the metro station to this memorial and I was cowering in a sliver of shade and dearly blessed the architect that had fashioned benches along the edges. Bill and three of the girls went to the edge of the fountain and slipped their feet into the water. He told me later that while he had them there, and the power of the place held him in its thrall, he explained how freedom felt from tyranny by using the heat of the day and the cool of the water as his metaphor.
After I had recovered a little, I noticed that all along the edges of this monument, there were quotes that had been etched into the stone. Being a lover of words the quotes held a power over me that eclipsed the architecture. Here is a picture of but one of them.
From there, we went to the Lincoln Memorial. Another long trek, but this time, someone had thoughtfully planted a double row of trees along the edge of the reflecting pond with a pathway between. While still about halfway there I took a picture, knowing that once I was closer I would not be able to frame the entire building.
And here is the statue of the great man himself.
Carved into the pedestal that he sits on is this inscription. It reads: “In this temple as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the union the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever.”
For me, the coolest part was reading the Gettysburg Address out loud from the inscription along the side of the walls, and hear my voice echo words from our past.
Jessica thought it was pretty cool too. That or maybe she was just tired.
Here is another very cool picture that I took there. The reflecting pool, doing it’s job of reflecting.
Then it was time to move on. The next closest memorial was the Vietnam Memorial. There was a retaining wall triangular in nature made up of panels of dark stone each etched with the names of those died or are missing still onto the wall. At the bottom of some of those panels were flowers, pictures and mementos that people had left behind. One person even left a medal of honor there at the base. Where the WWII memorial shouted it’s victory with statues and statements of stone. The Vietnam Memorial whispered the names of those who paid their lives. This was not a temple, it was a wailing wall.
When we left there, we went off for the final long walk of the day to The White House. It was a walk made much longer by the fact that we were carrying children by this time. The heat had sapped our energy and the kids held up so well for so long, but it was near evening and they had just had it. We finally made it though, and the view was beautiful.
Here it is
I have this little quirk I’ve noticed in my photography. I like to get pictures of the girls with Bill from behind. It measures their growth, it cements the moment from their viewpoint in terms of what they are looking at, but it also shows the kids my viewpoint as I am often the caboose to Bill’s engine. This is how I remember them, hand in hand with their daddy who walks them through life. It is precious to me. This is Bill with Megan on the left, and Jessica on the right.
That was the end of our tour for the day. We went the next day to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.
The building and even inside was simply too big to get good pictures. By that I mean compositions that held enough of one thing to be able to identify what it was you were looking at. It was ginormous! They had the first airplane, Apollo capsules, missiles, an Imax theater and flight simulators, along with exhibits that were very hands on and kid friendly.
Here are a few pictures
I think my favorite exhibit was one in which a working model plane is suspend from wires over a bank of fans. The station had all the working levers, pedals and joystick of a plane that allowed you to control the pitch, roll and yaw of flight.
I can’t resist putting this one in as well, even though it’s not in focus I love the lighting, the wind blowing through Megan’s hair and Kimberly looking on.
Next came the National Archives Museum. If you have ever seen National Treasure, the building on the inside is not quite like the movie portrays. But I am ahead of myself! Here is a picture of the outside of the building. It is so large, that this picture is taken from across the street and halfway down the block.
Here is a picture of the carving at the peak of the roofline.
On either side of the massive stairs is a statue on a pedestal. Around the left side of the building (looking on) and under the stairs there is the tourist entrance. Where you are filed through a metal detector, just like at the airport. Here is a picture of the statue and the inscription, which reads: “The heritage of the past is the seed that brings forth the harvest of the future”
We had been standing in the bright sunshine and oppressive heat, waiting in line to get into the building. Once inside, it was blessedly cool and dim. I swear I could have plopped right down on the floor and snored until the next day. Then the realization hit me of just how dim it really was! There were hundreds of us lined up inside the foyer with signs posted that no flash photography was allowed. The ceiling of the entrance was lit up, and I snapped a picture of all of us in the crowded foyer waiting to view the documents.
That was the best picture I could get in the building. The movie National Treasure made it look much brighter than it really was and I won’t even bothering posting the other pictures I took. For one the light was too low, but also because the documents were so very faded, that it was difficult to read them, even with my nose pressed to the glass. The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and a number of other documents were on display there. There was a definite aura of reverence in the room, with paintings in banners along the edges of the wall, marble columns and brass accents. I hate to compare it to a mausoleum, since the heart of our country, the documents that structure it are housed there, but that is the feeling I left with. I think the wall paintings may have come out, I will post those pictures too but I am sorry of you aren’t able to see it well. I haven’t done any retouching yet.
Our last stop for the day was at Arlington National Cemetary. So off we went to the nearest Metro station and descended the escalator. By this time we were pros at the Metro and while the kids thought it was fun on the first day to try to stand up and hold the rails, by this time our feet and backs hurt and we would gladly have sat down. It was rush hour of a weekday though and they were all crammed. Here is a pic of our group looking down the tracks to see the train coming.
We’d lost our stamina, but not our sense of humor. Here is a picture of the train from the outside:
At Arlington there are rows upon rows of headstones in perfect formation. I discovered that Robert E. Lee originally owned the property and two of our Presidents are buried there, John Kennedy and Robert Taft. There are memorials scattered throughout to honor generals and distinguished people. The most impressive part of it to me, was to see the hillside ripple with headstones as far as the eye could see.
And here, if you look between the branches of the tree, you can see the hillside beyond it as it too is spotted with headstones.
Then while there, we were in time to catch the changing of the guard for the unknown soldier. The “Old Guard” watches over these three tombs night and day, rain or shine and has kept continual vigil since the practice began. They take exactly 21 steps in front of it. Pause for 21 seconds and turns to take another 21 steps. Every half hour the Guard changes and does so with a ceremony. This picture is of the commander who comes out to explain the ceremony and the significance of the number 21.
Then he walks back in that peculiar ceremonial gait to greet the new guard. There they go through an arms inspection.
After the new guard meets his approval, he marches him up to trade places with the previous guard and both of them walk back into the interior of the amphitheater that the ceremony takes place in. This whole time, no one in the audience speaks.
It was very moving for me, the air practically crackled with the crispness of the event. It had the feeling of being very intense and precise in purpose and reverence. When the reality that this ceremony has happens 48 times a day, every single day and has done so for decades… I was awed. For those of us who have lived for some of those decades the weight of the years hung in the air and provided a depth to the service – a layer that shimmered as in shadow. We ask a lot of our men and woman who risk their lives for their country. But we also honor them.
Here is the marker: “Here rests in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God.”
And that, my friends was our tour of the Capitol. I will never forget it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)