Where Does Time Go?

I've not written on this blog in some time. I feel a stranger to it, really.

If I'm honest, I feel like a stranger to my life. Estranged, is that the word? Time passes by at an astounding rate, where does it go? A few weeks ago I was typing an email to a friend telling her how my boys are doing. I said my son is enjoying the 10th grade and the other son is happy in the 8th grade. Then on the way to school the next morning, my oldest son was talking about a classmate who's a Junior. I froze (thankfully my car was at a stoplight) and peered back to Tyler and asked him what grade he's in. Wondering if I had lost my mind, he slowly said, "ah, the 11th grade." I could NOT believe it. He's in the 11th grade! He'll be a senior next year! Regarding Evan, I got a notice in the mail telling me of his high school orientation in preparation for next years advance to the 9th grade. I could cry. Where does time go?

Sunday, clean laundry was piling up. So much so that if I planned to sleep in my bed that evening, I needed to fold the pyramid that had collected on its surface. I mindlessly folded piece after piece when I came across a pair of jeans that I couldn't tell who they belonged to: my husband, David, or sons Ty or Evan. They have grown up so fast.

Have I zoomed through life at breakneck speed and the natural growth of my two beautiful boys has gone unnoticed? I wish I could turn back the clocks just for a few moments. But as my time with them as non-adults closes in, I pray I make the most of every moment we have together.

Lord, be with Tyler and Evan. May they sense your presence every day. Protect them and guide them. May their hearts be drawn to Yours. They are Your boys, even more than than they are mine. Amen.

Published! Wow...

When I was in the hospital in August, I received an email from an editor of an interfaith prayer journal publication. They liked a particular post on my Vertical Creativity blog and asked if they could publish it in their October/November prayer journal, Scared Journey. Needless to say, as I lay, full of pain, in York Hospital, I was delighted and honored at her request. Later she contacted me again and asked if she could publish a photo I had on my blog as well - a photo of a sculpture I created through prayer in May 2007 called Tilted Vessel. Again, I said, "sure!" and was honored at the opportunity. Yet, even later - she emailed me and said that my sculpture photo looks fabulous as the cover for that issue. THE COVER?! Wow - how cool is that?

When the finished copies arrived in the mail early this month, I was shocked to see that I'm also quoted under their section titled, "Illuminations." Something I said is considered to be illuminating??? Insane!

If you'd like to read the post they published, you can see it on the Sacred Journey web page.

I can't help but think how gracious and gently our God is - He knew I needed a little encouragement to keep writing or to think I have anything to offer - so He lined up Sacred Journey to contact me about my written work. But didn't stop there. He lined them up to use my artistic work (the sculpture) and my photographic work (the actual image I took of my sculpture.)

Now, I just need to reflect on this example whenever I feel paralyzed or think that my creativity doesn't matter. It matters to God and He'll use it in the most amazing and surprising ways - if we only push through and create.

Grace & peace on the journey...deAnn

Two Weak Weeks

I haven't posted on this blog in so long that I had to stop and think what my user name and password is just to log on! Pathetic, huh? I was in a very busy season at work, so busy that it put me in the hospital (my theory, anyhow).

Sunday, 8/10 I came home from church and had a low grade headache. By the late afternoon my head pain had grown intense and familiar symptoms cropped up. I hopped online to see how likely it is to have viral meningitis a second time, as the symptom I had were the same as those I suffered in January 2000. Sure enough, once you have it - you are more likely to get it again. And on this Sunday, I knew I'd be going into the hospital the next day, if I made it through the night without a sooner trip. Ugh.

Monday morning came after a night of severe head pain, nausea, sensitivity to light, sound and movement, high fever, and neck and back pain. I went to my family doctor and she directed me right to the emergency department. But she wouldn't let me drive up the street to the hospital and my husband was on jury duty all day. I took a chance and texted David and thankfully he was just leaving the courthouse.

I arrived in the E.D. dressed to be admitted in my comfy sweatpant shorts and teeshirt, no make up and hair in a ponytail on top of my head, all ready out of the way for the pending projectile vomiting that I knew was in my future. Since this is my second time with this lovely illness, I knew what medications work well. Torodol (for pain) and Zofran (for nausea). But before they would dish out the good stuff, they felt they couldn't trust my word and have to do a lumbar puncture to be certain they were dealing with viral meningitis and not the deadly cousin, bacterial meningitis. I'm not real fond of having a needle in my spine tapping out the fluid that keeps my brain moist, but I new I couldn't get out of it. My biggest fear was either passing out or throwing up with that needle in my spine! But I was a big girl and did really well. The fluid was clear - good news - stating that I did NOT have the bacterial version.

Morphine and percocet didn't work on my pain, they only made me feel worse. Fortunately I was in an "isolation" room in the E.D. so it was quiet and dark. When you have viral meningitis, light is an enemy. Sound is an enemy, and even smells and movement are enemies. I was so sick. My husband came in with a cup of coffee and I couldn't stand the smell of it. He poured it out.

Long story short - I spent three days in the hospital and called four rooms "home" while there. Since being home, I've had good days and bad days. Today was my first day driving and I have to tell you - it wasn't fun. The medication makes me dizzy and I didn't realize how dizzy until I got behind the wheel of my Subaru! I walked around Rite Aid like I had forgotten why I was there or even how I got there. I'm sure the security cameras would be very entertaining to view. This feeling freaked me out! However, I managed to get home safely. Whew, I was exhausted, so I took a long nap. I didn't realize how weak I had become. Viral meningitis is one nasty illness and I pray that I never have to deal with it again. Twice is more than anyone needs in their life time.

Strangely, I feel so un-myself right now. I hope that changes soon. I wonder if there is anything I need to do or can do to feel more like myself? Guess that will come in time and with continued healing...

Thanks to all my friends that prayed big time for me! Grace & peace, deAnn

Mid Week Lament

When do I let go?
When do I fight?
The desires of my heart
are sobbing tonight.

Not sure what to do
they stand and wait
for the powerful ones
that hold their fate.

The familiar verse
sprouts in my mind
as always at times
when I feel blind.

Wait patiently for the Lord
be brave and courageous
Yes, wait patiently for the Lord

Brave? Courageous?
I'm trying my Lord
and yet, wait patiently?
I am filling with discord.

You see my life's story
You know what is next
I trust You Lord Jesus
to do what is best.

So, I will sit and wait patiently
I'll be brave and courageous too
Yes, I will wait patiently my Lord,
I will wait
for You.

Location Matters?

Is true sabbath really possible? I'm "the average" mom, wife, employee, neighbor, friend, housekeeper, chef, gardener, chauffeur, grocery getter, dish washer, care taker, child of God. Can even the average person like me achieve true sabbath?

A whole day of resting in the presence of God...can you imagine that? I dream what that would look like, but it couldn't happen in my house in my town with my family around. No, to me it would be at a monastery perched high on a mountain in central Israel or overlooking the sea in southern Turkey. Nothing but the sound of wind passing under the wings of courageous birds or whistling through lush green pine needles. Peace, senerity, quiet, God. ...Lovely.

But that is not my real life! It's a gift that I can recall memories that take me back to some of the places I've traveled overseas and wish I could return to them in a blink of an eye. Reality strikes and I find myself plummeting high speed towards this little old town I live in. Quaint, but not serene.

So, the struggle remains - living my sabbath mindful of God in all I do and seeking solitude, even if it's for the few moments I'm out watering my garden.

Sabbath rest is not all about location. It's about the attention of our heart on the One who love us more than we can comprehend. Then resting that truth.

May your sabbath day be rich with God's presense...
grace & peace on the journey ~ deAnn

sabbath

I just turned off the DVD player. My head is spinning. I love Rob Bell's NOOMA's. So I thought I'd love hearing what he had to say in his tour, "Everything is Spiritual." I was not let down. It will make you think! Be prepared for full usage of every brain particle you own.

Here's something convicting, actually, that Rob talked about. Rest. Do you rest? What does it look like, this rest you do. God rested. He created for six whole days then He took a rest - to kick back and enjoy His creation.

Sure, I rest, but it's not good rest. Weekends, for instance, should be filled with fun, doing things you like, or in our case = demoing a bathroom. Not much rest there (yesterday). Today, Sunday - I'm lazy as all get out. Yup, I've "rested." More like "wasted." I wasted the rest.

Sabbath, that day of rest, is a time to recharge and give yourself a little break for an entire day and to prepare for the week ahead. Heck, I can do that laying on the sofa clicking through hundreds of TV channels. Then I get mad at myself because I wasted the day, doing nothing. Something about my "Sabbath" doesn't feel right. Then Mr. Bell said a few words about Sabbath that really caught my attention: it's about doing something that feeds your soul. Laying on the sofa watching the TV does NOT feed my soul - it's ticks me off.

I'm going to readjust my time of rest, and attempt to live into a real Sabbath - enjoying God's creation - maybe with my camera in hand while on a hike. Getting crazy with color on a huge canvas. Choosing a childhood memory and dive right into that day then record it on paper. Read my favorite book and write about how I heard God speak to me through it. Or a period of solitude. Whatever it is, it MUST be soul feeding not soul sucking. For me, soul feeding means I'm aware of God's presence in and around me and marveling in His goodness and beauty and creativity, or even experiencing those traits in others.

The hour and 17 minutes I sat in front of the TV watching Rob Bell scribble a ton of mind stretching thoughts on a white board the size of a train car ~ yes, that, for me, was soul feeding. Ah...sweet rest.... ~ but my Sabbath is not yet over.

My plan from this day forward: to be intentional about picking one day each week and designate it as my Sabbath, doing what feeds my soul.

grace & peace on finding your day of rest...deAnn

If you want, check out: Everything is Spiritual

found

my smile was found.
laying on the ground,
it was no longer round,
and made no sound,
because it was bound,
with a large mound,
of gaffers tape.

lost

I lost my smile
It was with me this morning
and even at lunch.

Mid afternoon, I think that's
when it happened...

During that conversation
when the tears began to fall
my spirit crushed
sin exposed
dislike revealed
stupidity displayed
self worth diminished
...all a misunderstanding.

It's gone. Lost. Scared off.
I feel it lying in the shadows
I think
Fearing to come out.

But I miss you, my smile
my heart, my soul miss you too -
without you, I have no me.

Please come back, my smile
tomorrow is a new day
a fresh new day.

Return to me, my smile
my heart is nothing
without you.

Return to me, my heart
my soul is nothing
without you.

Return to me, my soul
I am nothing
without you.

If I forgive
myself
will you, my smile,
return?

Mass-o-nutten

Earlier this month, we had a WHOLE family vacation in Massanutten, VA. And I mean whole family. My boys, my husband and his kids, of course - my husband, his sister and her kids (her husband was in Fl for a business trip), and then my husband's parents. Seven kids and five adults packed in to a two story condo. It wasn't that bad, actually, spacial thinking...we all fit comfortably. The photo above is after a sudden and scary thunderstorm that rolled through the valley. After the storm had done it's damage the sun came out and fog began to lift from the mountain sides. The air was crisp yet damp as we entered into the evening. We had a few of those wonderfully strong afternoon thunderstorms while there for nearly a week.

The highlight of the Massanutten timeshare area is this amazing part in-door and part out-door water park. We had to take a second mortgage out on our home just to afford to enjoy this expensive playground, but it was worth it. To feel like a kid again running around and being silly with your own kids - priceless.

This side ROCKED! I thought for sure Brittany (my 18 yo step daughter) and I would loose part of our swim suit. But alas, we speedily raced to the end of the slide with our tops and bottoms intact! (Thank God for that - the world is not ready for such a scene!) Oh - yes, in the picture you have my son, Evan on the left, Devyn - my nephew next to Ev, David - my hubby then Christian - my step son. You can see who the winner was! Yay Christian!!!

Another cool attraction was the "Free Flow" - a crazy water ride that mimics the feeling of body surfing on a board. Brittany and I did NOT do this ride...for obvious reason....the guys shorts were being torn off exposing the defined line between tan and whitie-heinie. Yeah, I wasn't up for trying this thing! Here is my hubby testing out his abilities. He didn't do too bad either - but he looks pretty cute, if you ask me.

I love this photo of my son, Tyler. He's got a GREAT smile! He did really good on this thing and half way though the day, all the boys (including the one in his forties shown above Ty), were addicted to this thing. The girls, well, we rode the other water tubes = they have this one that is totally pitch black and you sit on a blow up tube - you have NO idea where you are going and it's outta this world!

It really was a nice trip and we had a lot of family bonding time. I'm sure we'll go back to Mass-o-nutten again...

deAnn

Dirty Dishes

The other day I was out for a run. When I became tired (about 3 minutes after I left my front door) I recalled what I ate the day before: LOTS. I said to myself, you know the "encouraging" self talk we do, "I must run because I ate like a piggy yesterday. So get on it and pick up the pace, woman!" That is just what I did...ran a bit faster.

As I continued to gasp for air, my mind wandered to a thoughtful space. I had just guilted myself into running! I was no longer running because it was a gorgeous crisp day or because I enjoy the feel of pavement under my feet with each step. God was once again speaking to me through something I enjoy doing and He was saying "run for the pleasure, not for guilt."

Examining more areas of my life where I take this stance, doing out of guilt instead of love, I was astounded and saddened that this ideal permeates large areas of my life. I see my in-laws because I feel guilty if I don't, INSTEAD of visiting them out of love for my husband (and them). Even doing the dishes, it's a daily task that I despise (maybe if I had a dishwasher I'd have a better attitude?), I am good at guilting myself into getting them done NOW or I'll be a horrible housekeeper. I could approach it out of love for my family - and the fact that I can not cook for them when dirty dishes are clogging up the postage sized counter space I have in my dinky kitchen.

Okay, those are only a few examples from my life. But I'll tell you, I've been more attentitive to that sneaky feeling of guilt and examining my heart and motives to see if I can do what needs to be done in love instead of guilty obligation.

The next time I'm working out (like later today), I want to approach it not out of guilt because, again last night I ate like a piggy, but out of sheer love to keep fit this body God crafted for my soul to reside in 38 years ago.

Not To Be Seen

I went to the kitchen to get a bowl of tortellini chicken soup then plopped down on the sofa next to my husband as I devoured my meal. He was watching some show on TV, looked kinda dumb but because I was eating I stared at the TV too. Then suddenly, the main actress said something that really spoke to where I am in life right now...

"We all live in hiding. In one way or another, each of us conceals pieces of ourselves from the world. Some people hide because their lives depend on it. Others because they don't like being seen. And the special cases, the ones who hide because they just want someone to care enough to have someone look for them." from the USA TV show In Plain Sight

Awesome quote, huh? Deep for a cable channel.

Why does this speak to me, you ask? The idea that some people hide because they don't like being seen. That is totally me. It's freaky too. Thursday, May 29th I journaled about this exact thing...it's a theme I see in my life. I avoid being seen. I sneak into work stealth like, close my office door and turn on just one light. I ask my husband or one of my boys to water the plants on the front porch so I am not seen by passing cars (we live RIGHT on Main Street - cars just feet from my porch). If I'm meeting someone at a restaurant, I am sure to get there at least 30 minutes before scheduled time then I wait in the car until they show up so we can walk in together. I'm always behind the camera catching everyone's image but my own. There have been a few occasions when my husband has looked at me so intensely, it's as if he's peering deep into my soul. Hate that. If you can't tell, I really don't like being looked at.

Why is this? I journaled about it too. But I haven't had a Divine revelation or any downloads from Heaven...yet. This is something I'm aware of, am sitting with and lifting before God. What am I afraid of? Do I worry too much about what others think? I never thought of myself that way. Could this be what I call,"sneaky pride"?

Or maybe this is more complex and there are no simple answers... as I continued to process this on May 29th, I wrote these words in my journal, "If I am not seen, I can not be known." Maybe there lies the beginning of the answer.

to be continued...

Go Speed Racer, GO!

Meet my Grams. Isn't she beautiful? A women of great strength, character, love and gentleness. And she has the driving abilities of an Indy 500 race car driver. Yeah, she's a "lead foot."

When my little sister and I were younger - I was maybe eight and my sister, Kristin, was about five, we would stay over at Grams house all the time. We loved it there ~ the smell of Grampa's pipe tobacco and the sound of his jolly ol' laughter. One afternoon, Kristin and I rode along with Grams as she ran errands around town. She and Grampa had this crazy long Cadillac, they aptly called "the Caddy." The seats were slippery vinyl or leather, can't recall exactly, I just knew that in the baking California sun they were hotter than hot and burnt the backs of my little girl legs.

There was this tiny liquor shop at the base of "Miracle Mile" ~ which was a mile long hill, straight up out of the Sacramento river valley. After Grams purchased what she needed we rolled out of the parking lot and waited to pull out onto the road. Traffic was (and still is) very heavy along this stretch of the highway. I was sitting in the front passengers seat, which was a long bench seat. My sister was in the backseat behind me. My Grams revved up the big V8 (or larger?) Cadillac engine, anxiously awaiting an opportunity to bolt out into traffic. With her hands in the correct 11 and 2 o'clock positions on the skinny over sized steering wheel, she said, "Okay, girls, hold on!" then she gunned it! That Caddy took off like it was fueled by rockets! The force blasted me against the smooth pleather seat! My sister, not wearing a seat belt because who did way back then, had forcefully slid all the way across the back seat and landed behind my Grams. I turned around and looked at Kristin and we both busted out laughing! "Grams! You are a speed racer!" She replied, "well honey, sometimes you have to use all the ponies under the hood."

In 2005, my two boys and I traveled to California to visit my Grams - at that time, she was ninety two years old. I grew up feeding the deer at Shasta Dam. My boys, then Ty was 13 and Evan was 10, had never been to Shasta Lake and I couldn't wait to share a treasured childhood memory with them. Grams said that they started giving tours of the dam and that the boys may find it of interest. Of course, my Grams offered to drive us up there ~ Ty and Evan were thrilled as they heard how she has quite the lead foot. But I reassured them that she's mellowed out now that she's in her 90's.

Well, I was wrong. This time seat belts mandatory, and that's a good thing, we headed towards the lake. Not only is she fast from the get go - she motors right along even on the twisty tight two lane road that leads up to the dam. The boys were in the back seat giggling and mumbling that she still is a speed racer. From the front seat, joined them in their quiet giggle with intense eye contact.

After the tour, Evan was so thrilled with the experience, "That was one awesome dam tour!" Tyler filled in, "and that dam tour guide really knew what he was talking about." Evan continued, "I really liked riding in that dam elevator." "Yeah, but walking in the rain across that dam road was a bummer," Tyler pipped in. Evan finished, "I'm dam hungry, can we go to A & W for lunch?"

The photo above was taken on our trip in 2005, me and my Grams. I called her on Mother's day earlier this month ~ she's doing great! She proceeded to tell me that she was recently in the local newspaper. My cousin's son celebrated his birthday at an indoor race track called "Need4Speed." And guess, what... Grams was in the mini Indy race car - showing everyone how to drive like a pro.

Grams is my hero...

Self Image?

Here are a couple more cute photo's of Tyler...

One last family photo...

(these pictures are too funny!)

See post below for the real Self Image article...

Self Image

My 16 year old son, Ty, loves to play with the iMac and its built in camera. It has all kinds of silly filters and effects to mess around with. (Honestly, this is not an accurate image of him!) But it makes me crack up every time I see it!

This made me think of the way we view ourselves. Due to junked up filters, I can see me one way and another person can see me 100% different. Who would be right? Life gives us these filters and causes an inaccurate view of who we were created to be. Some popular filters are: hurt done to us or caused by us, sinful nature, poor self esteem, lack of self awareness, just to name a few...

You know what? Even if Ty really looked like this carnival mirror image, God would love him just the same because He made him. And what God makes - is beautiful beyond measure. Hard to imagine that, huh? The world would call (this image of) Ty a freak, an outcast, a detriment to society and never once stop to get to know the heart that lies underneath the "world defined" ugly.

Do I see myself like this - inaccurately and ugly? Do you see yourself that way? Do bad filters keep us from seeing ourselves and others in the beautiful way God intended? Sure, we're human. But we long for a Divine filter to view the world and all it's people the way God sees them. Beautiful beyond measure. Ahh...heaven will be like that. One day...
grace & peace ~ deAnn

Young Sea

The day after my mood meltdown, I came across this poem; Young Sea by Carl Sandburg. I connected intimately with the words and the feelings expressed. I'd like to share it with you...

Young Sea

The sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting.

The sea speaks
And only the stormy hearts
Know what it says:
It is the face
of a rough mother speaking.

The sea is young.
One storm cleans all the hoar
And loosens the age of it.
I hear it laughing, reckless.

They love the sea,
Men who ride on it
And know they will die
Under the salt of it.

Let only the young come,
Says the sea.
Let them kiss my face
And hear me.
I am the last word
And I tell
Where the storms and stars come from.

warning: frustration overload

I'm in "one of those moods." Maybe you know it...grumpy is an understatement! It started to come on yesterday afternoon as I was sitting in my car for 9 hours at my son's lacrosse tournament. It was too cold to be outside the car, so sat inside. I was frustrated because I wore shorts and not pants. The weather man said it was going to be 74 degrees! I was mad at him. Dumb weather guy, what does he know? When I got home I knew I shouldn't be around people, let alone those I love like my immediate family, so I took a Tylenol PM and headed to bed at a ridiculously early time - hoping to sleep off my crankiness.

I have to admit, I slept wonderfully for oh...11 hours. "After that long night's sleep, I ought to be the life of the party today!" I said to myself.

Yeah, didn't happen. I sucked the life out of the party, actually. Stealth-like, I slipped into church trying not to make eye contact with anyone...I wasn't in the mood for small talk. "Hey good morning deAnn!" someone poor unsuspecting soul would say. "Oh shut up!" would be my sorry remark and I surely didn't want that to happen.

We got home from church and I just needed to be A-L-O-N-E. Know what I mean? Yeah, so I went up stairs to my bedroom to lay down for a few free moments but my bed was the K-2 of laundry! Aaargh! My frustration grew beyond a healthy level. "No one better even knock on my door right now or I'll ..." was running through my sick mind. The floor looked good - so I laid down in the middle of my bedroom, as looked up at the bottom of the light fixture I asked "God, what is going on with me? I'm driving me nuts." I didn't get an answer from Him. I wanted a magic wand to make me happy so my family would like me again.

I fell asleep there on my bedroom floor until my husband came in (he was a bit concerned as to why I was there)and woke me up which really ticked me off! He told me it was time to visit his family and that we were to leave in a few minutes. "More people?! Are you kidding me? I don't want to see or talk to anyone or anything right now. If you suck oxygen, back off - leave me alone!" was what I was screaming at a deafening pitch in my soul. But I got up off the floor, put on my shoes and stumbled out the car.

One summer day several years ago my friend and I went to Ocean City, MD. Sadly I was in one of these moods. I was incredibly frustrated with the ocean and all the dumb noise it makes - it NEVER STOPS! Waves crashing in on the beach, one after another "come on already!" I remember thinking I was insane for thinking that...wondering what was going on with me! And here I am today, in the same mood and asking myself that same question again.

Humans are complex beings. Not just physical beings, but emotional and spiritual beings as well. If one of these are "off" - it throws the rest off. Physically I feel great today but emotionally I'm a raging beast. The spiritual side of me is praying to God that my emotions would mellow out before someone gets hurt.

Thankfully, my spiritual side shouted loud enough and I have now mellowed out a tad. Enough to write about it and even laugh at how ridiculous I was. Boy am I glad that God is patient with me in these times...and I'm glad my husband is too! The poor oxygen sucking man. Back off!

The Simplicity of A Child

After attending Elaine's memorial service on Tuesday this week, my 13 year old son and I had some amazingly deep conversations. One evening we got talking about God. Sometimes you never know what goes on in the complex minds of our kids... He said to me, "when I was little (haha! - that is my giggle) I used to think that my shadow was God. He went with me everywhere. Sometimes I'd stand and stare at my Shadow. I would move and He would move, at the same exact time! I'd even waive to my Shadow and it was like God was waving back to me."

I never knew my son thought of God, even when he was still "little."

He continued with his ideas of God. He told me another story..."then there was a time a while back, that I pictured God as a little Man who liked to sit on me. God would hang out on my shoulders, down my arms, on my head, on my feet, back and legs. He went with me everywhere and he kept me company. We'd talk a lot. It was nice - I felt protected because He was all over me."

I sat there on the bed listening to my son's young spiritual journey with God. He let me in to the depths of his tender heart. I was on holy ground at that very moment.

My son's next experience with God is my favorite..."It's silly, but I used to think my heart was the shape of a valentine heart. I know that it's not... I learned that in science class. But I thought my heart was shaped like a valentine and it had a little door with a welcome mat below it. One day, Jesus walked up to my door with His suitcase. He looked down at the welcome mat and decided to knock. I opened the door and He moved in. He brought His TV and furniture and stuff." What an amazing visual!! Jesus moved in and made Himself "at home" in my son's heart.

The evening was getting late and well past my son's bedtime, but he had one more story for me. This is how he experiences God today...as an early teen. "Now, God is like a close friend. We'll just hang out together and I will hear Him say, 'so, do you want to talk about anything?' and I'll talk. Then I'll listen to Him talk. It's really cool." Oh my, as I type this, tears of joy fill my eyes. I felt so honored to have heard his journey and how he's responded to the Holy Spirit in his young life. I just pray that my son always has a sensitive spirit to recognize God's voice and presence and will respond to Him in ways that bring glory to our Lord. It was awesome!

Listening to my son reminded me of the ways I thought about God as a child. My journey and my son's journey are much the same. My mind was always filled with thoughts and feelings about God - even though I was not brought up in God-aware home. Nonetheless, He was with me. He knocked on my heart's door and He moved in a long time ago.

How about you? What does your spiritual journey reflect? What was the first time you experienced God in your life? How can you approach Jesus in a simple child-like way?

"The people brought children to Jesus, hoping He might touch them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus was irate and let them know it: "Don't push these children away. Don't ever get between them and Me. These children are at the very center of life in the Kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's Kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in." Then, gathering the children up in His arms, He laid His hands of blessing on them." Mark 10:13-16, The Message

Ah, if we could always walk with a child-like faith...

grace & peace ~ deAnn

When Time Is Up

Last week was tough . April 8 was the one year anniversary of my (ex) sister-in-law's death. Raw emotions still healing in our hearts. Then, in the same family, my other (ex) sister-in-law passed away on Tuesday, April 8. The same date, just one year later. Very mysterious.

Wednesday, April 9, wasn't any better. My brother called from California and shared some sad news. His mom, after fighting cancer, lost the battle and passed away that morning. (My brother and I have different moms - he's actually my half-brother).

My heart is breaking for my three brothers and for my ex-family (how do you describe that?) which I am rather close too.

It's strange to think that one moment these people were living life right next to us and the next moment, we are left with a hollow shell that resembles them. Their time was up.

As I drove to work on Tuesday after hearing of the news about my (ex) sister-in-law, I thought, "Elaine is no longer on this earth, breathing oxygen and seeing the bright spring sun calling out the tulip blossoms." It was weird to think that... I remember her crunchy laugh, good sense of humor and caring heart. She no longer lives here with us. The world should be different now. But it's not. It's the same world as it was the day before she left it. But our world, the little sphere of life we call ours, will never be the same.

I think of her husband. They were married for thirty some-odd years. They did everything together: grocery shopping, paying bills, watching TV, yard work, walking their dog, folding laundry. The most mundane parts of daily life, they did together. Not so anymore. My heart is heavy for Mike. What will he do? His life is dramatically and unwillingly changed. The void is significant. It's just he and their dog now. And a heart full of loving memories that will sustain but not relieve the pain.

Loss sucks. We live in a beautiful but painfully broken world. We love then we loose. The more we love, the more pain in the loss. Should we just not love so the pain is less? I don't believe so. We should love more because the world is so broken...it needs love and lots of it.

Jesus, it's hard living on this earth. You know it! We long to love fully but we know the risk is great. May Mike feel Your loving presence and be comforted in the coming days. Let your peace flood his heart. Protect him from himself, against deep debilitating sadness. Cause him to reach out with need and for others to reach in, to his life, sacrificially. Teach us how to journey beside those who have suffered great loss. May Your unfailing love be seen through our actions, words and compassion. Amen.

The Mystery of Salt

Something is wrong with me. I have been seen perusing the magazine aisle at Giant...picking out all the cooking related publications. Who am I? What have I become?

One magazine really caught my attention "101 Tips for Cooking" ~ hey, I need all the tips I can get! What a great magazine! I'm learning so much...like the difference between chili powders (Pasilla, Ancho, New Mexico, Chipolte and Cayenne). This is good information for me to have because I own each of these and I'm not sure which one to use when!



However, the most intriguing tip, I have say, had to do with salt. Yes, I'm learning there is a big difference between salts and how to use them. For instance, reserve table salt for baking. Now I have two salt pigs (yeah, that's what the professional kitchen-people call the little containers you keep salt in) by my stove. One with Kosher salt and one with course Sea Salt. (shhh...I keep the fine Sea Salt in my cupboard. I don't have room for three salt pigs!)

Oh how I digress...Salt, it's a mysterious thing. It was a high commodity way back when. At one time Roman soldiers were paid, in part, with a ration of salt called solarium (from the Latin word "sal" which means salt.) If a soldiers performance was not up to par, it was said that he's "not worth his salt." Later, when salt was replaced with an actual money allowance to buy the salt, the allowance itself was called a solarium. Eventually, solarium came to mean the wages themselves, and this led to our calling one's pay a salary. You are now ready for Jeopardy.

My magazine says, "Salt has the uncanny ability to make food blossom into their full flavors but often it must be used at just the right time. Boil two quarts of water in two separate pots . Put two teaspoons of salt in one and none in the other. Bring both pots to a boil and place a couple ounces of spaghetti in each pot. Cook, drain pasta and taste. The pasta cooked without salt tastes dull and flat, not quite itself. No amount of salt added to a sauce or the pasta after cooking can compensate. Pasta cooked in salt water tastes not of salt, but of wheat coaxed into full flower by the mildly briney liquid. No one knows exactly how salt does this, how just a pinch boosts the flavor of almost anything from ripe sliced tomatoes to complex sauces and even sweets."

It was then that I had one of those "light bulb moments." In Matthew (5:13), Jesus says "you are the salt of the earth..." WE ARE SALT OF THE EARTH, PEOPLE! I never got that passage before now! Jesus tells me I am salt of the earth ~ in some mysterious way, as I interact with people, exposing them to the transforming love of Jesus, they then have the opportunity to blossom into their full flavor, or purpose. How incredible is that??? It's beautiful, and a bit scary - that is a quite a task.

As I look at my life and the interaction with friends and family, how can I be the salt in their lives? Jesus calls us to do this. So that we live in a flavorful world filled with His love. Awesome.

Live Into the Skin

You gave me bones,
You gave me blood,
You gave me skin,
You gave me spirit.
They should all work together
to be the me You created me to be.

Bones and spirit
encapsulated by skin.
My skin is what people see
with their eyes.
My spirit is what people see
with their heart.

My bones create the structure
that my spirit lingers in.
My bones give structure
for my skin to rest upon.

What is seen with the eye
is not the true me.
Not the complete me.
I am so much more than just my skin.

Help me Jesus to live
fully into my skin.
To be the me
You created me to be.

I feel I'm on the verge
of something big,
something of You.

Abolish my fears.
Murder my doubts.
Transform my hesitation
into confident action.

I desire to live fully into my skin.
And as I do - people will see You.

In the Dentist Chair

I was at the dentist last Wednesday getting my 6 month check up. The dental hygienist is really sweet and like most hygienist - she is quite chatty. (Why is that?) I love it, they ask you questions that need a response while your mouth is wide open with sharp utensils scraping near delicate gum tissue. I just hold my head still and answer her with facial expressions and eye gestures.

Not sure how we (she) got on the subject but the topic of certain religions that don't believe in medical care sprouted up. Listening to her rant and rave about the stupidity of such a thing, I laid reclined staring into the retina piercing spot light that was shining into my face. I suddenly recalled a memory that has been laying dormant in my mind for 30 years...

My mom married a man named Allen when I was quite young. He had been married previously and had three little boys. He was in the process of gaining custody from his ex-wife. As a little girl, I thought this was weird...kids living with daddy? I thought kids were only to live with mommy then visit daddy on weekends. Being a very curious eight year old, I probed for more information about this situation. I found out that Allen & his wife had been involved in a strick (cult-ish) religious group. Not sure, but I think he wanted out of it because it had gotten a little too weird for him. He divorced his wife and fought for custody of their three boys.

Jesse came to live with us first. Yay, a little brother! He was just a toddler and cute as could be. He was the youngest of the three. Then after some time, Matthew came to live with us - he was maybe kindergarten age. A little later, Jacob moved in - he was early elementary. I was the oldest by far - and my little sister, Kristin, was second oldest of us five kids.

On a rainy weekend day, all seven of us piled into Allen's big orange Dodge van and headed north. Again, being curious, I had to know where we were going. But that information was not divulged. What seemed like hours later, we pulled into the drive way of a strange gathering of buildings. We were in the mountains, away from any city. Being the oldest and with the most comprehension, I was told that we were there to visit Allen's dying mother. He never mentioned his mom before. "Why is she dying?" I asked. "She has cancer, honey. She doesn't have much longer to live." I wasn't sure how to act, I've never been around a dying person before,and I didn’t even know this person.

I remember walking into her room, not sure what to expect. Allen introduced me to his mother. She was very nice and spoke softly, like it hurt her to speak. The air was filled with a stench that I will never forget. I asked my mom about it and another person in the room responded that it's the smell of death. My new "step grama" was literally dying right there before my eyes. The cancer was eating her body and she was in her final days. This is why we made the trek, so Allen could say good-bye.

On the drive home my never still mind wondered about this lady who was lying in a bed at her house. My sister and brothers were resting and quiet so I crawled up to the front seats and wedged myself inbetween Allen and my mom. I asked why she wasn't in the hospital, getting better. Allen explained to me that his mom was also part of this religious group and they didn’t believe in medical care. He said that they believed that if God wanted to heal her, He would. If not, oh well. No doctors allowed. I didn't understand this. What kind of God is that, I wondered.

For days my mind raced vividly with thoughts of a God who would tell His "believers" not to seek medical care for the sick. This did not sit well with me. Even though I had no prior religious background in my short life, I knew this wasn't right. And who are these people that believe this stuff. A strange lady I met only once had made such an impression on me, and she was "one of them."

A week later, we went back up to the mountains to visit Allen's mom again, but this time - she had no life. My first funeral...and open casket. I had never seen a dead body before. My mom said I didn't have to go up to the casket if I didn't want to. My other siblings were not allowed. My curiosity and unexplainable compassion lead me to the long wooden box. I wanted to see this lady, the one who died because "her God said no." The closer I got, the more my heart pounded. Finally, I was standing right next to the box. Stretching up on my tippy toes, I slowly peered over the edge and there she was. But that didn't look like her. I was astounded by the difference one looks like with life inside and one with no life inside. Wow. Something huge happened here!!!

My little mind began to ponder deep thoughts for an eight year old girl. Big thoughts about mortality, God, beliefs, and how people differ in their views. Who do I believe God to be? How could I find out who He is? However, my heart sensed that God is a loving person, one that would want His people to be healthy even if that meant seeking medical care. So, is there more than one God? The God of my step grama and the God I sensed speaking into my young soul, even then... Through this experience, odd as it was, God was wooing me to Him through that short encounter with my dying cult-religious step grama and the curiosity He planted in me before the beginning of time. It was at this time that I began serious dialog with God: I talked - He listened. I can't tell for sure, but I think that was the beginning of my spiritual journey...

It's funny how a simple thing like listening to my dental hygienist vent about something she thought was absurd can crack open a long buried memory asleep in the neurons of my mind.

Nothing.

I haven't posted anything to my blog in over one month. What's up with that? And then tonight, I actually have time (my oldest son is on the phone with his girlfriend, my younger son is playing a racing game on XBOX and my husband is still at work) and here I sit - in front of my screen wondering what the heck to write about. It seems that I should write something of deep meaning or extreme interest or a revelation I've had about God, myself, someone else - anything. But here I am, staring at the little toolbar on the bottom of my screen. You know what I'm talking about...on the far right is the clock, then a little envelope signaling that an email has entered my Outlook inbox. I see an icon I've not noticed before, I don't know what it means or where it came from. I must investigate.

I feel as though I'm living a Seinfeld episode - the show about nothing. Maybe I'm tired. Maybe I'm uninspired. Is it possible to loose the creative juice? "Use it or loose it." I wonder if that applies to me right now. Writing is much like going to the gym. Once you go, you feel awesome! But it's the getting there that is painful. You make every excuse not to go and before you know it, you're out of shape and have gained a few pounds. Yup, that's me.

Now I totally understand the importance of writing on a regular basis. Writing alone keeps you sharp, interesting, it allows the creative juices to keep flowing - although, sometimes it's only a trickle. I'm out of shape. I'm out of routine. I need to live by the Nike ad - "just do it." I need to take my own advise, practice what I preach! Maybe I need the accountability of a gym partner?

Ah, I don't know... I just need to buck up and WRITE. Even this incessant rambling, made up of pixels and other technological things that I don't understand, is beginning the journey back to finding my hidden voice.

Do you ever get to this place? Wondering where your voice is...wondering if it's changed, or if it's changing. I guess it's all part of the creative journey, and I'm just on an unfamilar part of the path...but it's all good...