"On Sparring With a Squirrel"

He makes his appearance known every morning, blithely scampering across the top of the fence as though he were a high-wire walker, this little rodent I have been at war with for the past several weeks.  Well, “war” is probably too strong of a word.  More like a tug-of-war as he and I spar with one another.  While I generally don’t class squirrels as rodents, I do believe they are in the same family. 

Let me preface this by saying I am not an animal person.  A people person, yes, but not animals.  I don’t have anything against them, they just haven’t been my “cup of tea.”

The war started when I began a sweeping clean-up of my back yard. 

One of the projects included dealing with a bird feeder which had not been in use for quite sometime.  Unbeknownst to me, wasps had taken up residence inside, building a nest.  Of course I did not realize this until I aggressively turned it upside down, and they made themselves evident.  Anxious to get my feeder back in working order so I could welcome birds into my back yard, I waited until dark, stuffed the openings and sprayed wasp spray into the main body. 

Nursing a bee sting on my hand, what seemed like a pretty straight-forward task had already become complicated.

Feeder all prepped and filled with feed, I decided to move it to a location more readily visible from my kitchen window, taking into account the local squirrel’s habit of helping himself to the feed as well.  I sat back awaiting the influx of birds.  At the end of my workday I was thrilled to discover evidence that the feeder was working as bird seed was scattered upon the ground.

And so it continued for several days UNTIL I happened to be looking out the window when the resident squirrel made his appearance.  These little guys are quite the acrobats and could certainly qualify for an Olympics’ standing broad jump.  Leaping a span of several feet from the fence to the feeder, he had helped himself, without so much as leaving a thank you note.  It was he who had scattered the seed, not any visiting birds.

And so the tug-of-war began.  Intent upon feeding birds, not squirrels, I moved the feeder to another location, not taking into account his ability to scale vertical posts and access the feeder with no effort.  He had arrived upon a gold mine—food, readily available, and he took advantage of it immediately.

Once again the feeder was relocated to a space farther away from the fence, and this is when said varmint/rodent/squirrel earned my respect.

I watched as he made his usual morning arrival, fully expecting to have a meal fit for a king, breakfast on a platter.  Stopping, he sat on his haunches, and I could almost hear him thinking, the wheels grinding inside his head.  For the longest time, he perched atop the fence, calculating whether or not he was going to be able to reach the feeder by jumping.  His human counterparts would have jumped first and fallen “splat” upon the ground before realizing what had worked prior wasn’t going to work this time around.

This was not just instinct, but intelligence.  I saw it in his eyes.  He turned away, off to consider another plan, another approach.

There are some who are of the belief that all of the world as we know it evolved, that it began as a force, developing and changing to what we see and know today.  I am not one of those.  It is my belief that the world and everything in it, all that we see and know and all that we don't see and don't know, was created by God.   As a gardener, I see what happens around me.  As they say, “Compost happens.”  There is always a breakdown of matter, and it returns back to where it came from; it doesn't become something different.

That little squirrel was created with intelligence to live and to survive in his world, as are we all.  Intelligence is but one aspect of being a created being, personality and individuality yet others.  One only need look around at the state of our world and mankind to realize there is no evolving taking place.

If such care and thought was given to the creation of a small being, how much more so to us as the human race, created in the image of God?  In mankind’s effort and desire to control all things, including his destiny, he has forgotten where he has come from and the source of it all.  When the most important piece is not factored in, humanity is setting itself up, a recipe for disaster. 

I do wonder what it is going to take before the world wakes up to the truth. 

The little squirrel comes back every morning, checking to see if things have changed.  I think I’ll probably be buying some food for him.

 

        

"On Being a Zealot and the G** Word"

zealot:  n., one who is zealous, full of zeal for his own specific beliefs or objectives, usually in the negative sense of being too passionate, a fanatic

There are several words in our language which most aren’t comfortable either saying or hearing.  And so a shortcut version of the word is repeated, stating the first letter followed by “word.”  When written, asterisks fill in the blanks, and we hear the derogatory language in our minds upon reading. 

Words of profanity, those blatantly racist and demeaning in nature, they are truly offensive and are commonly held as being so.

There is another, however, which is deemed an insult by many, the G** word.

I have begun thinking of myself in terms of a zealot, a description I have, until recently, avoided like the plague, probably because of the negative connotations of being viewed as being fanatical. 

When I began writing, I was careful to not use the G** word, so that readers would not be offended or alienated.  And so I used terms such as “Creator, Heavenly Father, the One who made us,” alluding to and referencing Him, but not actually spelling out the G** word. 

Why is there such a reticence amongst those of faith to speak openly?  In the privacy of the church sanctuary, hymns are sung, praise is given, but outside those doors a great reserve takes place as His name is not even spoken.  “The Lord, Jesus, Christ,” but the G** word—not so much.

The public at large is comfortable speaking of Christianity, Christ, and “What would Jesus do?” while lumping a large group of people together.  It is easier dealing with an ideology than dealing with the person of G**.  There are others whose intent is to wipe the name of G** from all things public, whether it is money or the American pledge, as though they can eliminate Him by doing so.  How ludicrous is that?

G** has been given many names by those who want to keep Him at a distance, a general concept, nothing up-close-and-personal.  He is called “Mother Nature, karma, luck--good or bad, the guy in the sky”—the list goes on.  Just don’t say the G** word. 

Isn’t it ironic that such an effort is made to ignore and deny the very One who made all things, including each one of us, as though in doing so He will disappear, go away?  In fact, He is the One who holds all things together. 

And so, zealot that I am, I declare and announce that G** IS.  He will not be ignored; His existence will not be denied; He will be reckoned with. Oh, yes, and He shall be called God.

                 

    

"Today's Sunday Sermon"

Sitting around the table with friends recently, the question was posed to me:  “If you did not believe in God, in life after death, in heaven or hell, would you live your life any differently than you do now?”

Food for thought, the question sent me into the recesses of my mind.  Initially, I found it difficult to answer, as I know what I know, live as I live, with the presence of God an absolute in my daily life.  It is impossible to separate Him out, to remove Him in considering that hypothetical situation.  The truth is that I could not live without that belief, that knowledge, without Him.  How does one remove the DNA from one’s being?  He permeates me and my life that thoroughly and that completely.

Good, not evil.  There are many who live their lives in a decent, honorable manner with no intent to bring harm to others.  Good people, with  no consideration for a faith and belief in God.  That they differ from me in that respect is not cause for judgment. I am simply unable to think or live that way.  It is as unfamiliar and impossible to reckon as if I were to speculate life in the jungles of South America.  

"There are two sides to every story."  Hearing and knowing both sides of a position or incident is common in my life, so it was a given that I would present a counter to that question.  I asked:  “If you knew—and I mean KNEW—that you had been created for the purpose of having a friendship and relationship with the One who created you, and the life you live is a result of that relationship; that ALL things are spiritual; that at the end of this physical life you come face to face with Him; that death is only an end to one dimension and the beginning of the next one; that you are created an eternal being and physical life is the short-term, not the long-term---would you live your life any differently?”  

This I know to be so:  Life is SO much larger than what we see and know with our physical eyes.    

Food for thought.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end."

 

   

"On Time and the Giving of It"

time:  n.  the inevitable progression into the future with the passing of present events into the past.

Time is one of those universal commodities given to every man, woman, and child living on the face of this earth.  Each of us is given 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour, 60 seconds in a minute.  No more; no less.  We are treated equally.

Time has a different "feel" at different stages of life.  A child has all the time in the world, whereas his/her parents can’t find enough time to get everything done and meet the demands of the family’s rigorous schedule.  Those of us who are 70-somethings find ourselves dealing with the reality of it passing quickly.  Many of the elderly live a paradox where they have nothing but time on their hands as they live their days in solitude and loneliness, and yet they have very little of it left on this earth.

Whether consciously or unconsciously, we as humans categorize and prioritize our time.  There is work and family time; time for leisure, events and activities; vacation time, and--God forbid if it is interrupted—sleep.  But often the most important of all is never factored in, and that is people time. 

When I give my time to another, I am giving of myself, sharing me. No one else is able to do that but me.  Gifts can be purchased and delivered, but the gift of time has no price tag.  While there is a time and place for volunteer work, that is not what I am speaking of here.

“I’m busy now.  I don’t have time.”  How often is that said to family members?  Consider the message in those words and how it feels to be told that, to hear it.  That same message, though unspoken, is delivered as we plow through our daily lives, making certain no interaction takes place with people we don’t know.  After all, we have things to do, people to see, places to go. Strangers are people we’ll never see again, so it doesn’t really matter.  Or does it?

We have known each other for decades and have had a friendship for the past several years.  Neither of us has a sister, and sister/friend describes our relationship well. 

I had gone to visit her, and we stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things.  While waiting in the line to check out she quietly commented, “Just a minute.  This lady needs some help.”  She had seen what I hadn’t.  An elderly lady, no larger than a minute, was struggling with bagging her groceries.  She had an over-sized container of detergent, and it was far too heavy and bulky for her to handle.  My friend stepped in and placed the items in sacks, telling her that she would help get them into her car.  “This is the last time I’m going to do this,” the older woman commented, telling of being in the process of moving into a facility where meals would be provided. 

We checked out and headed out to her car, loading the items in the back.  She talked the whole time, telling of moving from Rhode Island and the move currently taking place.  Grateful and thrilled, she was the recipient of the gift of time.

This is how my friend lives.  She gives of herself, giving time where and when it is needed. Second nature to her, it is done quietly, in a way that never draws attention.  

Her elderly father had been ill for several years and was in the final stages of life.  Without being asked, she went to her childhood home and stayed until he passed, helping out, assisting as needs arose.  That is just the kind of person she is. 

My friend and I spoke recently of being available when called upon.  Her comment is one which has stuck with me—“You just have to make time. Loving the broken is loving Him.”

The gift of time is a gift indeed.  It is often not noticed, therefore not acknowledged, as there are no bells and whistles or balloons connected to it.  Instead, it is simply being present, lending an ear, companionship, and action if needed.

Each one of us is given time.  We’ve all heard the charge to use our time wisely or make the most of it, but that charge is usually connected to an activity or a goal.  That would be my charge as well, but consider giving time as a gift, giving and sharing oneself.  The world would be a better place.

The King will reply, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

  

"On Being Open to God......or Not"

“You know,” she announced assertively, “it’s all about being open.”  Standing in her kitchen, preparing dinner, she went on. “If you want to live your life with God, you just have to be open to Him.” 

This is the mother of the little pit bull, and she has always been one who “tells it like it is.”  And, like her daughter, she has a heart the size of the universe.  When you look at my grandgirl you see her Momma.

While cleaning a house yesterday, my thoughts were on her statement.  And this is where I landed.

Given the tenor of the times all over the world, it is my suspicion there are many who are sick and tired of having God forced down their throats, who feel His very name is offensive, and want nothing to do with Him and vice versa.

It is my hope that some clarity and light might be brought to those on both sides of the aisle—to those who are doing the forcing and to those who are on the receiving end.

There is a tendency for those to whom their religion is important to want to share, to evangelize, to try to “save the world.”  And thus there is a flood of words blanketing the land, much of it rude, obnoxious, and overbearing—in the name of God and much of it one man's version of God.  This is the antithesis of God; this is not God.  He asks that people live their lives in a manner which draws others, not dissimilar to a moth being drawn to a flame, and to be ready to answer if questioned.  Force-feeding is not His style.

For those who do not want Him and want nothing to do with Him, I can categorically and emphatically state that God will never force Himself upon you.  He does desire a relationship with you, a friendship, but this is where your free will enters in.  He approaches you in that quiet place within, but if you say “No, thank you,” He will never push in.  He has far too much class and is too much of a gentleman to go where He isn’t wanted or invited.

The caveat, however, is that we do live with the choice made.  When the mountains begin to fall, when, at the end of this mortal life, things aren’t as you expected, planned, or hoped they would be—you will be left with that “free will” choice.  There is no re-do. 

Stand.  He asks that each of us stand, simply stand in the decision we have made.  Stand and live in it--and eventually, die in it. 

For those who want nothing to do with God, take comfort in the fact that He gives that freedom and that right.  He'll have nothing to do with you then.  For those who do want Him, all you have to do is be open, and He will share Himself with you as you live your life.

And for those who insist upon forcing your version of God upon others--stop.  He is very capable on His own.

God is love, and He loves me enough to let me choose.