A Bunny, a Piano, and a Miracle

To say we started off on the wrong foot--the bunny and I--is a gross understatement. It was a year ago, more-or-less, that I first met her. And I didn't even find out "it" was a she until several months later--not that it would have made any difference. I did not like her from the get-go.

It wasn't a formal introduction. Bunny quietly appeared one late afternoon in my side garden, hopping merrily along as though she belonged. I had never seen her before and had no idea where home was for the little white creature with black ears. I thought she had strayed and fully expected she would return to wherever she came from. After all, cats do that, don't they?

New neighbors moved into the house next door about the same time the long-eared mammal appeared. I'm not the sharpest pencil in the box a lot of the time, but I did deduce (after a period of time) that bunny must be a family pet.

Time passed and war began. It wasn't between international nations or as injurious and widespread as that. I was the one openly at war--with the bunny. And her owners.   

From the beginning, my communication with them has consisted of sending an electronic message along with a picture of said bunny munching away in my back yard garden. The message was never very kind or pleasant. 

Initially I told them she and my strawberries would not be able to co-exist; they needed to contain her. I informed them rabbits should be housed in a cage well off the ground, as they are able to either chew or dig their way out. The owners tried other methods, and...they don't work. This past week bunny has, once again, ventured through the fence and settled in. My garden is heaven on earth for a bunny.

A friend loaned me a live bait trap, and I was able to snare her several times. However, the situation is similar to "bail reform" in some large cities where those who commit crimes are arrested, not charged, and walk out the same door they came in. It's the "revolving door syndrome," and it applies to small creatures as well.

Anger and frustration over the roving rabbit was readily directed at its owners. My war stance conflicted with the scripture "Love thy neighbor as thyself." Surely that doesn't apply to neighbors who own an obnoxious animal they are unable to keep caged. I conveniently boxed them up and put them on a shelf with a large label, that of "bad neighbors."

I did not want to associate with "those people next door" or even acknowledge their presence. A friendship and relationship was not a consideration. I wasn't outwardly unkind. I just avoided them and thought terrible, awful thoughts about them. After all, it is their responsibility to keep their pet fenced in. It is not my responsibility to have to protect my precious garden from it!

Sigh. 

Several days ago I heard the sound of a fledgling pianist, practicing. I sent a message: "Do I hear a piano next door?" Given my recent track record of complaints, I suspected Winnie, the recipient of my displeasure, might be on guard. "Yes," she responded. I went on to explain the reason I was asking is because I play the piano too. I was told the family has twin 10-year-old girls. One is taking piano lessons, the other violin lessons.

The proud mother shared a video of Yoyo playing the piano for an online concert. And this is where a miracle happened. I told her after the holidays I would like for Yoyo to come play my piano and Zoey to play the violin for me. She was thrilled over the invitation.

The recalcitrant little bunny will probably continue her ways. She will likely persist in wandering away from home. I'll have to figure out how to live with her.

The miracle is that my heart and my mind has changed. People matter. I espouse that often. I also espouse putting my money where my mouth is. I have done neither of those two things. I have been guilty of thinking only of myself and of not practicing what I preach. 

We cannot change ourselves. But we can be changed. And for me, a bunny and a piano had the lead roles in bringing that about.

 

 

 

The Earth is NOT the Center of the Universe

 

It was a wonderful day for thought. The weather was glorious. January in my part of the world, the Willamette Valley floor in Oregon, is typically gray and grim, cold and dank. This particular January, however, brought with it burgeoning evidence of spring. My quince shrub was blooming and brave daffodils were showing their faces; camellia bushes were awash with color and rhododendron everywhere were ready to explode into swaths of beauty. A record was even set the previous week for warmth on a particular day in January, having reached 68 degrees.

 My thoughts meandered while I worked in the sun, reveling in the bright blue sky with its fluffy, puffy, white clouds.

One of my first gardening clients in the area had passed away quickly and unexpectedly. Her response when given her harsh death sentence was “Wonderful!”  She knew the end of this life was a step into the next one.

The task at hand was to clean up her garden. In times past I could feel her presence, fully expecting her to wander out the front door with her smile and warm greeting. This time was different—I knew she was off to other, more important things and that the stash of oak leaves which had buried her plants was of no concern to her.

I spotted the property line marker as soon as I began. If she were still alive, I thought, she would be thrilled and relieved to see the bright orange indicator. Not knowing where the line was had brought her a great deal of anguish. And yet it matters not a whit to her where she is now.

My thoughts continued to wander as I remembered watching a video of a man who had dropped dead and yet fully recovered. A soft-spoken gentleman, he spoke of what he experienced, his conversation with God, the things he saw, and life upon returning back to his body.

Fortunate is the man or woman who knows that this earth and life on this earth is not the beginning and end of all things. Fortunate is the one who knows the things of this life are not transferable into the next one. No 401k will ever be rolled over into eternity. Neither will any contributions to charities or causes. Nothing of this world is applicable in the next—financial portfolios with investments and real estate; bank statements; listings with “Who’s Who;” political, religious, scientific, financial, or educational credentials; awards in any given industry, by any group of people. Fortunate are those who know this. This is truth.

Our physical lives are what we know, what we deal with on a daily basis. In this electronic age we can readily know what is going on around the world. Even at that, this earth and life on this earth is not the center of the universe.

And so my mind roamed. I do not know where God dwells. However, as I cleaned up the oak leaves in Dorothy’s garden, I decided that the center of the universe is wherever that is, and that is where I want to be.

As I sit looking out the window, fog has enveloped the scenery. I have wrapped myself in a blanket to ward off the chill. When I lived on the coast, there was a term for the weather we’ve had the past few days. They call it a “false spring.” When I finally head off to work I’ll put on an extra layer of clothing. And the thoughts will continue.

 

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy,

and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.

For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Matthew 6: 19, 20

My Body. My Choice.

 choice: n. An option; a decision; an opportunity to choose or select something.

Am I turning into one of those old ladies who spouts her opinion because she can? was my thought. You know the type. No one asks what they think or feel, but they voice it anyway.

It had been a while since I weeded a gravel path, but there I was--on my hands and knees. The forest fire smoke that blanketed the area earlier in the day was being swept off by a breeze. The thermometer was cooperating, so I wasn't getting overheated. It was a good time to think.

I am not one prone to confrontation or conflict. If anything, I may tend to be too passive--or perhaps, I used to be. Much of my writing has been on the "safe" side. Do I really want to write about this? I asked myself. 

Yes. Good, bad. Right or wrong. I have something to say. And I'm going to say it.

A war cry is being shouted across the land by pro-abortionists: "My body. My choice."

Since the beginning of creation, procreation has taken place on planet Earth between a male and a female. A sperm cell from the father fuses with an egg cell from the mother, and conception takes place, the start of pregnancy. This is the beginning of a new life, a God-given life. 

Within 24 hours after fertilization, the egg that will become a baby rapidly divides into many cells. God designed the female body to provide a cocoon for that new life until he/she is able to survive in the world as we know it. 

There are those who try to argue the fertilized, developing embryo is "just a blob of cells," and is, therefore, expendable. I would remind those who take that stand that every person on the face of the earth was once in that state, including them. 

Some feel abortion is necessary if there is an indication the baby won't be "perfect." That thinking includes those with Down's Syndrome. My cousin was one of those "imperfect" people. Bonita had more kindness and love in her heart than most people have in their pinky, including those who would have advocated she be aborted.

Many who are pro-abortion feel they have a right to do whatever they want when it comes to pregnancy-- unwanted, inconvenient, or otherwise. 

What is an abortion? It is "the expulsion from the womb of a fetus or embryo before it is fully developed." What is pregnancy? It is "the progression of stages from conception to birth."

The basis for an abortion is the presence of life. Abortion is the termination of life.

Yes. It is your body. Yes. It is your choice. But understand that the choice you are making isn't about whether you want curly fries or tater tots. It is a life or death choice, and that decision doesn't affect only you. It affects an innocent, one without voice who is given no choice over his/her destiny.

 

  

 

 

 

 

On Being Homogenized

homogenous: adj. Of the same kind; alike, similar. Having the same composition throughout; of uniform make-up

We are living out a paradox. Our nation, the United States of America, is divided. Yet there is a push to eliminate voices which are contrary to a prescribed and predetermined thought pattern. (Isn't that called censorship?) In other words, those in power are demanding our nation's citizens become homogenized. Dissenters are labeled phobic, racist, terrorist, or the next popular catch phrase that will become a trend-setter..

Conforming, becoming homogenous, is the antithesis of being recognized as individual creations. It is our God-given right to be our own person--which includes having personal thoughts, opinions, and perspectives. NO ONE has the license to discount them because they either don't like them or disagree. Neither do they have the authority to label, silence, nor require I become part of the mix and become "homogenized."

I am the daughter of a farmer who raised milk cows. I know that raw milk separates, and the cream rises to the top. Homogenized milk is milk which undergoes high pressure, dispersing the fat so there is no identifiable separation. 

Those of us who are refusing to conform are under an enormous amount of pressure. I say "Leave that process for milk. I am my own person."

Be true to yourself--before God--and watch the cream rise. That's where the quality is, the high-dollar stuff. Ask any dairyman who gets paid by the amount of butterfat in the milk his cows produce.

It's in the separation, not the homogenization.

 

                       Come out from among them, and be separate, says the Lord.

                 ,,,I will be a Father to you, and you shall be My sons and daughters,

                                           says the Lord Almighty. 

                                    2 Corinthians 6: 17, 18 NRSVUE

 

 

On Censorship

censorship: n. The use of state or group power to control freedom of expression or press, such as passing laws to prevent media from being published or propagated. 

It is happening. We aren't looking across the seas to foreign nations ruled by dictators. It is taking place every day at our front door, right in our laps as we scroll through our phones and tablets. Censorship is a part of the landscape of the United States of America. 

In the same way oppressive, strangling weeds poke their heads out of the dirt as non-threatening specks of green, the muzzling and shutting down of speech was apparent when fact checkers began to rule the pages of social media. Who was able to argue with these innocuous folk who made certain policy was kept in check? No argument was allowed as disagreement was quickly corralled.

I knew things were getting downright serious when the voice of our sitting President was cut off by the "powers that be." In the same way hired goons are used to do the dirty work of organized crime, Facebook, Twitter, Google, Amazon, and others are using their power to control speech. "It’s OK! It's not the government." The fact that these entities of private companies and state are joined at the hip like Siamese twins is overlooked and ignored. Evil is insidious like that. 

The growth and power of censorship is evident on a daily basis. Those in control mete out judgments of misinformation" and "disinformation" as free speech is forbidden on these platforms. True discernment, however, is the missing element as truth vs. lie is viewed through the flawed lens of humankind--and a spiritual enemy who is the great liar. Post or say something they do not approve of and it will be removed. Your...my voice will be silenced. And it is.

I used to be frightened by the prospect of this happening...used to be.

As evil is exposed in all its glory, I am not powerless. The fools of the worlds have not reckoned with the reality that no man can silence my voice as I cry out to God. Those cries do not go unheard nor are they ignored. He hears and He answers.

They aren't going to know what hit them.

The Lord hath heard my supplication;

the Lord will receive my prayer.

Psalm 6:9Jud

On Unbelief

unbelief: n. an absence of belief.

belief: n. Mental acceptance of a claim as true. Faith or trust in the reality of something; often based upon one’s own reasoning, trust in a claim, desire of actuality, and/or evidence considered.

 

I wonder if he knows I’m the one who feeds him.

I heard him before I saw him. I’ve learned to recognize the click-clicking sound of my resident hummingbird. He frequents a feeder filled with sugar water hanging on my back patio. Many hummers feed while poised midair, beating their wings. This little guy plants himself on the perch of the feeder and guzzles away—often for long periods at a time.

Today, while I dug in the soil, seeking renewal of my mind and spirit, he sat atop the highest branch of the nearby lilac bush like a sentinel. Typically, hummingbirds appear to be in nonstop flight mode, vaguely resembling miniature bombers as they flap their wings up to four thousand times a minute. Not so this little guy. He knows how to have his “down” time.

I head for the outdoors and fresh air when claustrophobia sets in. Winter has just officially started but weeds have already begun to take over any bare soil with bright green vegetation. Several industrial-sized garbage bags filled with leaves waited to be spread on my garden. It was late in the day and quite cool. I dressed in warm clothes, responding to my garden’s beckoning.

I call it “hands-and-knees” kind of thinking. The mindless work frees up the mind for thought. The moist soil allowed the weeds to come out easily. I cleared an area to stack with leaves that would compost, enriching the soil.

 Periodically I glanced up and noted my feathered friend hadn't moved from his observation. Occasionally he dashed away to some very important appointment but quickly returned to his station. When I’m in this pensive frame of mind, I don’t keep track of time. It was just God and me—and the hummingbird made three.

My heart has felt like a weight recently. I have been unable to find relief and peace in these troubling times. Writing has become a part of who I am but the only thing I’ve been able to write about is worry and inner turmoil as I seek the “peace that passes all understanding.”

The hummingbird's presence was a reminder: "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"  Matthew 6:26 NIV I cannot deny the love and care God has given me throughout my life. He is worthy of more than I am giving Him.

As darkness approached, I gathered my tools. "Help my unbelief " my heart cried as I went inside to the welcoming warmth. The hummer flew off to settle down for the night as well.

Christ’s ministry on earth lasted three years. It began when He was ordained by the Holy Spirit at the time of His baptism by John. It ended with His crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension into heaven. 

During this time He called twelve to walk with Him. These ordinary men left their lives and families to follow Him, to be taught, to be part of an extraordinary event taking place before their eyes.

 Three of the disciples--Peter, James, and John--went with Christ to a mountaintop. There, God Himself verified that Christ was His beloved son. Jesus visibly changed into His heavenly form before the disciples’ eyes. He instructed them, however, to tell no one what they had witnessed.

A crowd formed below and waited while the four were on the mountain. It included a father who brought his demon-possessed son to be healed. I can only imagine the disappointment and heartache he experienced—going from the highest hope to the lowest low--when none of the disciples there were able to free the young man. In that emotional devastation, he was undoubtedly overwhelmed with doubt..

When Jesus came down, the father told Him that an evil spirit caused him to be deaf and mute, brought seizures, and tried to destroy him by casting him into fire or water. The father begged Jesus for help. “Everything is possible for one who believes,” Jesus responded.

With tears rolling down his face, the dad cried out, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief”  With that Jesus rebuked the foul spirit, ordering him to come out of the child and never enter him again.

Later, the disciples privately asked why they were unable to cast the demon out. “This kind can only come out by prayer,” Jesus answered.

The world is in an upheaval. I am living in a divided nation--brother against brother, one way of governing in direct opposition to another. A global pandemic threatens lives while altering our freedoms. Riotous destruction without consequence is rampant in many cities as pervasive lawlessness reigns. And it has transpired in what feels like the blink of an eye.

I have been living like a yo-yo recently. I’m up. Then I'm down. I am a person of faith, and I know in my heart that nothing happens that is separate from God, including right here, right now. I can relate to that father and his dichotomy--the appearance of a contradiction of faith.

How can I believe and still have unbelief?

Doubt is the leavening of unbelief. It may come in a torrential flood or silently move in like a stifling fog. The underlying goal of doubt never varies. That goal is to challenge the validity and strength of one’s faith. Care must be taken to keep doubt outside the door instead of allowing it to walk in and take up residence.  

Living life with God is a process. There is nothing magical about it. Much of it is digging deep, grinding out the nitty gritty of things. Unbelief falls in that category. It cannot be willed away by the power of one’s mind and needs to be dealt with--by God and in His presence.

“I do believe. Help my unbelief.”

I am at His mercy.

By the way, I read that hummingbirds do recognize people. Although they are territorial, I believe my resident hummer knows I am the one who feeds him. He has been given to me by God and offered support as I cleaned up two very different types of gardens--my outer and my inner. 

I am blessed.