"Words to Live By"

absolute: n. That which is independent of context-dependent interpretation, inviolate, fundamental. adj. Certain, not to be doubted.

precept: n. A rule for action or behavior, esp. one based on moral consideration.

Each and every day the ocean’s tides rise and fall.

Each and every day planet Earth rotates on its axis. In a journey of approximately 365 days, it circles the Sun, the center of our solar system, a system filled with it and countless other planets, moons, comets, and celestial objects.

Each and every day mankind lives with weather. It is all around us, all the time. An important part of our lives, we have no control over it. Instead, it often controls and influences how and where we live, our activities, the clothing we wear, and our emotional and physical well-being as well.

Each and every day physical life begins. Conception takes place when an egg and sperm meet, and a cocoon is provided for development and growth within the womb of the mother. Several months later, when life can survive independently, birth takes place when an infant enters this world.     

Each and every day physical life ends. It may be due to age, tragedy, or a malady, but when the essence of a person leaves the body, death occurs.

Absolutes, they are also basic facts of science. Science, however, is only an observer, a discoverer, not the originator or creator. Whether launching a space shuttle, constructing an underwater tunnel, investigating wildlife in a jungle, or planning and initiating a plethora of projects ad infinitum, science cannot ignore these and multiple other absolutes. It is governed and controlled by nonvariables and must operate within those bounds and limitations.  

Often portrayed as opposing and challenging God, science places the burden of proof upon Him to prove His very existence. Even if one does not believe in God as Creator, however, he/she is still living life with Him, and that includes the realm of science as well. Science may reject the Creator, but it cannot ignore the absolute exactness and precision of all that is created, of all that is.   

 

God is absolute. In the same way facts of science cannot be ignored, there are basic facts about Him and His personality that cannot be overlooked when developing a relationship with Him, when living life with Him. 

In my quest and search to find meaning for my life, these words were given to me: “That you might know me, the one and only true living God.”

He is the foundation. Block by block, he has built atop that foundation. While no longer living under Old Testament law, there are basic truths about God and His nature, given so I might live a rich, fulfilled life in sync with Him.

God is love. All that He is and all that He does comes from that base. Certain principles apply, and they are absolute as he is absolute; they will never change as He will never change.

            #1: ALL things are spiritual; things are not as they seem to be.

The base of all in this life, this world, this galaxy, this universe is spiritual not physical.  God is a spiritual being, and we are a part of His world. The need, then, is to have spiritual vision in order to see things as they really are. Viewing life any other way is the same as looking at a black and white photograph of a sunset. The basic form, the skeleton as it were, is evident, but none of the color or beauty is visible. One can look at it yet not really see it.

Wisdom, foresight, intelligence, and thought goes into the mundane experiences of our everyday lives. Multi-faceted and dimensional, they are the basis of discipline, a lesson, a crossroads—all part of the whole of life designed by the One who made us.

#2:  First things first—the inner first, then the outer. The outer, without the inner, is worthless.

The inner of a person is one’s spiritual part; the outer is one’s physical part. God alone can develop the spiritual part of us and to focus on only the outer is the creation of a very fragile shell.

#3:  If you don’t make a decision, the decision is made for you.

People often want to postpone the consideration of God in their lives into the someday. Motivated and driven by the desire to live life “my way,” there is a fear that God might interfere, so He is kept at bay. Never to be forgotten is the fact that in each person’s life there does come a time when there is no more someday.

#4:  If you wait to see, you’ve waited too long.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” This position has negative ramifications since one never knows when life is going to be brought to a close, and the price paid for standing and living in it is a hefty one. No opportunity is given to repeat life.

#5:  There is a better way.

God’s way is better. It is that simple.

#6:  There are no skipped steps; there are no shortcuts.

Life will be lived, lessons will be learned in the order planned and designed by the Master. Leapfrog is not a part of His plan.

#7:  Just keep going.

Nothing is ever gained by curling up in a fetal position or sitting down in protest. Regardless of how difficult circumstances may be, there is an end and moving forward is the best approach.

#8:  Not a moment too soon; not a moment too late.

Timing. It’s always about the timing--God's timing.

#9:  Stay in your own yard.

“Mind your own business.” Each of us has more than enough on our own plate so that it behooves us to focus on those things that have only to do with us personally. Stepping outside of that space generally comes from a place of judgment or the desire or effort to do God’s work for Him. It never, ever works.

#10: Do not add to; do not take away from.

God means what He says and says what He means. When understanding is difficult, ask what He means. Applying my reasoning to anything He says is dead-end.

#11: In order to become a teacher, you must be willing to be taught.

Time spent as a student is invaluable. I cannot teach what I have not learned.

Absolutes. Precepts. Words to live by—feast on them, absorb them, consider them before God.

"On Ingratitude and Good Manners"

ingratitude: n. A lack or absence of gratitude; thanklessness.

manners: plural noun Ways of behaving toward people, esp. ways that are socially correct and show respect for their comfort and their feelings.

The mansion was built high atop the solid rock edifice, accessible only by a trolley system. The trolley was well maintained and designed to transport the inhabitants and their supplies as well as any who might visit.

It was a landmark in the city; the expansive home resembled a castle, an unusual design in modern America. The new owner had recently completed a massive renovation of the entire space and sent out a blanket invitation to the locals to come visit.  Food would be served, and all were welcome to attend.

The owner was a life-long friend, and though I had not seen her in several years, I knew her well. Parking at the base of the mountain was at a premium.  Vehicles were packed into every imaginable space as hordes of people clamored for a seat on the trolley that headed up to their destination. I finally found a place to park my truck and joined the masses going up the rock face.

A I entered the home it was evident no expense had been spared; large quantities of food were available to all. Unlike some banquets where food is measured out to the ounce per plate, guests were encouraged to help themselves, to eat until satisfied.

The crowd began to thin out as people had their fill and headed back down the mountain. I had not come for the food but to reconnect with my friend. Seeking her out, I found her seated, sad and somber. “What’s going on?” I asked. She shared that, of the hordes of people who had freely eaten at her table, not a one said “Thank you” as they left.

As I opened my eyes, I realized it was a dream--graphic and powerful. In the light of day dreams often vaporize as details are placed just out of reach. This was not one of those.

A few weeks ago, the one I call the “little pit bull” was scheduled to dance at the Christmas lunch meeting of a local service organization. Her dance group was to meet at 11 at the hotel where it was being held, dance at noon, then head back to their respective schools. Mom and Dad were both committed to work, unable to provide the necessary transportation the twenty miles back and forth from school. Could I help out?  “Of course.”   

I picked her up from school. The trip into town was filled with giggles and conversation. I pointed out I was wearing the same boots that tripped me up when I fell and broke my jaw--exactly a year ago to the day. “The same boots?! You are not allowed to walk in those boots, Gram Gram!” As we continued on, I realized I would not be able to return her back to school in time for lunch.  I assured her she wouldn’t go without food and offered several choices; she opted for a favorite drive-through.

The performance was completed, and we headed for take-out food. “Thank you for taking me, Gram Gram. And thank you for getting me lunch.” “Just a minute. Don’t you take your lunch to school?” With a giggle, she nodded her head. “So you actually have your lunch in your backpack, don’t you?”  More giggles.

As we retrieved the beefy 5-layer quesadilla from the drive-through window, she thanked the worker. I commented that her acknowledgements of thanks are important and unusual for one her age.

“Ayden and I are always being told what good manners we have, Gram.  It’s because of you, you know.  Remember when you always made us say ‘Please and thank you?’”  A childhood memory of hers, I had forgotten, though their parents get the credit for consistently reinforcing that same behavior.

So much of our current culture and society is based on what “I want" or, even worse, "deserve,” with zero acknowledgement of what we already possess. Start with the fact that all have been given the breath of life, a gift from our Creator. Often, the only acknowledgment of that gift is made when that breath is removed as people lash out in anger at God because it happened without their permission.  

Our way of life, even at its worst, is better than many others in the world. Ingratitude is an attitude, and it is one that taints and poisons not only the one who has it but all who come in contact with that person.

I had a dream. And yet it was reality. Gratitude, thankfulness, and good manners cost the giver absolutely nothing. May we give the One who loves us without measure appreciation and thanks for all He does for us, all He gives us. It's just good manners.

"O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: 

for his mercy endureth for ever."

Psalm 106:1

                                                                             

"On the Transition of Change"

transition: n. The process of change from one form, state, style or place to another.

A change is taking place in the direction of my life; my life is in transition. As subtle, as imperceptible as the first flutter of life within the womb, I cannot deny what I sense and feel. Undefinable, I cannot express in words what "it" is, though, or where I am heading. The outcome, the end result is an unknown.

The holiday season has come and gone, another new year has begun. This off-season in my gardening business has been a welcome respite, my work load gradually, yet obviously diminished. With a 74^th birthday one week away and approaching a 17^th season in the gardening work, the question under consideration is “How much longer am I going to keep doing this?”  

Reluctant to leave my clients and those relationships, I’ve held on tight. While the income is a nice perk, I am burned out. Work done half-heartedly is worse than work not being done at all. And I am guilty of that. One client has hired a guy to do the “heavy work,” picking up my slack; another had a conversation with me regarding a tentative time of retirement.

The first volume of blog posts compiled under a single cover is at a publishing company. While there is no date set for release of Tidbits and Pearls, it will happen sooner rather than later. An additional stack of posts sits on the table beside me awaiting initial editing and rewriting--volume two, Sermons from a Soapbox.    

The messages of both books are important-- the first sharing God’s desire for a relationship with His creation, the second speaking of God's unwavering precepts that we must live by in order to live with Him.

Priorities are established, and the delivery of these messages is the highest of those.The writing process is time-consuming. My gut feeling is that the gardening business is going to be taking a back seat.

When I established The Traveling Gardener, I never expected to be able to support myself. God has been faithful in His provision of work and health to perform that work. He has never failed me nor let me down, and yet I am apprehensive to leave the work and the income behind.

A basic precept of God is “If you don’t make a decision, the decision is made for you.” My suspicion is that is where I am. God does not change in order to live with me; change must take place within me in order to live with Him.

Transitions are never easy--what was has been left behind; what is to be is out of reach. They take place as we age; as we recuperate from an injury or surgery; upon beginning a new job; after the loss of a friend, parent, partner, or pet. They are an unavoidable, necessary part, an important part of this process called "life." 

As I glance at the stack of printed blog posts, I am reminded of a recent comment made by a friend, “And so it begins.”

And so it begins.

  

"On Gathering Together with Charlie"

“Charlie.  Charlie Owens,” he said, attaching a name to the twinkling, dark brown eyes and flash of a grin.  I had gone to the local mail center to purchase stamps so I could mail the July invoices for my gardening business.  Since it was well into September, it was time.  He had come in to have copies made on the copy machine--"three of them."

Walking cautiously with a cane as he placed his feet with care, it was apparent at a casual glance that he lives with--and knows--pain.  His stature indicated God declared him to be perfect when His creation was completed at a little over 5’ in height. 

The Summer of 2017 brought unprecedented devastation to my home state of Oregon in the form of fire.  Its lush green growth and forestland was ravaged, replaced by blackened tree trunks and desolation.  It is not an exaggeration to say the state was ablaze with no end in sight.  Lack of rain and very hot weather conditions exacerbated any efforts to bring the forest fires under control. 

Glorious, sunny summer days with blue skies were replaced with a grim smoke cover. The sun and moon took on a red hue. Hazardous breathing conditions were prevalent due to the pollution in the air.  "Stay indoors" and "Wear a breathing mask if going outside" were the advisories given.  There was no place to escape the blight of fire.

I completed affixing stamps to envelopes, and the gentleman paid for his copies when the two of us began talking about the long-term damage of the fires to the timber industry. He was a former employee of a large timber company. We discovered we had a mutual acquaintance, a family member of mine who worked for the same company.  That was when he introduced himself, with the request to pass on greetings.

The mail center wasn’t busy, so we stood and talked for quite a while—of the current ruination affecting our state, of family, of faith.

Our conversation revealed we shared values and personal spiritual beliefs. He told of being an altar boy, his marriage to the “perfect” woman, and respect and love taught by his father.  We agreed God needs to be the base of life and all else springs from that.  And that mankind needs to “look up” instead of focusing on the catastrophes taking place. 

 

 “I’m short,” he said with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his voice as he lifted his eyes skyward.  “There’s no place for me to look but up.”

At the age of sixty-nine, he and his wife have eighteen children, two of them still at home. The family prays together twice a day--as the day begins and as the day ends.  Any who gathers around the table with this family is encouraged to share their day and to pray as well. Charlie explained the needs, concerns, and the daily experience of each person matters, and all benefit from that contribution.  "What a gift of faith you are giving your children," I said.  "Of faith and hope."  

Heading out the front door, we continued visiting.  “You are a delight,” I told him.  “I am so thankful to have met you.  And this, right here, is just one of the reasons I believe.”  Charlie nodded in agreement, his bright smile and demeanor touching me.

“I know,” he said.  “I thought I was just coming down to have three copies made, and He had other plans.”  

 

 “He is the great choreographer,” I added.

A strong case is made for church attendance and membership by many, citing this scripture:  “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”  Matthew 18:20 KJV

Charlie Owens and I would have never met in a church; we would have never shared our faith and our lives.  The encounter was not announced in a church bulletin, and it didn’t take place on a Sunday or a Wednesday, pre-determined and organized.

And yet there we were, in the middle of a Pak-Mail office, the “two gathered together.”    

   

"On an Anniversary"

anniversary: n. A day that is an exact number of years (to the day) since a given significant event.

My socks have holes, was my thought. I need some new ones. If I had been thinking I would have asked for them for Christmas.

The heels on my SmartWool socks have worn through, evidence of the use they are given. Having proverbial “cold feet,” I love my warm socks, putting them on as soon as I wake up and taking them off at bedtime, washing them in between.

It is December 18 today, and this particular pair has served as a constant reminder of that day a year ago.

Visiting my Idaho family for an early Christmas, the family had gone on a shopping trip in downtown Boise. Two carloads’ worth, we spread out as we trekked along, all ten of us, checking out the local stores. While not a shopper, I felt I was in heaven when I discovered a store that carried SmartWool socks. A previous gifted pair had been worn until they had no life left in them, and I was thrilled to find a store that sold them and made my purchase.

It was cold.  As I walked along, I stuck my hands in my coat pockets. The light at the crosswalk said I had nine seconds left in which to cross. Rushing to beat the signal, the lugged sole on my Ugg boots caught the top of a raised area, probably designed to give traction in icy, snowy conditions. The fall was with such force a daughter walking along behind me thought I had been shot.

Remembering milestone events--anniversaries, birthdays, dates of the passing of loved ones. —is not something I do well. I know the dates of my children’s births and those of my grandchildren, and that’s about it. I do remember this particular date, though, and I certainly won’t forget the experience.

One year: One broken jaw, five replacement crowns, an injured finger (note to self: Do not walk on uneven surfaces with your hands in your pockets), a fat lip and scuffed up knee, but not a single stitch.

There is point and purpose to everything. All things are at the hand of God. This is my belief, my conviction, and how I live my life.

There was a time in my life when I had a “la la la” fairy tale image of spiritual life. My perception was that not only was God even better than Santa Claus, He was a magical force that kept me safe and protected in a bubble.

As He began revealing Himself to me, I learned He doesn’t keep me from difficult situations or circumstances, but He does promise to walk through them with me.

As humans, we tend to categorize happenings in life as “good” or “bad.” My position is some things are harder than others, but that doesn't make them bad.

I remember lying in bed that first night after a visit to the emergency room—actually, I was sitting upright on a beanbag to alleviate pressure on the broken jaw—asking God what I had done wrong, why the “splat” had happened. He did not answer.

Time is a healer; it also brings with it perspective.

One year later, I can attest to God’s faithfulness. Every single step of the way, my Heavenly Father has been with me—from the very beginning.  What could have been a life-altering event was more of an inconvenience.  That I had such minor injuries given the force of impact is testimony of His hand upon me.

Christmas is a week away. I’m not sure what the menu plan is for Christmas dinner, but I guarantee it is going to be better than what I had a year ago. I can’t recall what it was exactly, but it was liquid, ingested through a very small straw.

My son-in-law has asked me to see if the oral surgeon could repeat the extreme banding procedure which stabilized the broken jaw. Making it quite impossible to talk, he says last year was the quietest Christmas the family has ever had.

God is good.                            

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.” Psalm 23:4

"Now What?"

The Winter Christmas program was spectacular. As a proud Gram Gram, I sat in the audience grinning from ear to ear as I watched the 12-year-old grandgirl dance. A lover of dance since she was tiny, the local dance company has been a place where she can thrive as her dancing skills continue to develop. Dance suits her.

Driving back home, however, unease settled back upon me once again. Only recently, a dark cloud of depression had enveloped me, hanging around long enough before lifting to remind me of a state of life I had lived in for many years. A thought worthy of consideration, a friend mentioned that often there is a letdown after the completion of a large project, not unlike the experience of some after Christmas has come and gone.

By the time I arrived home, I was in an inner whirlwind.  “Help me, God.  There is no peace.”

This blog was created almost five years ago. I cannot say when the seed of an idea was planted to compile its entries into a book—perhaps two or three years ago—but bringing that idea to fruition has consumed me ever since I made that decision.

The process has been time-consuming, painstaking. I began by printing out the almost 200 posts. Establishing a layout came next in order to make them cohesive and viable, with flow. Decisions were made as to which entries should remain and which should be eliminated. Next was the process of editing and rewriting each of those chosen to be a part of the manuscript. Hour upon hour was spent laboring over words and sentence structure, making certain the message was presented well and with clarity, the message that our Heavenly Father desires to have a relationship with us, His creation.

A time frame was placed on it; it needed to be completed by the end of this year.  It seemed inconceivable that deadline would be met and yet it was, and the manuscript was sent off to the publishing company two weeks ago.

It felt like a very long pregnancy, with delivery and the arrival of an independent being taking place. Only time will tell if “the writing” can stand on its own, if it has life or if it is just empty, dead words.

Now what?

Perhaps you may have been involved in your own undertaking as well, one which required focus, energy, and time—lots of time. It may have been providing care for and making decisions for an elderly parent where you became the parent, the parent the child. Perhaps it was a cross-country move, relocating to a new job, home, and school for your children; the start-up of a new business; settling the estate of a parent or a spouse with its financial and legal responsibilities.  Upon completion you may have been left with “Now what?”

The parent/child relationship is an accurate comparison. As a parent, the welfare and care of that child is your concern from the moment of conception.  Their health, their activities, their emotional, physical, and spiritual development are your focus.  And then they reach the point you have been preparing them for all those years, that time of independence when they step out on their own. 

Some call it the “Empty Nest Syndrome.”  In reality, it is “Now what?” What am I going to do with myself, my time, my energy, my life? It is a time of adjustment, a time of transition.

That is what I have been feeling these past two weeks. Without the book to focus on, I have been discombobulated, restless, unsettled.

And so that was my question asked of God:  “Now what?” The answer: “Just keep going.” And that I am. 

I felt there was too much material to place under one cover, so I made the decision to have a second volume. That project will begin after the first of the year. My same friend commented, “Isn’t that kind of like deciding you want another baby while you’re still in the delivery room?” I can’t argue with that.

The restlessness has abated, however. I am at peace. 

 

"On Projects--Unfinished and Completed"

project:  n.  A planned endeavor, usually with a specific goal and accomplished in several steps or stages.

The rocking chair has been a part of my interior landscape since my first grandchild was very small. For me, rocking her was an important part of being Nana, and it was purchased with that specific purpose in mind. She is now nineteen, and all five of my grandgirls have been held and rocked in that chair. It is one of the first places I go to after waking up in the morning.

The navy upholstery became a dated eyesore and didn’t match my red couch, so I bought some gorgeous fabric with reds and golds in it.  The intent was to reupholster the cushions.  I made it as far as the seat cushion.  I have draped the remaining fabric over the back cushion, but the project is still not completed.

Then there was the decision made several years ago to update my bathroom, top to bottom.  The paneling work on the ceiling is beautiful, and I had spent hour upon hour creating a mirror-like finish on the paint job. The tile backsplash is unique, the heated tile floors lend a sense of luxury, the sink and its fixture modern and attractive, the color choice for the wall perfect.

The cabinet for the sink was made in the 70’s of high quality materials, and I chose to not replace it but to strip the old paint off and repaint it. And that is where I stopped. The paint is stored in the garage, dated and useless by now, I’m quite certain, and the cabinet stands bare in its stripped, unpainted state. I am one step away from finishing it.

Organizing my household has been a project on my to-do list for years.  Spurts of motivation come and go so areas, corners of my home are pristine, in order but never the whole. The task is never fully done.

Yesterday, around 10:00 in the morning, I found myself needing—not wanting—but needing a nap, even after a good night's rest.  Lying down in my go-to place, a double recliner that fully reclines, covered up with a favorite blanket, I told my Father: “I am spent.  There’s nothing left in me.  I am done, completely drained and exhausted.” This lament had nothing to do with a need for physical rest but was directly connected to the submission just that morning of a manuscript to a publishing company. I felt as though I had been emptied. 

Projects often begin with a single thought or suggestion, and they either develop from there, or they disappear with the wind. 

“The writing” began with one single thought placed by a friend years ago; the idea of writing a blog the result of encouragement from other friends and former classmates.  I cannot tell you when the consideration to compile those entries into a book entered my mind, but at some point it did.

Early yesterday morning was the culmination of that project as I sent the manuscript, the submission form, and copies of the images to be used to Flo, the contact person assigned to work with me as I self-publish.

There is no way to convey the amount of time spent not only poring over the words but before God with the quest for clarity of message and a final product which will point to Him and not self.

He gave me an illustrator who captured the message and the spirit of the writing in a manner that is touching. He gave me an editor who refused to settle for less than excellence at a point in time when I had stopped caring.  Just when I thought I was finished, she said, “This needs a bit more work.” I could not disagree.

While driving later in the day yesterday, I was thinking about the fact that I, who have a habit of unfinished, incomplete projects, had finished and completed a book. My editor’s comment, “God is” describes it perfectly. 

“Tidbits and Pearls—A Book of Essays on Living Everyday Life with God” has been His project, at His hand and His alone. I would not want it any other way.

I awakened from my mid-morning nap rested and ready to tackle Volume II after the first of the year. When I told a friend, her comment said it well: “That’s like wanting to have another baby while you’re still in the delivery room.”  Apparently there is more to be said. 

I think I'll take my rocking chair cushions to an upholsterer and hire someone to paint my bathroom cabinet. I doubt it would take a professional more than a couple of hours. Organizing my home--That's another story, but I'm not giving up.