On Seeing

 

see: v. To perceive or detect with the eyes; to view, observe, behold, to witness or observe by personal experience.

  

It happened with a pair of socks while folding laundry. I paired two socks and, as I reached for a second pair, realized neither was a match. I had looked at them. The colors shouted a mismatch, but I did not see the obvious.

Have you ever had an experience where you looked but didn’t see? It’s not that it wasn’t there, right in front of you, “as plain as the nose on your face,” my mother would say. But somehow it did not compute in your mind. How many times have your eyes passed over an object of search, perhaps a set of keys or that rogue tennis shoe your child needed to head off to school, that important piece of paper you put in a special place for safekeeping? It seems if we are looking, we should see, but that isn’t always so.

Those are experiences of seeing with physical eyes. When I speak of seeing, I instinctively think of inner vision, that awareness or knowledge separate from eyes with which we view our material world. There are some who call such “having an epiphany or revelation,” an “aha” moment. Others would apply the description “getting it.”

For me, to see is to understand without words, to have knowledge of, or to have a grasp of, concepts, truths, and precepts I have not heard with my physical ears. Those revelations take place within my being. They aren’t visible, yet they are solid and real, often life-changing.

This is what I see: (Now, isn’t that an adroit application of the word?) Each of us falls into one of two categories at varying times in our lives. The first is not seeing what others see; the second is seeing what others do not.

There are those times when we are blinded to the severity of our circumstances, the seriousness of the state we are in, the dire straits of our behaviors, actions, and attitudes. We are blinded to ourselves. 

The resulting course of life shouts “Disaster!” as we head toward a cliff, but we continue, because we don’t see. Those around may observe and attempt to call attention and focus, but as a wise friend said, “If you don’t see, you don’t see.”

The second category is where we are the ones who have the sight, with clear vision of another’s state and situation. This is where a person can bump into a huge problem if not careful, that of judgment.

It can be easy to assume if things are obvious to me, then my friend, neighbor, spouse, child—you get the point—should be able to discern those problem-causing areas as well. The trap of pointing a finger, harshly judging, and criticizing sits at the door, and we can readily fall into it. Surely these people we love and care for cannot help but see those things which are crystal clear to us. “Don’t you see yourself?!” we want to shout. Not necessarily. If you don’t see, you don’t see.

Just as there have been plenty of times in my life when I didn’t see myself, so it is for others. When I see what another does not, it is important I consider taking that person before my Heavenly Father. Isn’t that what caring for one another is about? Standing in support and understanding rather than judging.

Inner vision and sight—seeing--is a gift. Often it comes in the form of a mirror, and we are unable to escape the truth.

Never take a single revelation lightly. Hold on to each one. They are given to bring about inner change, growth, maturity, and development. No man can ever take them away. In addition, be careful lest you judge others for things that are not clear to them, for things they do not see.

When I do see myself, I can no longer plead ignorance or denial. I am without excuse. When I have been shown the truth, when I see, I am then held personally accountable. I am responsible.

 

“I see,” said the blind man.

Therefore I counsel you to buy from me…

salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see.

Revelation 3:18

 

On a Single Blade of Grass

            It’s going to be a hot one today. Since my retirement two months ago, I’ve been trying to find what my “new normal” is. After almost two decades with work as a daily focus, finding my footing has been an interesting adventure.

Walking. Moving. Getting out in the fresh air. I decided that will be an important part of my routine as I move forward. So, I headed out early before the killer temperatures kicked in.

I took a new route, one that led me along streets and paths I hadn’t been down before. Walking is always a time for thought. Some would call it meditation. This day was no different.

I have wanted to write on the intelligence and knowledge of God for some time--particularly since He gave me an infinitesimal sense and awareness of that facet of Himself. At the time, my mind quickly reached maximum capacity as I tried to grasp the most elementary of facts. I certainly had no words to begin to describe what I had been shown.

God’s intelligence and knowledge isn’t spoken of much. In the secular world, He has been “dumbed” down to the point of non-existence, a fairy tale for the naïve’ and the simple-minded. Those in the church or religious realm often speak of His omniscience. But that is a very broad-brush stroke without any real substance. “Of course, He knows everything. He’s God.”

Oh, My. Yes. He is God.

The day was warming quickly, and I still had a ways to go until I was home. Before I sit down to write, I am often given a basic topic along with a starting point. I knew I would be sharing my thoughts about this facet of God in the most rudimentary manner.

Here I go, and here it is.

Consider a single blade of grass. God knows everything there is to know about that one piece of vegetation growing in your front yard. He knows its molecular makeup, when it came into existence, its needs, even when it was last mowed—everything.

Now, multiply that one grass blade by every iota of matter that exists in this world and the universe beyond, all that is seen and unseen. God knows it all, from the depths of the earth to the heights of the sky.

He knows it all because He created it all. There is no way to measure His knowledge and intelligence, but mankind need only look at Creation to see it manifest.

Is God worthy of our respect? Yes, He is. Are the people of this world giving Him any? Some are, but many are not.

When God created the universe and all that is in it, He had a plan in mind. His plan was to include humankind in His world. The choice is ours, not His.

He will not be mocked. He will not be ridiculed and made a fool of. 

Who on this earth or in this universe is His equal?

Consider a single blade of grass.

 

…He cares for you

I Peter 5:7 ISV

Deep Cleaning

deep clean: n. Any thorough cleansing, especially one conducted in order to disinfect a place that has or may have been contaminated with a disease vector such as a virus, bacteria, etc.

 

I have begun a deep clean of my home, though more thorough than disinfectant. After over nineteen years of tending the gardens and cleaning the homes of others, it is my turn. “Retired” is now my official title. With that title comes both the time and the energy to address the dirt and clutter throughout my own dwelling.

This is not going to be one of those quick Swiffer pass-through jobs. It won’t be “a lick and a promise” with a dust cloth as Mom directed on Sunday mornings before we headed off to church because company was coming for dinner.

It will be a “Leave no stone unturned” kind of task as I go deep into corners that have not seen the light of day nor cleaning solution for years. Items will be pulled out and cleaned before returning to their home. Piles will be made of things to keep, give away, or discard.

In preparation, I pulled my vacuum and cleaning supplies out of my truck this morning. I have stored them there for years. It was easier to have them available when I had a cleaning job, and I wasn’t forever moving things in and out of my house. 

When I was asked to clean up a large garden area, I always began in the furthest corner and worked towards the house. I’m methodical about some things, and that is often how I address a job. And so, I started in a corner of the living room, a corner no one sees or notices—except me. I was amazed at the amount of filth that had accumulated.

There is a real sense of accomplishment when a person does something that has been left undone for quite some time. It "feels" good. This cleaning process isn’t going to happen in a few hours, a day, a week, or maybe even months. I will, however, go bit by bit until it is completed. I began today.

This physical deep clean reminds me of what God does spiritually. He begins in the most hidden crevices of our inner beings, those areas we don’t want anyone to see or know about. He pores into the dark caverns within us. His very presence is like the head lantern on a spelunker. Secrets are revealed and, at His hand, dealt with one-at-a-time, one-on-one.

As with my home, a thorough inner cleaning takes time—a lengthy period of time. But it is priceless. And it is important. God's desire for us is that we live in purity, a life unencumbered by garbage. A clean spiritual home is a better way--His way.

 

Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:

And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139: 23, 24

It's Just a Slight Detour

 

detour: n. A diversion or deviation from one’s original route

piano: n. A percussive keyboard musical instrument, usually ranging over seven octaves, with white and black colored keys, played by pressing these keys, causing hammers to strike strings.

 

The piano has been a fixture my entire life, both literally and figuratively. It held court in my parent’s living room from the time it left the music store until it was moved into mine. 

“Place it on an inside wall,” they were told. I followed suit in my own home. Inside walls are not subjected to temperature changes in the same way as an outside wall, an important factor in protecting the piano’s strings. 

I began taking piano lessons when I was five. I begged my parents repeatedly for the opportunity, and they purchased a piano just for me. They were simple, country people who were not wealthy. A piano was a major purchase for them. Neither were they prone to giving in to a child’s pleading. As I look back, it must have been an act of faith on their part. Five-year-old children aren’t known for will and resolve.

Mom and Dad had one condition: “You’ll have to practice.” At the ripe old age of five I understood and made a commitment to do whatever was necessary.

I wanted to learn how to play. The passion and drive were real.

I abruptly quit lessons when I was seventeen. I’m sure I broke the heart of Mrs. Jacobs, my piano teacher, though I never considered that then. She was a talented teacher, and I suspect she had high hopes for my future. My repertoire consisted mainly of classical music, with a standard of perfection. The joy in playing was gone.

I continued playing in church for several years but stopped when my life became overwhelmed with depression and life’s lessons. I could not continue giving of myself. There was nothing to give.

I did not play for over thirty years. The piano took up space, another piece of furniture I dusted. They say, “If you don’t use it, you lose it.” It doesn’t get lost, but it sure does get buried. A resurrection took place when I returned to my piano bench eight years ago. My son asked that I play for him as a birthday gift, and I consented.

The passion and drive have never left me; they are a part of me. I’ve wanted more—direction and insight from another set of ears. Piano teachers are expensive; $75 per hour isn’t uncommon. I also knew I did not want intense instruction, but guidance.

Jennifer came into my world when she asked me to do some cleaning. The room where the grand piano stood was the first room I cleaned.

The thought was God-given: “Would you consider taking me on as a project?” I asked. I asked if she would consider trading cleaning for piano instruction. The answer was “Yes.”

I had my first lesson yesterday with input of tempo, how to practice and make the song better--and the importance of relaxing rigid shoulders. The music fills my being as I practice, play, and live out my day.

God is so good. I did not become the classical pianist Mrs. Jacobs had hoped for, but I am grateful He opened these doors. The joy has returned.

Many years ago, my Heavenly Father promised He would lead me and guide me in the way I should go. Some roads have not been direct. Some have taken a detour or two--this one was over sixty years in the making. But He knows the destination. That’s what counts.

 

“I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go;

I will guide thee with mine eye.”

Psalm 32:8 NRSV

On Time and the Giving of It

time:  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 twenty-four hours in a day. Sixty minutes in an hour. Sixty seconds in a minute. No more. No less. It is true equity.

Time has a different "feel" at different stages of life. A child has all the time in the world, whereas parents can't find enough of it to get everything done while meeting the demands of the family's rigorous schedule. Those of us who are 70-somethings find ourselves dealing with the reality of time passing like a flash in the night. Many elderly folks live a paradox. They have nothing but time on their hands as they live their days in solitude and loneliness, yet they have very little of it left.  

Whether consciously or unconsciously, we as humans categorize and prioritize our time. There is time for work, family, and leisure. Time is set aside for events, activities, and vacation. 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. I am sharing "me." No one else can do that but me. Gifts can be purchased and delivered, but the gift of time carries 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 are those words heard in a family? Or perhaps coming from one in a position of authority or a leadership role. Consider the message and the feeling it evokes: You have interrupted me and my life. You do not matter enough for me to stop what I'm doing. Go away.

That same message, though unspoken, is also delivered as we plow through our daily lives, making certain we do not interact with people we aren't acquainted with. After all, we have things to do, people to see, and places to go. Strangers are people we'll never see again, so they don't really matter. Or do they?

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We have known each other for decades and have had a friendship for the past several years. Neither of us has a sister. The term sister/friend fits well.

I had gone to visit her, and we stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things. While waiting in 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 the groceries into her car. "This is the last time I'm going to do this," the older woman commented. She shared she was in the process of moving into a facility where meals would be provided.

We finished and headed to her car, loading the items in the back. She chattered the whole time, talking about originally moving from Rhode Island and the current move taking place. She was grateful and thrilled, the recipient of the gift of time.

This is how my friend lives. She gives time where and when it is needed as she gives of herself. And she does it quietly, never seeking attention. It is second nature to her; it is the kind of person she is.

She 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 no bells and whistles go off, no balloons are released into the air. It is the act of being present, lending an ear and providing companionship and help if needed.

Each of us is given time. Perhaps you've heard the charge to use your time wisely and make the most of it. The context of that admonition is generally connected to an activity or a goal. 

That is my charge too: Use your time wisely and make the most of it. But I ask you to consider the value and importance of giving time as a gift. Give and share yourself. The world would be a better place.

"And the king will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to

one of the least of these who are members of my family,

you did it to me.'"

Matthew 25:40

 

On Thumpers and Gliders and Other Differences

There are thumpers in this world. And there are gliders. At least that is my experience. They are as opposite from one another as the South Pole is from the North. Gliders are often upset and bothered by the sounds of a thumper; thumpers, generally, are not at all ruffled by gliders.

A glider enters a room quietly, barely making any sound, unless wearing high heels. On the other hand, a thumper can be heard approaching from quite a distance, with or without shoes as the sound of footsteps reverberates through the air. On occasion, the force is so solid, glassware rattles in cupboards. Such is the case with me. I openly admit and confess to being a thumper. I walk hard. And that is an understatement. In fact "thud" would probably be a more accurate description than "thump."

It had been a while since I gave it much thought. As a gardener, I don't make much of a sound walking behind a lawn mower and, living alone, am oblivious with no one to remind me. While cleaning a house today, I was barefooted. Because I land solidly on my heels first, the bare feet amplify the impact. I heard and observed the thump and the glassware. Memories of the chastisements from days gone by filled my mind. "Why DO you walk so hard? Can't you walk more softly? You're shaking the whole house. Try walking like a lady." The comments from gliders were gone, but not forgotten. I began processing the memories.

The unspoken message delivered was that something was wrong with me. I needed to change. I tried--more than once.The success rate was right at 0%, along with efforts to transform my curly hair to bone-straight, rid myself of a down-right stubborn streak, eliminate the procrastination factor, and change countless other traits and characteristics that make up the person I am.

It took a while to understand it isn't a right or wrong thing. It is a difference. I'm not the same as others. However, when one is struggling with self-acceptance and self-confidence, it's a monkey wrench thrown in that takes time and sorting to figure out.

Another person's differences are not cause for a rush to judgment. It is so easy to react, to respond critically without even thinking. We all handle situations differently, and when that is viewed as being right or wrong, negativity enters in. For example, I drive in a manner that is different from any other driver on the road. How often does that upset the one in the car behind me as I cautiously wait for traffic to pass before turning onto a street? I have a habit of asking questions I already know the answer to. That creates its own frustrations in my family. And I haven't even begun to discuss the differences in the way we each think and view ethics, philosophy, politics, the environment, nature, and religion...just to name a few. 

We are individuals; therefore, we are different from one another. No two people are the same.

Much of the focus in our country is placed on racial biases and prejudices. There is, however, a bias, prejudice, and an intolerance developing in our society and our nation toward any who disagree with those in the position of power and control. "We are right; therefore, you are wrong." Not so. 

We think, believe, and act differently, but they are differences, not a justification for division, rejection, or judgment. I am friends with many people with whom I differ in opinion and belief. That does not make me right and them wrong or vice versa. It means we are individuals, with a right to our respective points of view.

My uniqueness, including that of being a thumper, is God-given. So, too, is yours. God help us as a nation if we get to the point where difference is not respected, expected, and allowed. We are not--and must not be--clones. And, for myself as well, I need to be very careful I am not coming from a place of judgment when viewing other's differences, be they inner or outer. 

I told a former client my "thumper" story, telling of the criticisms and harsh comments I've received over the years. "Did you know that is a good thing?" she asked. She went on to say her doctor told her walking with impact increases bone density. In fact, the impact is what is important. Who knew? Certainly not the gliders in my life. Nor I. It's all in how you look at it, isn't it? 

May I treat others with the same level of respect I would like given to me--despite our differences.

"Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.

For the judgment you give will be the judgment you get."

Matthew 7: 1, 2