"On a Moment"

It was a moment, one seemingly insignificant point in time.  I hesitate calling it an epiphany. That sounds too grand.  It most definitely was a moment, though.  One of those times when life is as quiet and as gentle as a soft summer breeze, and then.....  There was no force, no impact, as in being "blown away," no fireworks or explosion, and yet the message became a part of me. And it happened without words.    

Driving down the street, caught up in my own world, my own thoughts, I saw a man walking. And that was when it happened:  In seeing that man, I saw myself.  And in that moment I felt and knew that I am timeless, I am ageless, I am eternal, I am forever.

A glance at my reflection in the mirror would challenge this.  But that is only because the spirit and soul of a being isn't flesh and blood, visible to the naked eye. 

My body is not me; it is not who I am.  I was created in the mind of God long before I was ever placed in this physical dwelling to carry out this journey called "life." 

At this point in time my body is a contradiction, the antithesis of all those things.  It is definitely aging, breaking down, decaying, dying, subject to all manner of maladies. The opposite is taking place within my spirit.  It is healthy, thriving and growing, and nothing can touch it. 
  
Don’t get me wrong—I do feel my body is important, that it is an amazing creation, the conduit of expressing all those things which are within.  And yes, I feel there will be a time of renewal when it, too, is timeless, ageless, eternal, and forever.  It just isn't time yet.  

If this is true about me, it's true about you as well.  We have been created immortal beings. Many would disagree, feeling that physical death is an end, that there is nothing after life on this earth.  Granted, it was my moment, but I know that is not so. 

And that is why I feel it is important for man to make a decision, eternal being that he is, while he has breath, as to where and with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life. Eternity is a long, long time.


"The inner first, then the outer."

"On Close Encounters of the Small Kind"

Rubbing my hand across my arm as I crawled out of bed, the day began with gratitude that I had only been stung once.  Most of my bicep was still swollen and red, hot to the touch, but the itching had finally stopped at some point during the night.  The day before I had a “Close Encounter of the Small Kind,”  when I was stung by a tiny little insect, a bee.

The cycle of nature, including the gardening cycle, is running at least a month early this year.  Winter came and went, barely making itself known.  There is no snow pack in the mountains, the base which provides the water source for Oregon’s reputation for lush vegetation.  That lack has us all wondering what is going to happen as summer comes into full play.  In addition, a lengthy, ferocious heat wave is quickly turning life brown.

“A month early”—my mind has been processing that thought for quite a while, as I consider the habits of bees.  A serious encounter with wasps two years ago when I dug into a nest has had me on edge ever since.  They often get nasty toward the end of summer, but this year everything is “a month early.”  Even though I have been in an alert mode, it is not helpful when they build their nests in the ground, visible only when they have been disturbed, a virtual natural land mine with the potential to explode upon contact.  I had my first encounter of the season yesterday, and it’s not even July yet.

Oftentimes, we apply the marker a "big" deal to catastrophic events that would alter and affect our lives and its very existence: natural disasters, fire, life-threatening diseases or health concerns, loss of job and income, stock market crashes, calamitous accidents.  I maintain, however, that life can be just as markedly touched by what can only be viewed as a "small" thing.

Many years ago, my family headed to a small local airport with my son so he could return to school in Southern California after having spent Christmas at home.  The car, a boat of a station wagon, wasn’t behaving well, so after saying our goodbyes at the airport, the decision was made to head to my parents, 45 minutes away, rather than continue the trip back home, a much longer drive.

It had been spitting snow as we left the airport, and the further we traveled, the more inclement the weather became; the further we traveled, the more sluggish the car.  Darkness had come, and we were on a side road rather than the freeway.  It was obvious wisdom was keeping people in their homes instead of venturing out on the road as there was no traffic.  Blizzard-like conditions prevailed with snow blowing sideways and visibility at a bare minimum.

After having traveled just a few miles, the car came to a halt.  Three children and two adults, stranded on a country road in the midst of what turned out to be a wicked blizzard, gnarling traffic and grinding the valley floor to a halt for two weeks before the ice and snow melted.

In a time before cell phones, we had no plan.  This one caught us by surprise.  There were no blankets in the car, no flashlights.  It was dark and cold, getting colder and bleaker by the minute.  The light of a house was barely visible in the distance, and my husband made the decision to walk for help.  Just then a truck with a horse trailer drove past, coming from the opposite direction.  We assumed they had just driven on by, but instead, they had gone down the road to find a place to turn around so they could come back to help.

And help they did!  They transported us to their warm home, fed us leftover Christmas dinner, and housed us for the night until a family member could pick us up the next day. 

The car was taken to a local mechanic for repair.  The diagnosis:  there was a fly in the carburetor, a "flyberator," as labeled by one of my daughters.  My knowledge of automobile mechanics is minimal at best, but from what I understand, it is impossible for a fly to get into a carburetor.   And yet there it was.

One little fly—and our lives were altered and affected, with the potential of serious ramifications.
 
There is a point and purpose to all things.  I am of the belief that the chance timing of a vehicle on the road in a snowstorm and the open, kind, generosity of strangers was the result of the care and provision of my Heavenly Father.  I would suspect three little girls, now grown women, feel the same.  I know the adults do.

Today I drove by the place where we were stranded almost 35 years ago.  I always remember what happened, and I am always grateful.  I never take that experience for granted. 

My challenge to you is that you begin to view all experiences in life with a new perspective, a different point of view, with spiritual lenses and not just natural.  One bee sting, not several; a single fly--It's not just the "big" things in life, but the "small" ones as well that are given to us so we might learn, so we might grow, so we might experience God in our everyday lives. 

"ALL things are spiritual."

   

 

  

 

  

"I Wonder"

wonder, v.:  to think or speculate curiously; to ponder; to feel doubt and curiosity; to query in the mind; be curious to know

"Inquiring minds want to know."  This, according to a stock broker's television commercial from the late 1970's.  

Not a one of us has been given all the answers to life or in life.  In fact, we often live our lives with more questions than answers.  I'm not sure that being curious is the same as having an inquiring mind. However, I am curious person, and I do wonder a lot.  

Much of my work time as a gardener is spent alone in thought, and wondering is a part of that. To wonder is not equivalent to worrying; nor are these thoughts in the category of "need-to-know,” with a pressing urgency.  There is no search for truth, no quest to find an answer.  Rather, they tend to enter quite unannounced and leave, without any real contemplation. They cover a wide variety of subject matter, from the silly and frivolous to the heavy and serious.

I wonder:  Why can’t I train myself to keep better track of my hand tools when I’m working?  I lose pruners, hand scythes, and other tools because I simply drop them on the ground--literally--when I’ve finished using them.  On a good day, I’ll notice them and set them in a visible place; on other days, I’m quite certain I’ve raked them up and discarded them along with the yard debris.  

When mowing, and I come to the end of a swath of lawn, I wonder why I often go in a circle rather than making a simple pivot to head back the opposite direction.  Why don't I dress more appropriately according to the weather?  Why don't I remember to take food and water with me and use sunscreen before I get sunburned?  I wonder why I love planting a garden, but tending it--not so much.   

Music played so loudly in a vehicle that I feel its vibration in my house causes me to wonder how the occupants of the car are able to tolerate that kind of volume, what they are trying to drown out in their own minds, and how their hearing has been affected.  

When I see individuals on street corners with their signs asking for money I often find myself questioning what their story is.  How did they end up where they are?  They are sons and daughters with a mother and father, a childhood, perhaps siblings.  They went to school somewhere, have had goals and aspirations at some point in their lives and probably still do.  Everyone has a story, and I wonder what theirs is. 

There is a set of twins, young men who scour the neighborhoods where I work, collecting cans and bottles with shopping carts and garbage bags.  I ask myself how it came to be that twins would end up in the same set of circumstances, that of living on the street, hand-to-mouth? Is their Mother living, and does she know where they are and how they survive?  I wonder whenever I see them.    

As one who is in her 70’s, I find myself pondering my future in a way I never have before.  Time is viewed differently when one is 70 than when one is 30 or 40, or even 60.  What awaits me in this physical life and how much longer will that life be?  I wonder.

Often I wonder what happens when this physical body comes to an end on this earth.  What is heaven like?  Even though I am familiar with Biblical passages and have read several accounts of near death experiences I have no preconceived ideas or thoughts, no fairy tale images of the hereafter.  I just wonder.   

What is hell like?  Again, I don’t know, and I wonder.  For me, hell is any place where God isn't.  But that’s just me.

An insect the size of a fly speck was crawling on my arm the other day and caused me to wonder at the intelligence of the Creator.  This creature not only has purpose but the capacity to function and reproduce.  In addition, consider all that isn’t visible to man’s naked eye, designed and created by Him. He knows and sees it all. This always quickly stretches the limits of my mind.   

I have wondered what it was like when creation took place.  I hope I am able to see a rerun of it someday, to watch as God spoke and light came upon an earth that had been without form and shape, covered in darkness for probably eons--to witness the placement of the sun, the moon, the stars; the gathering of waters to form the seas, and the remaining dry land, our continents.  I would like to see it all in slow motion.  I wonder if He will let me. 

Recently I have been wondering if God isn’t about ready to flick all of mankind off the face of the earth with His finger.  He did it once before, when He opened the fountains of the deep and caused it to rain for 40 days and 40 nights. He had looked upon mankind and seen that "the wickedness of mankind was great, and God was sorry that He had made man on earth, and it grieved Him to His heart.”  I wonder how He feels as He looks upon man now. 

Our world has become so consumed with saving the planet and serving and saving self that the most important treasure is being cast away—the hearts and souls of men. It’s called “worshiping the creation instead of the Creator.”

I wonder.  I wonder what is going to happen to a world of people who not only have no regard for the One who is giving them life, but scorn Him, treating Him with contempt and disdain.  I wonder. 

What would you do if you were in His shoes? While He is a God of love, He will not always strive with man.  There is an end to His patience and longsuffering.  Something to wonder about.

   

"Pardon My Soapbox"

The following scripture was just posted on Facebook:


"This know also:  that in the last days perilous times shall come.  For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, without self control, fierce, despisers of those who are good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying the power thereof." 


Phew!  Look around and what do you see? 


That term "last days" has always been just that--a term with no real meaning.  Until now.  Bear in mind this is only me, as I see it.  These are the last days of this world system. 


And this I know:  God never brings an end to anything without replacing it with something far better. 


Now is not the time to be in denial.

"Precept Upon Precept"

Precept #1:   ALL things are spiritual.
Precept #2:   Things are not as they seem to be.
Precept #3:   Inner first, then the outer; the outer without the inner is worthless.
Precept #4:   If you don't make a decision, then the decision is made for you.
Precept #5:   If you wait to see, you've waited too long.
Precept #6:   There is a better way.
Precept #7:   There are no skipped steps; there are no shortcuts.
Precept #8:   Just keep going.
Precept #9:   Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late.
Precept #10: Stay in your own yard.
Precept #11:  Do not add to; do not take away from.
Precept #12:  In order to become a teacher, you must be willing to be taught.

Carrie Nation was a radical member of the temperance movement around the turn of the last century, a group which opposed alcohol at a time before Prohibition became law. She described herself as “a bulldog running along at the feet of Jesus barking at what He doesn’t like.” Carrie led groups of women into saloons, smashing them to bits with their hatchets and axes.  Viewed by some as a raving lunatic, she died in a mental facility in 1911.

There is a part of me that can relate to Carrie Nation, a part where I feel so passionately about my beliefs and my convictions that I want to force them upon others.  For me it would be in the form of preaching from my soap box, this blog forum. It is important that the "Carrie Nation" in me backs off and gives each of you the room and space where you can search and think for yourselves.

From the beginning my purpose in writing this blog was to share my life with you and the way I live my life, to open your eyes and your minds to the possibility of living your life in a way differently, perhaps, from the way you are living it now, to challenge you to think. 

You certainly know by now that I believe man was created to have a relationship with our Creator, a working partnership, a friendship. 

We are talking God here—how does one live with Him?  Where do you begin?  I must learn how to live with Him; He does not learn how to live with me.

precept: a rule or principle, especially one governing personal conduct

The first step is the personal desire.  There are many who have no care or concern in learning how to live their lives with God.  It is an individual and personal choice.

For those of you who do want to know, I am going to be sharing precepts which have been given to me along the way.  I am not going to embellish upon any of them.  It is for you to question, to search, to ask, to seek for the understanding and the truth behind each one.  This is a first-hand task, not a second-hand one, with your own personal discoveries to be made.

When a house is built, the base is the most important, and yet it's not visible.  The foundation is then built upon that, building block by building block, the precepts.  And this is where the choice is made—and there are two:  Do I want my life built upon God or man?  Having made that decision the “how to” live with Him becomes the priority.


These precepts I am sharing with you are priceless pearls.  Treasure them.

I told myself I wasn't going to preach.

“Whom will He teach knowledge and to whom will He explain the message?  For it is precept upon precept, line upon line, here a little, there a little.”

“So everyone who hears these words of Mine and obeys them will be like a wise man who built his house on a rock.  The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew on that house, but it did not fall because it had been founded on a rock. And everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand.  The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall.”

“Unless the Lord builds your house, your labor is in vain.”

 

"At the Dairy Queen"

Dairy Queen ice cream is my most favorite ice cream in the world--period.  I love the smooth texture, the way it melts in my mouth, and the memories that surface whenever I indulge. 

As a little girl, my Dad would often treat the family at the local DQ on our way home from Sunday evening church services. My mother always loved hot fudge sundaes, and I opted for strawberry milkshakes or chocolate dipped cones.  My oldest brother worked there while in high school so that was an additional incentive to make that stop.

The 5-mile-drive home was the perfect amount of time to relish my cone.  I'm not sure, but I may be the only person who has turned eating an ice cream cone into a ritualistic art.  I'm probably the only one who still eats it at age 70 the same way I did at age 5.  I always start with the curl on top first.  Dad would often tease me by taking that first bite before handing it over to me.  I had forgotten that until just now.

When I was sick with tonsillitis he would surprise me with a hand-packed quart of the stuff.  That was a real treat on his part because, as a farmer with work awaiting, he would have had to make a special stop on his way home from his day job at the plywood mill to get it--a personal sacrifice of time in order to make a daughter feel better.  And it always did.

It was 6:30 in the evening, the end of a long workday which had begun at 8.  The day was a bit warmer, near 80 degrees, and the thought of a Dairy Queen ice cream cone hit the spot. 

As I pulled into the parking lot, heading for the drive-through, I saw her—at least I determined it was a female as I got closer, one in her 20's or maybe even younger. The air temperature was warm, but she was completely covered with heavy garb, carrying a garbage bag, obviously filled.  The hood of a sweatshirt was pulled down over her face, hiding as much of herself as possible.  She walked with an assertive stride.  I wouldn’t call it confidence so much as a “stay out of my way and don’t mess with me” posture.  I can still see her image in my mind.

The drive-through line was quite long, so waiting was the norm.  As I pulled up to place my order—yes, for an ice cream cone—I happened to glance in my rearview mirror.  The young woman had placed her garbage bag down and begun to dig through the garbage can.  She wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed; she was hungry.  Finding some type of food, she pulled it out, looked at it and smelled it, then crammed it in her mouth.  She had the look of a ravenous animal.

My thoughts went a variety of directions, from recognition of her hunger to a personal action on my part.  "Do I have any extra change?  Should I do something?  Oh, the line moved--I need to pull forward."   It would be glorious if I could say I went to her and offered to buy her a meal.  I didn’t.  Her action repulsed me, that of watching someone eat directly from a public garbage container.

Since getting home, I’ve been thinking about that young woman and my reaction and lack of response.  When Christ walked the earth He went to the lowliest of the low—those afflicted with leprosy, a skin disease; prostitutes and adulterers; tax collectors, an occupation abhorred in those times; those in a full-blown state of insanity; beggars.  In fact, He was criticized by the religious folk of His time for eating and drinking with sinners.

I've seen bumper stickers questioning "What would Jesus do?"   I have no idea what He would have done in this same situation.  But I do know He didn't turn his back on those who were misfits, those who weren't part of "the elite."

As I sit writing this, a guy is walking down the sidewalk in front of my house.  Wrapped in a blanket, he is in a conversation with himself.  The blanket is dry today because it hasn't rained.  He is a fixture in the neighborhood, rain or shine.  When it is raining the water drips off not only him but the water-soaked blanket as he traverses the streets.  Yes, I have seen him before--many times.  Have I ever thought of him as a person?  Have I ever even considered asking God's help for him?  And how did I view that young woman?  Certainly not with any real consideration as a fellow human being, created in the same way by God as I am.  

The real "food for thought" is this--What if the shoe was on the other foot, and I was the one at the Dairy Queen, my life packed into a garbage bag or the one walking the street with only a blanket?  

It is oh, so easy to love the lovely and the lovable; not so easy to love those who are unlovely and unlovable.

I have a long ways to go.

"Teacher, we know that you are honest.  You teach the truth about what God wants people to do.  And you treat everyone with the same respect, no matter who they are."

"On Living With Mortality"

Across the board, without exception, regardless of our age, station in life, gender, or where we live on the planet, it is something we all do, you know.  As part of this human race each and every one of us lives with mortality, whether or not we acknowledge it, deny it, accept it, or even realize it. 

mortality:  the condition of being susceptible to death

It has been said that the only two things we can be assured of in this life are death and taxes.  From the time of conception man lives under that known reality, a death sentence of the physical body.  The one unknown is the time, if it comes sooner or later.

Arguments are made for and against causes, issues, and various points of view the world over. Mankind disagrees on almost everything, but there is no disagreement on the state of man’s mortality.  It is never challenged nor argued; it cannot be.  Mortality is a universal equalizer. 

A family member, one in his late 80’s, had passed away, and a mental picture was given to me. It was of the sea, the tide rolling in.  As the waves worked their way in and then receded, the beach was swept clean.  “Look around,” I was told.  “How many people do you see who are 125 years old?”  Mortality:  one picture is worth a thousand words.  There is not a one who won’t be taken from this physical life.

A childhood friend was lamenting the changes taking place in the physical body.  And change is part and parcel of aging.  “Our body really is the only part of us that ages,” I expressed.  “Oh, that’s good news,” I was told, with a touch of sarcasm.  Yes, it is good news, as the essence of me, my soul and spirit can neither be touched nor affected as my body is, and they are eternal.

So how does one live with mortality without negativity, becoming overcome by depression, developing a grim approach to life, or viewing life through lenses of morbidity? 

As with all things in life, each of us approaches our own mortality in an individual, personal manner. 

For some a “bucket” list is created, with the intent to do as much as is humanly possible in this lifetime, fulfilling wishes and desires.  For others, a deep resignation takes place as fear of the unknown lurks, hidden in the shadows.  Still others develop an “I’m just not going to think about it” attitude.  Personally, my mortality is countered by my belief in immortality.   

immortality:  the condition of not being susceptible to death 

Within me is a childhood memory about my grandmother.  When I was very young, I remember being told of her near death experience.  She had been seriously ill with a severe fever, and it wasn't certain if she was going to live or not.  When she finally began to recover she told of having been in an idyllic place with green fields everywhere and a warm light. 

There are more than a few recorded incidents of those whose bodies have shut down and of their experiences in another dimension, another realm, of life after death before returning to this physical existence on earth.    

One notable incident is that of a renowned neurosurgeon who was in a coma for several days with bacterial meningitis. There is no recovery from this condition; the outcome is either death or a vegetative state.  However, not only did he fully recover, but his skepticism about near death experiences was wiped away as he entered that realm called eternity.  His experience is worth reading at ebenalexander.com.  That is immortality.

I am of the belief—no, I have the knowledge and conviction that the end of my physical life is only the beginning of another way of life, one which is governed by immortality. 

My body is aging, changing, but I’m not.  I do not have a fear of death and, if possible, when that happens, I would like to be the one who returns to tell you all that awaits.  But then my experiences never make a believer out of others.  You have to have your own.

"The bodies we now have are weak and can die.  But they will be changed into bodies that are eternal.  Then the scriptures will come true, 'Death has lost the battle.'"