"Live Life Like a Golfer"

golf: n. A ball game played by individuals competing against one another in which the object is to hit a ball into each of a series of (usually eighteen or nine) holes in the minimum number of strokes.

 

"I feel so overwhelmed if I think of the overall picture," she said, "so I'm just going to go with your 'one step at a time.'"

A friend has stepped out from under her nurse's cap to train for another job, a medical coder. At the age of seventy-two--with a bad knee to boot--her body can no longer hold up to the physical rigors and demands of nursing. A desk job, one which relies on brains sans brawn, seemed practical and made sense. She has returned to school at the local community college to gain certification and future employment.

"Why," you may ask, "does she still need to work? Don't nurses make good money?" A bout with cancer several years ago wiped her out financially. Period.

Panic set in as she began her second term. "It's the 2:30 wake-up thoughts...last night it was What AM I doing? What if I fail? stuff. I'm trying to not get that panicky, overwhelming feeling thinking about it."  

"You're trying to take on the whole," I told her. "It will never work. All you can do is go one day at a time, one step at a time," 

Life is like that. The whole of it is overwhelming. It may present itself in the form of family concerns, health issues, financial problems, or--in our present culture--be political in nature. In reality, all any of us has is this current moment in time. Right here. Right now. Being concerned about "someday" is a waste of time and energy, an exercise in futility.

My suggestion is to live life like a golfer. The game of golf consists of either nine or eighteen holes. Using a golf club, a small ball is hit into each of those holes with the least number of swings (called a stroke.) The course is completed by hitting the ball towards each hole one hit, one swing at a time. Sometimes the ball goes in water or high grass and can't even be seen or found. Another one takes its place, and the golfer continues on--one hit, one swing at a time. The final hole isn't visible when the game begins at the first swing, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. When the last swing is made on the last hole, the game is completed.

This is my point: Deal with the task at hand, in the here and now. The process cannot be sped up. Take every step, in order, and you will get to the end.

Regardless of your personal circumstances, the picture is clear. And makes a lot of sense. 

So go forth. Live life like a golfer. Focus on what is right in front of you, but never forget the end goal. For me, that is finishing out this physical life and stepping into eternity. 

"Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own."

Matthew 6:34 

"On Faith"

faith: n. The process of forming or understanding abstractions, ideas, or beliefs, without empirical evidence, experience or observation. A trust or confidence in the intentions or abilities of a person, object, or ideal.

At the age of 74 ("almost 75," I hear myself saying), my gardening business is in its seventeenth season. It is grunt work--weeding, mowing, pruning, maintenance work. I am tired. God and I have had discussions about when it is going to end and how I am going to support myself when it does--well, I have anyway. He sees the work as being about the people I am in contact with, whereas i always end up in a financial place.

I am neither here nor there. My heart isn't in the work these days, but the money makes a difference in how I live my life, and I'm not ready to let go. I have turned a couple of large jobs over to a young man, jobs I no longer enjoy. Weed eating blackberries on a slope with the possibility of encountering bees has lost its appeal. I don't have a clue what I'm doing or what is going to happen. Am I retiring, going part-time? Will I continue working, being more selective in the work I do? I do not know, and my heavenly Father isn't giving any hints.

This meme is an accurate representation of life with God. I can't even find the nose on the end of my face. While weeding this afternoon, He reminded me that without faith it is impossible to please Him. And He whispers, "Do you trust me?" I can honestly say He has never, ever failed me.

"On Transition"

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

His name is Nelson. Soft-spoken with a warm, bright smile, he was introduced to me by a client. Not only is he going to fill in for me while I am away for three weeks this summer, he is also going to replace me as resident go-to gardener for at least two of my accounts.

"What are your plans, Ladonna?," Bruce had asked. "How much longer are you going to continue working?" As I approach 75, my resolve for work in my gardening business has been waning the past couple of seasons. It is evident. A regular Friday client for the past eleven and a half years, I had contacted him and his wife when I took off for a trip to visit my Idaho family, telling them of my absence. Work was left undone, and Nelson had been called in to help out. 

As we talked, we mutually agreed it is time for a change, a transfer of responsibility. Nelson will take over my former role; I'll be called in for projects as needed. A transition is taking place. 

Transition happens to us. We are neither pilot nor commandeer; we are simply passengers, observers from this craft called our body as change takes place. It isn't like an elective course we can sign up for. It is on the required list. The sooner we come to that realization, that understanding and reckoning as humans, the better our mental, physical, and spiritual state.

The prefix trans- is borrowed from the Latin trans ("across, on the far side, beyond"). Its meaning carries nothing that identifies with status quo or stationary. It does indicate an alteration, even an upheaval, of life as we know it.

I am no stranger to work. The story was told that I went with my mother into the tomato fields and prune orchards as a toddler while she harvested those fruits. Summers were spent in the fields gleaning berries and beans. One fall I was the sole harvester of walnuts and filberts in a neighbor's orchard. 

I don't consider myself a workaholic, but I was raised by parents with a strong work ethic. For some "Cleanliness is next to Godliness." In my household, work was the virtuous trait and characteristic. After my dad retired I remember his recounting, "I haven't done anything," when told food had been prepared to eat. The unspoken message was that he didn't deserve to eat because he hadn't worked. That work ethic, that philosophy sunk deep within me.

The Traveling Gardener was established seventeen years ago when I found myself a single person with no marketable job experience. Working in the outdoors suits me well, the independence in being self-employed does too. Physical labor has its merits as my body is pushed and stretched as I weed, prune, mow, and operate power equipment. Loading and offloading the mower from the back of my truck uses muscles otherwise left to atrophy. Some of it is hard work, but it is work--and from my childhood, work is a virtuous thing. That point of view isn't an easy thing to walk away from.

However, in this, my seventeenth season, I find myself not wanting to work. I'll have a 75th birthday in six months, and I had begun feeling something needed to change, but I didn't want to let go. And then Nelson was introduced into my life. I find I am ready to bequeath my obligations to him.

It is time. I feel it. I know it. I'm not sure of the outcome--am I going to continue working part-time? I don't want to walk away from the relationships I have with my clients. I am ready to walk away from blackberry briers, hedge pruning, and hauling away loads of debris. The details will continue to unfold.

All of life is transitional. Emanating from the mind of God, each one of us made the transition seamlessly from that creation into this physical realm. Without any effort on our part, we passed through the embryonic stage, infancy, toddler and childhood; adolescence; adulthood, moving from one stage to the next to the next until we find ourselves where I am--an almost-75-year-old senior citizen facing the end of my working life and, eventually, physical life itself. It will be a full circle completed, a transition into the spiritual realm of the next life, the one where my--and your--creation took place. 

The transition from that of a person who works long days and hours to one who has a lighter, more reasonable schedule is taking place quite smoothly. I have no doubt the transition from this physical life into the next life will happen just as smoothly. I hope I'll be able to tell you about it as it is taking place. 










  

"On the Measure of Success"

success: n. The achievement of one's aim or goal; financial profitability; the fact of getting or achieving wealth, respect, or fame.

I received a book in the mail yesterday, a complimentary copy from the publisher of the book I wrote. To use publishing terms, the book has gone "live," it has been "launched," and the receipt of it verified that fact. It is in print and is available for purchase.

This blog came into being over five years ago. I have always viewed myself as a musician, a pianist, not an author, and I still struggle with applying that term to myself. "Story teller" or "scribe" is a better description, I think. I am most comfortable with the idea I simply relate personal experiences or share insights learned in my daily life. 

Once the seed of an idea is planted within my mind, I am unable to ignore it. Coming from the mind of God, it doesn't go away, but grows and grows until I take action. That is how Tidbits and Pearls--A Book of Essays on Living Everyday Life with God came into being. I cannot tell you when it happened, but at some point it seemed like a good idea to gather together several of these posts under one cover. And so the process began. 

Rome was not built in a day. Neither was developing "the book." It turned out to be one of the most challenging, difficult things I've done--and I've had some doozies. The focus from the beginning was to point the reader Godward, to challenge status quo thoughts, to open up possibilities for new thought, to encourage focus on the spiritual rather than the short-term physical.

I am now a published author, a success, according to some. My take on that is a person can do most anything if they are willing to pay for it. I chose to self-publish a compilation of blog posts so I could maintain control. While that sounds a bit like I have OCD or Obsessive Control Disorder, in reality I didn't want to be under contract to a publisher or have an editor telling me what I could or couldn't say. It was bad enough that the company I chose wouldn't allow me to describe war as "hell." 

Success is a heady word. It suggests personal accomplishment, especially when compared to failure. After all, we all want to succeed rather than fail. The numbers game is important when the world speaks of success--the larger the number, the greater the success. Often that is translated into dollars, the world's measure of success.

Think about that for a moment--a person's success is determined by the money made or shown on a profit/loss statement, a net worth, the larger the more successful. That is not how God measures success. Value and worth as a person can never be evaluated by a currency.    

In my finite mind I would love for my book to be known around the world. Its message, that of God's desire for friendship and relationship, is an important one, and I feel it is one the world needs to hear and know. 

God, however, does not play the games the world plays and has brought my focus to "one.. for the sake of one." If only one person is pointed to Him as a result of reading those things given me to write, then the book will be a success. 

My challenge to you is to consider/reconsider how you measure success. And may it be in spiritual terms instead of those of the world. "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Matt. 19:19; "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind." Matt. 22:37

I am honored to be chosen to deliver His message. 


"What do you think? If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray." Matthew 18: 11-13 

"On the Things I Learned While Writing a Book"

author: n. The originator or creator of a work, especially of a literary composition.

scribe: n. Someone who writes; a draughtsperson; a writer for another; especially, an official or public writer.

It started with a thought--one, single thought that harkened back decades. 

Many years ago--well over fifty, in fact--I was given a note written on a small piece of paper taken from a legal pad, one of those with yellow paper. On it was written the truth of God's love for me and this: "Soon you will write psalms." 

I shared it with no one and tucked it away in my wallet, occasionally taking it out to read the message even though the words were fading and it was falling apart. My purse, with the wallet inside, was stolen and, with it, the note. I felt that loss more than the loss of my Social Security card, bank cards, and checkbooks. However, I never forgot its message.

The key on my piano refused to produce a sound when I played it--an f note to be exact. A dialogue began floating around in my mind making the point of how important each one of us is in the whole of things. There are no substitutes and no one can take our place. One note does not a symphony make, but there are voids, empty spaces when a single note is missing.

I put the thoughts into words and began writing, dipping my toes into the writing pool, testing it out. I shared it as a Facebook post. The door had opened, and I walked through it.

A high school friend encouraged me to begin writing a blog, a place where I could share. That was five and a half years ago. The posts accumulated until there were nearly two hundred of them. What would happen if I compiled them in a book?, I thought. The journey began.

I printed out all of the posts, and the challenge was on to make a cohesive manuscript out of them. It needed to present a message and make sense; it couldn't just ramble all over the countryside. The first thing I learned was that I needed God's hand, wisdom, and guidance. This was not going to be done without Him. 

A theme developed, that of God's desire for friendship and relationship with us, His creation. He took me back to my early teen years and an experience at church camp when I responded to His call. That experience became the introduction and is the foundation, the setting for Tidbits and Pearls: A Book of Essays on Living Everyday Life with God.

I am not a trained writer. I have no professional instruction other than Mrs. Wilshire's AP English class as a senior in high school. I quickly learned that following the lead of God isn't always easy as self-doubt and self-incrimination filled me--for days, weeks, and months. "I'm not an author. I am not a writer. There's no way I would ever put myself in that class."--all in comparison to those who are. I learned that never bothered God in the slightest as He asked me to simply share from my heart.

Another thing I learned is that "Rome wasn't built in a day." And neither was what I thought would be a simple task of making a format of several blog posts. I have tried to place a time frame on when the seed was planted but am unable to. I know it has now gone into years rather than months. Often it has felt like the longest pregnancy on the face of the earth.

Writing a book has been one of the hardest, most challenging things I've done in my life. And I have several to choose from. Had it not been for the knowledge that this is what my Heavenly Father wants, I would have got buried in the sheer detail of it all.

The book has never been about me. It is about God and His love for us all. It matters not if only one person reads it. If the message is taken in, settles within and grows, its purpose will have been fulfilled--that of pointing the way Godward. 

Vulnerability has been by my side as this book nears release. I know myself; I know my life. I know standing before God asking forgiveness for wrongs and hurts I've caused others, for rebellion and resistance against Him; I know His forgiveness as I remind Him, unable to let go of the memories and self-blame, and He says, "I don't remember what you're talking about." In the writing I am exposed--How can you know the truth of what I tell unless it is that way? I know my state--I am human.

In the past I have viewed myself as being a pretty patient person--at least when I think of years gone by. I have learned, however, that impatience has become my constant companion as the manuscript has gone through the process of becoming published. The reminder from a daughter just yesterday that "It's all about the timing" has tempered my impatient disposition.

I am sitting on the cusp of the release of "the book." The representative from the publisher said she hoped it would be today. And I am learning, "It's all about the timing."

A marketing representative contacted me asking me what my marketing plans are and who I hoped to reach. I told him "word of mouth, Facebook, and the world." He laughed and commented I would probably reach thirty or so people. While my response was quite grandiose, the message of Tidbits and Pearls is that important, and I want it shared with all who will listen--God is love. He wants your friendship--and mine as well--and wants to be part of our daily lives. He made possible a way for that to happen. It is our choice.   

I have been given unlimited, unfathomable, unconditional support from you, my family and friends, on this journey. And that is another thing I have learned. I could not have written a book not only without God, but without you. Each one of you has played a role in the creation of this symphony of words. 

Thank you.

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

"You know," she announced assertively, "it's all about being open." Standing in her kitchen, preparing dinner, she went on. "If you want to live your life with God, you just have to be open to Him." With a heart the size of the universe, this daughter has always been one to tell it like it is.

Using the definition of religion as "any specific system of belief about deity, often involving rituals, a code of ethics, a philosophy of life, and a worldview," data from 2001 reveals there are over 300 religions in the United States, the largest by number of members Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and Buddhism. A 2015 poll reported that 71% of Americans identified as Christian.  

There are at least 35 different denominations alone in the Christianity sector. In days gone by religious training was confined to Sunday mornings and evenings with perhaps a Wednesday evening Bible study. That has changed with the advent of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week internet and television; there is no lack of religious programming to be found.

In a competition for viewers, which is often translated into financial supporters, a deluge of words floods the land as a variety of doctrines are presented. "How-to" prayers are presented--how to be saved, how to be healed, how to find happiness and success--all done in the name of God and much of it man's version of God as He gets buried in the clutter.

This is the antithesis of God; this is not God. He asks that people live their lives in a manner which draws others, not dissimilar to a moth being drawn to a flame, and to be ready to answer if questioned, to share Him and their faith. Force-feeding is not His style.

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

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

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

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

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

God is love. And He loves me enough to let me choose.

"Not for the Faint of Heart"

faint of heart: adj. idiom lacking the courage to face something difficult or dangerous.

It is official. The dates have been confirmed, plane tickets purchased and seats assigned--ones with "extra leg room, please" in hopes the lengthy flight will be a bit more comfortable.  The 3-week-long trip is no longer a someday or a possibility but a reality.

Visiting Scotland is not for the faint of heart, I thought. It's not all that different from living life with God.

The small country of Scotland occupies the northern third of an island. It has a 60-mile-long land border with England on the southeast and is surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean to the north and west, the North Sea to the northeast, and the Irish Sea to the south. More than 790 outlying small islands are included in its area.

Moving Atlantic depressions bring strong winds continuously throughout the year, making it the windiest country in Europe.Those winds can be bitter and biting, the kind that chill to the very marrow of both visitor and inhabitant.

While its temperate climate tends to be very changeable, it is not normally extreme. The weather, however, can be grey and gloomy. The sun shines just over 25% of the time.

Scotland as a destination is never touted by travel agents as "warm and sunny." A visitor must be prepared for inclement weather with the possibility, even the probability, of becoming chilled and rained upon.

Why, then, would anyone want to deal with that?

Because it is worth it.

As a 16-year-old exchange student in the summer of 1961, I lived with a family in sheep farming country in East Lothian, Scotland, eighteen miles east of Edinburgh, its capital. I came from a small town with a population of 5,000 and was raised in a sheltered environment; the experience was one that was life-changing. I had traveled by train cross-country from Oregon to New York City before flying to Britain. All alone in a very large world, I initially experienced a case of homesickness of grand proportions--the term "homesick" could not be more descriptive.

In a time pre-dating electronic communication, contact with family and friends was limited to handwritten letters, sent and received via Air Mail and a single long-distance phone call from my parents, a surprise for me and a splurge for them. 

It was just God and me.

Fifty-eight years later, my eldest daughter and grandgirl will be going with me as I return to visit the siblings and their families of my Scottish family.

Scotland is a country filled with ancient history; castles from centuries ago reveal themselves as one drives around a bend in the road. The scenery is spectacular, nature's colors rich and vibrant. From farmlands to majestic mountains, with water everywhere, its pristine beauty compensates for its diminutive size. The Scots are warm, friendly, and outgoing. The lilt of their accent on my native tongue of English is like listening to music. The sound of bagpipes causes my soul to melt.

Scotland and its people are a part of my being. I am possessed--from the time I first stepped off the train and was greeted by my host family all those years ago.

The same can be said of God. He has possessed me.

I vividly remember approaching the minister when I was a small five-year-old as he greeted parishioners heading out the door after the Sunday morning church service. When he acknowledged my presence, I quietly said, "I want to go to heaven." 

The journey began.

Living life with God is not for the faint of heart. He does not change to live with humankind; we must be changed in order to live with Him.

Many speak of living life for God. Living life with Him is a completely different matter. When one lives for God, that often translates into having a project or idea, enacting it and bringing it about, then asking Him to bless it--the efforts of mankind, not the work of God.

Living with God means giving up my life and my desires and allowing Him to have free rein.
He requires a total commitment--nothing more, nothing less. Since that goes against everything within the being and nature of humankind, I suspect that is why there are so few who are willing to walk the narrow path, the one leading to life.

Why, then, would anyone want to do that?

I am His creation. All that He does comes from a base of love and desire for friendship. He knows me better than I know myself and wants only the best for me. Living life with God is living life where it really matters--in the eternal, the long-term rather than the short-term.

He is always with me, walking me through the worst and hardest of times, sharing in the best of times. God is the One I turn to daily, asking for guidance and wisdom, strength, forgiveness, and healing.

In short, He is worth it.

And this is where visiting Scotland and living life with God aren't all that different from one another: Each begins with an intense desire for personal experience;  each requires a determination and commitment to follow through and to not be dissuaded if difficult circumstances arise. For a Scottish tourist, the weather can present a harsh deterrent. On a spiritual level, life with God is solitary, often with great demands. The road leading to life is arduous--not for the faint of heart.

And this is where they differ: A visit to Scotland is going to last three weeks; living life with God lasts....Well, it lasts two lifetimes--this one and the next to come.

"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it." Matthew 7:13, 14