shouts of joy

The rosemary bushel potted on the table needs attention. The orchid in the window sill would probably appreciate some too. The other plants gave up a long time ago. They couldn't pace themselves with me and I couldn't make them a part of my routine. But when I have remembered these delicate things, only because the limpness in their stems, they receive an unbearable amount of attention and cups and cups of water. I'm afraid that these inconsistent doses aren't exactly healthy for growth. Poor things. I see the lack of structure and need for consistency for these poor plants but I don't know where to get it now. I had a dream the other night, it was after a long day of stressful thoughts about the many directions for my future, which causes extreme joy linked with opportunity, but extreme sorrow and fear. In my dream I had been in charge of a big event, it was stressful as many big events are. I had planned a camping trip for the high school where I teach. Thing...

Disturb us, Lord, when We are too well pleased with ourselves, When our dreams have come true Because we have dreamed too little, When we arrived safely Because we sailed too close to the shore. Disturb us, Lord, when With the abundance of things we possess We have lost our thirst For the waters of life; Having fallen in love with life, We have ceased to dream of eternity And in our efforts to build a new earth, We have allowed our vision Of the new Heaven to dim. Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, To venture on wider seas Where storms will show your mastery; Where losing sight of land, We shall find the stars. We ask You to push back The horizons of our hopes; And to push into the future In strength, courage, hope, and love. -Sir Francis Drake

Our hearts become open when the blood flowing veins inside of them break out to pump life into another depleted heart. It is then, when our hearts are split open and sharing that thick liquid of life, that we become aware of another’s existence. And not just aware, but unified, deeply and painfully unified. Painfully overwhelmed by the acceptance and love, and yet so painfully overwhelmed with the risk of losing them both. Today a good friend of mine shared with me about the happiest day of her life. She said it was the day she flew off the island on which she had spent a year as a student missionary, this was the best day of her life. I could see the emotion returning after so many years. Her joy was contagious and I was immediately filled with a joy, too. It reminded me of my own departure, the day I left my home in the jungles of India after a year. My experience was the contrary. Instead of the best day of my life, I can most definitely pronounce it the absolute worst day...

If God closes a door and a window, maybe it's time to build a new house.  As I listened to Pastor Randy Roberts Sabbath morning live on my friends' TV one of the first quotes he shared was that. And I joined the live-streamed congregation with a chuckle. What's the original? If God closes a door He will open a window ? Or If God closes a door stop banging on it ? I've never thought that maybe it's time to stop looking for another way out, or stop moaning about it, but maybe just to knock it all down and start over. It's a rather refreshing idea. I do enjoy myself a good demolition. Maybe when we continue to run into obstacle after obstacle we just need to knock them down and start over. I like that. He said something else this morning, "The walls of obstacles weren't made to keep you out, they were made to keep the others out, the others who don't really  want what's on the other side. But the brick wall won't stop you." The brick...

As I swam the other day, it was an easy decision to not use a stopwatch. After a couple of laps I seriously began to stress and internalize my fear of using the stopwatch. I denied it for another few laps, but with my fish-like movement in the pool I swam through a few of my own recent experiences with others who also could not try due to a fear of failure.  This must be what it feels like to be afraid of trying- easy to deny, but oh, so controlling.  I was afraid that the stopwatch would be too honest, tell me that I'm not fast enough, that I should stick to my day job, or maybe not even that. So in anger of my own fear I timed myself. Mostly, I'm convinced, I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't like the others, controlled by my own fear, and that I could indeed try hard and work for something, or simply that I could try and that trying isn't failing. So I swam and thought of nothing else except how to make my kicks more shallow, my strokes more full, and my breath...

Welcome, February. I'm at peace with the announcement of your arrival. Somehow. Lately I have spent a good portion of thinking admiring the innocence in your malleability. Your gift of an anointed day to engage in a most intimate way. Your annual battle against racial indifference. Your lengthening days, all 28 of them, in preparation for spring. And your joy for birthday parties of our countries leaders. How selfless are you dear February. As I prepared for the day and muddled in thoughts about beginnings, I made a mental call to the heroines of my past. More specifically I fingered through those invisible file folders looking for the details. What about her persona attracted me to pursue similar habits? Was it her smile? Her confidence? Her enveloping hugs? Her southern drawl? The way she spoke to all of us like nobody else mattered? The way she excitedly celebrated my great feats with me while her husband was dying? Or her apparent value in the eyes of Jesus? When did it becom...