And he won’t go away
He’s under my skin
A part of my system
That will not give in.
It will not surrender
The memory of touch
The brightness of smile
That I loved so much.
I’d hoped it’d be natural
A slow dissipation
Like water from pavement
Instead I’m possessed
With faithful affection
Instead of the shallow,
I have saturation.
He won’t fade away
From recesses of me
He is part of my soul now
And so shall it be.
No matter how Broken You Are,
No matter how low you feel,
No matter how blind you are,
The God of Heaven sees you.
On the way home I was thinking about when the disciples asked Jesus why a certain man was blind.
It was on my mind because of a conversation I had with my pastor a few weeks ago.
I asked for five minutes.
He gave me five times three.
How many of you know that in the land of the busy, five minutes times three is a very long time?⌚:)
Back to the story,
While driving home I thought of the section where this blind man was healed.
Jesus didn’t leave him like he found him. ♥
The inability to see.
It isn’t just the eyes that can be blind, is it?
We can be blind to our own behavior,
our self-sabotaging ways,
and our flaws.
We can even be blind to a solution when we seek one.
And I was blind to a solution
For a long time.
I didn’t want to be blind,
and looked for a way to receive sight. I needed a mystery to be solved.
I wanted to fix what was broken because I was so tired of the cloud around me,
Like the cloud of dust that Pig Pen kicks up wherever he goes.
The untraceable scent that it produced – It was stubborn – and I couldn’t wash it off.
I couldn’t rinse it down the drain, like I do my make-up.
It was in my pores, and it emanated from me, the way the smell of smoke sticks to a person after they’ve been camping.
God didn’t leave things that way.
He gave me sight.
The pastor was preaching, on a regular Sunday morning, and I was taking notes, when all of a sudden,
“click. click. click.”
Just like that,
Every missing piece slid into place.
I had the answer.
Blind eyes opened.
Solution in my hands,
mixed with ink that was flowing from my pen,
taking solid form as words were spread across the page.
quickly, furiously, hurriedly,
Capturing and preserving every word that detailed the answer to a problem that had plagued me
And I wanted to tell the pastor what had happened in his church.
When I did, haltingly and choppily, because I cannot speak as well as I write, I detailed how long I’d searched.
He told me, “It was God’s timing.”.
He didn’t say, “Yeah, I’m anointed like that.”
He didn’t say, “I get that a lot, Alma. Wherever I go, Breakthroughs a-plenty.”
He said, “Timing.”
And I stared at him, (which is what I do when several reactions occur at once).
I stare because when so many things ::can:: be said, I have to select very carefully what I choose to say,
I opened my mouth and said, “Oh.”.
Yeah, I am all about the brilliance.
“Oh. I thought it was because of this place.”.
And then I asked, “Why would I not find the solution to this issue for more than 40 years? Wasn’t it the anointing, here?”.
I don’t remember his exact response, so I am not going to write anything, I just know he was patient, and that, as I left, the word “Timing” continued to resonate inside of me.
Which brings me back to the original topic.
Jesus healed a blind man and “his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?”.
Jesus basically told them that he was born blind for that day of his healing – because the greatness of the work of God would be shown to all through that situation.
And as I drove, I wept.
I wept and considered a child, an adolescent, a teen, a young adult, learning to live with an impediment in that era.
The son, the mother, the father, friends, family, etc…
All whose lives were touched, affected,
who adapted to the situation,
Who gave grace.
I thought about the culture then, in which someone who was blind lived, and I wondered how they supported themselves.
Did he have a girlfriend?
Was there someone he wanted to marry?
Did they try to go to doctors to correct the blindness,
the way I went to counselors looking for my solution?
And were they just as frustrated and discouraged as I when they couldn’t find it?
What did he think when he found out he was especially chosen by God for that day, that time, at that hour?
So that God could show everybody in the world that he was real…
What was it like for him to know that he was chosen,
Not because God was cruel,
But because God ::made him:: to be able to withstand that temporary suffering – knowing that he was going to bless him with deliverance later.
What was it like to be chosen?
The Lord is weaving a magnificent tapestry and everyone is a thread.
When it’s finished, we are going to marvel at its beauty and be glad we were involved.
Each one of us has a purpose,
A plan that God designed when he formed us in our mother’s womb.
Each one of us has a struggle that we deal with and some of those things are temporary,
but others cannot be removed unless God supernaturally intervenes.
When he does…
For he is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him,
he will do it in such a way that no human will be able to lift their hand and say that they were the one who made it happen.
When God sets a person free,
He does it in such a way but there is no doubt about who was at work in that situation.
And he does those things to show his love for all of Humanity on this planet.
No matter how Broken You Are,
No matter how low you feel,
No matter how blind you are,
The God of Heaven sees you
And He knows with what you are dealing.
There will come a day when he will remove the thing that makes you less than what you could be.
When he does –
You won’t be blind anymore.
It will be your responsibility
Not to walk forward,
But to run.
To run forward
With your two
– leah ♡
Not for a young child.
I would consider very carefully before taking anyone young in the faith, sensitive by nature, or tender and vulnerable.
I don’t know what it is about Batman movies pulling the insanity card out and having actors portray unstable minds…
But they seem to have a corner on that market.
Lex is crazy.
And he does the crazy very well.
He’s literally very sick.
The problem is,
He’s bitter, hateful, and spews vileness in regards to God and Help from Above.
He makes multiple references to the superheroes as little gods,
And multiple statements about God not caring a whit about humanity.
An adult mind, strong in the faith, won’t falter. They will recognize the twisted perspective as the reason for the dangerous threat Lex is.
A child will absorb the negativity.
Their “shields” are not as strong as ours in that regard.
The words will echo in their minds later, since they will be deposited into their memory banks.
I strongly suggest that any child under the age of 14 not go see that movie.
That is from this mother’s heart to other mother’s hearts.
But if it makes you feel better,
go and preview it on your own before deciding to take them.
It will only cost you $8 and a couple hours of your time,
and I believe that you will find the effort worth it.
From grown up to grown up I give the movie a 4.
Out of 10 stars.
There are a few slivers of goodness that can be pulled out of it, lesson wise, but I won’t be rushing to buy this one for my DVD collection,
Even if Wonder Woman showed up…
When you stumble across something
During your journey,
Allow yourself to feel the joy of that moment.
That moment that you discovered…
That moment that your world was made sweeter,
Even if it was just for one day.
And carry that joy with you as an elixir for when you grow weary.
Sip slowly from the cup of remembrance,
When lips are parched,
Even if you couldn’t keep the thing,
Or walk with the one,
You still have the happiness
And some people don’t.
Some people miss the signals.
Hold tight to the memory.
To that burst of sunlight that came breaking through the clouds,
To the flower you found nestled in humble moss,
To that gentle smile that slipped past your eyes to puddle into your lowest depths.
It was yours,
For that moment, anyway.
It was Wholly
– leah ♡
When you want to run away,
But you don’t,
Because you know when you get
Wherever it is you are going,
You will still be there,
That is when you are growing.
When you look around
And evaluate the actions of others
Without allowing emotion,
To cloud your vision,
That is when the scales are falling from your eyes.
When you realize
That some will always choose themselves first,
And consider your heart last,
And when you allow your disbelieving mind
The permission to accept this sorrowful truth,
To absorb it into your psyche
Until it is as much a part of you
As the cells which carry life’s blood
Into your heart,
That is when you will find true discernment.
And when you choose solitude
Over a companion
who does not value your gifts
Or the Midas Touch within your fingers
To turn dull things to gold,
You will have found it.
You will have found the solid rock
Upon which to build your house.
And it won’t matter
How many wolves come
And to puff
And to blow your house down.
Because you used the best materials
The thickest mortar
The sturdiest bricks
And no one
(Like the others did)
When I compare the woman I am today with the woman I was when I was young, I grieve.
Young me was downright mean at times.
I’m sorry for those days.
Life has a way of teaching us what matters.
You sit on the couch, involved in a heated argument, and your mouth is full of words that are just as effective as bullets.
You know they will destroy.
Rip, tear, wound the psyche of your opponent.
Make them bleed.
No, not bleed, hemorrhage.
In the past I would open my mouth.
Today, I swallow the words and respond slowly.
98% of the time. ♡
Young women today…
I caution you.
Choose words carefully,
Use them rarely,
And choose silence frequently,
Rather than blurt out a sharp retort.
You may win a battle,
But the bloody aftermath you find yourself mopping up,
Removes the thrill of victory.
The only victory,
The true triumph,
Is to win, not an argument,
But the very heart of the one with whom you are arguing.
This may be one of my favorite quotes in the world.
And it’s so hard to choose just one.
Being in a very authoritarian marriage, where our church preached something called “Spiritual Authority”, a concept backed up by many biblical scriptures,
A woman was to submit to her husband whenever there was an impasse in decision making.
Example, (a benign one)
Man wants to spend 100$ on item A.
Woman wants to spend 100$ on item B.
Man pulls submission card.
Maybe the woman’s choice was for the family instead of herself.
Maybe it was the wiser choice.
If a man is not humble enough to consider the intelligence of his wife…
If a man is selfish and has lost sight of his mission to be a servant to his family, to follow the example of Christ, who washed the feet of all twelve of his disciples,
Who died for them and for us,
If a man is short-tempered, and full of himself, loving himself before his wife and children,
He could snap at his wife right away, pulling the “I’m the boss around here.” reminder card out of his pocket, and silencing her.
I didn’t do many things I wanted to do because I obeyed.
I didn’t work,
Or Pursue a career.
Grow as a human.
As an intellectual.
I educated myself with Readers Digest Classics and other books I’d check out or purchase.
Mi mente tenia hambre.
My mind was hungry.
What a revelation, to read _Jane Eyre_.
To read of a girl, lost and rejected, mistreated,
Then placed in an orphanage to be mistreated further, but to find a friend who taught her about God.
There, Jane and Helen learned what true godliness was, even as religion in its unyielding granite-like hardness oppressed them.
They created a warm nucleus of friendship and learning of Christ and they existed that way until Helen died.
Jane is plain.
But her spirit found expression in her resolve to survive and in her sketches.
And a very strong and stern man fell in love with her.
He was married, though, to a mentally-infirmed woman watched over night and day by nurses he hired.
He fell in love with Jane and asked her to run away with him as man and wife where no one would know them.
During this moment of decision, she finds strength to rise up from within, to remain true to her values despite her desperate desire to say yes, and she protects her individuality, preserving her freedom.
Charlotte Brontê, alias Currer Bell,
In the 1800s,
Was setting women free in their hearts through her writing.
She sets people free today.
She lies in a grave but her words remain full of life,
Full of deliverance.
Exhortation to stand.
To not deny one’s self.
To allow the soul to branch out into greatness.
Despite what others, even those loved most, say.
I look back at the history of intermittent violence in my marriage with a bit of shame.
My cousin (who survived cancer) asked me one night,
She and I were lying in bed together last August, for she’d come up from the Carolinas for a family reunion after her strength returned,
and we slept in the same room…
She asked me, “Why did you stay?”
How do I explain to my cousin, a fighter of, and victor over the invisible clutches of cancer, why I would stay in such a union, when I could have simply got into a car and driven away from it?
I had many answers and zero answers.
There ::is:: a helpless remorse that accompanies regret, and if I allowed it to, it would destroy me.
Like a thick gray cloud of smoke invades the lungs, remorse would invade any man’s senses until they ceased to try anymore.
It’s an ugly emotion and must be taken by the horns and forced to do good in a mind.
Become fuel that drives a body to rise up from ashes and live better.
No net of guilt.
No net of anguish.
A Strong-Hearted human being who is NOT a trembling bird,
But a human with…
An independent will
That won’t be bent or twisted into a warped thing ever again.
The only chains I will ever have,
will be the chains that bind my heart to the heart of God,
who loved me ,
who designed me ,
who gave himself for me,
and who saw each tear when they fell.
Golden bonds of love we have,
Holding us together.
And it is He who works in me still,
Both to desire,
Even as he’s given me my own,
And the freedom that goes with it.
God Bless Currer Bell.
And Helen Burns who died prematurely,
But not before she shone the light of true Christianity in the freezing corridors where religion cast its shadow.
The sunrise was soft this morning, providing a gentle light that didn’t hurt the eyes as one drove toward the east.
I generally take the road that allows my car to move in curvy swervey patterns since it follows the shoreline of the river.
It’s a peaceful commute that changes visually with every season and it contributes beauty to my life.
I’d been on a stretch of road where the river was temporarily blocked from view.
I usually anticipate the moment when I make the curve and it appears again.
I rounded the bend and there it was, soft and warm with the morning light spreading over its surface.
Calm today, no blustery wind to cause ripples on the water,
It was an autumn-colored mirror, allowing the trees to look down and watch themselves change with the passage of time.
I pulled over.
I had to capture this moment on the waters of this beloved place which provides this turbulent season of my life with reliable serenity.
I didn’t take more than ten steps in any direction, yet the separate views were vastly different.
A lesson in perspective waited for me there, at the river’s edge.
How do things look right now?
Do you like the view?
Shift your gaze…
Now, what do you see?
Light adds hope to darkened points of view, lacing the edges of our vision with a near heavenly glow, making ordinary not so ordinary anymore.
The sun rose higher.
The moment was over.
And I was once again nourished by a river which flows through the center of our town, existing to bless us all.
Faithful to touch our lives,
A picture of God for us,
A visual aid.
“I am here to give light to your shadowy world, and Life, if you want it.
Come and walk with me.
Deep down, where you need it.
I am living water.
Come and drink,
And be filled.”
A soft gentle morning to lend perspective in troubling times.
I needed it.
There is a God, the Creator of all things,
And he is here to give us life
And light for the darker days.
In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.”
“FEATHER YOUR NEST”
Words I saw painted on an outside wall of a store in Dundee, MI.
I thought about the words.
A gentle command to turn your house into a cozy place.
Not a showcase.
Not a gigantic window display.
But a home.
So many thoughts filled my mind as I drove down country roads to my own nest.
It isn’t feathered very well.
Sure, there’s furniture inside.
Blankets, pillows, some things that I love,
But it isn’t feathered.
Birds build their nests from sticks and mud, but then they look for soft things to make it warm.
God put that instinct inside of them.
And he put it inside of us, too.
I both love and hate where I live.
It is refuge, the place I landed when I had to go.
I had almost nothing yet everything at the same time,
because I had peace.
Why would I hate it?
Because my children aren’t in it.
I was baker, I was chef,
I was homeschoolMommy.
I guess that’s why it isn’t very feathery.
But it’s been three years now.
And God was gently nudging when I read that painted wall in Dundee.
“Feather your nest, Alma. It’s time.”
And I agree with Him.
I remember one of the lessons I learned about the human heart.
I remember when I learned that love didn’t obey rules and regulations.
One form of love, anyway.
We met and it was instantaneous.
The draw, the attraction, the connection.
Neither of us were models of perfection when it came to the human form,
But each mind was a good fit for the other,
And nothing else seemed to matter.
There was no flash of lightning,
But there was electricity.
A great divide separating us,
And no bridge.
It doesn’t happen to everyone,
But it does happen to some.
The meeting of someone you know would be a soul mate,
If they didn’t already belong to someone else.
I recall his saying, when we discussed the apparent connection,
that he was afraid we would end up hurting,
And I answered, “It’s inevitable. We will hurt, because we met and we already know we have to say goodbye.”
And we did.
We look at monarch butterflies and marvel at their beauty, but forget about their brief life-span.
Delicate wings and vibrant colors of a living thing that faces swift death through no choice of its own,
except that it is the proper order of things.
In a way, I’m blessed.
I experienced “it”.
The thing people talk about over coffee and gaze upon on silver screens and read about in books.
And in a way, I’m not blessed.
Because I never got to savor or embrace it, or enjoy it.
Just like the monarch.
Hard to catch,
but wonderful to catch a glimpse of
Before it stops its fluttering