Lesson from a Cowboy

Visiting an area of unsheltered plains as winter was turning into spring, I looked out and saw land covered in shades of brown. Only a few bits of green were there to be seen; made of low-lying scrubby-looking prairie plants which were nutrient rich for any grazing animals that might be passing through. Wind caught the scents of thawing ground, carrying a fragrance reminiscent of a rich patchouli oil.

The old cowboy got out of his jeep and pointed with a stick to a small flower. Dainty white blooms with yellow centers reminded me of an orchid, leaves stretched out along the ground as if they were attempting to gather warmth from earth and sky. “These are what we call Easter lilies,” he said with a smile. It was one of the first plants to bloom there in the spring. The arrival of these flowers means that spring has come, soon the ground will be warmed and return to being a canvas for thriving new growth. 

One of my favorite parts of Luke, as if I can pick a favorite, is where Jesus is encouraging his disciples. Not overlooking their worries, he instead speaks words of comfort. “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.” Think of these beautiful flowers, starched white blooms with sunshine yellow centers; each is a delicate work of creation. Though they are not found in the flower market, not highly praised in horticultural circles; they are still lovely designs of the Creator. 

It is all a matter of perspective. I can choose to see a bare land, whipped by the wind. Or, I can look for the first flowers of the spring, and see delicate creations that thrive in such an environment. We choose to look for beauty from the Creator, just as we choose to trust in His plan and see the sovereign touch in the creation of His splendor. 

“Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.”

Luke 12:27-31

Missing Blessings

This morning quickly went from my normal get ready for work routine to something unplanned as turning the key to start the car resulted in nothing but silence. I tried again and there was not a click or sputter. Thankfully, there was another vehicle available and the silent car was left behind as I headed to work. When the key turned and the engine didn’t, I had an opportunity to choose my response. I could either let this moment completely throw off my entire day, or I could take a breath and regroup. I can honestly say that I have responded well to these unexpected moments at times, and not so well during others. However, this morning as dogs were barking and I was scrambling for a different set of keys before heading out the door again, a friend’s words came back to me about gratitude for blessings that are often missed during each day, those that we are completely unaware of. 

That thought has lingered with me all day. What blessings am I missing? What am I oblivious too and taking for granted? My world is alive with the nature around me, bright flowers greet the day as I walk down the block; intricate forms that seemed to have caught sunshine’s light. From the darkness of the day after the sun slips around the curve of the earth until the orbital trek is made again, the sky is steeped in beautiful light of the greater and lesser. I have food to eat that is both nutritious and tasty. The house is a sturdy shelter, warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Three beautiful, though noisy, dogs greet my every arrival with great excitement that leaves me smiling in return. Friends near and far offer hands of help and let me help in return. They are all blessings.

But these, though I can certainly take them for granted at times, these seem too obvious. I think I miss the blessings that are more of the kind that hold the next breath, the next heartbeat. I’m aware of them, but don’t spend much time thinking of them, let alone praising God for them. I think I miss the blessings for the events I don’t understand or when things don’t turn out as planned. When my path is turned in a direction I didn’t anticipate and cannot predict, I think there may very well be a missed blessing there.

As I hear tomorrow about the car and the repairs, I will endeavor to continue to both seek to see the missing blessings and to praise God for and through them.    

Neighbors in Perspective

I have wonderful neighbors.  I’m not just saying that, I have the best neighbors.  They are kind, caring, and help to look out for each other, and us.  And, we in return get to help and look out for them.  I hopped on facebook this morning, just part of my normal morning routine, to check in on some virtual neighbors.  Two happily celebrated anniversaries, one birthday, and a heartfelt prayer request later, I want to celebrate the happy news of those who have shared their pictures and joys and pray for peace and comfort for those grieving. 

Neighbors are so much more than the people living in the house to the either side of us, or an electronic “friends” list.  They are people who when we reach out and get to know a bit, become a neighborhood.   A neighborhood that works to remain solidly in support of each other becomes a community.  Cities made of communities are going to function better.  They are more peaceful, cohesive, and are able to do more for each other and neighboring communities.

How do we get there?  We start taking care to keep our neighbors in our perspective.  It doesn’t have to be anything terribly complex.  Simply keep it in mind enough to think through possible needs.  If there is a heavy snow, catch them with a happy surprise by snow blowing the driveway just because.  If there is an illness, grab a meal and drop it off.  Extra produce from the garden that cannot be eaten, drop off a bag of the fresh goodies just because.  Meet at the fence, laugh and talk over those daily neighborhood things – the children jumping on the trampoline, the dog in the yard, the gardens, and the weather. 

Nothing too difficult.  Nothing that requires a committee or a huge plan.  Just keep the perspective wide enough to include the neighbors.  It can make your perspective grow tremendously.  

Simeon’s Bucket List

   Do you remember the movie that came out several years ago, about two men who were approaching their deaths. They decided that there were things that they wanted to do, a list of things prior to (sorry for the cliché) “kicking the bucket.”

   It’s not really such a bad idea to have a list of goals, of desired accomplishments in a life. But, what should that list look like? What should I put on there? It struck me yesterday morning, kind of an out of the blue thought, that Simeon had an excellent bucket list.
   Simeon was a man who lived in Jerusalem and was waiting to see the Messiah before dying. This was not just the top thing on his list – this was his list. What an amazing concept, of making seeing Jesus your bucket list. What would the side effects be? If our true focus and goal is to see Jesus, then I believe we would see numerous unexpected changes in our lives. Our perspectives would shift, our choices would change, slowly but surely our ideals and ideas would come into line with God’s will. We would start to experience peace, joy, and love in new and wondrous ways.

Celebrating Weird

   I can confess without discomfort that I am a bit odd to most way of thinking. I’m fine with that because it’s who I am. I am eagerly reading about how the Middle Ages were formed according to our modern since of history; Tolkien’s iambic pentameter is something that strikes my ear as great beauty, I nearly always have a camera with me and take around 3 to 300 pictures a day. There are enough pre-conceptions out there that this has not always been something that was comfortable. High school yearbooks have the words “so sweet” in them so much that I remember wiggling up my nose at the words. Sweet? Really – that seemed like such a cotton candy, melted and non-consequential word. But, truth be told I really wanted to be able to feel like I fit.

   It wasn’t until later that I started feeling more comfortable in my skin. History, love it! That’s okay, that’s just me. Yes, I will sing in the store and may have odd bits of songs running through my head at whatever you said. I get absolutely thrilled when I can master a difficult piece of software or understand statistical analysis. That just makes my day!
   We are all made uniquely, different from each other. We probably all hear someone tell us when we are younger that if the entire world were alike it would be a terribly boring place. Well, yes that is probably true. However, we continue to seek out and match up our similarities. Let’s celebrate our unique propensities.

Elizabeth’s Neighbor

   First of all – let me just say, that is just my musing. Please go back to the Bible to read the true and complete account of the birth of Christ.

   You know, I always thought they were a bit strange. I mean perfectly respectful and well liked in the community, but a bit odd. Elizabeth and Zechariah, standards in the neighborhood, the local children love them. Elizabeth is always so quick to help out though, right there at the neighborhood garage sale and making cookies for the bake sale. And, Zechariah – he’s a very devout man. He seems to have a special relationship with the Sovereign Lord.
   Of course, the strangeness has only intensified the last several months. Zechariah went to the temple for the yearly sacrifice. He prepared as normal, and truthfully, I didn’t think much about it. I mean we had a ton of things goings on. The house was being remodeled, the kids were just getting over terrible colds, and my husband was having some problems at work. So, with all of that, you can understand why the news of Zechariah preparing for the time at the temple was not really a surprise, but just not something high on my pay attention list. Well, that all changed when he came back, struck completely dumb! I mean it, the man couldn’t utter a single sound. Then we find out, Elizabeth is pregnant. I’m very excited for her. She has wanted a child for so long, but at her age? To top it all off, Elizabeth’s family member Mary, she arrived pregnant and unwed. And what a story that child has, something about an angel?
   Odd I tell you...

Joseph’s Mom

   First of all – let me just say, that is just my musing. Please go back to the Bible to read the true and complete account of the birth of Christ.

   Her memory of Joseph, starting with his birth, was filled with many sweet memories of growing up and watching him become a man. The first day that Joseph toddled into his father’s carpentry shop, he tumbled right into a pile of wood shavings and came out filthy and smelling of fragrant wood. But, that was years ago. Now, her boy, her baby, was grown and making his own choices. She thought that that Mary girl was going to be a good wife. But now, with the baby coming, she just didn’t know.
   Joseph had sat them both down, she and her husband, to tell them the news. She remembers her heart leaping into her throat, what? An angel said what? God’s son coming in this way? How does one go about being a grandparent to God’s son? She felt her hopes and dreams of being a grandma of her son’s children, watching them grow and learn, crash. But, God’s son was going to be her grandson… Well, that would show that infernal neighbor woman down the street who was always bragging about her children!
   She chuckled to herself as she thought back over the torrents of thoughts that had streamed into her mind and the moment of realization that had struck. Her son, her baby was being asked to raise God’s son. The realization struck like a knife and pierced through all of the thoughts. Her breath was taken away. How could this be? What would this mean?
   She didn’t know and waited instead with baited breath to hear of the labor of Mary, to hear about the birth of this much thought of baby.

The Innkeeper

   First of all – let me just say, that is just my musing. Please go back to the Bible to read the true and complete account of the birth of Christ.

   A census was called, and the innkeeper started looking around the family business to see that all the supplies and materials were in place. Soon people would be flooding into the town of Bethlehem. The days passed and the crowds converged. The innkeeper could feel his stomach tightening up again, every time he saw the Roman soldiers appear in the street, the fears and frustrations of an occupied nation. But looking on the bright side, business would be good. The customers would be grumbling though, this census would probably be used by Caesar Augustus for the tax registration list.
   The innkeeper continued to check supplies, mentally trying to figure what would be needed and what could be kept in stock. As people trailed into the city, dusty and smelling of their travels, he wandered out and over to the stable. The food trough was set up with adequate supplies for the time being. Moving back to the inn, the gentlemen greeted his guests. They kept coming, returning to their family home. Soon, the entire place was full. People, dust, animals, baggage, the place filled up. The inn was full of people and the innkeeper was now in a place where he had to turn people away. He hated to do that, they looked tired and would wander off looking for someplace else to go.
   A young man came to the door and knocked, looking for a room. The innkeeper felt his heart sink as he looked past the man to the young and very pregnant woman behind him. There were no places let, what could he do. The innkeeper finally offered up the only suggestion he had, the stable.
   The innkeeper walked them out to the manger. He heard about the journey that the couple had made. It wasn’t going to be very comfortable, but the innkeeper tried to do what he could. He made a mental note to send his wife later to check on the young mother to be.
   Later that evening, exhausted from the hustle of the day, the innkeeper finally prepared for rest. Following his last minute evening rituals, he lay his head down and felt sleep drift over. He lay much this way until the middle of the night when a cry pierced the night. That young woman, she must be about ready to deliver the child. The innkeeper woke his wife and she returned to the stable to help as she could. Several hours later, the child was born and a tired, but happy woman returned to tell her husband the good news.

Christmas – Nativity, Round the World Style

I heard something on the radio today that sounded like a neat idea.  A family wanted their children to learn about the birth of Christ, something more than the traditional TV specials and night time reading messages.  To do that, they each explained the story from the perspective of someone inside the story.  I love that concept!  There is such a different understanding inside of a thought than from the outside.  So, with that thought – I think I want to try that as well.  So in the next few days, barring any major puppy stories, that is what I’m going to try and accomplish.

Complaint Perspective

   Perspective can mean a lot of different things. To an artist, it could change the angles, the way that the eye moves across the picture. Perspective could be the focus for the author, writing in first or second or third person. Perspective is that view which can move the brush stroke, camera click, or curl of the pen’s ink to move ideas and attitudes from one area to another.

   With that, I found out today that with trying no complaining it also depends on perspective of heart, mind, mouth, and spirit. I mean that I have to maintain the right perspective throughout the day. I found out a couple things today. One is that it’s not easy to maintain. The proverbial apple cart doesn’t have to be upset and dumped, it can just be tipped a bit more than is comfortable. At that point, I would like to stop and remind life (and anyone within hearing distance) that I am not a teeter-totter. Yet, that doesn’t work so well. So, today I tried to maintain a calm attitude. I practiced giving things to God as they came and found that the teeter tottered back to where it was supposed to be. With that, I found that the way I responded made an enormous difference. If the perspective is a negative one, it is much easier to find myself complaining rather than dealing with someone or something in a positive manner. My mind, heart, mouth, and spirit need to stay where God wants them to. Easy? No, of course not. But, worthwhile? Absolutely!

Refocus

   Imagine sitting in a chair trying to read a book. Next to you, someone sits with a basket full of distractions. They pull out a CD, come listen to the new song! They pull out a clock, running out time, better hurry! Mail, bills, obligations, wants, needs, hopes, dreams – they all come out of the basket and put in front of my face. “Hello, pay attention to me!”  Very frustrating!

   Last week, the distractions were a little more urgent. I found myself getting caught up in the distractions a little bit more every day. By the mid-week I was ready to eat large amounts of chocolate and sink into a general sense of frustration.
   That is, until I had a moment of refocus. It was just a simple Psalm, but the words had the same effect as someone taking hold of my face and gently pulling it around to look in a new direction. My focus was off! My focus was on the distraction and my frustration grew. When I refocused and instead put God back into the central spot, I found the frustration decrease. It amazed me how my perspective changed when my focus changed.

Hello My Name Is

   At a recent concert, I heard one of the speakers sharing how a boy had told her in high school that she should never be as pretty as her sisters. She shared with great conviction, though she appeared to shrug off the words they stayed with her and became part of her identify. She said it was as if someone had handed her a Hello My Name Is label and written Ugly on it. And that she had taken that label and used it to identify herself.

   I think is something that most of us can identify with. We are handed labels that others fill in for us, and we cover ourselves with those labels. For this young woman ugly led to worthless. But, she wasn’t ugly and certainly wasn’t worthless. Take a look at your labels, Hello My Name Is. What is written there? What should be written there?
   Hello, My Name is daughter, friend, worker, creator, thinker, writer, sister, planner, dreamer, seeker. I can’t say that I have never had these labels attached to me. I have! I have had them handed to me by both those who are being malicious and those who are meaning to be kind. And I have accepted them, only to find them stuck to me. I felt like a walking sticky label. Not capable, weak, afraid, timid, intimidating, intimidated. The labels clung to me. But, slowly, they have been removed through the realization that they are wrong, Wrong with a capital W! I urge you to examine your labels. What is your name?

Unsteady Steadiness of Time

Tick tock, tick tock, it’s the key to Captain Hook and the Tell Tale Heart, the Grandfather Clock in the hall of a grandparent’s home, and time that keeps slipping ahead. Each moment is exactly as long as the one before, 60 moments ticked out on a metronome of seconds, minutes, hours, days, stretching out to centuries.

But, time is anything but a steady tick tock momentary minuet, which is static in its movement. Instead, it fluctuates, skipping and dancing about one moment, the next dragging it’s measured feet in an achingly slow cadence. This past week has gone in bursts of busy, where thirty minutes have seemed like five, an hour seems like ten minutes, and one minute seems like an hour.

In my life, I have also seen the times vary with speed. It’s been six weeks since this ankle was sprained, and the healing seems so slow, as if it were truly following a proverbial feeling of dragging its feet. It was the first week without the boot and probably not a great week for that to happen as it also corresponded to a workshop at work. In other words, that means a lot of walking for me. By Friday, I had smashed down the heel of my shoe and wearing it as a make-shift clog to relieve some of the pressure that I was feeling due to swelling, hoping that the next step wouldn’t feel like a needle in the ankle or fire in my knee. Okay – so we have established that it is uncomfortable, if not down right painful.

Six weeks, a moment in the span of things. I suppose it’s all about perspective. Perspective – my view point of what is going on, of what is happening, and then I process all that and make a choice of how to respond. So, six weeks – physical therapy is getting ready to start and hopefully will make a big and for the better type of change in my leg. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping up my perspective and attitude of being grateful for people around me who surprise me with doing really helpful things, not because they have to – but because they know it hurts and that they can help.

A Street Side View

A neighbor on my street, a dozen or houses so down the pavement, has a brown plaid couch sitting on the grass – near the road, waiting for trash pick up. It’s wooden arms are shiny with the moistness of frost and the brown and yellow tinged plaid looks fine, but I’m sure if I stopped and sat down it would be squishy with the morning dampness.

Wondering as I drive past, if I were sitting on that couch what would I see? The last few days, I have been leaving the house early, and the kids gather at the bus stop to get to the high school. Sitting in that spot, I could hear them walking past, the banter and laughter, the trudge and sighs of another angst ridden homework filled teenage day, and the hop of the younger children as they head to the elementary school. Cars, vans, jeeps, trucks, and parents wander past with children and sometimes dog leashes in hand. Once school is in session, sounds would change. The quieter sounds would stroll through, leaves blowing down the street with their unique rattle, neighborhood sounds of doors and dogs, tools and wood being split for winter. School recess activities, and then picking all the kids up again at the end of the day.

If I could pick that couch up, shrink it, stick it in my pocket and move it someplace else, to watch – where would I go? Let’s see – I think first I would go and put the couch on a hill top in the Black Hills of South Dakota. I would watch the buffalo move across the plains and through the valleys. Perhaps an antelope would even come close and graze if I sat really still. Then, off to Ottawa – in front of the Chateau Laurier to watch the coming and goings. High tea would be enjoyed from my seat while listening to the pipes and drums playing in the Memorial Park across the street. Puppy class, here in town, watching the dogs go through their lessons and their people are trained. They are such funny creatures to watch as they learn, the pups are as well.

It would be rather interesting to be able to have a sort of magical view spot to stop and watch and see. But of course, the real fun doesn’t come sitting on the couch – it is from getting up and participating.

Perspective

The way I view someone, even without really meaning it to be, is focused on what is outside. I see how they are dressed, how they present themselves, cleanliness, and expression - outward things. Okay, I'll be honest, attractiveness plays in there too. Smile people, make a positive impression! What I see is on the outside and can be totally misleading.

I can dress up, put on the best outfit where the lines fall just right, a great pair of shoes, hose, some time with the flat iron and various hair products. Lotion and then make-up, just a bit of mascara, lipstick and gloss, all applied with expert precision. Grab the perfect little bag and wah-lah - the person I am presenting you helps to create a positive perception. Or, if you would have seen me Monday night, just a bystander and fellow shopper at Wal-Mart, you would have seen me in over-sized grey sweat pants that have a few little holes in the knees. A pink t-shirt collar showed around the grey sweat shirt, again oversized for comfort. The hair was not done and therefore at poofy odd angles. A tan shoe on my right foot, my boot on my left to keep the ankle supported, no make-up and a pained if not determined look on my face. What would the perspective be there? For someone who didn't know me, it could be completely different. Thankfully, God doesn't see my limited perspective when he looks at me or you. Instead, he is looking much deeper and broader.

What does God see when he looks at me. Oh Lord - don't look at me! I am much more the sweat pant person than the swirly skirt perfect hair person. I am messy and messed up sinful fall on my face person. But, God sees me in His image! HIS image - how is that possible? How could he love me so much that he could see past they layers of problems, insecurities, hopes, dreams, and head strong stubbornness? I am thankful that he does! I need to start looking at myself like God looks at me. That means I can't ignore the difficulties, but will go out and face them, knowing that God's strength is on my side. That also means that I get to see God's perfect plan for me, His perfect will. What do you see if you look at yourself from God's perspective? I know someone who sells themselves short. A growing faith, funny and boisterous bounce in each step, I love the activity and watching the activity and bustle. But, if you listen to the perception it is focused on all the past problems, past failures and successes, past hurts, past hopes. It hurts to see someone that I care about look through human eyes and (even worse), the critical eyes that are around. God doesn't see that when he looks at my friend - he sees someone who is precious to Him, someone worth dying for, someone forgiven, and someone loved. I'll stick my glasses on or my contacts in, in my prayer life asking God to give me a better perspective.

I'm tackling a new book, about the life of David. I love the title of one of the chapters, David and the Dwarf. You might have heard the story of this shepherd boy who goes out to face this giant who was nearly 10 feet tall. NBA agents would be swarming this guy with his build, athleticism, and confidence. Then, there is David. Just a regular old shepherd boy, the youngest of the sons, and one that tends to be forgotten about at that. David goes out and faces the giant. Everyone else sees a giant. But, God saw that Goliath was though physically imposing, was really much weaker than David. David had an opportunity to see Goliath, the Giant, through God's perspective. I want to see through God's perspective. Let's go get our eyes checked together and learn to look together. What is it that is a giant to me, but is really dwarfed in God's sight?