My fathers

In my times of greatest sorrow

he touches my heart.

In my darkness

he reaches from beyond my seeing.

In my loneliness

I feel warmth and love.

And when I feel no ear is listening

I hear him sing.

For all those who suffer loss, whose pain is inconsolable there are those that are willing to comfort, lift and encourage.  My father does that for me.  When I reach a point where who I am is insufficient I hear him sing, whistle, and feel him encourage me.  The veil is thin, this life is short, and those we love are willing to buoy us up.  They are not limited by distance and every plea is heard.  I'm grateful to have been blessed to feel my dear ones near.

For those that are alone, there are hosts of unseen.  Many of whom we share as forefathers.  In a season where we celebrate our mothers and fathers, may we also celebrate their legacy and come to know them.  What beautiful promises await those who turn their hearts.  Mark your time with your sweethearts; live within arms reach. 

We share a Father who hears and loves us.  May we remember Him; He who has always remembered and blessed us... with all He has.  He who has never left us alone.  May we not abandon Him in His time of need; a time we can be His tools, His hands.

Let us honor their names.  Live worthy of the blessings that have been granted.  And express our love in word and deed.

Lover or Villan

A friend, we'll call her Robin (as if that somehow will make her beyond detection), said, "You know you can say anything about anyone as long as it's followed by, 'Bless his heart.'  You know like, 'He did the dumbest thing, bless his heart.'  or, 'She's a homely girl, bless her heart."  Okay, if you don't live in Texas, it's a bit peculiar to say, but put a little twang in your mode of talking and before you know it you're free to say anything you like and you'll still be considered the sweetest person around.  (Of course it's all the more convincing that it's genuine if you have a big round hair-do.)  It's truly brilliant, a little addition to anything you want to vent about anyone, including the person right in front of you, and voila! You have personal teflon; no one can get mad at you for saying it, because it must've been out of love, you blessed their heart!  So in essence we get our childhood wish, 'I'm rubber and your glue and anything you say bounces off of me and sticks to you.'

Okay so, my husband (and of course if I don't mention him by name, I can share the story without reservation) said, "Have you ever noticed that every time anyone's miffed at someone else they say,'I love you to death but,...'  Is that a Freudian slip?"

So in summary, context is everything.  But don't think too deeply about this, I'm sure I'll say, "I love you to death, bless your heart,..."   Don't read into it; I'm not bright enough to have come up with these observations on my own! Perhaps Robin and Andy came up with these thoughts after hearing me?  or then again, maybe I'm not as sweet as you thought I was.  MUWHAHAHAHA...

My Two Boys

Boy 1, age 7..."When I grow up I want 5 jobs."  My friends refer to a Jamaican sketch on SNL where the new immigrants are raving about how great America is because they have 8 jobs and the other has 15...She says,"Are you Jamaican?"  His response, "How did you know I want to make things?!"






Boy 2, age 2..."I want more cerdal (a.k.a. cereal)."  2 seconds later, "I want juice," and because I've put him off another minute he comes back with his stuffed bear and sweetly has the bear say, "More cerdal pease."  How can a mother resist?  I'm sure the boy's hungry if he's inventing new ways to get my attention... It might have something to do with being a bottomless pit (or more likely the fact that I'm blogging again.)

Messy, messy, messy

berenstainbearstreehouse.com

Life for most of us, it perpetual cleaning.  Laundry, dishes, toys, paperwork, trash, mowing... you name it.  It seems like a disaster is always brewing and we've just finished decontamination or flood control.  One of my favorite shows is Monk.  It's unending OCD and a laugh a minute.  Today I watched Wall-E.  I found out that I'm not too different from Mo.  (Not that you could tell from how my house looks.)  But I get so bent out of shape because there is a pair of socks that I just found that didn't make it to the laundry.  Or perhaps because not e v e r y   s i n g l e  cup fit in the dishwasher!  Or because males stand when they pee... and miss!   AAAAARRRGGGHHHH!

However, don't the most beautiful things rise from dirt, filth, ashes; flowers, children, the phoenix?  Aren't the most beautiful moments of life a result of imperfect people doing imperfect things?  Like an attempt at cooking burnt cookies, cleaning noisy toys, or creating lopsided artwork.  I love finding rocks in pockets, cars in shoes, tiny socks on the living room floor.  I enjoy reminders of the invaluable and eternal work I have undertaken, and my fleeting influence upon and, quite frankly, from, those that mean the most to me.  Keeping an orderly and clean home creates peace, but if cleaning a home destroys the joy and growth I have forgotten why I do it in the first place.

I am certain our Father in Heaven rejoices in our failed attempts or striving to achieve the impossible.  He pats us on the head and, if we play nicely with others, we receive the praise we all crave, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant.  Enter into my rest."  (Now, does that mean someone else will do the vacuuming?)

Great expectations

There is no doubt in my mind that God has great expectations for us, even the best.  I believe and even know that he wants me to become like him, like any parent.  And also as a perfect father He doesn't expect it all at once.

I have always been considered a perfectionist.  I thought, well, what's wrong with that, He commands us to be perfect.  Now No. 1. I understand that it is through His Son.  No. 2.  Not all at once.  So, still what's wrong with that?  Well it's a matter of expectation.

What do I expect of myself?  How do I know if it's reasonable?  I expect that I'll always fall short and so I don't try; I give up before I've begun.  I think in the theoretical and proclaim that there's no reason that I shouldn't be able to accomplish a goal that I've set.  I can imagine it, and I believe we're only limited by our imagination...

Better yet, what expectations do I have for my children.  I want them to do and be their best.  Just because I see their potential doesn't mean they are ready to achieve it today.  Do I put the same unrealistic expectations on them.  How about teachers, community leaders, corporations, the government.  Am I fair in their capacity today or do I expect immediate perfection of them too?  Do I assume that collectively, these imperfect people are somehow more perfect.  Perhaps they are more balanced, but eventually some imperfect person is making a decision.


Allow others a safe place to try.  Encourage, uplift, help them be successful.  Motivate, laugh, love them on their difficult journey to perfection.  Support, be kind, be understanding during times of failure.  It's no easier for them.  Give them the gentleness I desire.  So...the golden rule still works.  If I see a vision of what can be and am patient in achieving it, others will afford me the same generosity.  We all need elbow room in growth, and a soul ready to heal us from a long day fighting our battles.

New theory.  I can't tie my shoes today.  But I won't get better if I don't try.  Dream for the stars.  Have an expectation that I can achieve.  He wants me to be and feel successful and when I don't know how ask Him.  Keep that object in view and set a more reasonable absolutely ridiculously easy task and then another easy one.  Bunny ear.  Bunny ear.  I can do this.  Okay.  So to most of you likely figured it out in 2nd grade, but I'm grateful for God's revelations to each of us.  I can become like Him by becoming like a child.  I am His child.  Goal:  today I'll begin by tying my shoes.
* I guess I was asking for perfection on this blog... it's been sitting in the cue for months now.  Just hand in your homework, imperfect and get credit for it, even if it's only partial.