One of Those Days

   "Take care of this grapevine that You Yourself have planted, this son (daughter) You have raised for Yourself." Psalm 80:14-15

  There's a mini excavator tearing up my front yard. It's a stressful situation because I am waiting to hear if my septic bed is fixable. It's old. What has been revealed so far is unnerving because even someone who isn't knowledgeable about such things can see there are issues. The cost of replacement adds a couple of zeros to the cost of a repair, if not more.

  So I decided to write to take my mind off of it. I decided to place my trust in the Lord for all of it: the repair, the replacement, whatever needs to happen. Regardless of the outcome, He will provide. He always has and it's always far more than needed.

  The contractor who's investigating came referred from a friend at church. While he hasn't dealt with this company personally, he knows the family that owns it. It's a comfort to know they are good people.

  Rural living has it's challenges at times...

  It rained last night a fair bit. This is good, too. The last couple of days were spent digging up one of my gardens. It had become choked with lilac tree roots. I love the sweet scent of the lilacs but some varieties can be very invasive. The roots were sending up unwanted new shoots everywhere.

  The poor hostas nestled underneath were struggling to survive. Not only because of the roots, but they had long reached the point they needed dividing. The garden looks lovely now. The rain gave everything a boost.

  The veggie garden is in, too. Early this year. The hopes of carrots, zucchini, beans and tomatoes are tucked into the soil. Basil and dill have been added to the mix. We've already been enjoying fresh kale because the plants from last year survived the mild winter.

  And the rhubarb! Two years ago I divided the massive root ball. There was enough to give some away to friends and still replant more than enough for my own consumption. Last year we didn't harvest any to give the roots a chance to establish themselves. It's paid off a hundred fold.

  Part of why I dug up the flower bed was because I've taken out the ornamental pond. It was another one of the first projects I did. It was fairly large, about four feet long, three feet wide and a couple of feet deep. The extra dirt from the flower bed has filled it in nicely.

  There is a plan to do some other kind of water feature because the sound of running water adds a relaxing song to the yard. It's also a bird magnet. This one will be above ground with a drain to make  clean out far easier. 

  My plan is to go to the local RE-Store where they sell used or new household repair items and a wide variety of other things. The hope is to not only make a water feature but make it into an art installation with a place for birds to come and drink or bathe.

  It can wait until later in the summer. There are other gardens that need some TLC.

 

  Hang on a minute, the contractor needs to speak with me...I am not looking forward to this...

  Well, it's goodish news! They managed to repair 50% of the system. What they've given me should last for another decade.

  The neighbours have a huge silver maple tree whose roots have done a number on the unsavable sections. Boy, root problems seem to be the theme today! Makes me appreciate this morning's scripture even more.

  I asked for his advice on how to maintain it so it will last that long. Most of it I already knew. Like don't put coffee grounds or cooking fat down the drain. It helps to use the stuff that adds good bacteria to help break down solids on a regular basis. And it's important to get the tank pumped every couple of years. Otherwise, it's life as normal.

  So I will do all these things and be grateful.

 

  Lord? If I have any roots that need taking out, please, show me where they are hidden. I have a shovel, a pruner and a strong back to pull them out before they get truly established into areas they have no place being. 

  AMEN!

   

    

   

Sacred

   "All that belongs to the Father is Mine; this is why I said, 'The Spirit will tell you whatever he receives from Me.'" John 16:15

  The Meeting House has been doing a teaching series on Spiritual Practices. Our own church has encouraged people to come forward to share their own spiritual practices as a way of encouraging each other to explore the possibilities. Tomorrow, I'll be sharing how art has been one of the richest, deepest spiritual practices in my life. It's hard to whittle it down into a three minute blurb but, hopefully, what I've written out will suffice. In saying that, there's always room for some adlibbing if needed. (Smile.)

  What came out of writing tomorrow's little speech was rather astounding. 

  I went to college for graphic design but never worked in the field. Something held me back.

  

  My ex wanted me to sell my art and was rather frustrated when I only did a few custom pieces for friends. Creating art takes time. It is nothing like picking up a book and reading a couple of pages then putting it back down. There's an intense focus, the zone, which blocks out everything but what is being created. Having to interrupt it makes getting back into it nearly impossible. Not having the time to achieve such heightened focus makes creating art nearly impossible.

  Not only that, but it is exhausting. I've likened it to tossing hay for a day. I can acknowledge that he, as a non-artist wouldn't understand this. Life as a mom, a farmer, a wife, held me back.

  There were other reasons as well. I was terribly critical of my work and lacked confidence in my abilities. However, this morning came with the realization that even though I didn't walk with the Lord for most of my life, the biggest thing that stopped me from making the art into a marketable product was it simply felt wrong to do this.

  For the same reason I never threw out a Bible even though it wasn't something I ever read. Somehow it felt wrong to toss one into the recycling bin or garbage.

  As a small child, I knew the love of the Lord..."Jesus loves me, this I know." This got lost as the darkness in the world swallowed it whole. Doubt and contempt were born in the empty, "age appropriate," Anglican ritual of taking first communion. Judgement, bitterness and shame made me feel church was no place for the likes of me. I had no room in my life for the likes of them, either.

  The Lord has forgiven much. I have forgiven the youth pastor who was ill equipped to teach thirteen year olds about the real meaning behind Holy Communion. Especially ones that were already broken and lost. 

  

  Nevertheless, I heard...felt?...the Holy Spirit's guidance at various times; this sense of "something isn't right." It was impossible to ignore although if pressed, it would have been impossible to articulate why something felt wrong.

  As a believer, the art has flourished and grown. So has my confidence. The critical eye has been mostly corrected. (Smile, that's a work in progress.)

  But here's what's different: rarely do I draw or paint anything that isn't part of a prayer or celebration of faith. I will create something for someone else but it is always a gift, a blessing given, never something I get paid for. 

  Now I understand why the art was held back for all those years and why the world feared it. The art was kept apart from the world because, like all blessings, skills and talents from the Lord, they are sacred. 

  Oh, Lord, thank You for the gift You have entrusted into my keeping! Help me always remember just how precious it is.

  Something special happened today. There's a knowing in the deepest part of my heart. Even though most of my life was lived apart from Jesus, He was never very far away and His Spirit was always with me.

  All I have left to say is: To God be the Glory! AMEN!

Memory

   "Let all that I am praise the Lord." Psalm 104:35

  We all have memories that are seared on our consciousness; the kind that a fragrance will immediately bring to mind. It could be a song, a sound, a word that ignites the fires of memory and transports you through time to that exact moment. 

  Thank You, Lord for this gift even when the memories are painful.

  I keep being told that I mis-remember events so today this needs to get kicked to the curb because it is wrong on so many levels. It puts me in the place of second guessing and doubt that the life I have lived isn't what I think it is. Am I really insane? Yah...no...not one bit.

  My father had a hammer, an Estwing. While I needed to search out the manufacturer this morning, the rest is in my head.

  The hammer had been in service for a long time and had helped build many things. It had a leather bound handle which wrapped it in multi-colour stripes of cream and tan and burnt umber. In places, the leather had started to fray. The leather varnish was worn down to a dull matte finish where my dad's hand had held it. Touches of rust, dark chocolate against the steel head made the steel seem even shinier. Except where a multitude of scratches and dings etched the surface.

  I held it often. It's the one he would give me when I was given the task of straightening bent nails, a job a little girl could do without risking life or limb.

   Whenever there's a need to illustrate a hammer, this is the one that comes to mind. Remembering the hammer brings a ghostly, sweet fragrance of freshly cut wood into my nostrils. The memory smell is accented with the perfume of warm leather and my dad's aftershave.

  I draw many different things without needing to use a photo reference. Post card memories of countless mundane items are always readily available and can be accessed by my mind as needed. It's wonderful and amazing to be able to close my eyes for a brief moment and pull up a mental picture of anything from an apple to a zebra.

  It helps with writing, too, because these same postcards are an inspiration to paint pictures with words.

  If I can remember so much that seems of little importance, it's reassuring to believe I can remember the big events in the way they unfolded. 

  The Lord saw fit to enable me to remember life events in as great a detail as the hammer, if not even more intensely. Sometimes, this seemed more of a curse because there are things I wish I didn't remember. He has redeemed many of them because long ago I learned to sit in the discomfort and search for His presence. He has always revealed Himself to me.

  If I didn't remember events that happened, I wouldn't have found the healing His presence brought to some very deep wounds. I wouldn't have discovered that these dark events are able to bring me comfort now.

  Being told I mis-remember is the same as calling me a liar. 

  But why would someone say this? Why would I even want to make this stuff up?

  Is it maybe because they don't want to believe so it's easier to discredit the truth bearer?

  Lord, this has to be given over to you because You know their heart. I don't.

 

  I have no idea what causes them to point the finger at my "mis-remembering." And, even though it hurts deeply, my Lord will help with finding the grace to forgive them. I can also ask the Lord for help in being discrete about what is shared with someone who is unable or unwilling to believe what I have to say.

  He has put others in my life who believe me without question. People who resect my feelings without judgement. People who have helped me learn to trust this brain of mine because it is a marvelous, wonderful, amazing piece of equipment with one heck of a memory bank!

  

Investment

   "Well done!" the king exclaimed, "You are a good servant. You have been faithful with the little I entrusted to you, so you will be governor of ten cities as your reward." Luke 19:17

  The investment being mulled over isn't anything to do with money, it's investing in the gifts God has so generously blessed into my life. The story above winds up with the third servant who hid the money his master gave him. The king took what he had and gave it to someone else.

 

  "...and to those who do well, even more will be given." Luke 19:26

  I've never felt such a personal connection to this particular parable like the one that has smacked me upside the head this morning. 

  Like the lamp under a basket, we aren't supposed to keep our light to ourselves! I didn't understand before because I thought it was only about being a believer; about sharing our faith. However, true to to the nature of Scriptures, there is much to read between the lines.

  Over the last week or so, I've found myself declaring, thinking upon and silently whispering into my soul that, "I am a writer." It is beginning to sit comfortably on my shoulders as my belief in this gift becomes more real. 

  In high school English class, we had to write a sci-fi short story. The gist of it was an alien on earth writing a letter to home. Mine was about witnessing the destruction of ancient glass and concrete towers. The type that are iconic to a downtown core in many cities. They were being torn down to make room for more modern designs. I don't remember much else about the story except that my teacher read it to the class.

  I squirmed, so uncomfortable with being singled out. I squirmed because I hated the thought that others in the class would feel bad about their own stories.

  Hmmm...this idea has deep roots.

  Now, here's a thought...what if my story actually encouraged someone else to delve into creative writing? What if sharing it led the way for someone else to share theirs? What if it demonstrated the power of language, of words that can paint pictures or stir the heart?

  I will probably never know.

  This morning I've realized thinking these kinds of things is neither boastful nor proud because only God knows who or why our lives and our gifts will impact someone else.

  They are meant to be shared.

  Pride isn't even in the picture, not if sharing is an expression of gratitude!

  So I'll wrap up for today with a prayer:

  Thank You Lord, for the gifts of pen and brush. Thank You for this amazing brain! Thank You for Your patience and guidance. Thank You for helping me see past the lies, the deception and false truths. Thank You for all of it, the good, the bad, the sad, the glad. Most of all, thank You for setting me free. In Jesus' name, AMEN!

  

  

  

Boundary Study Part 6

   "No one lights a lamp and them puts it under a basket." Matthew 5:15

  Guess what? Boundaries are more than no trespassing signs. Lives are defined by the boundaries around them: physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. 

  I will never take up more space than what is defined by my skin. It's shrinking by the way, praise God! But even this has involved setting boundaries around what I will or will not eat to achieve weight loss. Therefore, boundaries help us succeed. Right now, the goal is to lose weight. I don't have a final number in mind. My body does. It will let me know when it's reached its healthiest point.

  Gina stresses it's more important to have a strong "why" for doing all this. My why waffles a bit. Maybe it's because there's some future tripping going on. Not to worry, determination is it's own boundary.

  I've decided to have another go at writing The Art of Prayer...who am I kidding, there's been a strong pull towards the keyboard to share what I have learned. Last time I ended up getting completely overwhelmed so it seemed prudent to do some reading around how to write a book.

  Talk about boundaries!

  The most important one is to begin describing myself as a writer. This isn't something I'd even considered before despite having written over 2000 blog posts. There have also been countless poems, stories, and prayers. Most of these have never been shared. Why? Because I'd never considered myself to be a writer. It is simply something that is done.

  Who we are is defined by boundaries. Do I choose to let that definition be influenced by what I think I am not? When who and what we are is celebrated by the One who created us?

  It will take some practice...I...am...a...writer. Oh, and an artist!

  Something wonderful just happened. I felt a weight lift off my soul. Thank you Lord for freedom.

  Back to book writing...It is necessary to create a writing zone that isn't the kitchen table. It's an actual desk tucked away in a corner of the laundry area. While sitting here is still fairly new, it is and will feel more like a sacred space the more it is used.

  Then there's boundaries around how much time is needed. The last time I tried writing the book, it was done in marathon sessions. It quickly got overwhelming. This is usually how everything is done but in order to go the distance, I need to pace myself. That's not to say there's no thinking about it outside of desk time...what a cool definition! The actual act of writing needs space to breathe. So it's being broken  down into one or two page sessions three or four times per week. It might be prudent to nail down the exact days involved. 

  It was suggested to set a deadline for finishing but I have no idea how big or long the book will be because I've never written one before. If it takes a couple of years to do this, that's okay. 

  Boundaries are also defined by commitment. "Let your yes be yes and your no be no." If there's enough self discipline to get my hiney to work on time, the foundation is already there to set aside the time needed to write. Especially since this is something I feel called to do.

  It's amazing how many boundaries already exist without me ever being aware that they are there! Somehow this makes it easier to make a conscious choice to expand them or even create new ones because I actually already know how to do it!

 

  

Boundary Study Part 5

   "The Lord looks down from heaven on the entire human race; He looks to see if anyone is truly wise, if anyone seeks God." Psalm 14:2

  I do have boundaries but they haven't been something I've thought about or planned or put in place. The boundaries are set by my behaviour and choices. They are enforced by my behaviour. 

  For example, hugging. For me, a hug is giving permission for someone to enter my personal space. It's important for me to get to know the person first before allowing such a thing to happen. I need to know if they are worthy of this expression of trust. This is especially true when it's a man I am meeting for the first or second time. This is totally understandable.

  More often than not, a handshake is my go to in order to avoid close contact with someone I don't know very well. In a way, an extended hand is like opening a door to let someone in. Or not. The door can always be closed as long as there is enough space; as long as someone doesn't try and force their way in.

  For people who have been violated, this is an important lesson. We all have the right to choose who we allow into our personal space, who we allow to touch us.

 I am most thankful my children are teaching their children they don't have to hug anyone they don't want to, even NanaSue. It's an important lesson in safety, in self-advocacy. It also teaches them no one has the right to violate their personal space if they don't want them to. Their body is their own and no one else's.

  

  The God I adore has never, ever forced Himself or His ways upon me. He has always patiently waited for an invitation. In the beginning, I invited Him to be the Lord of my life. As time progressed, I invited Him to help me explore the dark, deep secrets so I might find healing. No one else knows me better. 

  He has also invited me into His space. The quiet command of, "Come," is one I am hard pressed to ignore. I feel it when the urge to draw or write presses itself into my soul. At times, I go with great trepidation because I have no idea where He will take me.

  There's boundaries around this, too. The ones that define the sacred space of my kitchen table, the edges of a page or screen, the grace filled acceptance if I need to stop for the day.

  

  Smile...it's interesting that I am able to put such boundaries in place with God but struggle with people. But then again, maybe that's today's lesson on boundaries...if I am allowed to do this with Him, it is more than okay to do this in relationships with people.

  Lord, I am going to end today's post with a question. Why is this so hard?

  

Boundary Study Part 4

  "Oh, the joys of those who do not follow the advice of the wicked." Psalm 1:1

  I don't have to go too far to find wicked advice flooding in. It's in my own head. The negative self talk, the doubt...

  A couple of Sundays ago at church the words, "future tripping" exploded into my thoughts. For those of us living with PTSD, it's hard to imagine a future. I've shared before that imagining what the future might hold is something that has never been part of my life. If anything, thinking about the future fills me with anxiety.

  However, as I sat and did word association flow chart art in church around the future tripping idea, I realize my past is what trips up the future.

  How does this tie into the idea of setting boundaries?

  Because boundary setting is geared at creating the kind of tomorrow I would like to have. Boundary setting creates a foundation of possibility.

  I've been thinking about yesterday's post, about my guilt filled resolve not to call my mom. I wondered if I was actually giving her the silent treatment. (See what I mean about wicked advice?) It's not, because my motivation isn't to punish, it's to allow uninterrupted time for me to work things through with the Lord. 

  I am having to learn the lessons of a child with a whole whack of life under my belt. I can't help but wonder how different it would have been had I been allowed to say, "No." I wonder what difference it would have made had my "No," been heard and respected and not bulldozed over when it didn't align with the formula of child rearing according to Dr. Spock. 

  Oh, Lord, don't let me be bitter about all this.

  "Know your role." Funny how that keeps coming up.

  Perhaps it's easier to think about how badly it triggers an avalanche of emotions when I feel pressured  to do or say something that is in direct conflict with what I believe, think, or feel. Hmmm...those emotions actually signify when a boundary has been violated.

  I think the anger is formed when I am forced to lie to make someone else happy. (That's an impossible task anyways...I can't.)

  Not having boundaries fosters an existence based on deception. It also creates dishonest relationships. Resentment and hatred fill the gaps between the lies. This is not a life that is honouring to God.

  But what happens when I summon up the courage to speak the truth? Does the world come crashing to an end?

  It feels that way sometimes especially when my truth is not heard or respected. Which takes me back to emotional avalanches...and the cycle starts again.

  But how do I stop it? 

  What are some boundaries I could put in place to grind this ugly hamster wheel to a dead stop?

  Oh, Lord, I have no idea!

  Perhaps You could guide me when the time comes.

  I will close in saying that today's revelation about being dishonest has given me huge insight into what the biggest problem is. It's when there are no boundaries but the rules of engagement created by someone else. 

  I have the right to have my own rules of engagement because I am worth it.