Back in the Dark Ages, you know, like the 1960’s and before (to my middle schoolers’ perspective), childbirth in the typical American hospital was quite sterile and controlled. Not by the mom, you understand, but by the staff. My children were all born in the 80’s, and by then strides had been made toward more home-like experiences, so-called “birthing rooms” and all that. Going back to the old-fashioned was considered quite modern. Typical.
Look! Another Dawn! Only this Dawn is a Nor’easter by the ocean while I’m a Midwesterner next to the wheat fields. And, OH!, you should see her beautiful photography! You can check it out on Instagram, but also on her blog site at : http://enthusiasticallydawn.com/ Believe me, you won’t be disappointed. This poem of Dawn’s is truly a mother’s heart. As always, disclaimer here. Enjoy!
I find the explosion of super hero-mania interesting. (Not so much the zombie fascination, although I’m sure there’s probably plenty of fodder there for the psychologists, also.) I went to to see the original Star Wars back in the late seventies, back before Harrison Ford and I had gray hair. Rumor has it that my in-laws knew one of the guys who played Darth Vadar, and that he was a really nice and gentle human being.
Good acting, that.
One spin-off from all of this super-hysteria is Marvel’s Agents of Shield. It’s a fairly violent show, so I’m not putting my Better Homes and Gardens Seal of Approval on it or anything, but it does bring up an interesting make-believe concept: people may have latent super powers for which they didn’t ask. And, secondly, they need to learn to control those gifts for good or for bad purposes. AND in that learning process, there tends to be “collateral damage” along the way.
But, really, is that so far-fetched?
We all have hidden (and sometimes not so hidden) traits that need to be harnessed, but to do so, they must first be identified. What we may initially think is a curse, may be the very thing our Creator had downloaded into our personal hard drive for a specific purpose. When it’s tempting to think, “Why did God make me this way? It seems so abnormal!!”, it may actually be wiser to ask, “Why did You make me this way? What’s Your plan?”
Case in point: I seem to not “feel” as deeply as some others do. I tend not to “miss” people so much when they are away, although I love it when I see them again. Or why some people seem so blessed with “feeling” the presence of God, and I’m just, well,…me. So I wondered about my emotional make-up, until I began to see how this irregularity functions quite well when there is a need for calm, unemotional evaluation or action.
And then I just love the whole Bruce Banner/Hulk thing. He’s finally starting to figure out how his curse can be used as a blessing, although it is only via his interaction and relationship with his new-found Avenger teammates that he is learning to harness his power for good. He needs his friends’ help. We are no different.
Finally, in the learning process, there tends to be hurt. For me, people may think I don’t love them, or in the other example, that I’m not in love with God. Both assumptions are grossly wrong. Here’s where clear communication is so important. Pray for grace, pray for protection. We have an enemy that would like to fully take advantage of this misunderstanding.
“There are different kinds of spiritual gifts, but the same Spirit is the source of them all. There are different kinds of service, but we serve the same Lord. God works in different ways, but it is the same God who does the work in all of us. A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other.”
I love the Nelson-Adkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. My NYC artist daughter says that the collection there is considerable, and she would know. I’m a particular fan of the antiquities section, Egypt, Rome, and all that, and Bob always likes to visit the Orientals. Of course, part of the artwork that is preserved has to do with the culture’s endemic religious artifacts, including the stone/metal/wooden statues and idols, some little and some not so little (there’s a Buddha in the stairwell that would not even fit in my house….)
I’ve only recently met Vibrant. He tells me that he didn’t write this poem himself, but posted it from a verse from classic book entitled Tao Te Ching. Check out his site at : https://blabberwockying.wordpress.com/ And as always, heeeerrrreeee’s my disclaimer.
Tao Te Ching 11
Thirty spokes join in one hub
In its emptiness, there is the function of a vehicle
Mix clay to create a container
In its emptiness, there is the function of a container
Cut open doors and windows to create a room
In its emptiness, there is the function of a room
Therefore, that which exists is used to create benefit
That which is empty is used to create functionality
There are several things I’d like to change in our culture. Some of my opins are a bit incendiary, and so much has already been (and continues to be) written, that for now I’ll leave such topics for those so inclined to pontificate. This, then, is not a biggie, but really, why in the world do we still expect new mothers and new widows to write thank you notes for their friends’ expressions of affection? And worse, why would someone even think about being offended if such a note doesn’t arrive in a “timely” manner (whatever that is, although I’m sure that’s also covered in mother’s long-standing book on proper etiquette.)
Please don’t misunderstand, I’m all about saying “thank you”. About acknowledging someone’s help. Certainly, we all could use more of an attitude of gratitude these days.
Mother. The word conjures up all kinds of thoughts and feelings. For some, it’s Mrs. Walton in a big farmhouse sitting around a harvest table in the midst of the Great Depression. (For others, it’s just plain depression…sorry about that.) My mother-in-law wasn’t against apple pie, but hers usually came out of a box in the freezer. I like to tell my girls (now grown) that if they ever doubt my love for them, just to stick a finger in their belly button, ‘cuz that’s where we were connected for so long, and even tho’ the umbilical cord needed to be cut, the cord to their mom’s heart never is.