Pass the gluten, please.

Let’s face it—I am NOT gluten free.  I’m writing this toward the end of wheat harvest here in the Midwest.  A good friend who farms says their yield has (thankfully) been really good, something I’ve learned one cannot take for granted.  It’s seriously beautiful out in the country as I drive by the tawny fields of ripe grain.  And, of course, the days are long and hot right now for the harvesters, even with the high-tech air-conditioned tractors! 

My tummy and taste buds are so glad they do what they do.

Call your folks

There’s a story in the book of Joshua where God holds back the sun so the Hebrews could have more time to fight on and subdue their enemies. 

More time.  Man, I wish.  Of course, most of us would just blow it.  But somewhere in our collective psyche where “deep calls unto deep” is that gnawing feeling that time is something we can’t grasp or control.  A cursory glimpse at even modern entertainment is informative—sci-fi time travel flicks abound, even the humor of “Ground Hog’s Day” maybe-I-can-get-it-right-this-time wistful thinking is not far below the surface for most of us. 

So somewhere thousands of feet over Midwest farmlands, I was in a jet heading home from seeing my parents for a few days at their retirement village.  Dad was recovering from a knee problem across the street from where mom was preparing for their new digs in the apartment complex. 

After sharing my dad’s breakfast table with a 93-year-old WW2 veteran, after hearing of one of their friends who skipped her chemo so she could go hiking in Colorado (“just give me a little extra medicine this time, will ya?”), and after meeting some of the other indomitable souls in their neighborhood, it kind of makes me think twice before complaining about…anything. 

We went to church together that Pentecost Sunday morning huddled around his computer at the foot of his hospital bed watching the live-stream from their Methodist Church with mom and one of their neighbors (a retired world-traveled physician who can now only see peripherally due to a degenerative eye problem—but walks everywhere anyway.)  I’m kicking myself for not providing some grape juice and flat bread for communion.  (“The good Lord knows our hearts, honey.”)

One of my parents’ good friends from W-A-Y back, (meaning my teenage years, okay, no wise-cracks necessary), is now in his 90’s and just returned home to the same complex from visiting family from the west coast.  I am informed he is of the polar-opposite political party than my father, which in this day and age could mean, well, we all know the vitriol that implies.  Evidently, they are both “old school”, which means that they can discuss politics without interference in their relationship. 

Would that we had such maturity these days.

Dad’s the one who taught me to “ask for the moon” but won’t ask for a bag of ice when he bumps his bad ankle on the wheelchair.  When I mention a plan to call for something, it’s “oh, no, don’t bother them…”  So I have dubbed myself “the wicked witch of the West” and I can imagine the nurses in report saying, “she called again.” (One of my main consolations is all the heavy lifting my local siblings do when it needs to be done.  This long distance thing STINKS.)

Dad says that as the light streams through his window in the morning, he gives thanks to the Lord for another day of life.  My folks have a perspective that my culture has largely lost, or missed altogether—gratitude.  Fortitude.  Resilience. 

Gray hair is a crown of glory;
    it is gained by living a godly life.

Now, let’s see, who shall the witch bother today?  

(Call your folks!)

Proverbs 16:31 Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Waste not; want not

I seriously love trees.  In fact, forested landscapes are on the top of the list of my favorites.  I remember the thrill of exploring the woods as a youngster at Girl Scout camp, and conquering that amazing (although not altogether safe) tree house in our neighborhood. At this writing (July), the leaves are fully out and lush green, and our eldest just did a preschool unit on trees with our two-year-old granddaughter.  The sooner she learns that trees are our friends, the better!

God evidently thinks so, too.  As the recently

Consecrated Time

This poem by Cindy Powell really resonated with me.  One thing I’m looking to in Heaven is “no time”, i.e., no clocks or watches because “who cares?”  But for now, I have to care, and sometimes that caring lapses over into, well…we all know.  Thanks, Cindy, for such a great thought here!

Posted on January 9, 2017 by Cindy Powell

Time
What an extravagant and lavish gift
Time to simply be
Without an agenda
Without any obligation to make “good” use
of the time and space I find myself in
Without anything to prove
Without a need to accomplish anything
Or discover anything –
Other than what always is
And that is simply You –
You here with me
In time

I don’t have to get it                                                                                                                                   I don’t have to steward it particularly well
I don’t even have to respond in a particular way
I just need to be
I just need to be me –
Here with You
Whatever that looks like
Whatever it feels like
Whatever does or does not happen
There are no necessary results
There is no grand master scheme to consider
There is only now
And this gift of time
This gift of a moment in time

But, really –
Is it a moment in time
or a moment outside of time?
Could it be a moment of eternal purity and truth
breaking through the illusion of time?
In all the busyness of this chaotic planet
Perhaps the most extreme and extravagant thing to do –
Is to be
In utter simplicity
In complete freedom
Freedom from striving
Freedom from obligation
To anyone or anything

It’s almost too absurd to comprehend
But maybe “being” is the ultimate act of consecration
Maybe it is the ultimate act of letting go
Maybe it is a complete stripping away
Of all that binds
And blinds
And of all that distracts
With delusions of our own self-importance
Maybe it is knowing
Absolutely knowing
That even in the absolute absence of my good works
And best efforts
He is still pleased
He is still present
He is still who He says He is
He will still do what He says He will do
And He is still here
With me
In time.

Patient Man

Patience is not always one of my best qualities, but somehow I think I’m probably not alone.  It’s usually no fun when I’m told to “wait”, or worse yet, “STOP”.  Or how about this one—“No.”  (I especially don’t like the period after the no…)

Here’s a piece from the blogger Pneumythology.  He says this on his “about” page:

“As a writer, I particularly enjoy creating new myths: allegorical monster stories with heroes, villains, and spiritual themes. In one sense or another, myth arises from or is based on reality, and so it breathes and is in some way alive… Imagination frees us to consider reality from different perspectives, and it is therefore pragmatic when employed properly.” 

PATIENT MAN

Working alone in the meadow at sunrise,

What are the thoughts that you keep on your mind?

Something internal has set you to smiling,

Already knowing what others can’t find.

 

Am I perceiving the servant in waiting,

Growing at present, perfection to be,

Always in motion, eternally resting,

Taking the time that it takes to be free?

        Patient man, just keep on living, God and time are on your side,

        Waiting’s just a part of giving, in the place where you abide.

 

Faith in a promise will bring you contentment,

Waiting of something, yet possessing it now.

Living today while approaching tomorrow,

Never look backward, your hand’s to the plow.

        Patient man, just keep on living, God and time are on your side,

        Waiting’s just a part of giving, in the place where you abide.

 

Play me song while you wait for your Master.

Though you can’t see Him, He’s still your best friend.

Lift up your head for your Savior is coming.

Soon you’ll be walking the wings of the wind.

        Patient man, just keep on living, God and time are on your side,

        Waiting’s just a part of giving, in the place where you abide.

So check out Pneumythology’s site HERE.  He’s got cool stuff on art, fantasy, movies, and other heady things like that, or in his own words (much better than mine, since, you know, I’m NOT A POET):

“By means of my own stories, I wish to stimulate my readers and to provide them with a satisfying intellectual space which they can inhabit until something real catches up with them.”  So go enjoy!

Time for #timechange…a pictorial reminder

They say a picture paints a thousand words.  So here are more pix and few less words.  

We never had to do this when I lived in Indiana.

The whole “Fall Back” thing is pretty nice, getting that so-called extra hour in.

But when it comes to “Spring Forward”, gag!  That’s a little tough.  You wouldn’t think that one measly hour would make that much difference, little did I know!

Wish it didn’t have to happen leading into Sunday, but I guess we’re more concerned about people being late to work than we are being late to church. Just a thought.

So here’s a double reminder,
all you fortunate ones that are at the starting line for that annual spring leap!

1. Don’t forget to set your clocks forward tonight, and  2. Get your butt into a pew tomorrow! (‘skuse me, this site is called “inspiration with an attitude”….)

And sometimes we need a little more strategic reminding>>>

 

If….then

Choices…consequences.  If I eat too much chocolate, then I get fat(ter).  If I pull the car into the garage too fast like my husband has repeatedly warned me against, then I rip off the mirror, busting the window into a gazillion shards of glass, costing us hundreds of dollars, and having to call my husband to tell him that I pulled the car into the garage too fast…again.  You know, things like that.

We live and breathe if/then’s.  Of course, we’re in good company–even our stone age ancestors had to learn that fire was good in some ways…and not so good in others.

Here’s one of my fave’s that’s really worth chewing on.  It’s a quote from the book of the prophet Isaiah:

“And if you pour out that with which you sustain your own life for the hungry and satisfy the need of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in darkness, and your obscurity and gloom become like the noonday.” (Isaiah 58:10 Amplified Bible)

What do I sustain myself, my very heart and soul with?  Okay, money is always a good indicator about where our hearts are, and I’m in total agreement that no matter how little one has, some of it has to be given away to help someone else.  But how about the other things “with which I sustain myself”?

A big one for me is time.  Is my life so full of chores and projects and responsibilities that I don’t have time to pause and listen to a friend in need? Or is a child’s hug somehow an interruption?

Another one is talent and personal skill set.  Can you make music? Sing? Build a wall (or a new drum “cage”, as the case may be in our church)?  Can you make people laugh?  Cook?  Okay, maybe these aren’t the things with which you bring home the bacon, but not everything of true value is recognized on Wall Street.

I think it was St. Augustine that said “men’s souls hang on your gifts”.  Jesus, Himself, warns us not to bury what He has given us, but to invest it wisely.  IF we pour out (not dribble, by the way) these things to help those in need–not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, relationally–THEN our own personal clouds begin to dissipate as well.  Interesting paradox, this whole “losing my life to find it” thing.

If I get up at 3:30AM to write this post, then I’ll probably need to sleep in.  Good thing it’s Saturday….

NIghty night……….dawnlizjones