Ready. Set. Go?

I am a great starter and a poor finisher. Anonimo hesitates to start and finishes with a bang. These contrasts are just one of the things that make us so well suited for one another.

The air outside is still crisp and cold, more like a fall day than a spring day. The snow has melted and the city street washers were out this evening going up and down our street and alley. A red -breasted robin hopped about our back yard while a squirrel looked on. Signs of spring.

After a long winter of eating good food and sitting in our comfy chairs...it is time to walk. The only problem is that I did not want to start. I who start so well had a hard time pulling myself up out of the couch. Anonimo was the starter this time. "Let's go".

We do not need to pull out a scale to see our starting weight....we carry it with us...we know there is weight where there shouldn't be. We do not need to measure our body fat...we look down and see it. We have set no goals...except to start , to continue and to finish well.

We enjoyed every moment as we walked through this Garden of Eden where we live. The swollen waters of the creek ran by us and sounded like music in our ears. The trees soared above us and a pair of mama and papa birds flew by. Sugar pulled hard on her leash as she led the way.

We breathed heavily as we pulled our legs step after step up out of the creek.

Sometimes the climb can be so steep
I may falter in my steps
But never beyond Your reach

Oh God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
Oh God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You'll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days

Rich Mullins

Starting. Continuing. Step by step.

the effort to reunify the self

I always enjoy finding books that I have not read yet by favorite authors , and so when I picked up Mandala at the Rummage sale this weekend I was looking forward to reading it. Pearl Buck's The Good Earth is an amazing book and being the optomist that I am, I was hoping for more of the same. I should have read the quote in the beginning before buying it:

Mandala

A schematized representation of the cosmos, chiefly
characterized by a concentric organization of geometric shapes, each of which
contains an image of a deity or an attribute of a deity. A symbol representing
the effort to reunify the self.

I read the first few pages at lunch today and knew this would not be for me. I may be old fashioned, but I want books on our shelves that any of our children can read also .

The idea that we as humans can actually reunify ourselves seems so desperate. The only unity worth having is the union that we share with our Savior when we believe upon His name. And in this there is no effort! He has done all the work! Blessed relief....to rest in HIM and know that I am now whole because of Him.

The good thing about bad books is that they always lead me back to the Best Book.

Unforced rhythms of Grace

Rummage Sale season has finally started here in the Northland. Despite freezing winds and snow falling this late in April I stopped at a church rummage sale after dropping Quartz at a school event.

For $15, I walked away with a box of hidden wealth :)

1. an old-fashioned candle holder with intricately shaped leaves and twigs
2. a wooden yoke
3. Books!

• Mandala by Pearl Buck
• Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton
• The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd (hardback, brand new)
  
• The Burden is Light! by Eugenia Price
• an old Sotheby's catalog
• a WWII encyclopedia (for Electrum)
• a set of American Heritage books with wonderful illustrations
  

Before I had left the sale, 3 people stopped and asked me what the yoke was. It is of course, not life sized.....it is a decorative piece, about 1 1/2 feet across. The moment I saw it I thought of "My yoke is easy and My burden is light". I plan to hang it beneath a wonderful painting that Anonimo's Aunt Maria gave us....a painting of two men on a cart being pulled by oxen yoked together.

When I saw the book by Eugenia Price , it seemed that a theme was forming around my morning. I knew that I recognized her name, but could not remember exactly what she wrote. This book "My Burden is Light!" caught my eye because of the subtitle: The Autobiography of a Transformed Pagan.

As I forced myself to rest today to try and get over this cold I have, I read the entire book. It is the story of a woman who lived for self and found the burden too much to bear....and then Christ came and took her breath away...and her burden away. His burden is indeed light.

Abruptly Jesus broke into prayer: "Thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth. You've concealed your ways from sophisticates and know-it-alls, but spelled them out clearly to ordinary people. Yes, Father, that's the way you like to work." Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly. "The Father has given me all these things to do and say. This is a unique Father-Son operation, coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge. No one knows the Son the way the Father does, nor the Father the way the Son does. But I'm not keeping it to myself; I'm ready to go over it line by line with anyone willing to listen. "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.

The Message by Eugene Peterson

What an incredible gift....to be allowed to walk yoked with Him in the unforced rhythms of grace.

the score is tied: 1 each

We spent Sunday afternoon at the mall, specifically at Barnes and Noble. We each got something from the cafe (the kiddos had to use their own money :)) and then found an empty spot under the journal shelves. Garnet and Hyacinth found books to read and my eye had been caught by a new magazine Artful Blogging. Electrum wandered around with Daddy to find WWII books. The Three: Jasper, Emerald and Sardius asked if we could play their favorite game.

I choose a topic or theme and The Three set off to see what they can find. They bring the book back and explain to me why they chose it and I pick a winner.

First Round: Something I would enjoy reading or find visually inspiring. Emerald was back first with a book full of beautiful flower illustrations. Next was Sardius with The Joy of Scrapbooking. Jasper finally came in with a cheeky grin and held out the very magazine I was looking at: Artful Blogging. Round One to Jasper.

Second Round: Something that had pictures I could use for artwork. Jasper was first with a beautiful coffee table book of Japan. Emerald was next with a Martha Stewart magazine with neat pictures. Sardius then held out a board game, Settlers of Cattan. Round Two to Sardius.

Third Round: Something that would bring a tear to my eye. This time they were gone for quite a while (I found out later they sought suggestions at the customer service desk and from friends that were also in the store).

Emerald came back first with the book A Boy Called It. She asked me to read the back cover. I told her that it was a good choice and that I had read that story and it was definitely something that would make you cry. Sardius next held out Chicken Soup for the Mother and Son and reminded me of the hard times we had gone through when Quartz had run away from home and we thought he might not come back again. At this Emerald stomped her foot and sighed disgustedly "That's it, I've lost it".

Jasper then held out a book on how tough it is to raise adolescents ( 5 of our children are in the adolescent stage). I complemented each one of them on their choices....Round Three to Emerald for making me laugh so hard, a tear came to my eye.

the Perceptiveness of Emerald

Anonimo and I rarely disagree and when we do it is always over the same subject: one of the children. Last night we had one of these disagreements, slight and overheard by none. We each went our own way to breathe deeply and (hopefully) pray.

I was in Quartz's room when Emerald knocked on the door and came in. She did not interrupt our conversation but leaned against the wall and listened. I knew her look....the tip of her tongue barely peeking out of her mouth, her eyes darting back and forth. Something was on her mind.

"Did you need anything honey?"

"Ummmm, no." She continued to stand there unwilling to speak out in front of Quartz and his friend.

"Do you need me honey?"

"Daddy needs you. I came to tell you Daddy needs you. He is on the front porch...and I know he is lonely and he needs you." the words rushed out one over the top of another.

"Do you want me to go to him?"

"Yes" she breathed out in a sigh of relief.

Emerald did not know we were apart on purpose...she only knew that there was a loneliness in her Daddy and she needed that loneliness filled right away. Such a perceptive girl....such a loving daughter.

The disagreement still hung in the air last night as we went to bed.....slightly swaying back and forth.

Elam's Kiss

I have been reaching...reaching to try and grasp what it can possibly mean to love unconditionally. Everywhere I turn, I have found the answer just out of reach or slipping through my fingers. And then I cry out .....and He hears me.

From The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning:

Jonas Zook is an eighty-two-year-old widower. He and his children raise piglets for their livelihood. The oldest Barbara, fifty seven, manages the household. The three younger children- Rachel , fifty-three;Elam, forty-seven; and Sam, forty-five- are all severely retarded. When I arrived at noon with two friends, little Elam- about four feet tall, heavy-set, thickly bearded, and wearing the black Amish outfit with the circular hat- was coming out of the barn some fifty yards away, pitchfork in hand. He had never laid eyes on me in his life; yet, when he saw me step out of the car, this little mongloid dropped the pitchfork and ran lickety-split in my direction. From two feet away he flung himself at me, wrapped his arms around my neck, his legs around my waist, and kissed me on the lips with fierce intensity for a full thirty seconds.

Well, I was temporarily stunned and terribly self- concious. But in the twinkle of an eye, Jesus set me free from propriey. I buried my lips into Elam's and returned his kiss with the same enthusiasm. Then he jumped down, wrapped both his hands around my right arm, and led me on a tour of the farm.

A half hour later, Elam sat next to me at lunch. Midway through the meal I turned to say something. Inadvertantly, my right elbow slammed into Elam's rib cage. He didn't wince, he didn't groan; he wept like a two-year-old child. His next move undid me.

Elam came over to my chair, planted himself on my lap, and kissed me even harder on the lips. Then he kissed my eyes, nose, forehead and cheeks.

And there was Brennan, dazed, dumbstruck, weeping, and suddenly seized by the power of a great affection.

And there I was, early in the morning, weeping as I read of this unconditional love. I suddenly realized that a love I had always thought of as gentle and kind is actually fierce and nowhere near sedate (peaceful, yes; sedate, no). He is in me....HE has given me His mind, His heart, His spirit.....HE has given me Himself. He has given me the incredible gift of being loved ...fiercely.

Unconditional love, the ability to love unconditionally, I now feel as if I might be holding it loosely in my cupped hands.

Please Father breathe through me, love through me. Less of me, more of You.