With the dark of night surrounding her like a blanket, shielding her from curious eyes, shielding her from hurtful barbs shot like darts into her heart. Shielding her from judgmental assumptions, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel of the car and wept. Great heaving sobs held so long inside finally allowed to escape.
It had been a trying day, week, year!
Teenagers that decided she was stupid. Comments that showed no gratitude. Kids that like vultures, waited with seemingly anticipation to swoop down and correct and humiliate for the slightest mispronunciation, for the slightest mistake.
Children that didn't include her anymore, didn't share, laugh or visit.
A husband that found more comfort in the arms of his lazy boy then in her arms. .
Tonight the culmination of the despair and hurt she was feeling over the last year hit her. She could feel those tears once more stinging the back of her eyes, tears that had become her unwanted daily companions of late.She needed to find a place to go. A spot to call her own in her own home.She wandered through the house searching.
She looked at the piano bench covered in coats and shoes and remembered the thousand times she asked that they be put in the hall closet.
She looked at the office chair by the family computer to find a son engaged in a game. Remembering the thousands of times she reminded him to do his work first and play after.
She looked into the dining room where her teens were doing their homework, music blaring, their schoolbags, books, papers scattered everywhere. She thought of the thousands of times she asked they they keep the school things on the shelf she had provided for them.
She wandered to the living room where the dog was curled in her chair, and clutter was strewn about the couch and floors and thought of the thousands of times she had encouraged the idea of picking up after oneself.
She looked up the stairway where her room was and heard the TV on which meant her husband was enjoying his favorite pastime, channel surfing. She thought of the thousands of times she begged that they do more together.
She went to the bathroom , her last recourse, to find it occupied.
She looked around and realized yet again, there was no room for her here. There was no corner uniquely her's. She was nothing more then a glorified housekeeper. A stranger in her house. She grabbed her keys, announced she was going for a ride, got in the car and drove. She found herself parked in an abandoned field. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel and wept.
And wept.
Then, she prayed! One of those fervent earnest prayers that only come when one is driven to their knees in defeat.
"It is but a moment," a sweet voice whispered. " I see all you do! I know how you feel" Courage daughter! It is but a moment. Other moments will come in which your children will honor you, in which your husband will confess the blessing you are to him. Other moments will come! Moments when the house is clean and silent and you will long for noise and a mess. Remember my daughter, sometimes the rewards come much later then you would like but ... they do come! Courage my Daughter to be all you should be, can be and will become!"
With a shuddering breath, and a renewed peace. She wiped her eyes.Threw away the hundreds of used kleenex, took a deep breath and drove home.
She went to the piano bench and picked up the coats, and put away the shoes.
She went to the computer and engaged her son in what the game was about and how it was played.
She went into the dining room and complimented the teens on doing their homework so diligently.
She went into the living room and shoo'd the dog off her furniture and picked up the clutter.
She went up the stairs to ask her husband what he was watching then joined him.
She went to the bathroom to find it empty, she shut the door, sat on the top of the toilet seat, bowed her head and thanked the Lord for courage. She might, for a time, be a stranger in her own home but she was no stranger to God!
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Cookies, Milk and Mother's Love
The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the air.
Mother's in her apron and there's flour in her hair.
Her eyes twinkle merrily; she smiles from ear to ear.
"Put your school bag down," she says, " and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day.
The ups and downs, the hurts and joys that came along my way.
The politics of recess groups, I did poorly on a test...
I argued with my best friend; at spelling I'm the best!
She wisely listens then wisely speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight!
Cookies, milk and Mother's love; I know things will be alright!
The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the room.
Mother's in her apron and there's batter on her spoon.
Her eyes twinkle welcomingly. She smiles from ear to ear.
"Put your work bag down, she says, " and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day.
The ups and downs, the hurts and joys that came along my way.
The politics and red tape I must constantly wade through
I argued with a co-worker, the planned project I got to do.
She sympathetically listens, then sympathetically speaks, then hugs me, oh, so tight.
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.
The smell of baking cookies is wafting oh so sweet!
Mother's in her apron and there's sugar on her cheek.
Her eyes twinkle nervously, she smiles from ear to ear.
"Put your car keys down," she says, " and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
Warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my date.
The butterflies in my stomach, the dinner that we ate.
The getting on one knee, the joy of her tearful, "YES!"
The politics of planning now, the wondering what comes next.
She excitedly listens then excitedly speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight.
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.
The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the place.
Mother's in her apron and there's butter on her face.
Her eyes twinkle happily, she smiles from ear to ear.
"Put that diaper bag down," she says, and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table, the toddler sleeps across my knee
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk are waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my week.
The ups and downs of parenting, and some advice I seek.
The teens are being sassy, this little one's a joy!
Three girls now and counting ,we hope the next one is a boy.
She knowingly listens then knowingly speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight;
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.
The smell of baking cookies greets me at the door
Grandma's in her apron and there's flour on the floor.
Her eyes twinkle lovingly, she smiles from ear to ear.
"Put your overnight bag down, she says, and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see
Warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day;
the ups and downs the hurts and joys that came along my way.
The politics of siblings, the chores that are all mine;
How tough to be the only boy, my sisters bug me all the time.
She wisely listens then wisely speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight;
Cookies, milk and Grandma's love, I know things will be alright.
Julianna D. Bradley (JDB) 2011, July
☻please do not copy or reproduce without permission.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Remember My Dance!
This is dedicated to Lysi, to whom I told the story first but not as well.
She knew the end was near, she was fading, no longer in the springtime of her life. Soon she would have to turn the spot light over to her nemesis while she literally faded away. She wouldn't go with a whimper.
She was known for hosting a grand ball once a year, and this years would be the most impressive yet! Her going away ball! She planned every detail with great care and thought; from the outdoor garden and patio she rented, to the orchestra; from designing her gown, to the refreshments. Her crowning moment would be her dance!!
She WOULD be remembered.
The day of the ball arrived. She had double checked her preparations. All was ready.
It would be a very late afternoon into the late night affair. She wanted to encompass the deep blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds that would slowly change with the bleeding colors of a setting sun and a brisk, chilly, starlit night with a full ,orange, harvest moon playing peekaboo behind wispy clouds.
The outdoor patio was covered in a textured gold carpet. The Orchestra was at the ready and expertly playing delightful background music. Though that would change as the dancing began. She had hired this talented group for their avante gard musicality.
Her guests had arrived and were enjoying delectable treats and a mixture of spiced cider, pumpkin tea and wines. Various entertainers such as jugglers, fortune tellers, magicians kept her guests entertained while they awaited her entrance; which entrance was timed to command the most attention, have the greatest impact. That highly anticipated moment finally came as the sun started to sink. Her man servant announced her and, as she glided through the double french doors onto the huge patio readied for dancing, there was an audible gasp!!
Even at her mature age she was devastatingly beautiful! Thick chestnut tresses with hints of copper fell into curly waves down the middle of her back and framed her heart shaped face. Her emerald eyes sparkled and still retained a mischievous glint that made you think she was up to something and that you wanted to be apart of it ,whatever it was. Her face seemed flawless, defying resolutely the truth that this would be her last grand ball this year, her last opportunity to be a queen before she faded away. Her lips were full and painted scarlet and wore a defiant smile.
If her face was the work of art, her gown was the frame that did it justice. It was magnificent! She had designed it to look like fall leaves draping over her shoulders, caressing her bodice then swirling around the skirt as if they were wind tossed. The colors subtly blended into each other almost iridescently. Leaves of scarlets, amber's, topaz were artfully sown onto a sheer sweeping chocolate brown skirt and bodice. Delicately embroidered throughout the gown, to match her eyes, were forest green emeralds so that as she moved it seemed she was clothed in fluid movement of woods, leaves and jewels. Finishing the look, she wore on her feet, glossy deep brown ballet shoes, simple, understated.
She stood for a second taking in the admiration, knowing she was the subject on every one's tongue. Then she gracefully mingled, she would not take to the dance floor until the night had fallen like a curtain, instead, letting that setting sun shine on her with the last vestige of warmth and flattering glow. She glided from group to group, chatting little, listening a lot. She enjoyed the varied musical pieces, tapping her toe to many. She enjoyed the men and women who clamoured to gain a few precious moments with her. She was giddy but not from sipping wines but of sipping the flattery, the sincere declarations of admiration, even love.
As dusk gave way to night, a chill in the breeze stroked the faces of the attendees while the moon, huge and orange, as expected, cast the glow of a million candles, adding to the torches under glass lamps that lit the perimeter of the dance floor.
It was time for her dance. As if an unseen hand swept everyone off the dance floor, it emptied. All of a sudden the music changed. No longer light and delightful, the orchestra put all their talent into playing her music: haunting, mysterious yet sentimental. It made guest after guest want to shiver in an unsettled feeling of unease, while at the same time, feeling melancholy and teary eyed.
Her guests had become her audience and were hypnotised by the music. With that breeze whipping her hair around her face, like branches, and causing her cheeks to blush rose, she gracefully glided out to the middle of the floor. There was a soft spotlight now over the floor. The material of her gown swishing, skittering as if the leaves were real and being scattered across the ground she started moving, swaying, dancing. Her arms uplifted to the sky, eyes closed, a bittersweet smile on her lips, she danced like a younger version of herself. She danced putting all her heart, her angst, her emotion into every movement.
The music had textures, layers, drama and captivated the imagination of listeners.
The dance had textures, layers, drama and captivated the hearts of those watching. and so it continued as if time stood ...
Still -the music cast a spell,
still- the audience could only watch in awe,
still -she danced gracefully telling her life story for the last time.
The music flowed quietly then crescendoed with the chapters she danced. Her movements were mesmerizing. That life story she told through those movements enthalling her audience.
Suddenly it was over. The story and the dance ended! She collapsed in a heap. Spent, exhausted, emptied, with head bowed, she put her arms in front of her palms down on the dance floor allowing them to brace her. She had given everything. She had held nothing about her life back. Collasped as she was, she looked almost as if someone had raked leaves in a huge pile. There was deafening silence. There was no music. There was no applause, as if what she had danced, what the guests had witnessed, was too sacred for applause.
Then there was movement from the far side of the dance floor, someone was coming! Guests parted to let a woman through. The Hostess of this ball, wearily lifted her head to see who was approaching. When recognition registered, tears as silent as the room had become, fell from her eyes.
The woman entering was also stunning! She had an ice cold beauty, unlike the earthy beauty of the woman still in a heap on the floor. She wore an equally magnificent gown in pristine white. Shimmering, as if embedded with thousands of diamonds, it clung to her body like skin. She had white hair. Not grey! not silver! White, soft, like a blanket of snow falling down to her waist. Like the gasp that greeted the hostess upon her entrance, now the silence was broken by a second gasp at this entrance. With eyes that were as grey as thunderstorm clouds and lips that shone pink, her face was equally beautiful but in a hard cruel way.
She walked confidently to the middle of the dance floor, and with a hint of gentleness reached her hand out to help lift the hostess to her feet. The hostess stood trembling, the tears stopped. She glanced around the outdoor patio giving her guests a bittersweet smile then she gazed upon the face of the intruder, the uninvited woman.
The audience strained to hear the words spoken between them as their hostess calmly said, " I knew you would come."
"Yes," the white beauty agreed, " it is time."
" I thought you would at least give me the rest of the night."
" I let you finish your dance." Then she offered grudgingly, "It was moving!"
The hostess acknowledged the compliment with a nod, then looked up as something tickled her face. Glancing upwards, she saw snow falling gently from the night sky that had changed from chill and brisk to something colder, deeper. The Hostess, shaking her head, smiled in defeat.
" I will announce you properly," she told her nemisis.
Now it was the ice queens turn to acknowledge with a nod.
The Hostess turned and called to her guests to gather around. With curiouosity and a bit of confusion they did her bidding.
Then stepping out of the spotlight so the other woman could bask in it alone, Mistress Autumn quietly announced,
" This is Mistress Winter, She will now be your hostess. I bid you farewell!' She turned to walk away but quickly, as if she forgot something, whipped around again and cried, "Remember my dance!"
While the music started up again, and the guests surrounded Winter, Autumn slowly faded away as the snow continued to cover the dance floor.
JDB 12, Oct. 2011
☻please do not copy or reproduce without permission.
She knew the end was near, she was fading, no longer in the springtime of her life. Soon she would have to turn the spot light over to her nemesis while she literally faded away. She wouldn't go with a whimper.
She was known for hosting a grand ball once a year, and this years would be the most impressive yet! Her going away ball! She planned every detail with great care and thought; from the outdoor garden and patio she rented, to the orchestra; from designing her gown, to the refreshments. Her crowning moment would be her dance!!
She WOULD be remembered.
The day of the ball arrived. She had double checked her preparations. All was ready.
It would be a very late afternoon into the late night affair. She wanted to encompass the deep blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds that would slowly change with the bleeding colors of a setting sun and a brisk, chilly, starlit night with a full ,orange, harvest moon playing peekaboo behind wispy clouds.
The outdoor patio was covered in a textured gold carpet. The Orchestra was at the ready and expertly playing delightful background music. Though that would change as the dancing began. She had hired this talented group for their avante gard musicality.
Her guests had arrived and were enjoying delectable treats and a mixture of spiced cider, pumpkin tea and wines. Various entertainers such as jugglers, fortune tellers, magicians kept her guests entertained while they awaited her entrance; which entrance was timed to command the most attention, have the greatest impact. That highly anticipated moment finally came as the sun started to sink. Her man servant announced her and, as she glided through the double french doors onto the huge patio readied for dancing, there was an audible gasp!!
Even at her mature age she was devastatingly beautiful! Thick chestnut tresses with hints of copper fell into curly waves down the middle of her back and framed her heart shaped face. Her emerald eyes sparkled and still retained a mischievous glint that made you think she was up to something and that you wanted to be apart of it ,whatever it was. Her face seemed flawless, defying resolutely the truth that this would be her last grand ball this year, her last opportunity to be a queen before she faded away. Her lips were full and painted scarlet and wore a defiant smile.
If her face was the work of art, her gown was the frame that did it justice. It was magnificent! She had designed it to look like fall leaves draping over her shoulders, caressing her bodice then swirling around the skirt as if they were wind tossed. The colors subtly blended into each other almost iridescently. Leaves of scarlets, amber's, topaz were artfully sown onto a sheer sweeping chocolate brown skirt and bodice. Delicately embroidered throughout the gown, to match her eyes, were forest green emeralds so that as she moved it seemed she was clothed in fluid movement of woods, leaves and jewels. Finishing the look, she wore on her feet, glossy deep brown ballet shoes, simple, understated.
She stood for a second taking in the admiration, knowing she was the subject on every one's tongue. Then she gracefully mingled, she would not take to the dance floor until the night had fallen like a curtain, instead, letting that setting sun shine on her with the last vestige of warmth and flattering glow. She glided from group to group, chatting little, listening a lot. She enjoyed the varied musical pieces, tapping her toe to many. She enjoyed the men and women who clamoured to gain a few precious moments with her. She was giddy but not from sipping wines but of sipping the flattery, the sincere declarations of admiration, even love.
As dusk gave way to night, a chill in the breeze stroked the faces of the attendees while the moon, huge and orange, as expected, cast the glow of a million candles, adding to the torches under glass lamps that lit the perimeter of the dance floor.
It was time for her dance. As if an unseen hand swept everyone off the dance floor, it emptied. All of a sudden the music changed. No longer light and delightful, the orchestra put all their talent into playing her music: haunting, mysterious yet sentimental. It made guest after guest want to shiver in an unsettled feeling of unease, while at the same time, feeling melancholy and teary eyed.
Her guests had become her audience and were hypnotised by the music. With that breeze whipping her hair around her face, like branches, and causing her cheeks to blush rose, she gracefully glided out to the middle of the floor. There was a soft spotlight now over the floor. The material of her gown swishing, skittering as if the leaves were real and being scattered across the ground she started moving, swaying, dancing. Her arms uplifted to the sky, eyes closed, a bittersweet smile on her lips, she danced like a younger version of herself. She danced putting all her heart, her angst, her emotion into every movement.
The music had textures, layers, drama and captivated the imagination of listeners.
The dance had textures, layers, drama and captivated the hearts of those watching. and so it continued as if time stood ...
Still -the music cast a spell,
still- the audience could only watch in awe,
still -she danced gracefully telling her life story for the last time.
The music flowed quietly then crescendoed with the chapters she danced. Her movements were mesmerizing. That life story she told through those movements enthalling her audience.
Suddenly it was over. The story and the dance ended! She collapsed in a heap. Spent, exhausted, emptied, with head bowed, she put her arms in front of her palms down on the dance floor allowing them to brace her. She had given everything. She had held nothing about her life back. Collasped as she was, she looked almost as if someone had raked leaves in a huge pile. There was deafening silence. There was no music. There was no applause, as if what she had danced, what the guests had witnessed, was too sacred for applause.
Then there was movement from the far side of the dance floor, someone was coming! Guests parted to let a woman through. The Hostess of this ball, wearily lifted her head to see who was approaching. When recognition registered, tears as silent as the room had become, fell from her eyes.
The woman entering was also stunning! She had an ice cold beauty, unlike the earthy beauty of the woman still in a heap on the floor. She wore an equally magnificent gown in pristine white. Shimmering, as if embedded with thousands of diamonds, it clung to her body like skin. She had white hair. Not grey! not silver! White, soft, like a blanket of snow falling down to her waist. Like the gasp that greeted the hostess upon her entrance, now the silence was broken by a second gasp at this entrance. With eyes that were as grey as thunderstorm clouds and lips that shone pink, her face was equally beautiful but in a hard cruel way.
She walked confidently to the middle of the dance floor, and with a hint of gentleness reached her hand out to help lift the hostess to her feet. The hostess stood trembling, the tears stopped. She glanced around the outdoor patio giving her guests a bittersweet smile then she gazed upon the face of the intruder, the uninvited woman.
The audience strained to hear the words spoken between them as their hostess calmly said, " I knew you would come."
"Yes," the white beauty agreed, " it is time."
" I thought you would at least give me the rest of the night."
" I let you finish your dance." Then she offered grudgingly, "It was moving!"
The hostess acknowledged the compliment with a nod, then looked up as something tickled her face. Glancing upwards, she saw snow falling gently from the night sky that had changed from chill and brisk to something colder, deeper. The Hostess, shaking her head, smiled in defeat.
" I will announce you properly," she told her nemisis.
Now it was the ice queens turn to acknowledge with a nod.
The Hostess turned and called to her guests to gather around. With curiouosity and a bit of confusion they did her bidding.
Then stepping out of the spotlight so the other woman could bask in it alone, Mistress Autumn quietly announced,
" This is Mistress Winter, She will now be your hostess. I bid you farewell!' She turned to walk away but quickly, as if she forgot something, whipped around again and cried, "Remember my dance!"
While the music started up again, and the guests surrounded Winter, Autumn slowly faded away as the snow continued to cover the dance floor.
JDB 12, Oct. 2011
☻please do not copy or reproduce without permission.
Monday, October 10, 2011
A New Weapon, An Old Fight
This is dedicated to all my game buddies! :) WOW, one day Ill go back :)
The war rages! It is one that must be fought though I know I will never win. All I can hope for is enough fighting power to assure myself a day or two of relative peace. Enough to catch my breath, enough space to plan the next attack. I will never win because I am one... they are many!
There are four of us here, but it is mostly my responsibility to engage in combat.! They act as my suppliers and finally they have supplied me with a much needed weapon upgrade! More accurate, durable, longer reach and most important -powerful! Some manufacturer out of Australia. It was a long time coming!! But even with my new weapon, I am and always will be at a disadvantage. But oh! the damage I can inflict now is so much more greater! When I find them I turn my weapon on them and suck the life right out of them! Gives me a perverse satisfaction to come out stronger, more deadly to wipe them off the face of the planet, at least till they reorganise and re-populate. And they always do which is why I can never win and never stop fighting!
There is no winning this war, there is only maintaining. They are too clever! While I have scoped out some of their consistent strongholds, the other places of attack are too many and too subtle to find. . No matter how often I destroy their hiding places , they rebuild! Guerrilla warfare is their forte! I have to go into each battle in stealth mode, eyes constantly taking in my surroundings!
I am so tired! While I take pleasure in the little victories, how I wish the war would end! I am so tired, They don't sleep but I have to!
I have to be vigilant! I have felt their fingers in my hair, along my face. Like a virus, they spread over the ground, cling to high places just above my sights!! They have surprised me time and time again! Only by the quickness of my reflexes and the power of my weapon have I escaped being in their grasp!
They are varied! The enemy with many faces! Some web like- clinging, forming nets to catch the unaware. Others like almost dormant on the ground, like bits of lint or clumps of pet hair! Seemingly harmless but unless taken care of, multiply to such a point that there is no safe spot to walk!! Sometimes they leave traces of a mud like residue that I mustn't step in or I will spread it throughout my camp! Others have taken on the appearance of flecks or crumbs! So non -descript looking, easy to ignore but left unchecked are the catalyst for greater threats!
Enough talking! I must go back in! It is time for my rounds! Time again to decimate what I can! To show them no matter how tired, no matter how many battles I must wage, I will not give in! I will not give up!
Vacuuming : How to turn an ordinary chore into something akin to a FPS Video Game.
Sure makes it more exciting don't you think? :)
The war rages! It is one that must be fought though I know I will never win. All I can hope for is enough fighting power to assure myself a day or two of relative peace. Enough to catch my breath, enough space to plan the next attack. I will never win because I am one... they are many!
There are four of us here, but it is mostly my responsibility to engage in combat.! They act as my suppliers and finally they have supplied me with a much needed weapon upgrade! More accurate, durable, longer reach and most important -powerful! Some manufacturer out of Australia. It was a long time coming!! But even with my new weapon, I am and always will be at a disadvantage. But oh! the damage I can inflict now is so much more greater! When I find them I turn my weapon on them and suck the life right out of them! Gives me a perverse satisfaction to come out stronger, more deadly to wipe them off the face of the planet, at least till they reorganise and re-populate. And they always do which is why I can never win and never stop fighting!
There is no winning this war, there is only maintaining. They are too clever! While I have scoped out some of their consistent strongholds, the other places of attack are too many and too subtle to find. . No matter how often I destroy their hiding places , they rebuild! Guerrilla warfare is their forte! I have to go into each battle in stealth mode, eyes constantly taking in my surroundings!
I am so tired! While I take pleasure in the little victories, how I wish the war would end! I am so tired, They don't sleep but I have to!
I have to be vigilant! I have felt their fingers in my hair, along my face. Like a virus, they spread over the ground, cling to high places just above my sights!! They have surprised me time and time again! Only by the quickness of my reflexes and the power of my weapon have I escaped being in their grasp!
They are varied! The enemy with many faces! Some web like- clinging, forming nets to catch the unaware. Others like almost dormant on the ground, like bits of lint or clumps of pet hair! Seemingly harmless but unless taken care of, multiply to such a point that there is no safe spot to walk!! Sometimes they leave traces of a mud like residue that I mustn't step in or I will spread it throughout my camp! Others have taken on the appearance of flecks or crumbs! So non -descript looking, easy to ignore but left unchecked are the catalyst for greater threats!
Enough talking! I must go back in! It is time for my rounds! Time again to decimate what I can! To show them no matter how tired, no matter how many battles I must wage, I will not give in! I will not give up!
Vacuuming : How to turn an ordinary chore into something akin to a FPS Video Game.
Sure makes it more exciting don't you think? :)
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Painting Lessons
This is dedicated to Emily Rigby who encouraged me by saying if I ever wrote about scriptures, she would buy the book! That meant so much to me! I hope you like this one Emily!
A couple of thoughts really impacted me while I was sharing this story with a friend who was in need of some specific precepts taught therein. In doing so, I was enlightened myself in surprising ways.
Can I share the story then the insights with you?
Poor Saul! Power had gone to his head and he disobeyed God. This disobedience led the Lord to say to Samuel:
"1 ... How long wilt thou mourn for Saul, seeing I have rejected him from reigning over Israel? fill thine horn with oil, and go, I will send thee to Jesse the Beth-lehemite: for I have provided me a king among his sons... And call Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will shew thee what thou shalt do: and thou shalt anoint unto me him whom I name unto thee."
So off goes Samuel to Jesse's house to meet his sons and anoint one of them Israel's next king. It is evident in the language used between Samuel and Jesse that Jesse was made privy to the special nature of Samuel's visit. By all accounts, these sons were big strapping lads! Pretty impressive guys! As the group came down toward him in preparation to be sanctified for offering the sacrifice together, Samuel was sure impressed!!
6 ¶And it came to pass, when they were come, that he looked on Eliab, and said, Surely the Lord’s anointed is before him.
But oh! Blessed be the Lord for instructing His prophet and thereby instructing us!
7 But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
No matter how impressive, Eliab was not the Lord's choice. Neither was son's two and three, Abinadab and Shammah.This was a wee bit surprising since those three sons in particular were solders for Saul and attended him in battles, thus their strength and courage were not in question.
One can picture the pride of Jesse, their father, as he paraded them one by one in front of the prophet. They seemed outwardly to be the perfect specimens of manhood. However, from the first born to son number seven, there was no illuminating confirmation from the Lord. With the Lord's answer being clear, it was up to Samuel to relate the following to Jesse:
"10 Again, Jesse made seven of his sons to pass before Samuel. And Samuel said unto Jesse, The Lord hath not chosen these."
Now remember, the Prophet had told Jesse he was to bring all his sons to sacrifice with Samuel! When the Lord hadn't confirmed His choice by son 7, you can almost sense in Samuel's next words a small hint of desperation...
11 "And Samuel said unto Jesse, Are here all thy children?"
" ... And he said, There remaineth yet the youngest, and, behold, he keepeth the sheep. And Samuel said unto Jesse, Send and fetch him: for we will not sit down till he come hither."
When David finally comes, listen closely to what is said:
12 "And he sent, and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he."
That is the story. Here comes the inspiration:
I will test my rudimentary skills by attempting to paint the thoughts that impacted me into one comprehensible, hopefully enlightening spiritual work of art. With my metaphoric paint brush in hand I will begin by painting onto the canvas the background:
7 But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
Why is it that Jesse failed to bring in his younger son when commanded? Why was Samuel put in the position of having to ask if there was any other sons?
I will offer two thoughts:
First: He widely underestimated the importance one so young without size or reputation. Especially in light of the other brothers with their seemingly preferable qualities. Jesse failed to give him enough importance to even invite him until the prophet Samuel ran out of choices. Perhaps, his pride in the older boys, the looking on the outward appearance, overshadowed the notion that his youngest might serve the Lord in any meaningful capacity. In his mind set, even after being in the company of a prophet of God, being sanctified and being informed that this meeting held a greater significance then merely visiting with a prophet of God, he disobeyed an edict and failed to involve a son that he had forgotten about, one, that would ultimately, serve to be the greatest king of all of Israel.
Second: Perhaps it was a matter of putting his flock of sheep and the income or security they provided to his family ahead of his son. Kinda like not wanting to call your son home from work thus having to close the store for the day. In this case, again Jesse's thought were potentially again formed by outward concerns. If he knew the prophet wanted to meet with all his sons, could he not have sent a replacement for David?
Are we like Jesse? Do we let the outward appearance be the impetus for basing our decisions, judgements? Are we guilty of making up in our own minds the destinies of others based on assumptions from outward appearances? In our circle somewhere, is there a King or Queen that if we were but to open our eyes and look at their hearts, we should see a crown of polished gold resting on their heads? Moreover, was there not the greatest King of all, judged outwardly, as thing of nought...for it was said of Him:
" For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
The King of Kings, the Prince of Peace yet it was given to only a few faithful followers willing to look upon His heart to know of His Kingship!
Or are we guilty of the second premise? Are we placing temporal concerns above spiritual concerns? Which followers are we like? Are we part of the 5000 who were fed miraculously and followed Jesus because our spirits were fed and we wanted more spiritual nourishment or those who were fed miraculously yet followed in hopes of attaining more physical food?
Whatever motivated Jesse, the outcome is the same.. he didn't view David by the requirements of God.
Now that the background is painted and dry, lets add rich, deep color and texture to our painting.
Remember it was said of David:
"And he sent, and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he."
Let me offer a simple observation : the two phrases, "beautiful countenance" and " goodly to look at" reflect the meaning of the Lord's instruction simply but powerfully. Those two statements are NOT the same. There would be no reason to reiterate twice about someones look. For instance, I wouldn't say : " She has a pretty face and she is lovely." This one scripture beautifully renders the Lord's reminder to Samuel.
The outward appearance is reflected by " goodly to look at" while the heart is mirrored with the phrase "beautiful countenance". In truth, the expression: " wear your heart on your sleeve" could be changed to "wear your heart on your face". It is meaningful that both the physical and the spiritual look of David was pointed out.
Once I took my daughter with me to visit a woman in our congregation that had turned away from church. This woman was stunningly physically beautiful. Yet when we left from talking with her, my astute young teen looked at me and responded to my comment on her looks by saying, " But mom there is no light of Christ in her eyes." Goodly to look at but no beautiful countenance.
I will share a secret of great magic with you! No matter the outward appearance, when you look upon the heart, the face will transforms into that of an angel! The radiant glow of a Christlike servant. The addictive smile of the truly joyous. The eyes that shine from loving others. It will happen every time that we do our part!
I take a clean brush, place additional colors on the palette and finish our painting.
"... And he said, There remaineth yet the youngest, and, behold, he keepeth the sheep. And Samuel said unto Jesse, Send and fetch him: for we will not sit down till he come hither."
WHERE WAS DAVID?
I believe I have never been struck by the symbolism of that statement and the metaphoric meaning to myself before this discussion with my friend.
The Lord is looking at our hearts and not the outward appearance, so what better place can we be found by Him then keeping His sheep! I found it starkly meaningful that while 7 brothers were being presented and trying to impress the prophet, the one found to insignificant to be invited yet would become one the greatest of all the old testament men, was out in the field watching the sheep. He was performing his duties. He was obediant. He was responsible.
Where are we?? Are we trying to impress those with no heavenly creditials? Are we self absorbed in flaunting ourselves by word but not quietly by deed? Do we sometimes feel sorry for ourselves because we weren't invited the party , not given a grand assignment, not rubbing elbows with powers that be?
OR are we content to follow the master who could have referred to Himself as anyone he wanted yet chose the simple shepherd as His title. Are we happy to be following His admonitioin to "feed my sheep". Do we take seriously the charge to protect those in our care with our lives? I am profoundly moved by this simple utterence:"behold he keepeth the sheep" The Lord knew whom he wanted annointed as His King. He looked upon David's heart. He knew where he could be found.
I offer you my painting! It is a young shepherd in the distant pasture surrounded by sheep under a starlit sky, reminisant of a group of shepherds that would hear angels sing hundreds of years later. The colors are bold; the presentation simple. All that is left is to frame it and pray it touches you as you look upon it. I do hope it has become a spiritual work of art.
Here is the Frame that goes around my humble painting:
The Lord has annointed us as His sons and daughters, not with oil as David was annointed but with blood. He looks upon our hearts.
He knew where to find David, where will He find us ?
I hope I can take to heart the things taught to me in reviewing this story. I will hang my painting where I can see it and be reminded to look on the heart, strive to have a beautiful countenance and be found keeping His sheep!
JDB
A couple of thoughts really impacted me while I was sharing this story with a friend who was in need of some specific precepts taught therein. In doing so, I was enlightened myself in surprising ways.
Can I share the story then the insights with you?
Poor Saul! Power had gone to his head and he disobeyed God. This disobedience led the Lord to say to Samuel:
"1 ... How long wilt thou mourn for Saul, seeing I have rejected him from reigning over Israel? fill thine horn with oil, and go, I will send thee to Jesse the Beth-lehemite: for I have provided me a king among his sons... And call Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will shew thee what thou shalt do: and thou shalt anoint unto me him whom I name unto thee."
So off goes Samuel to Jesse's house to meet his sons and anoint one of them Israel's next king. It is evident in the language used between Samuel and Jesse that Jesse was made privy to the special nature of Samuel's visit. By all accounts, these sons were big strapping lads! Pretty impressive guys! As the group came down toward him in preparation to be sanctified for offering the sacrifice together, Samuel was sure impressed!!
6 ¶And it came to pass, when they were come, that he looked on Eliab, and said, Surely the Lord’s anointed is before him.
But oh! Blessed be the Lord for instructing His prophet and thereby instructing us!
7 But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
No matter how impressive, Eliab was not the Lord's choice. Neither was son's two and three, Abinadab and Shammah.This was a wee bit surprising since those three sons in particular were solders for Saul and attended him in battles, thus their strength and courage were not in question.
One can picture the pride of Jesse, their father, as he paraded them one by one in front of the prophet. They seemed outwardly to be the perfect specimens of manhood. However, from the first born to son number seven, there was no illuminating confirmation from the Lord. With the Lord's answer being clear, it was up to Samuel to relate the following to Jesse:
"10 Again, Jesse made seven of his sons to pass before Samuel. And Samuel said unto Jesse, The Lord hath not chosen these."
Now remember, the Prophet had told Jesse he was to bring all his sons to sacrifice with Samuel! When the Lord hadn't confirmed His choice by son 7, you can almost sense in Samuel's next words a small hint of desperation...
11 "And Samuel said unto Jesse, Are here all thy children?"
" ... And he said, There remaineth yet the youngest, and, behold, he keepeth the sheep. And Samuel said unto Jesse, Send and fetch him: for we will not sit down till he come hither."
When David finally comes, listen closely to what is said:
12 "And he sent, and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he."
That is the story. Here comes the inspiration:
I will test my rudimentary skills by attempting to paint the thoughts that impacted me into one comprehensible, hopefully enlightening spiritual work of art. With my metaphoric paint brush in hand I will begin by painting onto the canvas the background:
7 But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
Why is it that Jesse failed to bring in his younger son when commanded? Why was Samuel put in the position of having to ask if there was any other sons?
I will offer two thoughts:
First: He widely underestimated the importance one so young without size or reputation. Especially in light of the other brothers with their seemingly preferable qualities. Jesse failed to give him enough importance to even invite him until the prophet Samuel ran out of choices. Perhaps, his pride in the older boys, the looking on the outward appearance, overshadowed the notion that his youngest might serve the Lord in any meaningful capacity. In his mind set, even after being in the company of a prophet of God, being sanctified and being informed that this meeting held a greater significance then merely visiting with a prophet of God, he disobeyed an edict and failed to involve a son that he had forgotten about, one, that would ultimately, serve to be the greatest king of all of Israel.
Second: Perhaps it was a matter of putting his flock of sheep and the income or security they provided to his family ahead of his son. Kinda like not wanting to call your son home from work thus having to close the store for the day. In this case, again Jesse's thought were potentially again formed by outward concerns. If he knew the prophet wanted to meet with all his sons, could he not have sent a replacement for David?
Are we like Jesse? Do we let the outward appearance be the impetus for basing our decisions, judgements? Are we guilty of making up in our own minds the destinies of others based on assumptions from outward appearances? In our circle somewhere, is there a King or Queen that if we were but to open our eyes and look at their hearts, we should see a crown of polished gold resting on their heads? Moreover, was there not the greatest King of all, judged outwardly, as thing of nought...for it was said of Him:
" For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
The King of Kings, the Prince of Peace yet it was given to only a few faithful followers willing to look upon His heart to know of His Kingship!
Or are we guilty of the second premise? Are we placing temporal concerns above spiritual concerns? Which followers are we like? Are we part of the 5000 who were fed miraculously and followed Jesus because our spirits were fed and we wanted more spiritual nourishment or those who were fed miraculously yet followed in hopes of attaining more physical food?
Whatever motivated Jesse, the outcome is the same.. he didn't view David by the requirements of God.
Now that the background is painted and dry, lets add rich, deep color and texture to our painting.
Remember it was said of David:
"And he sent, and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he."
Let me offer a simple observation : the two phrases, "beautiful countenance" and " goodly to look at" reflect the meaning of the Lord's instruction simply but powerfully. Those two statements are NOT the same. There would be no reason to reiterate twice about someones look. For instance, I wouldn't say : " She has a pretty face and she is lovely." This one scripture beautifully renders the Lord's reminder to Samuel.
The outward appearance is reflected by " goodly to look at" while the heart is mirrored with the phrase "beautiful countenance". In truth, the expression: " wear your heart on your sleeve" could be changed to "wear your heart on your face". It is meaningful that both the physical and the spiritual look of David was pointed out.
Once I took my daughter with me to visit a woman in our congregation that had turned away from church. This woman was stunningly physically beautiful. Yet when we left from talking with her, my astute young teen looked at me and responded to my comment on her looks by saying, " But mom there is no light of Christ in her eyes." Goodly to look at but no beautiful countenance.
I will share a secret of great magic with you! No matter the outward appearance, when you look upon the heart, the face will transforms into that of an angel! The radiant glow of a Christlike servant. The addictive smile of the truly joyous. The eyes that shine from loving others. It will happen every time that we do our part!
I take a clean brush, place additional colors on the palette and finish our painting.
"... And he said, There remaineth yet the youngest, and, behold, he keepeth the sheep. And Samuel said unto Jesse, Send and fetch him: for we will not sit down till he come hither."
WHERE WAS DAVID?
I believe I have never been struck by the symbolism of that statement and the metaphoric meaning to myself before this discussion with my friend.
The Lord is looking at our hearts and not the outward appearance, so what better place can we be found by Him then keeping His sheep! I found it starkly meaningful that while 7 brothers were being presented and trying to impress the prophet, the one found to insignificant to be invited yet would become one the greatest of all the old testament men, was out in the field watching the sheep. He was performing his duties. He was obediant. He was responsible.
Where are we?? Are we trying to impress those with no heavenly creditials? Are we self absorbed in flaunting ourselves by word but not quietly by deed? Do we sometimes feel sorry for ourselves because we weren't invited the party , not given a grand assignment, not rubbing elbows with powers that be?
OR are we content to follow the master who could have referred to Himself as anyone he wanted yet chose the simple shepherd as His title. Are we happy to be following His admonitioin to "feed my sheep". Do we take seriously the charge to protect those in our care with our lives? I am profoundly moved by this simple utterence:"behold he keepeth the sheep" The Lord knew whom he wanted annointed as His King. He looked upon David's heart. He knew where he could be found.
I offer you my painting! It is a young shepherd in the distant pasture surrounded by sheep under a starlit sky, reminisant of a group of shepherds that would hear angels sing hundreds of years later. The colors are bold; the presentation simple. All that is left is to frame it and pray it touches you as you look upon it. I do hope it has become a spiritual work of art.
Here is the Frame that goes around my humble painting:
The Lord has annointed us as His sons and daughters, not with oil as David was annointed but with blood. He looks upon our hearts.
He knew where to find David, where will He find us ?
I hope I can take to heart the things taught to me in reviewing this story. I will hang my painting where I can see it and be reminded to look on the heart, strive to have a beautiful countenance and be found keeping His sheep!
JDB
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Fireflies and Candles: A Tribute To YOU
People tell me my eyes shine. Shall I tell you the secret behind it?
There is so much light in my heart that my heart can't contain it all. The light bursts through the swelling of my heart like a million pinpoints, a million little beams of light and, it is some of those light beams escaping through my eyes, that light them up- making them shine.
While there are many sources for the light that swells in my breast, one of the biggest sources is YOU.
Let me back track:
I've always been fascinated by fireflies. I could do a whole post on them ( but maybe this will suffice). One of my simple joys is to sit on my swing at dusk and wait for them. As the sun sinks into the tide of darkness, and as my eyes struggle to adjust, a tiny green flicker of a single firefly catches my view. And in that spreading darkness, that one little light shines like a neon sign. Such a little insect with such a little light, yet what an impact! In the oppressive blackness of night the little firefly defies the inkiness unafraid to flit around and shine. My eyes search and catch one light after another.. until the whole horizon is full of blinking flickering green lights as the fireflies come out in droves providing me, unintentionally, a mini firework show. The fireflies reassure me that I'm not alone, that no matter what can hide in the night, in the darkness, they are unafraid to shine that light and that I likewise should be unafraid to shine my light! In that dusk to dark, they create green stars of the night. It never ceases to amaze me how Huge the darkness is yet how quickly the minute light pierces it. As if the night is Goliath and the firefly is David.
My point here is: You might think anything you have offered me is too small to really count. But it is untrue! There is no act, or kindness or words too small that it doesn't create that light in my heart. None of you are insignificant. Whether we are still in contact, whether it has been years, the light doesn't go out because of distance or infrequency.
My heart and by extension, my shining eyes, are full of light that is made up of thousands & thousands of individual lights; memories, service, laughter, love, unselfishness, shared heartache- thousands of individual lights each with their unique reason for finding residency in my heart.. Each light representing people, YOU, who impact my life the way the fireflies impact the night or candle light impacts a room.
Do YOU know what YOU have brought to my life???
Do YOU realize how your moments with me, the moments in our lives, that we crossed paths, in whatever medium that happened to be, how those moments imprinted my life? made me a better person?
Can YOU even begin to conceptionalize the change wrought inside me because I know you!
In what form can I express to you, how by adding light to my heart, YOU helped chase away darkness in me!
That even if you don't call me a friend, something YOU said, some act, something I witnessed that gave me a glimpse into your soul lit a candle in my heart even unbeknownest to you!!
If I had time to name ALL the names I would, because the names and/ or those moments are memorialized in my heart. But it would literally take HOURS to do that in this type of forum. Each person is a source of light. One little light added by others- then more and more little flames until my heart is full.
Let me try to randomly express moments, maybe you'll recognise one as being yours! Sharing a disappoint you suffered and encouraging me in mine. smiling, listening, giving of your time, phone calls, lunches, generosity of not only money but more importantly generosity in spirit! Encouragement, praise, trusting me with secrets, laughter and more laughter! Support, friendship, unexpected gifts, examples, faithfulness, prayers in my behalf, texts, pictures, making me feel as if I was important to you...
I can't express them all here, it would take pages!
I can't express them all here, it would take pages!
My attempts to create a visual are sadly inept. Reconnecting with so many of you, game buddies, church friends, Jazz friends and so many more from so many more groups has made me realize that the light YOU are responsible for is burning brightly inside me. It has made me wonder if I have neglected thanking you. I feel compelled to tell you- I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for YOU!
You are my fireflies in the night. You are my candles burning brightly.
So I urge you...
Find the fireflies, find the candle lights within your heart!
Then go share with an author or authors of those lights how they have impacted YOU.
Maybe, if we all knew the value of the many lights we are responsible for lighting in others, we would be even more fearless in living these words: "let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Matt. 5:16
It is my goal to thank you personally over the coming weeks if I haven't already, and share what you've done to make my heart glow and eyes shine.
With Love & gratitude
Julianna
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tsunami Pain To Living Water Peace
I have always heard and read the expression "pain that takes your breath away" but truly I didn't understand the literalness of that phrase.
It sounds poetic on paper.. sounds sadly romantic in novels.
It is neither poetic or romantic.
It is excruciating.
It is a pain that, for me, takes on the characteristics of water. A tsunami of pain that wells up in my abdomen and with increasing fury crests upward through my stomach and crashes where my heart is. It takes my emotions and hurls them in a swirling underwater grip. It threatens to drown me. I am forced to hold my breath to avoid swallowing deep gulps of that agony until I can thread my way through the pounding waters to the surface where faith is the lifeline that I grab onto to keep afloat till the next wave comes. Any water I do swallow exits my body through the tears I cry. It is a re-occurring tidal wave that I endure every time I think about my Dad now.My Dad, my hero, my example, my friend, my strong tower was diagnosed with ALS - better known as Lou Gehrigs Disease. It is terminal...and here comes that wave of pain again! I have not been able to talk about it. Hard enough to bear that tsunami without verbalizing it. This is my attempt to accept it and to talk about it now.
Isn't it funny how something so mundane, so ordinary as the idea of water can not only be used to describe pain but to also be means of remembering so many important events or lessons. Just as a calm lake reflects the mural of nature around it, water, in it's various forms, can reflect cherished memories throughout my life.
The ocean;
Pismo Beach, a place where Dad has gone since he was a boy, where he took us so often that the tent at the campsite felt like our second home. Family pictures under the old eucalyptus tree and Dad's trademark disgusted smirk at how long it always took yet a big ol' smile for the picture. Dad and dutch oven meals that tasted soo good! "Eureka! I found some!" Family around campfires, laughing, telling stories, reminiscing and always Dad bearing his testimony and sharing his love for all of us.
Dad loading up the rubber raft with as many as would fit then pulling us out deep enough so that the sun drenched waves would send us bouncing back to shore. Dad- needing a wee bit bigger wetsuit each year and finally happy to sit on his beach chair under the umbrella, like a king on his throne, making himself available for the grandkids that run back and forth from the water to his chair, just to see him.
Rivers and lakes -
Yellowstone and the God awful river rafting that lasted 8 hours for SOME of us.
Big Stump hiking to the lake. Dad giving me his love of hiking and of the great outdoors. Dad hiking or walking no matter what, in woods, in deserts, in neighborhoods, in mountains, along rivers, in suburbs.
Big Stump and the camping, exploring, us kids getting lost and knowing dad would come find us and he did! Family pictures on top of massive tree stumps so big and tall dad would have to lift us up so we could climb atop. Dad's trademark disgusted smirk cuz it would take so long yet a big ol' smile when he saw those photo's later.
Tule River behind our house where we fished, jumped in off a rope swing, The Tule River house where we learned to build as we helped dad put additions on the house, learned to paint when we helped dad paint the outside of the house. Learned the importance of food storage when food and not us kids were the occupants of the neatest biggest wooden playhouse we had ever seen. The Tule River House where we had horses and I got to go horseback riding with my dad. Tule River house where getting good reception on the TV was interupted everytime mom used a kitchen appliance so I learned Star Trek was more important then mom making dinner. Then later having no TV because dad realized family was more important then Star Trek.Where I learned that beating dad at Risk meant having to pick up all the little squares that when flying when dad threw the board off the table! Boy, could I roll those double sixes.
Hose and Sprinklers
I have a love of gardening, of growing things, an appreciation of the peace that comes from being outside from my dad. My earliest memories include dad and him watering something! I learned to work and work hard. If it wasnt our own garden and vines, it was church welfare farms. I learned the contentment of enjoying the gentle sway of a glider swing and doing nothing but being apart of the landscape as it changed magically from hour to hour; the gift of sunrises and sunsets. Waiting the 20 minutes then moving the hose to the next row to water various veggies and fruits. Weeding.. and dad's trademark disgusted smirk at how Adam had caused all the noxious weeds yet the big ol' smile when his gardens and flowers were pristine. Like my dad. I can always be found outside somewhere, weeding, hiking, sitting on my glider swing, feeding critters or simply absorbing the peace that nature brings.
Glass of water-
I learned to respect my dad because of my Mom. Whenever Dad was working outside doing anything you could be guarenteed to hear my mom request one of us, usually me, to take dad a cold glass of water. She would mention how hot or thirsty he would be , how hard he was working and how much it would mean that we thought about him. She has always hidden special treats that dad likes the best in his drawer. She would tell us how much it meant to a man that never even received a birthday card from his family growing up. She always made every effort to think about dad and expected and taught us to also think about dad, to show our love. She always demanded we respect him and respect him we did. I valued and cared about my dad because I saw my mom value and care about him first and it all began with, " Your dad is probably hot and thirsty, why don't you take him a cold glass of water." That example and the way I feel about dad has helped me honor and respect my husband who also gets a cold drink when he is working outside because of that lesson in honoring and showing love to my dad.
Tears
Knowing my dad wasn't too proud to cry over us, in front of us, because of us. To see his tears accompany testimony, or teary eyes when we made him proud. Tears when asking for forgiveness, or the best kind for me, tears because I make him laugh so hard!
The sacramental bread and water
The bread and water that represents the greatest legacy dad left to all of us.
It is the way he implemented the greatest gift given to all of us: the atonement. Being the eldest of all the siblings I had a first hand knowledge and front row seat to Dad's ability to utilize the atonement. The Dad I grew up with was a different man then the one my younger siblings grew up with. I, like all of you, learned and witnessed many lessons about the atonement from Dad.
Humility: It takes a broken heart and contrite spirit to look inside ones soul, to see faults, qualities that need refining mistakes to be corrected. It takes humility to ask God to show us these weaknesses so that in turn he can make them strengths as promised in the scriptures. Dad started out with a wee too much pride, a sin that from time to time plagues us all. YEt, because of his quest to be more Christlike, to be a better husband, father, friend, disciple- he taught us humility because of the atonement.
Courage: It is one thing to acknowledge our weaknesses but quite another to do anything about them. To do something about them takes a special brand of courage that only the atonement can provide. Dad never used well worn excuses or shirked responsibility for his actions, his words or his deeds. He didnt throw his hands in the air and say well it is too late to change. WHat he did was have the courage to give up a business and return to school some 20 years from graduating High school. He had the courage to sell our home on 20 acres and move into town to take classes specific to the areas he wanted to improve in.He had courage to move to Utah to graduate from an University. HE had the courage to rewire his thought processes, to realign his actions to be a better husband, father, friend ,disciple. He taught us courage because of the atonement.
Faith- The courage couldn't have been possible without Faith in the atonement. Faith that Christ's gift to him and to us could indeed wipe away the sins and errors he lamented over. Faith that CHrists gift to him and to us could indeed give us the power to overcome all, not some, but all of the weaknesses that weigh us down. Faith in the knowledge that because of the atonement CHrist could heal hearts, mend spirits, give strength and comfort when tears flow freely, when hearts are breaking, when bodies are wounded. Dad had Faith in the atonement that he would live again! He had Faith that he could be a better husband, father, friend ,disciple. He taught us Faith in the atonement.
When we take the sacrament, when we partake of the bread and drink the water,I hope dad's humility, courage and faith in the Atonement of Christ increases our own. and that we also will want ot be better husbands and wives, fathers and mothers friends and disciples of Christ.
The bread and water that represents the greatest legacy dad left to all of us.
It is the way he implemented the greatest gift given to all of us: the atonement. Being the eldest of all the siblings I had a first hand knowledge and front row seat to Dad's ability to utilize the atonement. The Dad I grew up with was a different man then the one my younger siblings grew up with. I, like all of you, learned and witnessed many lessons about the atonement from Dad.
Humility: It takes a broken heart and contrite spirit to look inside ones soul, to see faults, qualities that need refining mistakes to be corrected. It takes humility to ask God to show us these weaknesses so that in turn he can make them strengths as promised in the scriptures. Dad started out with a wee too much pride, a sin that from time to time plagues us all. YEt, because of his quest to be more Christlike, to be a better husband, father, friend, disciple- he taught us humility because of the atonement.
Courage: It is one thing to acknowledge our weaknesses but quite another to do anything about them. To do something about them takes a special brand of courage that only the atonement can provide. Dad never used well worn excuses or shirked responsibility for his actions, his words or his deeds. He didnt throw his hands in the air and say well it is too late to change. WHat he did was have the courage to give up a business and return to school some 20 years from graduating High school. He had the courage to sell our home on 20 acres and move into town to take classes specific to the areas he wanted to improve in.He had courage to move to Utah to graduate from an University. HE had the courage to rewire his thought processes, to realign his actions to be a better husband, father, friend ,disciple. He taught us courage because of the atonement.
Faith- The courage couldn't have been possible without Faith in the atonement. Faith that Christ's gift to him and to us could indeed wipe away the sins and errors he lamented over. Faith that CHrists gift to him and to us could indeed give us the power to overcome all, not some, but all of the weaknesses that weigh us down. Faith in the knowledge that because of the atonement CHrist could heal hearts, mend spirits, give strength and comfort when tears flow freely, when hearts are breaking, when bodies are wounded. Dad had Faith in the atonement that he would live again! He had Faith that he could be a better husband, father, friend ,disciple. He taught us Faith in the atonement.
When we take the sacrament, when we partake of the bread and drink the water,I hope dad's humility, courage and faith in the Atonement of Christ increases our own. and that we also will want ot be better husbands and wives, fathers and mothers friends and disciples of Christ.
Lastly...
Living Water-
My dad taught me about Jesus, bread of life, living water. He taught me the gospel; taught me about faith, prayer,committment, covenants and his example of the atonement in his life taught me I can change! It is never too late to come unto Christ. It is that knowledge and testimony that now sustains me in this great pain. The faith and hope I have in my Savior that Dad will be my dad forever. Because of God's promise of Eternal life and eternal families, the flood of pain might buffet me, toss me, threaten to suffocate me but it will not drown me. The total belief and testimony I have anchors me safely. If I flounder it is Christs's hand that reaches down to pull me up for air. That He loves and comforts me, is a life preserver keeping me afloat.
I did not want my dad to die. I do not want to finish my time on earth without my rock. But I know it is merely a momentary separation.
It is Christ's promises that help me to find peace and solace that, as this disease took control, denying my dad of the use of his limbs, of his voice, of swallowing and other ravages, it will only have a little while to do so. It's temporary victory will be swallowed up in the resurrection that comes to all ,from that infinite atonement. Dad will bear testimony again, laugh again, display his trademark disgusted smirk again. He will hike again, work again, garden again and when I, at last, go and join him in our heavenly home, I will, once more, bring him a cold glass of water.
In the name of Jesus Christ amen
In the name of Jesus Christ amen
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