Labyrinth

Life had gotten a bit more complicated, suddenly. Isn't it interesting how you go down one road and feel you can see the end of it? You very well may. But often we don't see every turn we need to take to get there. It's quite like the maze in the movie, "Labyrinth". We think we know where we are, but some crazy little creature is going behind us or in front, changing all the road signs and switching the doorways.

I just spent some time at camp this last week. I went because it was a duty expected of me, and because girl's camp is FUN. I greatly looked forward to helping the girls certify, to making friends with them, and to pick them up when they fell down. My own concerns I had planned to leave at the bottom of the mountain.

But along came that strange little goblin switching things around =>  <= and soon I found myself learning a few unexpected principles. I learned: 

1. Let it go. There are things much more important than personal pride.

2. Sometimes you've just got to obey despite your feelings.

3. (Something I experience over and over.) God takes care of His servants.

Often we hash over the hurts and annoyances someone does to us, picking at the scabs until they re-bleed. All this does is keep our energy forever uselessly flowing away from us. Let it go. Let the aggravation bleed away instead of the peace. I learned this while looking out over the misty valley one morning. The world was quiet except for a few birds and a cricket somewhere. God told me to empty my hands of burdens so that he could fill them with peace. It felt so good to lay those bundles of annoyance away. I breathed the pine-y breeze in, and my soul was full.

There are times in my life when I've held onto a grudge for way too long. He told me to lay those grudges next to the other bundles. I'm still trying to do that, but I made a start.

#5438009 Hiker Resting

The last principle is something God teaches me constantly--that of His care for me. I'd been running up and down the hill to the lodge from my camp at the bottom. Each time I was reminded how very out of shape I am. I gasped like a dying fish as girls raced past me. I wondered how in the world I'd make it on the third year hike. We would be hiking down to Mud Springs. 

As mileage goes, it was a laughably tiny hike. Anybody could do that six-mile romp. Heck, my husband can run that trail down and back up. I, on the other hand, was highly doubtful that I'd make it before the next ice age. My knees both have torn PCL's and I have a bum left foot. I'd gone from ballet dancer to half-crippled old bat in the blink of an eyelash. (Discouraging)

So the night before, I loaded up on water (causing an unbelievable three races to the privy across a stony baseball field, through a copse of trees, and down a treacherous hill with a dimming flashlight), and I began to pray. I knew I'd never make it without prayer. I was determined to go on the hike, but I didn't want to be "THAT" woman who foolishly has to be retrieved by more fit people.

The next day I was inspired to get a couple of Ibuprofens and a stick (which I named Hector and later replaced with Heffe when Hector gave its life retrieving another stick named Bob for one of the girls). The Ibuprofens made it so my legs didn't really hurt at all. The sticks saved my life about seven times. My only other problem was a touch of exercise-induced asthma, which kept me always gasping for air at the back of the pack on the uphills.

At first I was extremely annoyed at now being the slowpoke everybody tried to chivvy into a faster pace. But finally I told them to leave me alone--I needed to breathe. One of the girls made it her project to stay with me and kept a running patter the whole way up. Together Savannah and I saw four horned toads, talked about heart-shaped rocks, music, books and how far we'd gone. She was glad of a slower pace, and I was overjoyed to have a climbing partner.

One of the fit younger leaders needlessly came back for me, tried to take my pack, and in the end tried to offer me a ride from the trail head into camp. No dice. I was coming in under my own steam and carrying my own pack. Actually, the Lord was carrying me, and my pack was much lighter without all that water. Still a dig to my pride, but I was not "THAT" woman. At least I redeemed myself rappelling.

So instead of being the wise and all-knowing leader of girls, the Lord led me. Funny how that happens.   <=        =>

Poetry Month Cont'd.

Day 17--Nature Personified Poem

 Stones

Polished smooth

Sculpted by wind's relentless soughing

 Water licks away sharp edges

Grinding inexorably at roughnesses

At last proud stone has felt the hand

Of the One who formed it

In the first place

Picture from: nickdicolandrea.wordpress.com

Day 18--Holiday Poem

Scare Factor

Skeletons dancing don't scare me

Witches and black cats too.

Bed sheet ghosts are corny

All they can say is, "Boo."

The thing most deliciously scary

That frisson of fear, and I'm hot.

The situation ordinary

Gone suddenly, eerily, NOT.

That moment when I cannot figure

If that shadow was there just before.

Did it move? It gives me the willies!

Then it jumps and I run out the door.

Day 19--
The Climber 

I see the changes you have made

The things nobody sees
The climbing up to look out o'er
The ranks and ranks of trees

You climb to rid yourself of pain
I see it in your eyes
But please always remember
You are the one so wise

So lift yourself above the pain                                     

Forgetting not at all

That pain will always be there

You must rise each time you fall.
Picture by: topextrem.com

April Poetry Bonanza

It's April Poetry Month again. I'm getting all geared up to knock your Nikes off...;o)

Day 1- Couplet

  Spring!

Spring lopes through with breezy sneakers

Fuzzy brown coats bedeck the peekers. 

Halcyon breezes set wind bells chiming

Lovers and poets commence their rhyming.

All the world loves this season

When the air grows warm and we stop freezin'.

Day 2-Poetweet

(This is the full poem, which works much better but is too long. It has to be exactly 140 characters.)

My Rescuer

Up from dark places I creep
Towards the light
I do not, I will not
Accept my foul plight
A hand reaches forth
And takes hold of my hand
It pulls me to safety
I now understand.

Here's the fixed up poem (stupid spaces got me):

My Rescuer

From dark places I creep to the light.
I cannot accept my foul plight.

He reaches, takes hold of my hand,
pulls me to safety. I understand

Day 3-Fractured Nursery Rhyme

Original:
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Mine:

How come the woodchuck chucks that wood? Could a woodchuck chuck something softer?
Or:

Old King Cole was a merry old soul

A merry old soul was he.

He called for his ipod

He called for his gameboy

And he called for his Playstation 3.

Day 4- If You Were Poem

Sand
If you were ocean,
Then I'd be the sand,
Circling you round
And holding your hand.

and another:

Luna Moth. Image: Paphio [Flickr]

Moth

If you were a candle,

A moth I would be

Fluttering closer

And closer to thee.

You're flicker would draw me

Whatever the cost

Closer and closer

Until I was lost.

Day 5- If I Were Poem

If I were a cowpie
I'd be juicy and sweet
I'd grace your green pastures
I'd be a fun treat
I'd be...unwanted!

Day 6- Easter Poem

Oh

Oh that I could walk out on the waves

And feel Him drawing me near

To have been at His feet

For those fishes and loaves

As He spoke to his children so dear.

Oh to have watched as He stilled the sea

And felt the storm calm at His word

To have listened while He

Told the Pharisees

They had seen but they had not heard.

Oh that I might have provided a meal

To the guttering candle's glow

To have listened to Him

Telling stories of things

His Father once taught Him to know.

Oh that I could have bound up His hurts

And taken a bit of His pain

To have looked at the wounds in His hands 

And His feet

Full knowing I'd see Him again. 

                                                                                                                                                        

Day 7--Joust!

Hooves pounding

Manes whipping

Drool slinging

Sand spewing

 Lances couching

Charger flying

 Wood Shattering

Splinters spinning

Opponent falling

Banners whipping

Crowd cheering

Jouster Sighing

Aspirin seething

Day 8--Couplet

Master of the Hall

Bring the torch and raise the call

The master's home, there's food for all

The hunt was good; a hearty buck

Let's be thankful for our luck.

Lay the table, bring the salt

Call the peasants, lame and halt

Bid the mummers come to play

It has been a wondrous day!

Day 9--This is Me Poem

Heidi
creative, intrepid, wacky, intelligent
Sibling of J, L, J, J, and C
Lover of L
Who fears not being prepared
Who needs support
Who gives service
Who would like to see Christ
Resident of the desert
Murphy

Day 10--Easter Peeps Limerick
 

Those peepers sit there in my basket

All neon-y yellow and pink

They're sugar and spice

But they do not taste nice

I'll keep them around 'til they shrink

The chocolate's a whole other story

I'd eat it for breakfast and lunch

But the trouble with that

Is it makes me so fat

That I put it all back with the bunch.

(image by richardsonfarms.net)

Day 11--Winter Haiku

(Image by its.caltech.edu)

Lacy snowflake here

On my nose melting away

Crystal happiness


Day 12--Couplet Song
Today it's more of a song in answer to a currently popular song (the name of which I won't mention). This is my answer to that song. It's not as angry as it sounds...;o)

You pray to a god you don't believe in

And then you expect that plan to fly

You're lonely and your heart is restless

But you don't even think to try.

You dare God to make it all better

When you bleed and the love is gone

And you howl that life is a lock-out

But you continue to do what is wrong.

Chorus:

Raise your eyes and look beyond you

Find meaning in something new

For when life gets dark and painful

God's a friend and a savior true.

Pull your head out of the gutter

Fix your mind on a paradigm shift

Look up instead of always downward

Do what you must to mend the rift

For life is a test and a duck-shoot

You can win big or desperately fail

It's mostly in how you look at it

Whether you sink in dejection or sail.

Chorus

Day the 13th-Tanka Poem 

Baby

Birth of my baby

So long awaited now

He lies in my arms

looking up with old man eyes

He knows the answer to all

 

Taproots

Most of us, these days, think God owes us a cushy life. I find myself praying that problems will work out well and quickly; that hurts will smooth away; that kids will be healthy, cars will run, and the raise will materialize. For the most part, they do. I have had ample evidence that God in all His generosity and magnificent caring, loves his servants and wants them to be happy.

But God owes us nothing, really, unless we have held up our ends of the bargain. God, the Keeper of the Vineyard, wants us to drive a taproot deep into the soil. Those who have it easy, only form surface roots. Their foliage may be rich and lush and their fruit delicious.

But when the wind blows, those over-watered, pampered trees fall, throwing the web of their surface roots into the air. Even though possibly extensive, the surface roots will not save the outwardly large and beautiful tree from the storms to come.

I want a long taproot. I want my root to thrust down so that it reaches the river of Living Water deep beneath the earth. I want to drink my fill, knowing that with this water, I shall live forever in the Lord's Vineyard--a fruitful tree. For that I must accept the challenges that come.

Oh God, make my taproot long.

Tender Mercies and Easter Eggs

As my youngest and I walk to school together we talk about a wide variety of subjects. Today we were discussing God. My son has a friend who, at the tender age of 12, has decided that he is an atheist. I told my son that to decide that without any proof is absurd.

God shows me that He is there and He cares about me on a daily basis. I look for those tender mercies. It is always evident to me that it wasn't a coincidence--ever. One can look anywhere and see something which man cannot make, and coincidence cannot explain.

Sure there is evidence to support the Big Bang. There is also evidence to support the Big Crunch and String Theory. So what. Is God probably sitting in some tiny workshop somewhere putting things together like Legos? Probably not. Who is to say what processes he uses? Who is to say what chain reactions he sets into play and how far back in history?

So today I found that I really had to go to the bathroom. It was getting to be a pressing situation. I had already dropped off the boy and started back and I was wondering how I was ever going to make it home intact. So I had a little chat with God. I asked him to help me make it home in one piece.
He said, "Why don't you turn around and go at school?"
"'Cause it's back there and I'm already on the way home."
"Then go at the CPA's office."
"But I've never been in there. How do I even know it's open? Why would they let a stranger come in and use their potty?"
"Have faith."

So I did. The office was not only open, but the nicest receptionist on the planet showed the way to the Room of Comfort and Great Relief. When I came out, ready to be human again, I told her she was my new best friend; she commiserated with me about the woes of walking.

As I was leaving the office, I put my headphones back on. I never use them on the way to school, so I can talk to my children. On the way home, however, I use them to set a good pace. I have a fairly wide variety of music on my MP3 player--anywhere from Drop-kick Murphys to hymns to Skillet. I turned on my MP3 and just as if God were speaking to me through my headphones, I heard the Leahys sing, "I am yours and you are mine." The song went on to say that He loved me and considered me His follower. I tell you that I felt it with the force of a gale in my soul. As I trudged through the desert, tears were streaming down my cheeks with the knowledge that He loves me enough to consider me His follower. He loves me enough to answer the prayers over silly little things that might not matter to other people.

Then, when I had calmed down a little, a Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song came on. "I am yours. You are mine. You are what you are." So just in case I missed it the first time, there was another message nearly identical to the first, done by completely different bands.

It reminded me of a Dr. Who episode called, "Weeping Angels' in which the Doctor leaves Sally Sparrow 'easter eggs' (embedded messages one must search for) on a bunch of the DVD's she owns. The whole concept is delicious. I love that episode. My MP3 song thing is just like the Easter eggs left for Sally Sparrow. It's another of the millions of ways God can use simple things to bring across His messages.

I am in awe that God can and does manage such magnificent weaving of myriad time lines, even though we all have our free agency to choose what we will do or not do. Still He accomplishes His works. The scope of it boggles the mind! Each little sparrow knows the touch of His hand as it fills the measure of its creation. Each spider, as it weaves its web; each dolphin as it sports in the waves; all follow His pattern. Each water molecule and graphite nanotube has a pattern and a course to follow.

How can I not?

On God and Bones

As I was walking today, I looked down and saw the lower spine and leg bones of a bird (probably a dove). Cat-1, bird-zip. It got me thinking, though, about God's designs for His creations. Those tiny, straw-like leg bones looked like they could snap in a stiff breeze, but most of the time a bird's bones last, unbroken, for it's whole life. The bird soars on stiff breezes and spirals through thermals. It swoops away from cars and cats and raptors. For millions of wing beats, the tiny wing bones hold the wing steady and true, though its bones are built like straws.

I caught an edging stone today and tripped and fell HARD onto my knee. I'm pretty sure I re-tore my PCL. Somehow I was able to rise and walk the further mile or so to school and back. The delicate workings of our bodies never cease to amaze me. Incredible detail and forethought went into building our brains so that they produce thought and the capability for music, art, and logic. And yet we can be felled by a microbe so small it can't be seen by the naked eye.

I never thought a great deal about proprioception before I read the book, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. How amazing it is, that our bodies instinctively know where our limbs belong. We never have to tell our arms, "Go there. Open, fingers. Close them. Pick the fork up. Bring it back to my mouth." We simply eat. Or dance. Or play the base guitar while wailing out a rock song. It's often only when things go wrong that we realize how each little tendon and artery work together to accomplish the tasks we set them.

We can't even effectively copy the human body. Even our best man-made parts break down and wear out much more often and quicker than God's handiwork. We must sometimes stoop to using parts from other animals to bridge the gap.

I find it incredibly arrogant that some people refuse to think that this Grand Design could have an Author. We children who have made such strides in technology and medicine have yet to cause one spark of life to inhabit a body we have constructed out of atoms we made ourselves. And yet we cry in our arrogance, "There is no God! We came from soup at the hand of no being." How like the builders of the Tower of Babel we are in constructing our arguments.

I think God must sigh and roll his eyes a great deal. He must have an incredible sense of humor to be able to deal patiently with his recalcitrant, whiny children. I can hear Him saying, "Heidi, Heidi, Heidi. What have you done now? Look up and know Me."

Now I need to go clean out my cuts and ice my knee.

How I Feel About Things

This is something I wrote a while ago that still rings true:

It cannot be denied that there are some things, which speak intrinsically and with unstinting truth to one's very soul: the sweep and spray of the ocean's waves; the march of phalanxes of tree-girt emerald mountains; the wail of a newborn babe; the light of intelligence, which comes with blinding clarity to illuminate the mind. All of these bear witness to a might unmatched by fallible Man.

With whatever nonsense one has encumbered one's life--whatever mental life preservers one festoons about himself--at some point he must throw off these crutches and stand naked and shorn before the might of the Great God. We who have in some way during our earthly lives denied the grace, the power, and sometimes the very existence of our Maker must come to understand that we can in no way hope to match his puissance on our own.

We cannot design and manufacture the DNA for--and breathe life into--the tiniest cell. Nor can we create the smallest planet and set it in it's orbit. We have not been able to map the entirety of our galaxy or even the entirety of our own ocean floor. Because WE cannot, too often we say that NO being can. In that thinking we gravely err. God has done these things time without counting. Without the mercy, aid, and example of our elder brother, Jesus the Christ, we cannot even return to His presence.

May we come to understand, and to kneel humbly at His feet, before it is too late. May we offer up the only tiny payment He asks of us: the gift of our hearts, our lives, and our love.