THE WATCH

I enjoy watching people.  In fact, when my son was about 12 or 13 years old, he named me “The Watch” because he felt I was the total definition of the phrase – neighborhood watch. 

I recently had the opportunity to attend a professional conference in San Diego, CA.  The flight out went well as did my flight home.  However, the flights home had some very interesting “people watching” moments.  There is absolutely no way I can pass up sharing this experience with you!

First, let me be honest and say that I always take too much stuff with me when I go on a trip.  I NEED OPTIONS! I have no way of knowing what my mood will be on any given day.  The morning of my departure both my bags were packed full (I had to buy - at the Ross store - the second bag while on the trip) and very heavy.  I double checked that I had my cash handy because I knew I was going to have to tip heavy for the weight of the bags. 

Upon arriving at the airport, a very nice and handsome African-American man helped me at curb side.  He actually walked about ¼ of the block to get my bags for me!  The longest part of getting checked in curb side was finding my money to tip that brother!

I moved on to the security check.  I thought I had dressed down and should avoid having to get naked at the gate but I was wrong.  After taking lots of stuff off and having my bags riffled through – I was treated to the infamous full body scan.  I didn’t like it at all!  Something about standing next to the machine with legs and arms spread wide seemed like an accusation within itself.  What the heck is really going on – I was just waiting for the flashing red lights of the law.    

I passed that part of the examination and moved on to try and put my bags back together.  As I was doing this, a lovely TSA employee let me know that I needed to step to the table.  Upon arriving at the table I was notified that the $8 snow globe of San Diego, CA had to be placed in my checked luggage or left with someone. 

My checked bags were downstairs somewhere in the airport and I knew no one in the city.  The TSA employee patiently waited to find out my choice – I calmly told her that I was on my way home, luggage was downstairs somewhere and I knew no one and certainly had no interest in staying with the $8 snow globe versus making my way home.  She was totally serious - who would waste the gas to come and get the $8 snow globe? 

I continued on my way, but felt compelled to call a friend that works for TSA to tell him about his people.  As I walked and talked - I came upon the airport convenience store.  Lo and behold – they sell $8 snow globes in the store past the security check point!   My friend, the TSA employee, tried to convince me that all the stuff in the store had been checked prior to being placed on the shelves in the store.  YEAH RIGHT!!! And the tooth fairy still flys (really – ask my children). 

I diligently searched for a seat in the gate area of my pending flight.  I sent a text message to my mother to let her know that she would not be getting her customary snow globe this trip and found a seat next to some of the folks connected to my employer; one of which had made a presentation. What I most liked about his presentation was the fact that he likened the type of work done as “God’s work” because we stand in the gap on behalf of people that can’t protect themselves.  I’d also like to share that I’ve found folks that are perceived to have mega power in a system to be most friendly as is true about the fellas I sat near – but I digress. 

I sat down and ate my little snack while brooding over the whole body scan thing.  Being who I am, I was actively searching for a positive in this situation (aside from passing the test and being on my way home) when a grand idea hit me.  The fellas were discussing some book one of them was reading and kindly entertained my interruption; “I wonder if folks that are under-insured can get copies of that whole body scan to give to their doctors” was my question. 

At first they had great doubts but I pointed out to them that one year I gave blood and told some folks that is a good place for the uninsured/under-insured to go because they check iron, cholesterol, blood pressure and a few other things and the following year there was a large article in the local paper saying the tests were a side benefit of donating.  So, we kicked the thought around a little but they assured me that the TSA folks don’t keep the scans and don’t know me so they can’t send them on.  We talked about ways to get copies while standing in the line but they decided they were more likely to miss their flight by trying to help me than actually helping me (you know the infamous, “come with me please” line). 

While all of this conversation was going on there was a woman at a gate insisting that she be allowed to run back and get her cell phone that she’d left somewhere in the airport (outside of the security check).  The only thing that the ticket lady could say is, “we will not hold this flight for you.”  Another employee, (older gentleman) listened to her and took off jogging to try and get her phone before the plane left.  The whole time, the ticket lady just kept saying, “you’d better board now because this flight won’t be held while he looks for your phone.” 

About five minutes later, the employee came jogging back up.  The ticket lady said with triumph, “you didn’t find it did you?”  The man said, “Yes, I had success!”  They both took off through the door to the plane and got the lady her phone.  I really thought we all should have applauded his efforts; I mean he didn’t just stand around telling her what couldn’t happen – he got about making it happen! 

But I was too consumed by the loss of the $8 snow globe, and my bid for a copy of my full body search to clue the crowd in on this one man’s good deed.  I will tell you that once that gate shut down, I saw the employee walking by – probably off to his next work section and he looked beat.  I guess that little jog was more of a sacrifice than we all knew.

Oh and did I mention the passenger that showed up to the gate about 40 minutes prior to the boarding time?  She let the poor unsuspecting ticket taker know how pleased she was with the way the pilot set the plane down in an emergency in the Hudson.  For one minute, I really thought she was going to start applauded them. 

We began boarding the plan and the number one fan of American Airlines was calmly looking for her seat.  When she got to her seat she noted that there was no room for her bag above her seat.  She lost her cool and demanded that the bags be moved because they were where her bag should be.  The flight attendant attempted to place her bag above a few seats forward but that only served to upset her further.  She wanted to know why her bag had to move – “why don’t these bags have to move?  They’re in the spot my bag belongs.” 

In the end, she attempted to get the flight attendant to agree to watch her bag because (as all aboard learned from her loud exclamation) “my underwear are in there – I can’t lose that bag” (she said with complete seriousness as the little 8 or 9 year old boy standing behind her smiled widely – showing off the cutest dimples).  I would later watch the same little boy pray with his mother as the plan approached take off and also allow his mother to kiss his face without any shame. 

I got the attention of the flight attendant that was close to my seat and explained that the bag lady passenger is obviously mentally ill and to just move the bag or the people.  The attendant’s response was she was trying to be the most hands off attendant of the day and had no plans to intervene.  As I explained my desire to not spend the rest of my day in the plane on the ground – a smart passenger got up and traded the lady seats.  Again I felt the need to applaud. 

Now, I’d had the strong urge to get out my netbook so I could write during the flight but figured the flight wouldn’t really be long enough to get deeply involved in such a project thus being more trouble than it was worth.  The problem with that line of thinking is the flight was longer than 3 ½ hours! 

So, I turned my attention to the information in the pocket in front of my seat. Did you know that micro-greens are packed with mega nutrients?  I bet you didn’t know that vegemite is real and eaten regularly in Down Under?  J.D. Robb has a new Eve Dallas book out; oh and I saw some of the sleekest cowboy boots too.  But the biggest thing I learned was that I was on a really cool plane and could listen to different channels to all kinds of music. 

So, I checked out the “spirit of R&B” channel but didn’t seem to recognize the song that was playing.  So, I moved on to the “smooth” channel.  I didn’t recognize that song either so I went back to the previous channel; and what should they be playing – Tony, Toni, Tone’s ‘Anniversary.’    

But I had to leave the music alone when I realized I wasn’t going to be able to not sing out loud.  I also needed to just stop that madness because the last time I was jamming to Tony, Toni, Tone I pulled a muscle in my backside and it took 2 days, liniment, heating pad and a pain patch to work that knot out!   

So, I decided to take a little nap.  The best I could hope for was not to totally embarrass myself by snoring loudly.  Just as I began to doze off, we all heard the quick moving feet of a little person tearing a streak down the aisle of the plan.  I remember thinking to myself, “that kid has got to be four because no one else would be courageous enough to run all out on a plane. 

See I know cause I live with a four year old and his boldness is limitless.  In fact, while I’m trying to get my whole body scan I figure I may also just write a petition against four year olds cause they’re just too big for life!  Yeah, I will tell him the minute I get home, “you ain’t the boss of me boy!” and for once I will win. 

I could tell you about the second flight home and how I had to calm down my seat mate because the flight attendant told her and her obviously new husband – “no talking.”  I explained to the bride that the attendant was just kidding and the fact that even if she wasn’t to pretend she was because I wanted to go home.  I could also mention the fact that when the same attendant came back for trash, as she glided by folks with the bag open she requested, “Cash, wallets, purses, jewelry and anything else worth money. 

But hey, all in all – they were good and funny flights; may your next plane journey be so entertaining. 

The Sweetest Day; The Marriage

I wondered how to start to share this one sweet day our family had.  I guess like most things it’s best to begin at the beginning…

There once was this guy that spied this chick and thought, “she’s cute.”  He introduced himself and they shared a conversation. The chick liked the guy and their conversations grew to LUV.  So, a baby, an apartment, a degree, a house and a second baby later… I received a call in the middle of the work day from this guy.  The guy wanted to know if he could stop by and visit with me. 

I being me (never calls me in the middle of the work day – what’s going on), ask if all is well or should I stop by the mall on my way home and pick up a taser?  He said all was well and would explain that evening. 

Him being him, he began with, “I really appreciate the way you all have taken me into the family…” and then asked if it would be okay if he asked my baby chick to marry him.  It was so very sweet!

And (a baby, an apartment, a degree, a house and a second baby later) I gave my consent.  He showed me the ring he picked out.  The guy being him-self; decided that he could trust the four year old to keep his secret and showed her the ring as well.  My grandbaby chick being her-self – told my chick everything she knew and then some (smile).     

Finally the ring was offered and accepted.  The second baby slowed the plans down a tiny bit (the girl was just sick) but eventually, things picked up and got moving.  We went to look at gowns and I had to remind my chick to tell the dress lady she was very pregnant so the woman wouldn’t try and choke off her air with tight girdles and such (I believe she was six-seven months pregnant at the time). 

I was looking forward to getting the ceremony behind us because the bride had begun to wear on my nerves.  Don’t get me wrong, she was nothing like the Bridezilla’s seen on television – but she did have definite ideas of what she wanted, didn’t do a grand job of communicating that to those who would help. 

I forged ahead with lighting fires to get the church secured and reception plans made - so “save the date cards” and the invitations/RSVP’s could be put in the mail (I confessed to my father – I didn’t want the day to be a hot mess so I was feeling some pressure too).  With cost and low drama in mind, the couple determined each would have only one person stand with them. 

As the date drew closer, I made some other moves (just trying to help move things along) to try and make sure the “day” would come together.  The save the date cards, invitations and programs didn’t match in color – but I already had all we would need thus saving a bundle.      

The bride, while not like the Bridezilla’s often seen on television, exuded a tenseness that shifted back and forth towards temper tantrums.  She’d determined that she wanted to plan and execute the whole ceremony herself.  No matter the number of times she was asked what needed to be done – she just kept saying, “I got it, I got it, I got it.” 

Finally, at the bridal shower, the nonsense was cut through and a clean plan developed (she has a lovely set of friends that called her out on her slow-ful-ness).  Last minute items were purchased, a photographer secured and a set up/tear down crew formed.  But, trust me, we were still looking to make assignments a day or two before the nuptials (thank-you pianist and soloist – my brother/friend).   

The day arrived and of course we were running late to the church.  We had so much to do but all the plans fell into place.  The sanctuary looked very nice.  The groom, his best man (him’s baby brother), and the ring bearer (him’s nephew) looked fabulous in their white tuxedos. The flower girls (her baby cousins) had on very pretty dresses and actually dropped the petals on the floor as planned!

The bride’s maid looked lovely as did the mini brides’ maids (the couple’s daughters) in their mini bridal gowns.  Even Grandma’s Punkin Stew was decked out in a little white satin tuxedo (okay – I admit it – I lost my sweet Stew so many times that day I should have been jailed!  I finally had the good fortune to place him in the arms of my girlfriend’s mother – I knew she wouldn’t let him go and all his needs would be met). 

The bride’s brother looked stellar in his black tuxedo.  He was very serious about his role of giving the bride away and I was reminded of how serious he was a young child.      

My sister/friend had to shew  the Mary Kay lady away (we didn’t really want me to catch a case on such a fine day did we) from the bride and lots of folks put the girl in her gown. 

My other sister/friend started the program off with the scripture; in came the Man of God with the Groom and the Groomsman; the doors opened at the back of the sanctuary and out came the handsome ring bearer – high stepping his way towards the alter; next came the little flower chicks with the mini brides and bride’s maid close behind. 

It was time for the “Aunties” to roll out the carpet for the bride.  The only thing was it wouldn’t unroll as it was designed to do – in the end – a very remarkable thing happened; everyone sitting at the end of a pew put a hand on it to assist with the rolling out. 

The doors opened again and in came my baby chick, the bride with her serious baby brother.  The minister began, (and got my baby chick’s name right which had been a point of concern for her brother the day before) and My Dust said the prayer, but before doing so, he remarked on the fact that everyone touched the carpet and everyone present was a resource for them as they moved forward in their life together. 

The couple shared a serious kiss and was announced as man and wife.  The groom heartily embraced his brother and smiled the biggest smile. 

I really thought I would get a chance to cry a little but every time the events got so sweet to me I felt a tear coming on – the couple would start giggling and ruin the moment for me.

I did get a chance to dance with my father.

For weeks after this very sweet day, the little flower girls and the mini brides discussed the events of the day.  The bride had given them all the chance to wear the veil and to wear the dress.  I overheard one of these conversations.  “…un-huh remember we were at the marriage.”

I like the way those little chicks think; “the marriage” sounds much better than a wedding. 

Happy marriage anniversary!   

   

RESTORATION

Several years ago, at my home church, I heard a sermon that I thought I would never forget.  In my mind, I called it the 3 R’s.  Well, a lot of years have passed and I can only remember two of the 3 R’s from that sermon (repent & restore).  The thing I liked about it the most was the “restore” part. 

Then, the year my oldest child graduated from high school, I had the opportunity to travel an hour and be a part of a service that Pastor Jim Cymbala (Pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle – perhaps better known for their award winning choir).  I didn’t know about the choir but had been introduced to his writing by a book club (you know the kind they send you so many books a months and you have so much time to send back the ones you don’t want – and of course I was never quick enough). 

I had run out of interesting things to read and found his book on my shelf and read it.  In the end,  I read all of his books.  His writing style resonates with me somehow.  But, I digress…on the evening in question, he indicated that the sermon he was going to share with us wasn’t the initial one he had in mind but the Holy Spirit had pressed upon him to go with; “God Can Restore The Stolen” (see 1Samuel 30: 1-20).

The understanding I got from all of the above is that – God can fix broken situations.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have been blessed with special friends (please know I’m not bragging; I’m praising).  I have a very special friend that I met on the job.

This lady extended me friendship, care and concern when she really didn’t know me very well.  She’s listened to my woes, laughed at the unbelievable, shared the Word of God with me; shared her woes (it takes a lot for folks to share their hurts with others); she’s shared her successes with me; she tried to teach me the language (Spanish) and discontinued my lessons for my own safety (apparently I really mispronounced something); and she’s even the one that introduced me to the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir – smile. 

When her child reached the point in development where all parents wait with baited breath to see if said child will turn the corner into adulthood in the manner one prays for; she entrusted her worries with me.  Together we walked around the issues, fretted and prayed because like most young people; “our” child left the path of home training…”our” child was stolen.

Have you ever witnessed the heartbreak of a mother?  I’ve never seen a more fierce love than a mother’s love and by the same token, I’ve never seen such soul wrenching heartbreak.  If you’re a mother (I’m not saying this isn’t true for fathers – but I really want to address the mother perspective), I know you’ve had at least one night of crying yourself to sleep over your child (come on now – ya’ll give me one – I’m sure it’s been more but …).

Here is this kid that has often surprised you with their depth of understanding and expression of their views; made you feel so proud you could just bust into small pieces; find yourself bragging because you just like your kid and look forward to seeing what new things they have to share.  Here is this kid that makes you think you’re really good at parenting only to break you down to conceding you don’t know much about it at all!       

Here is this kid that you nurtured before and after birth; I mean held to your breast; patched bloodied and scrapped body parts; held in your arms during the early hours of their first heart break; built up their self esteem; and broke it down when they got too big for their britches!  Here is this kid that you sacrificed for on many levels even putting your own health (physical &emotional) at risk to meet a perceived need (sometimes real and sometimes not); and busted up on the scene in defense of & ready to do bodily harm (I know I’m not the only one that has had to ummm…. offer physical ramifications to those I thought was messing over my kids) on behalf of said child. 

And you finally get to what you thought was going to be the good part; watching your master piece child launched off in the world to do great and good things; and that sucker takes every turn you have spent your life’s energy trying to keep them from taking!

I watched my friend try and manage her broken heartedness.  I watched her walk the halls, hug herself, search the scriptures; pray; ask others to pray with her and for “our” child; I watched her cry… and I even cried with her.

There were days we really struggled over some choices she was facing.  We fussed over the scriptures.  We struggle with anxiety, sadness, depression, and our grief.

 

These circumstances existed for a while.  We discussed intercessory prayer.  I eventually wrote a prayer and gave it to her and encouraged her to have all the others she’d asked to pray about it to join us in the prayer.  For real now, by the 30^th day, things changed in “our” child’s life. 

The biggest concern we had rolled up & away and out!

“Our” child joined the military; struggled through basics but made it and finished up in the training course with honors.  “Our” child’s first duty station will be Germany in a non-deployable position. 

And while all of that was very sweet; the sweetest thing was this:  “Our” child came home to surprise my friend; arriving in the middle of the night way after her bedtime – which of course was taped.  I rated a viewing of the tape and let me tell you what I saw:  I saw a mother embrace her child with tears of joys streaming down her face (much the way I believe the father of the prodigal son did upon his child’s return; see Luke 15: 11-32).  I am the witness; I saw restoration.   

God restored the mind and the relationship to the right state.

SALT ROCK

My parenting style has really changed over the years.  When my children were little – I felt like they needed to experience and try a number of things and we forged ahead without deep detailed plans.  You know how they say a little knowledge can be dangerous?  Well, you know, I picked up a degree or two; had some continue education and the opportunity to pursue one of my joys which is human development.  I’m fascinated by the whole reproductive process and just how MAGNIFICIENTLY made we are – even from birth!  With all the new child development theories on hand – I’m amazed I can walk, talk and chew bubble gum all at the same time if I so chose – cause I know my people didn’t take none of this stuff into consideration when I was kiddo. 

As a result of all this knowledgy (yep, it’s a new word) or plain ole age, on my second round of parenting and in my grand parenting; I find myself always thinking about safety.  I keep telling the little kiddos to “not do this/don’t do that; be careful; stop running; get off of that; you’re going to hurt yourself; you gonna scar yourself for life;  stop before you bust your head; you gonna put your eye out or slip and fall and hurt someone else!”  I mean the list goes on and on and on….  There have been times when I have twisted and turned myself near personal injury trying to keep them safe – and they glide on laughing all the way – as I crippled on to my bed to recover! 

But, what I’m about to tell you is the truth; the whole truth; nothing but the truth!! 

REALLY NOW!

This is what had happened; now, for over 12 years I have lived down the street from a dear brother/friend.  We were children when we met and over the years he’s been a very good brother to me.  For 12 years, he’s been on his way down to visit me at my home. 

On the evening in question, I had a phone call from him telling me that a “historical moment was about to happen” – he was coming to visit. As we settled in to catch up and enjoy a little visit; my niece came running in the room holding a small white object. 

She ran straight to her grandmother and announced to us that the 3 year old (almost 4 year old) had “lost his tooth” with him running quickly behind her.  Grandma accepted the small white object and examined it. 

Now, Grandma was in the middle of some of her creative joy.  She was cutting out some cute little cards she’d created for one of the bandits and had a pair of scissors in her hands when they ran upon her. 

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! FLASHED THROUGH MY MIND.

As did the true probability of a 3 year old having lost a tooth by natural means, as I sat next to my brother/friend on the sofa.   I mumbled aloud “and if he knocked the tooth out what are the dental health ramifications of losing a tooth 2 years ahead of schedule?”   

By this time, my brother/friend was laid out laughing.  I mean my whole house was in an uproar!  I was thinking to myself, “What kind of insanity has entered our home – WHAT THE HECK IS REALLY GOING ON?”  I mean, I’m sure we put the keystone cops to shame some days but this was a whole different ridiculous level.   

So grandma, the three year old and the scissors counted the teeth in the boys head.  She announced “this tooth didn’t come out of this mouth.” 

Then I was handed the majestic white “tooth.”  I took one look at the object in the palm of my hand and announced to the 3 year old bandit, “Boy, you will not start up this salt rock mess again!  This isn’t a tooth it is SALT ROCK!” 

See, when the ice and snow had been at its’ height this past winter season, the 3 year old thought he was the little brother to the Morton Salt Girl.  We vacuumed salt rock up three times in one day off the stairs behind him being so industrious!  He also took a spin at sprinkling more salt rock on other days through the house.  

And the 6 year old ran off to her room with her melodious laugh bouncing off the walls.

AND THIS IS OUR TRUE STORY OF SALT ROCK!

BITTERSWEET

I grew up in the church - yep, Missionary Baptist!  I can remember me and my cousins doing a lot of – okay – perhaps - inappropriate laughing at some of the things that would happen during services (I especially remember an event during one Christmas program practice that can still bring tears of laughter to my eyes when I think about how hard we laughed). 

I also remember not being impressed or happy about the part of the service called the Devotion.  I thought it was meant to drag out our time in church (which if you know the Missionary Baptist – it already has the ingredients for a long service without this).  But, at the time, I just didn’t understand the purpose which isn’t to imply that I now do.  I’ve determined over the last several years that this is an area I’d like to do a little studying over.

Anyway, I digress from my point; I remember during the Devotion, the deacons would cut loose with some old hymn and the congregation would join in (usually sounding drug into it), then another deacon would read an old testament scripture and another would read a new testament scripture and then one would say a really looooooong prayer aloud; there were times when a deacon or two would give a testimony or perhaps someone from the congregation.  I remember thinking it seemed to be a time of mourning because everyone seemed so sad to me. 

In the last week, I’ve heard of sixteen (16) critical circumstances folks are in the midst of working their way through.  When I say a week, I mean seven (7) days.  When I say critical circumstances, I mean life altering losses that have the potential to forever change the color/depth/texture of their very being; the kind of experiences that have the foreboding power to create great grief and rent the soul.  The kinds of experiences that can set a person afloat and leave them feeling like they can’t see or make it to solid ground; to lose hope.     

See, I don’t know how the mothers and fathers of those young ladies that have moved over to glory will manage; I don’t know how the best friend will ease the void of the loss of her sister/friend; I don’t know how that granddaughter will assuage the loss of her beloved grandfather; I don’t know how that auntie will find the strength to see her niece through the illness that has moved into her body; I don’t know how that nephew will reconcile the uncle that was to the uncle that now is; I don’t know how that family will mend from the loss of their soldier; I don’t know how that wife will attune her family to the new reality of their life since her husband received a brain injury while balancing the needs of her husband, her children and herself with the demands of an insensitive work environment; I don’t know how that family will find the strength to fight for custody of their sweet little five year old grandchild – who thought it best “to call mommie” because all her friends were at the memorial and just knew mommie would want to see them; and I don’t know who will stand in as advocate and supreme support of the parents of the new grandbaby whose grandmother moved to glory. 

I wanted to pray.  I’d heard about a great many folks in need and I wanted to approach God Almighty and ask him to send the Holy Spirit to comfort and keep all those impacted.  My mind’s eye flipped between all of the situations I’d heard about in the last seven days and I found that I was completely unable to utter one word and a chill began to run up and down my limbs.  I was so choked up with unshed tears that even moaning was complicated and painful and I was left with little grunts which soon grew to moans.

As I moaned and paced in my room, I heard the Spirit say: 

…weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. PS 30:5b (KJV)

And

Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.  Romans 8:26-28 (KJV)

 When I was a child, I didn’t realize those folks leading the Devotion were humbling themselves; centering themselves; pushing life’s hurts and insults over – within - just a little - to make room for the Holy Spirit down in their souls and into the service.  Healing...     

As I moaned and paced in my room, my mind’s ear began to hear those old deacons during Devotion. 

I heard:  Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land. 

                                         And I sung:  Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land.      

                             I heard:  I am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy powerful hand.

                                         And I sung:  I am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy powerful hand.         

                             I heard:  Bread of heaven, bread of heaven; feed me till I want no more.

                                         And I sung:   Bread of heaven, bread of heaven; feed me till I want no more.

Guide Me Oh Thou Great Jehovah:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTu6oVyphc8&feature=related

 Then…

I heard:  Tis the old ship of Zion, tis the ol’ ship of Zion; Tis the old ship of Zion, git on board, git on board.
                    And I sung:  Tis the old ship of Zion, tis the ol’ ship of Zion; Tis the old ship of Zion, git on board, git on board            

I heard:  King Jesus is the captain; King Jesus is the captain; King Jesus is the captain; git on board, git on board

                    And I sung:  King Jesus is the captain; King Jesus is the captain; King Jesus is the captain; git on board, git on board 

I heard:  Aint no danger in the water; aint no danger in the water; aint no danger in the water; git on board, git on board
                    And I sung:   Aint no danger in the water; aint no danger in the water; aint no danger in the water; git on board, git on board

Tis the Old Ship of Zion:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHU6LF2NanA&feature=related

But the Spirit wasn’t done…

I heard:  Father, I stretch my hands to Thee; No other help I know

                    And I sung:  Father, I stretch my hands to Thee; No other help I know 

I heard:  If Thou withdraw Thyself from me; Ah! Whither shall I go

                    And I sung:  If Thou withdraw Thyself from me; Ah! Whither shall I go 

Father I Stretch My Hand to Thee/Precious Lord/God Will Take Care of You:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSG4VrxGsaA&feature=related

Which rolled right into Precious Lord, Take My Hand and God Will Take Care Of You

By this time, my Spirit was full and I was having a very difficult time keeping my feet on the floor; I just wanted to run in place a little bit and I found that my arms felt better raised high with my hands open – ready to receive. 

I wonder if you can forgive the arrogance of my youth and allow me to give this testimony:

“No, I don’t know how these folks will endure what must feel too heavy to withstand, but I do know that God is so Able; I know God will neither leave or forsake us and even when we don’t know what to say, the Spirit does - no matter how sweet or how bitter life may be at this time.”

Eph 3:20

WISDOM

Of late, I’ve found myself contemplating (what I would call) some heavy life subjects.   I’m clear about what I feel grateful for having in my life; at the same time, I find myself thinking/feeling/believing there has to be more.  I don’t hold this “impression” because I believe I’m so special or entitled to more than what God has gifted or entrusted to me (although I recognize to some I am special as some are very special to me) but rather I mark it up to my present life not being what I thought my life would be like 25, 20, 15, 10 or even 5 years ago. 

 

 

 What has touched all this off for me?  Well, earlier this year, I learned of a previous co-worker’s (whom I held in a place of affection in my mind’s memory) personal and professional lives melting down.  I was shocked, alarmed and deeply impacted by this information. 

 I found myself questioning if I had somehow failed this person as we had not maintained contact.  I shifted from that to wondering if the folks in my inner circle would pull me to the side if they noted that I was unraveling at my very core (no worries there – they have my back which includes telling me I’ve jumped the track and need to get back on).  And from there, I became angry on behalf of and with my previous co-worker.

The anger was a lot harder for me to understand and to explain.  In my efforts to place this anger in an appropriate place – I drove my inner circle of friends CRAZY.  But, I eventually narrowed my thoughts down to one simple question that my Mentor/Teacher/Friend – (her gift is healing and I affectionately call her “The Healer,” ) so patiently worked me through.

My simple question was (because I needed to know and be able to believe) can someone really “heal” from such a life’s melt down?

See, I’m the type of person that has to be able to find the solution to difficult circumstances; I need to find that second or third way to skin the same cat; I have to be able to locate the hope in every situation and highlight the strengths or be able to identify just one good thing about a situation; which I was struggling to do. 

For some years now, I’ve used “time is elusive” as my battle cry (if you will) to keep what is most important to me front and center of my consciousness and regular efforts.  I just don’t want to find at the end of my days that I’ve failed to encourage others along the way, to listen patiently when others needed a listening ear, or to respond to the urging of the Holy Spirit to reach out and assist others. 

I don’t want to have failed to say thank you, I miss you, I love you or even I need you.  I don’t want to have failed to cultivate friendships in which I feel comfortable in saying I’m disappointed in myself, I’m sad, I’m lonely or to cry (although I prefer to cry alone in the night after I’ve gone to bed because those tears are rough on this ole face and sinuses). 

And I’m truly blessed to have folks in my life that allow me to do for them and that also do for me.  As I’ve previously mentioned, I have some fabulous friends. 

I know a group of women of varying professional backgrounds (common denominator is all are in the field of service) who graciously include me in the group.  We may share a meal; do a little people watching while we’re out; catch up on the latest happenings in one another’s life; shed a tear or two; get/give advice, share a story or poem, or pray.   

What I get most often from this circle of women is lessons to apply to my life.  Despite being as old as I am, sometimes I get the feeling that I’m fairly naïve (even bordering on dumb).  But, they all put up with me. 

I ask God for a special blessing for my Mentor/Teacher/Friend.  She is so patient with me and stuck with me (despite my “dumb” moments) while I pushed to settle the anger, concern and despair over my “friend.” 

It seems that I’m at the proverbial fork in the road.   I’m in the middle of some transitions in my career and in my personal life I’m surrounded by a host of little people whose needs set my pace. 

Despite my efforts, my body feels like it’s falling apart a section at a time and it now takes me all day to do absolutely NOTHING.  I’m watching and listening to my parents and others in my life while Bonnie Raitt’s Nick of Time, blasts in the back of my mind (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy8gHfGIS_A – hey, my sister/friend is right – there is a song for every circumstance)!

THINGS ARE CHANGING AND I DON’T SEEM TO HAVE MUCH INPUT OR CONTROL OVER HOW SOME THINGS ARE CHANGING!

These life transitions (whether considered good, planned, unplanned or bad) can be very stressful (http://honolulu.hawaii.edu/intranet/committees/FacDevCom/guidebk/teachtip/stress.htm)!  You know, it is incredibly humbling and very scary to face one’s fears.  What’s my fear?  I’m on the back end of time now and I still haven’t figured out what I really want to do with my life and I don’t know if I will get it figured out.  Smile.    

There is a part of me that wants to pick up the pace and cram some more stuff into this life of mine.  But I just don’t have the energy.  And then there is the adjusting to the fact that things change, managing my regrets and grief over what could have been and just isn’t and the fact that there must be some way to adjust more gracefully. 

The answer to my question is this:  people can & do heal but they adjust their life’s activities to match what they can comfortable handle.

Now, this may have been obvious to you – but as I mentioned I have some slow moments.  In fact, it took me a few days to recognize some real wisdom had been kicked out my way.  I continued to consider this simple truth.

As the weeks passed, I began hearing the echoes of sound council I’d received from senior beautiful women in my youth – although at the time, I couldn’t make a bit of sense out of what my Grandmother and Ms. Florida Pettis was saying (which should have been clue #1 that they both were giving me the same message in the same timeframe– “don’t burn your candle at both ends”).   

I’m reminded of Ecclesiastes third chapter (I especially like the Message version; http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=ecc%203&version=MSG) .  Perhaps the things I’d like to stuff my time with really aren’t for me to do; perhaps that season has passed and I should just stick with the wisdom that was kicked my way and find peace. 

THERE IS NO SHAME IN STAYING WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES OF MY CAPACITIES – IT’S SIMPLY WISE!