Bees in My Bonnet

 I just began to journal...and it made me realize I never concluded the previous saga of the lost wallet. There is more  to that story, I tell you.  My journal began..."Sometimes I think my brain got fried. The ability - really, the capacity - of my soul to hold grief, pain, trauma, suffering, silencing - I'm guessing has been greater  than most. I used to think of myself differently; blaming myself for being weak, fragile, IN-capable. But if I honestly look at my life journey, I must arrive at a different conclusion than before.  I sacrificed myself on the altar of survival ." I stopped there.  Yes, that last line describes decades of my life. I needed to find a way through, a way to cope and survive as a mother of young children, in a struggling marriage, in a world that has normal everyday demands that a severely depressed person can barely hold up underneath. It's not the world's fault. It's not having children, or a husband, or any of these things that...

 This morning I was having tea with a friend and discussing a particular child's recent ADHD diagnosis - what that might mean for us - what it means for their future. And, as she was such a great listener, I began to tell all about my own and our various family members' experience with neurodiversity. I started to tell her about my experience raising kids and how different ones had different gifts - various blessings - bestowed on them during their early years. I told of how overwhelmed I was with young children and how when Mom Logan came to live with us, I was so grateful for her presence, I simply handed the youngest (then, Andrew, 11 months) off to her so I could get a good night's rest.  In my previous post ( here ), I mentioned near the end how Mom Logan has recently transitioned from this earthly life, to her heavenly home. And how my lost wallet had been hinting to me that life - our own very selves - hold gifts that are meant to be used. As I told my friend today a...

 23 years ago today I woke up and felt miserable - I think I had vomitted in the night and I phoned Sam first thing in the morning. "I don't think I can get married today," I said. This was, of course, disheartening to him. But I gingerly drank some weak tea, handed my Dad a folded up plastic bag to keep in his pocket while he walked me down the aisle, and proceeded to prepare for our wedding later that day. It was Easter Sunday - a day full of hope, joy, and resurrection celebration. Maybe I was hoping that Easter would represent our marriage - the resurrection power of Christ infused into our union. Easter is a day of hope fulfilled, faith becoming sight, the unbelievable becoming real. That's essentially what I felt marriage was going to be.  And I don't intend to dampen the romantic notions I had but I must say, these were indeed, romantic sentiments. Marriage has turned out to be gritty, challenging, (rewarding, yes!), hard work, stretching, painful, on the n...

I notice there are lots of articles out there for parents to address how to raise a kid who has A.D.D. or is on the Autism spectrum. And for good reason! There are unique challenges and difficulties that arise in helping a child to grow whose brain wiring and personality are different than the norm. I get that. Mostly because I was  that child, and I have  that/those child(ren).  I used to write a lot as a child - sometimes inventing imaginative stories, sometimes just chronicling my life. It was a way I could cope with all the world around me. And I dreamed of being a writer someday - of putting my thoughts on paper and seeing them reflected back to me, and imagining others would read my words, and they would land in other hearts. Like an arrow going out from my inner life and landing in the soul of another. And as I grew and had my struggles, and faced my woes (I was a lamenting type of soul from very young, apparently), I made a sacred vow to myself. 'Never forget.' Ne...

 It was on this day one year ago that I ended up in the Urgent Care because of chest pain. They didn't find an immediate cause for chest pain, but did a routine covid screening test, and it came back positive. I had not had covid yet, and I was trusting it would be a mild case and geared up for the obligatory quarantine. I had been focused on my 2 oldest starting college, and all the logistics that involved - one going to Georgia, another nearby, and planning how one parent could be in one location, and I in the other. It was going to be a stretch to attend parent orientation, and try to take in all the upcoming changes. Our family was suddenly going to be shrinking. I didn't seem to have time to think about it or prepare for it. I didn't know how I'd feel settling Priscilla into a dorm room, watching her connect with friends and shift her focus from home to school and social events. I had already had a year without Caleb as he had been at a gap year program in Wisconsi...

  Welcoming the Light Candle flickers, tea becomes cold Sitting, waiting expectantly. The fountain catches sunshine’s rays And I am reminded of the Fountain of life. Stillness in the air, quiet surrounds me, And God waits to be heard. " Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." Oh there's a feast waiting,  Your words are sweeter than honey. I open my ears to His sound. Will His voice come to me? What if He says something fearful, Too heavy, too great for me to take in? "The voice of the Lord thunders." “Such thoughts are too wonderful for me;  Too lofty to attain…”  yet I yearn to expand my soul - That my heart be enlarged, That I might welcome Him with joy. "I will run in the way of your commandments, when You enlarge my heart." My heart expands. My feet take action. The sun emerges, bright, bold - unashamed Of its own radiance: “The heavens declare the glory of God” And I am instructed: The weight ...

  Here you are with me; in me. I sit with You, beside You, dine at Your table, Walk in Your garden. The day ends and You are still with me. Moonlight on my path, stillness in the crisp evening air - You speak in the quiet of silvery clouds and the whisper  Of rustling leaves as the world beds down for the night. Sometimes this is all I need, to know You are near. Because then I can grab hold of Your hand Like a desperate, dependent child And cry out, ‘Please! Bring me out of my distress!’ And of course You do. I feel the loving turn of Your face towards me. Your grace flows freely, and I, in my lonely affliction, Am Seen. My steps continue in the darkness, and I am not alone. You hold the loneliness with me. My troubled heart spills out to You. You welcome me again and again. And I welcome You: Here You are - with me. In me. Beside me. I dine at Your table; Walk in Your garden.

 I observe things. Things about our culture, society, what is trending . Buzz things, fads, hype, self-help inspiration. That kind of thing. And in recent years I've noticed that our culture lauds and applauds leaders, leadership, growing in your leadership, being a leader. It is especially rampant in the Christian sub-culture. "You are  a leader!" "How to be a more spiritually qualified leader!" "Leading your family!" "Leading your Church!" It's everywhere. I remember being in a Bible study and there being a big section on leadership and studying the Bible with an eye to leadership: Look at Moses! Look at Samuel! Look at Deborah (oops, don't look at her...apparently she was just filling in for the men who failed to show up...*or so they say*) (Of course, I say, please, please DO look at Deborah who wasn't merely filling in for her male lacklustre comrades). The list goes on: these were good leaders, these were bad leaders. You ha...

 These are the days I walk around seeing life with new and different eyes. They are eyes bathed in the furnace of suffering, with understanding unobtained before now.  Those dreaded words landed like a thud: "They discovered cancer." My Mom has been diagnosed with Small Cell Lung Cancer, typically a cancer only seen in smokers or their partners. It feels heavy and dark, and menacing and cruel, and so many other things that words don't seem to describe.  (Taking Mom to the hospital in Arkansas with my sister) It is one thing to hear about it. And to feel sad. To think on it. To learn of it. To wonder where this goes - typically nowhere good, except, I suppose, heaven. Heaven is good. I'm okay with the heaven part. It's the process of getting there that somehow unnerves me. I've had little fear of death in my life. God gives us these years, some more, some less, and we must reckon with the undeniable reality that 100% of people die. The statistic stares us blank...

 I grew up with what I call 'missionary spirit'. Basically it goes something like this: the world is lost and dying in their sins. I know the Gospel. I should go tell them. Then they won't be lost, and I can feel like a hero. Or something like that. If I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times: the message of surrender. What if God calls me to a hard place? Yes, I'll go. What if God gives me suffering to bring about His glory? Yes, I'll receive it. What if God asks me to give up something I treasure to honour Him? Yes, I'll give it up. These are messages of surrender. And yes, these are messages taken straight out of the Bible. Jonah was told to go and didn't want to. Don't be like Jonah. Job was asked to suffer, and He honoured God in it, but it was a struggle. Abraham was called to leave his home and go somewhere God would show him along the way. Moses was called to leave his palace and intervene for God's people. Moses' mother was called to...

 Sometimes you can see the Grumbling People Not by their words so much as what they hide: Ever an eye to what others do that doesn't please, An ongoing wish, unfulfilled: 'If only...' Ideas spill out in demeanor and pursed lips.  "If everyone did things my way..."  And so hidden grumblings  Tense shoulders, harden countenance. The laugh lines in old faces Of those whose grumblings petered out long ago Speak of serene calm  Acceptance, mirth, a welcoming of all that is. Imperfections abound,  The banality of grumbling Becomes so commonplace I can taste it like boiled potatoes on a hot summer day. The erosion of discontent does not smooth jagged lines As shards soften by waves of the sea. Whining souls only further fragment  Providing prickles for tender hearts to sustain. Grumbling people exist in our world: It is for us - those who see them, those who love them, To cushion with beauty, To soften with grace, To welcome the grumblers and open hospitable ...

I think this is the one probably everyone can at least find some connection to, because, as far as I can tell, we all eat.  I considered expanding this category to include anything that has a special interest - like a particular sports team or a certain brand name of shoes, or a certain city or language or culture (for me that would be HONG KONG!! - shout out to all my Hong Konger friends!) But I think special interest might be its own category.  I'm still hashing this all out in my head, and that can take a while to foment. Thanks for your patience. Why is food a particular love language? Why is it not in the category of 'gifts' or 'quality time'? Because it might blend these two, but it may also include words of affirmation ("You baked this amazing cake?!! Wow! I feel so loved!!"). Since it touches on so many categories - like, even touch - who can eat food without touching it? - it must be its own special category. We even talk of 'serving a meal...

(If you missed Part 1, click here to go back) After some of what I picked up from Monet, I then circled back to the previous gallery where I'd missed the works of Toulouse-Lautrec.  I knew very little about him, but I saw a crowd sitting and standing around a huge painting and a guy talking about the artist and this work.  I was curious, so I began to eavesdrop, as I am apt to do. He was in the middle of showing how Lautrec had initially cut out the part of the painting with the green-faced woman in it.  She is off to the side, with a distressed look on her face, and not exactly an attractive part of the painting.  One could understand that he wanted her out of the image.  Then he went on to tell the story of who this woman was and what we know of her.  I found her story fascinating. She was a kind of show-girl - dancer, singer - stage performer, and she was out to make it and become someone - maybe sought fame or applause.  He said we really kn...