Witness

 

Living out in the country like we do, I get to witness new things every week.

Like this morning, I went out to feed the barn cats and returning I heard who-whowho-who in the trees of our neighbor’s property. I stood and listened to the whooting. It seemed almost fake at first. Then as the rhythm progressed, the owl calling in the dawn, the irregularity of it’s call created the feeling of reality in my brain.

Last week I witnessed a funny, sad, scary moment when the four deer that visit each day moved into our front gardens munching on whatever they could find. I looked again and one deer had a bucket on her head. Her ears weren’t inside the bucket so I had hopes she could shake it off. I thought about going out to help, but I knew the group would just run away into the woods. The other deer stood still and watched the crazy one with the bucket on her head, like some teen crazy stunt drama in my front yard. Later that day I found said bucket, so all is well with that deer. The small herd has not been back since the incident.

I’ve watched barn cats give birth and conversely mourn for their dead kittens. I’ve seen chickens sit in my presence and roosters walk away from a fight with me.

I’ve seen a huge 10-point buck chase his herd past my window.

I’ve seen run-away dogs, hungry, ribs showing, refusing any food I offer.

I’ve seen raccoon antics on my bird feeders, possums sitting on my front porch doing a cat imitation, crows warn other crows that I’m on my walk, woodpeckers chase bluejays from their tree and black birds chase crows from their trees.

I’ve seen the most beautiful rainbows to which no camera would do justice. I’ve seen cloud formations that no one would believe even if I could find the words. I’ve noticed raspberry patches dry up and move to new locations. I’ve seen buzzards show up during butchering time. I’ve seen a falcon fly straight-arrow, four feet from the ground, past my window, grabbing a sparrow without a flinch of flight pattern.

I’ve seen hawks dive for rodents and snatch them back to the big cottonwood in the back. I’ve seen all sorts of birds the books say I’m not supposed to see. I’ve watched spiders do things the books say they aren’t supposed to do. I heard bird song I can’t identify, even with the websites and apps. I hear the sounds the birds make quietly, privately as I move past their nesting place.

I witness the effects of rain on our gravel driveway, rivulets of quasi creeks pushing our expensive stone further down the hill ending in mud puddles.

But most of all, I witness how God cares for his creatures, how they use whatever He gives them to make a life for themselves. I’ve tried to make order out of chaos and witnessed how fast life goes back to nature, then realized that my order might be the chaos.

Witness – 12-16-22 – FMF

 

Road

 

Roads I have known…

The road in front of my house when I was five, a cul-de-sac, a safe place for small ones. We weren’t allowed to leave the driveway – and we didn’t.

The road in front of my grandma’s house – a dangerous highway full of speeding cars and semi-trucks, some carrying harvest to the local markets and warehouses: watermelon, corn, apples. My grandmother would walk along the highway during the slow times and pick up what the trucks had dropped. My brother and I would sit on the stone walls on either side of the driveway and wave to people driving by on any Saturday that the weather was nice and if my mother allowed it. People would honk and wave and once in a wonderful while a semi would pull his airhorn. Now that was success!

The road in front of our house called Maple Street where I ran and tripped and fell and broke a glass jar of ants and other bugs and bled all over everything, the street we walked to get to school, to get to church, to walk around the block and see what there was to see and maybe meet up with friends.

The road that ran past our trailer park called National Road, busy and dangerous, with a rich history of travels and ancient motels.

The road in front of my house in Phoenix that had a streetlight which came on about an hour after sunset, just at the right time to let me enjoy the sunset. Even though I couldn’t really see the sun, I could enjoy the beautiful colors, magenta, burnt orange, blood red, sunflower yellow, deep blue and violet. I sat on the curb for hours thinking, praying, sometimes dreaming. I knew every crack in that pavement.

The crazy dirt road on the ranch whose owner we did not know, but my mom said it was okay for us to take it to look for hieroglyphs on the rock face. We didn’t find ancient art, but we did get stuck crossing an old dry creek bed, my dad digging around the bumpers, my mom speechless with anger, my brother and I exploring the desert until it got too dark (we found a great horned toad and it really squirted blood out his eyes at us). We were rescued a few hours later, in the dark, by an old ranch hand driving his 4WD back home. He was not happy. Neither was his dog.

The road through the woods that led to the campsite where we spent vacation, brisk air filled with the aroma of pine and rich earth.

The road out in South Dakota during a torrential rainstorm, moving slow because the roads were washing away and cars passing needed to wait for each other because only one lane was left.

The lonely road in Montana as we searched for the ghost town, on someone’s ranch, that my parents thought it would be fun to camp next to. I don’t remember it being fun.

The road home after a long day at work, relaxing and breathing deep to encourage my tight muscles to relax.

The road I got lost on looking for a place with a name but roads with no names and I ended up 20 miles away in a city that, thankfully, I knew my way around. The story never got written.

The road that leads to the place I want to go.

The road less taken.

The road to Jesus.

Five Minute Friday - link-up

Treasure

Pexels - Pixabay

Jesus priceless treasure.

Where your treasure is that is where your heart will be also.

We have this treasure in clay pots.

Treasure is hidden.

Treasure is laid out before people in plain sight.

Everyone

 

Jesus died for everyone. Everyone has a soul. Everyone is tempted to be his or her own god, to worship and make feel great all the time …

Jesus calls everyone at some point in their life.

Everyone experiences pain and trouble and wants to escape that.

Everyone needs a Savior.

Everyone needs Jesus.

I Must Have Purpose

Thanks to Free-Photos via Pixabay

What is my purpose?

To live without purpose is to die.

I must have a purpose for doing a thing or it becomes a useless task, worse than a drudgery, wasted effort, meaningless.

And I can’t live in a state of meaninglessness – it makes me physically sick, exhausted, depressed.

So, in all my efforts that I must do I look for meaning. Purpose. Reality. Identity.

Like climbing a mountain so I can see clearly the view from the top.

Because reality is where I am on solid ground, where I anchor … my strength.

But if that anchor shifts or my solid ground quakes and crumbles, my reality disappears. I lose myself. Then I must go through the pain of searching and grasping for yet another reality.

When Jesus is my purpose, I am finished searching. If I feel my strength give way or my reality fading, I know my feet are in the wrong place. They are not on the Solid Rock. They have somehow slipped off. I look for Him and find Him and gain strength, peace, purpose.

Jesus is my Reality.

Jesus is my Purpose.

I can see my life from the top.

That boyfriend in high school was never my strength. That career was never my identity. That house was never my purpose.

Ever since I gave my life to Him it has always been

Jesus.

 

FMF

Read other thoughtful offerings at FMF Writing Prompt Link-up :: Purpose - Five Minute Friday

City

I used to live in the big city. Phoenix is a pretty big city (especially now, but back in the 70s it was still huge).

I am distracted while writing this. It’s a beautiful morning, cool, crisp, windows open, and I already ran my errands and all I need to do is go to work this afternoon. Writing is a luxury I don’t always get to do and I’m loving it.

The distraction is my daughter talking to me, which is completely alright with me.

So, I’m adding a bit of time to the Five Minutes this Friday because of that.

And outside the children in the field over to the east are running and playing with their dog. Out to the west the highway traffic is low, then loud, then quiet. To the south a cardinal is scolding a cat and the cicadas are singing, vibrating, and creating a high-pitched, sometimes annoying symphony. To the north the railroad tracks await the afternoon train as a private plane soars beneath the high-altitude clouds.

And I think, why would I ever want to move back to the big city where it’s noisy and dirty and cramped and your neighbors know what you are doing and crawl over your wall to kill birds or cats or trees they think are not city approved or dangerous to the neighborhood, or where your personal flag out front is ripped up or stolen and the family down the street has fights loud enough to register on a scale in space.

The city was a fantastic place for restaurants, concerts, beaches (yes, even in Phoenix), parks and tons of activities. But the freedom of purchase always outweighed income, and freedom quickly became very expensive.

I have been blessed to be allowed to live in the country; a space that reminds me of my laid-back days at my grandmother’s house; a space that changes year by year, season by season; a space with infinite possibilities and second chances.

Thank You, Father.

~

Random note: My daughter said my super power is essential oils.

The Drive to ...

The Drive to ...

Win

Excel

Challenge myself

Work hard

Pay off debt

Communicate with family and those friends far away

get closer to my Jesus, reading the Word, praying for others, chewing on those hard passages

write

exercise

relax

get a project finished

sew

paint

draw

crochet

take photos

create something new from something old

teach my children

organize

toss trash

give away those things I no longer need

save money

prepare for emergencies

take care of myself

take care of others

encourage my coworkers, my aging mother, my husband, my children

encourage my fellow writers

 

Write on, my friends, write on!

It doesn’t matter WHAT you are writing, but that you are putting words down, getting the flow from your brain to your hands, watching the black on white appear creating a pattern, a poetry, a new living thing that just might speak to another’s soul.

 

The Drive to Write.

Happy Anniversary

 

Deserve

Knowing that I am a sinner and do not deserve any of God’s kindnesses is the first step in following Him, pleasing Him, understanding His great love for me and all mankind, thanking Jesus for His sacrifice, and living a thankful life.

Claiming all the promises of God before confessing my weaknesses and sins is jumping a step and leads to pride.

Every time.

Today I think about all the kindnesses God has blessed me with in my marriage. Thirty-eight years of blessings.

Some came unexpectedly. Some came after years of hard work. Some came after a period of trouble or struggle or loss or tragedy. I deserved none of them. I earned none of them. God blessed.

Period.

I used to think if I did this or that long enough, I would earn the goal I had created in my mind. After years of frustration and disappointment, heartache, and failure, I came to learn that life with Jesus doesn’t work that way.

Every day I approach God and ask Him what He wants me to do. Usually it is the work before me, but sometimes it is quiet time praying for others or a visit to someone or meeting someone for a conversation or just to listen.

Life is simple this way.

No more lists of things I have created for myself to do to achieve a certain goal I think I should meet. (Most of the goals were placed in my brain by others anyway.) No more striving, keeping track of every hour, checking off yet another expectation I (or someone else) created for myself.

Minute by minute I move quietly, sometimes slowly, through my day. When a job is completed, I stand by the window and ask Jesus, “what’s next?” Or I sit and crochet while praying for my family. Or I go outside and walk the gardens (which sounds really high-class, fancy, but it‘s not).

God gave me life. Thank You, God. God gave me abilities that were encouraged by parents, teachers and pastors. Thank You, God. Opportunities were placed in front of me, some I accepted, some I rejected, all were from the hand of God.

God placed my husband in my life to heal me, to “save” me, to give me hope, to give me unconditional love, and finally to give me stability, safety, space to become myself and create, a quiet home, a quiet life (with just enough chaos), children and grand-children, and a hope for more shared days to come. Gently God has shown me my weaknesses and my sins. I confessed. He forgave.

God helped me find my quiet Bible time with Him. Thank You, God.

I have grown so much since those first days of marriage. God has given me all these blessings through my husband. Thank You, God.

This is how I have learned to live a grateful life: one day at a time, one opportunity at a time, one decision at a time, with Jesus saving me and my humble attempts at living for Him.

Okay, God, this thought is written. What’s next?

want to read more from five minute friday? 

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2021/07/01/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-deserve/

Boisterous

 

photo credit - bohemianbikini via pixabay

While covering a scary flood incident for the local newspaper I met the classic boisterous woman. As I read Proverbs 9 today, I was reminded of her.

I was walking away from the new bridge where I had just finished speaking with the emergency crews who were concerned for its strength. At that moment they were hoping the state crew had done their work. When I asked them if they thought it would hold, they each said the same thing: “We’ll see.”

These were small-town, honest, hard-working folks who were doing their job. They had been up since the night before preparing. I respected them. None of them were up to speaking with the press or “making a statement” and it was evident they were being harassed by them. The three major stations from Columbus were there and the last person anyone wanted to talk to … was another reporter.

As I walked away from the scene, camera full of photos for the next day’s paper, a lady yelled at me. She was sitting in a tall, white news van with her legs sticking out, obviously uncomfortable with the rain and the simple people.

“Hey!” she yelled at me. “Hey! What did they say!”

I guess she had watched me watching the rising river with the emergency crew members and assumed they had said something.

“Hey! I asked you a question!”

Besides being rude, she was a little scary. Her perfect short, blonde hair and her stilettos and microphone were out of place.

I knew what a big city news person could do, and I avoided her as if she were an angry pit bull barking on a chain.

The irony of the situation rocked me to the core. I needed information for the community’s news source. The community needed to be left alone in its independence to do its job of protection and service. I felt a small part of that responsibility.

I wanted to tell the story of how groups and individuals did their job. But this woman was looking for splash and failure, calamity and tragedy … something to give all those people who would watch her that evening, believing every word she said.

As I walked up the hill to our newspaper’s offices, I said a prayer that our town would be spared embarrassment.

Later I found out that the news crews had practiced harassment all day and at noon went live with lies about how many buildings were “swept away” and how many people were “injured” and the “estimated damage.” On top of that, they said all the dogs in the shelter had “perished,” when in fact all the dogs in the shelter had been moved to high ground the day before.

 

The news media has become a writer of fiction, saying, “Hey! I’m here! I got a story! Pay attention to me!”

Sometimes I wonder what would happen to them if we took the advice of Proverbs 9 and just walked away, paying no attention to the boisterous woman who shares stolen facts and feeds secret morsels to the viewer, smiling and laughing in her attempt to make us feel better about ourselves.

 

“The woman of folly is boisterous,

She is naïve and knows nothing.

She sits at the doorway of her house,

On a seat by the high places of the city,

Calling to those who pass by,

Who are making their paths straight:

“Whoever is naïve, let him turn in here,”

And to him who lacks understanding she says,

“Stolen water is sweet;

And bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”

But he does not know that the dead are there,

That her guests are in the depths of Sheol.

-          Proverbs 9:13-18 NASB

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2021/05/27/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-recover/

I Love Green

 

Right now the store has lots of green: green shamrock stickers, green hats, green leprechauns, green and gold boas, green glasses, green art projects for kids, greenery, green rocks, plastic green buckets and even green gnomes (gnomes are IN this year – big time)!

Green is the color of spring (though some argue it’s yellow for dandelions).

I love green. In my home I have a bunch of green plants (ivy, palms, succulents) and green décor. I have a green purse and green clothing and green kitchen utensils.

At the store green catches my eye – the greener the better (lettuce, peppers, snow peas, broccoli, limes).

But I didn’t always like green. My mom told me that green shirt made my face look pale. I liked it because it made my eyes look green and … everyone wanted green eyes, right?

Those words of my mom stayed with me as I got pinched every March 17 because I failed to wear green. Kids can be so cruel.

But I’ve made peace with green. I celebrate green as the snow melts and the daffodils emerge. I count the shades of green as the leaves explode on the maple, oak, hickory, ash, hawthorn, elm. Green in my garden means a harvest in August.

On March 17 I’ll be wearing a green – Kelly Green – shirt under my blue and orange uniform with matching green earrings with pine needles in them that my daughter made.

I love green ...

and I’m pretty sure green is the color of heaven.

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2021/03/04/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-green/

Enable

God enables me to do the simple things as well as the difficult things.

He was there when I gave birth to my children, holding my hand, listening to my pleas, protecting me and healing me.

He was there when I searched for property in the country so we could raise our children in a wide-open environment.

He was with me when my counselors and teachers met over the weekend during my senior year of college to decide my fate: let me stay or kick me out.

He was there when I made some really stupid choices, making the wall higher and the way away from Him more difficult.

He was there when I was in the hospital with my one-year-old son.

He was there when I thought my marriage was falling apart.

He was enabling me to withstand the trial, the temptation, the persistent irritations, the out-right attacks, the sweet urges to go back to my old way of living.

He enabled me to take time off from working when I was exhausted and confused beyond reason. He enabled me to understand myself and my weaknesses. He enabled me to see that advertisement and He told me to send in my resume.

He enabled me to fight off guilt for being laid off and then enabled me to apply for my dream job.

Now He enables this old body to go to a physically challenging job, enables me to see past the customer anger to the real issue, enables me to keep my mouth shut when my words are not needed, enables me to climb the ladder, stand for hours, walk for miles … even when my body hurts and I want to go home.

I sing quietly to Him behind my mask and He blesses me.

None of it is me anymore. It’s all His strength.

May God enable you to accomplish what is needed today.

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2021/02/25/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-enable/

Church

 

Church is people

Church is friends that say “hi” and give a hug

Church is singing and playing together

Church is sharing troubles, joys, grief, and pain

Church is worshipping together, even while sitting next to that person who sings off-key

Church is listening to the minister remind us of our salvation, our hope, our sin, our responsibilities to our family, our responsibilities to our government, our responsibilities to our God

Church is messy

Church hurts

Church is not an option, but a commandment from our Heavenly Leader

Church teaches children to walk the narrow path

Church binds us, strengthens us, challenges us, gives us unspeakable joy, gives us tremendous pain, binds our wounds, forgives us, holds us accountable, holds us close, reminds us of the future celebration, remembers us, serves us, offers opportunities and teaches us to serve others

Church is hard, always changing, growing, stretching

Church is the best challenge a human being will ever sign up for

Church is you

Church is me

~

Come join the fun!

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2020/09/17/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-church/?fbclid=IwAR2269JMdR-PHhFQuru_dwdp8cPLVeCepmF2RsQZrj_dccOhuMOuwjtQwmA

Could

 

Could

I could, but do I want to.

I have said this to all my children and a few friends. Once or twice I said it to my husband.

Sometimes when we are thought of as go-to people we get lost in others' needs. It’s okay for a time, but then the overwhelm rears its ugly head and we feel lost, exhausted, taken-advantage-of, frustrated.

Where is my time?

I have found a cure for the But Do I Want To.

1.       I remember my go-to people and pray for them. Then I thank God for them. I would be dead without them.

2.       I go to my calendar and find a day or half-day for me. I block it out and hold it sacred, asking God if it is His will, and if so would He hold it sacred as well.

3.       I take time on that day to spend time alone, with God, with my pen and paper, with nature. I close my door, go to a quiet room, go outside on the porch or back yard, go to my car and close the door.

There are so many needs swirling around me. I cannot do them all, but I can do a lot, through Christ who strengthens me.

Sometimes more than I ever thought I could.

I could, and yes, I want to.

Loud

“It’s so loud!”

Countless times in my life I thought these words … and said them.

I always thought I was strange, shy, socially inept, weird …

But now, after doing some study in psychology and taking a few unofficial tests, I have discovered that I have always been me and that’s okay.

And even better: that there are others just like me out in the world –

Being strange and shy

Being misunderstood, shamed, and shunned

Searching for people like me

 

I have found a few of them,

My friends who understand me because they are like me. I don’t have to call them or be with them every week because we are all trying to maintain our energy, our space, our brain, our sanity …

And control the outside noise that beats us up every day.

Thank you, my friends, for being there, but respecting my space and my quiet.

Love you guys!