Sabbath Rest

27 Sunday Dec 2009

Posted by in Far Away Places, Life at Home

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Laziness use to be a guilty pleasure.

Even on cold winter days, I had no problem finding something  inside to do.  Two winters ago I re-finished twenty upstairs wood windows and painted every wall and ceiling surface, including the bedroom pictured above.  I chose a soft turquoise with white bedding to remind me of the beach.

These days, the idea of observing a sabbath rest is slowly gaining more appeal.  Maybe it’s the company I keep; with my husband in the middle of a two-week holiday, each morning I find myself sleeping in later and later.   While I miss the discipline of early risings, I can’t quite bring myself to leave that warm bed on a cold morning, especially when I know there’s a foot of snow lying just outside my window.

It was almost eight o’clock before I stirred this morning.  A subtle moving of my legs was enough to summon two soft brown poodle eyes to pay court by my bedside.

It’s my morning task to tend to the needs of our doggie trinity.  The dogs will not leave the bedroom without me it tow.  Once I’m up — with robe on and feet in slippers  — Max gallops down the stairs while I gingerly tread at a more sedate pace; Maddie and Cosmo are not far from my side.

I let the dogs out and begin gathering up their bowls to make breakfast.  Today’s menu is kibbles with an aperitif of Rocket Roll and Turkey.  Breakfast is served, the starter is devoured and a few token kibbles are eaten.  Then it’s time for a second trip outdoors.

I am surprised that the dogs don’t mind going out in the snow.  In fact, they are staying out longer than usual.  Sometimes it’s for a bit of frolic and other times it’s for other good reasons.  My friend Kelli is the source of the “other good reasons.”  Santa-Kelli sent each of our dogs two bones for Christmas.

Not to tell tales, but Max is enjoying more than his fair share of bones, which forces his sisters into defensive bone maneuvers.  Maddie ‘s strategy — taking her bone outside to bury in the snow — is not working.  I know because I found Max sprawled on top of hard-packed snow ravishing one of Maddie’s icicle bone-pops.

There are so many ways to enjoy a bit of sabbath rest.  While Max enjoyed his turkey to later sprawl on icy snow with stolen bone, my daughter Kara and son-in-law Joe stole away to rest their bones on warm sand in the Turk and Caicos.

Whether its Turk or turkey, sand or snow, or even a warm comfy bed… taking time to be lazy can be feast for the soul.  With a good book or bone it’s paradise.  Even when the turquoise waters and white sandy beaches are walls and bedding… or sky and snow.

Tears and Fears

26 Saturday Dec 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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I had no plan to write about this morning’s biblical readings when I sat down at the keyboard this afternoon.  But that’s often how writing is with me.  I sit down to write one thing and out comes another.   I guess the stronger words reign victorious in their fight for life.

Of course, the Bible is full of strong words, many which make for disturbing thoughts.  Sometimes I’m desolate after my morning quiet time, as I see that people across time haven’t changed much — and that the changes for good within myself are painfully slow.  Perhaps, in some ways, we are all slow learners, especially when it comes to learning the lessons that matter most in life.

This morning’s reading from Psalms was a variation on the old “eye-for-an-eye” theme.  Most would agree that there is nothing wrong in expecting value for value;  to settle for anything less than what we are due is to be taken advantage of — and God knows, I feel stupid when I’ve let someone get the best of me.

Yet, in my favorite prayer chair this morning, I felt more disturbed than stupid, as I listened to the psalmist’s heart-wrenching prayer.  Distilling through all the rhetoric, I heard the psalmist’s pray boil down to this:  “We scratched your back and now God, it’s your turn to scratch ours.   Don’t let us down, man.”

I wonder how the psalmist prayer sat with God, as I flee for the good news of John.  After the Psalms, I’m in need of a bit of good news.  But it doesn’t take long for my eyes to water as truth splashes me in the face.

I’m now sitting with Jesus, who is pouring out his heart to teach others about his family business.  Jesus it seems, is full of heavenly notions about what it really means to love God and what it really means to love one another.  It’s clear that Jesus is upsetting the apple cart  with lessons that don’t quite mesh with his audience’s way of thinking.  Doesn’t Jesus see that he’s letting his listeners down?

I finally escape to John’s first epistle where I see the old apostle imploring his flock to love.  “All you need is love, folks — heavenly business is simple enough for a baby to do,” John seems to say.  “There’s no need to worry about whose turn it is to do what, forget about keeping tallies, everyone’s a winner when love trumps fear.”

This doddering saint seems to be saying that when we let one another down, we let down God and worse of all — at least in God’s eye — we let down ourselves.  Heavenly business seems to be about stooping down to pick up the ones that are let down by life and making them the apple of our eyes.  Back scratching is just one way to express it.

Christmas Greetings

25 Friday Dec 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Mesta Park

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This year I’ve traded paper and pencil for digital pages and keystrokes.  Everyday life is now carefully preserved in the blog that Kyle encouraged me to begin last Christmas. There I rewind and hit pause to really see and listen to everyday life — it keeps my days from slipping into a sea of lost memories.  I find peace by anchoring sleep-robbing thoughts to a line of words — to write is to mutter sleepily to my worries, “Now stop your whining.”  Deeper thoughts and feelings lie beneath the easily spoken words of, “We’re doing fine.” —  which are resurrected through writing, from the depths of unconsciousness.

To pull up a post from last January is to again see two gorgeous standard poodles frolicking in the snow.  I smile as Maddie and Max, coated in icy rhinestones, make their own snow ice cream — all from scratch.  A story in February makes me laugh at my own Lucy Ricardo moment.  Once again, I stand trance-like in front of the oven watching Kyle’s 21st celebratory birthday meal go up in smoke, while nearby, Don remains his unflappable, supporting self.  Much smarter than Desi Arnaz, Don knew no amount of “splainin’” would avert the dinner party crisis staring us in the face.

The food that doesn’t burn up in the oven continues to set the stage for everyday life.  The blog is becoming a repository for all our favorite recipes.  Recorded are recipes for comfort foods such as Oatmeal Cherry Cookies, Potato Soup, Sure Shot Rolls, Meatloaf and Firehouse Chicken Enchiladas. All recipes are prefaced by a story of the recipe’s origin; the first names of friends and family always receive screen credit.

The joys of everyday life are there, like the stories from last March, born from our trip to Las Vegas for Kate and Glen’s wedding.  Downhill days, including the five weeks in late April and May when Don worked in China, live here also.  While Don kept close watch over contract negotiations for Dow, I kept my own watch over Dad’s sharp decline in health.  After four ER visits and two hospital stays, Dad now lives in a nursing home.  Every Tuesday afternoon, my brother Jon and I share our lives with our greatly diminished father.

And on and on everyday life goes.  The boys will soon graduate.  Kara and Joe settle into married life, shaking wanderlust from their systems.  My list of “grands’ has doubled with Kate’s remarriage.  Yet importantly, we count each and every day a miracle.  To wake up to the sounds of Don brewing his morning cup of tea makes me thank God for the life we share together.  And with our supporting comedic cast of three dogs, including a new Scottie I call our holy terror, it sometimes feels as if Don and I animate life in a cartoon.

Everyday stories are sacred.  It’s ironic that we remember the days where certificates are handed out – like for marriage, the birth of a child, a college graduation or some other milestone – yet forget that the best of real life is sandwiched in between.  Don and I are better people for knowing and sharing everyday life with you.  Even now, we carry you within us.

It is good to celebrate life while we can.  And there is no better way to celebrate than with a good old fashioned face-to-face visit.  Facebook may do in a pinch, but when I can’t have the “real deal”, I like the good new fashioned visits which come through my blog — my front porch to the world.  Here I welcome old friends and new.  I tell my story and my guests share theirs.  And sometimes… life slows down enough… so that we can really take in… a “long loving glance at the Real.” “Meet Me in Mesta Park.”