Junctions in the Journey

Over the last six weeks, my mind chased countless stories like a greedy child bewildered by many choices. I know that some stories would remain to warm my heart for some time yet. The glow of Thanksgiving cheer lingers amidst the hustle of Christmas preparations. The shock of seeing my mother looking aged has left me with a hunger for more visits with her. I watched my youngest sister, Esther, as she cared for Mom with tenderness, kindness and firm encouragement underlined by a passionate love and commitment. I worry about my sister exchanging her career to join so many millions of middle-aged women in care-giving but she has applied the same attention to detail in her new role and ensures that my mother’s physical, environmental, social and emotional needs are addressed. I am in awe of her quick grasp of all the issues of elderly care as it relates to mom and her approach to problem solving. As I visited, I realized that the family baby so sheltered and cushioned has been transformed into a skilful, unselfish and confident carer.

My mother stays in the kitchen when we cook or hangs out in the living room and when she goes to bed, she watches television with company. Sometimes, she will straighten a table-cloth or a cushion. She may even take a glass to the kitchen. Although she hardly speaks, she remains the center of life at home. As I fumble to find meaningful words to thank Esther, I could not help wishing that all the elderly folk could enjoy the care my mother enjoys in her own home around the familiar if only for this Season. That I have peace despite my mom’s obvious failing is largely due to Esther, lovingly supported by my two other sisters as well as a pair of helpers.

Last Saturday, while celebrating a couple’s 50th anniversary, I could not shake off the memories of my mom's 50th anniversary celebration. The joy of this occasion evoked vivid memories of another time when my parents were vibrant and death was in a far off country. We were all so young in mind and body. It was for my family a defining moment. I still have my bridesmaid dress and remembered the helium balloons floating skywards, their golden ribbons reluctant trailers. I remembered the cars honking through the streets. I remembered and in the midst of so much joy, cried; knowing things will never be the same. Dad, so handsome on that day is dead| As I chatted with the youngest daughter, I encouraged her to make the most of every minute, savor it and hold on to the joy. It is such a precious celebration in an age when long marriages cannot be taken for granted.

I am still house hunting and am about to make an offer but have an open mind. While I will never have a 50th anniversary, I want to live with passionate enjoyment and I’m looking at a place that frees me up to do that: minimum house-keeping, affordable rates and utilities. I’m from the “life is too short to stuff a mushroom” school and I want to make time to smell the roses for ever. Buying a house in late life can raise all sorts of existential questions e.g what is my real purpose in living? How do I want to spend the rest of my life? It’s even a value thing? What type of neighborhood to choose and what does it say about me? Well, you get the drift. So prayers are needed for patience and strength. Waking up at 4.30am to talk to British officialdom before their lunch requires lots of both. Hopefully, a few more calls should do it.

Truths color Lives

Modernism worshipped at the altar of science. Long held beliefs were discarded like soiled clothes as emerging facts revealed their nakedness of truth. But after a while, the pendulum swung again as we realized that even science can have a bias or an agenda. Then on the heels of swinging sixties, constructionists ushered in the postmodern age where plurality of truths was enthroned. This is in contrast to the ancient Greeks who supported different truths in relationship to each other. Today, everyone, everything has its own truth and societal norms struggle to keep up. These new truths that color our landscape do not necessarily discolor the picture of our moral certitudes. Indeed, they often illuminate some dark corners. However, landscapes devoid of all markers are like empty deserts and we risk the dangers of being lost in their tractless lands.

Today, I found myself confronted by the pain of two teenagers whose romantic life is marred by violence, disrespect and legal sanctions. I couldn’t help thinking that I was not dating at their age although I was curious about love and relationships. I day-dreamed a lot hoping that Prince Charming would ride by. Of course, there were always admirers and they gave me chocolates and candy but I was not dating and it would not have crossed my mind to live with any one of them. So I ended my teen age years leading a group of young people in their activities, planning parties, going to the theatre and always listening to older folk telling their stories. I also found lots of stories from books and I developed my passion for politics and mythology. I played pranks, kept my curfew for the most part and found a job. I emerged from the teen years with lots of growing-up to do; I'm still working on growing. However, the memories of those years bring a smile as I remain grateful for the choices I made.

Decades later, I think of these teens already weighed down with baggage I'll find intolerable. Try as I can to empathize, I cannot really understand why one should trade this special chapter of life for the derailment of broken hopes and broken bones, housewifery over the excitement of candle-lit suppers, television instead of visiting clubs or restaurants. I longed to say: You are on the brink of living. There will be periods to stay by the fire but now is the time to explore new places, things, ideas and people. Yet that would be my truth. Even after a life-time of being single, I have no regrets for my choices. Although I wished a few outcomes were different, I’m glad that I did not collect the experiences that they are enduring.

Nevertheless, these young folk have their truth and when I look in their faces and hear the excuses and protests, I feel disempowered. Society no longer helps by proclaiming its truth so each must find her own. There are no "Driver under Instruction" stickers for living life.

Singing in the Dry Season

Last night, I went to a production by dancing students at Marshall University. The talented students entertained and entranced us as their lissome, flexible bodies created shapes and structures that fed our senses. This was a modern play so sex underlined it. However, the dancing was subtle and understated which added to the dance’s meaning instead of detracted from it. Of course as my niece was one of the troupe, I think that they were all brilliant.

The arts be it music, painting, dancing or acting does not often make its students wealthy but artistes in these industries stimulate our imagination, remind us that man cannot live by bread alone. Sometimes, we need to have chocolate cake and lobsters as well as bread.

Today, at Ferguson, the pastor theme was “A song in a dry season” utilizing the story of Israel’s Babylonian captivity. I recalled Bob Marley’s lyrics: By the waters of Babylon” and the haunting echoing of the chorus which demanded to know: How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

Well, the pastor exhorted us to praise in song and sing of God’s faithfulness even when we are having difficulties. Singing when times are good is easy but to have faith to sing that our dry season, our times of crisis, rejection or loss will pass
demands spiritual maturity. Sometimes, it is a picture that evokes faith. Sometimes, it is a sunset or dewdrops shimmering on rosebuds. As the leaves fall in kaleidoscopes of purples, browns, reds, yellows, our spirits respond with joy. Whatever our situation, the world is beautiful. Let the music begin!

Stewardship and Self

Tomorrow is Sunday, a day to meet with worshippers and celebrate the Christ.I do look forward to corporate worship but tomorrow I’ll be home worshipping from my internal space as I allow God to speak to me in the silence.

Two months ago, I returned from retreat relaxed and renewed; yet during this week, I’ve been like an over laden ship, running out of oil in the engine room, about to cross the Horn of Africa. I need to delay until I can get more supplies before I face a week riddled with commitments and challenges.

Sometimes, I treat my life with such disrespect. I paint over stress points, minimize my losses, ignore my wounds, neglect my soul and expect to function like a well-oiled machine. Yet I am fearfully and wonderfully made because of the holistically balanced measure of body, soul, spirit. Taking time to care for myself is a sacred trust not something I should do because I made a mistake that reminds me of my limitations and mortality.

So this week-end, I will worship God by taking care of his creation-working with Him to regain my balance. It would entail exercise and contemplation, tea infusions and candle-light. It would also include doing the laundry, tidying book shelves, creating order. There may even be time to really smell the fragrance of the roses I’ve bought last spring.

The world would be a better place if all children were taught to think of others and put them first. However, they need to learn that they are not expected to love themselves less. Indeed, they undermine their ability to help others if they fail to meet their own needs. This is a lesson that I am still learning with the greatest difficulty.

So with 2011, nine months old, I can admit that it has been a sad, difficult year with several unrealized goals. I also know that many more challenging moments lie ahead before calm seasons come; but the year has been littered with God filled moments so definitive that I saw His headlights. God is with me. My main job is to tend His body.

Worship and Write at Laity Lodge

Thousands of flamingoes rose in unison above the Great Rift Valley to embrace the dawn. Their fly-past draped the clouds in gold, leaving me speechless as it abruptly ended. I’ve also enjoyed the gardens of Versailles, the fragrant flora of Burma’s Middle Kingdom, where the abandoned pagodas testify silently of former glories.

Yet last September, as the truck edged its way along a Texan riverbed, despite the tiredness of day long travel, I suddenly felt on the brink of adventure. In unexpected places and ways God often meets with us and I did enjoy the exploration in creativity: thinking, seeing and writing I found during the retreat.

Laity Lodge utilizes the physicality of our world in such a unique way that it created a hunger for the Creator of the universe. Pictures in the gallery and expertly crafted sculpture in its natural setting were easily accessible. Man-made fountains gurgled and entranced, not caring that a river ran below. In the heart of the canyon beyond the reach of cell phones, hills beckoned to higher ground. The whole canyon reflected dignity of work and celebrated the work of men’s hands. The celebrity authors, poets and musicians and craft teachers who shared their gifts also stimulated me spiritually .as well as intellectually . I was often surprised and overwhelmed by the generosity, consideration and helpfulness, the attention to detail. Serving God through work is my highest calling and this place revived my soul.

It is the only place where I could dabble in paint not caring what I produced. The process was liberating and it was here in the poetry workshop so brilliantly led by Scott Cairns that I learnt to use scripture in a new way.
I did leave a better writer and I would like to return for a fiction workshop as that was my first choice. Nonetheless, Laity Lodge offered more than the excellent work-shops. The created environment made the imagery of the lion and lamb laying down together more vivid as I knew that harmony with nature would be achieved.

Although I’ve visited some amazing places and seen some phenomenal things, Laity Lodge fed my eyes, my soul and my spirit. They also feed the body too. It’s not just a place. It is a point of communion with God, with nature, with your inmost self It is a unique experience that is not only unforgettable but also life changing. I’d love to re-visit and re-charge. I’d love to learn and write. If you are interested in the arts, please visit http://www.laitylodge.org/writers-retreat-ii/

Even if you are not, it is a place worthy of one’s bucket list. See for more details http://www.thehighcalling.org/win-free-trip-laity-lodge-writers-retreat or @laitylodgeretreatcenter.

I feel blessed that I’ve gone and would dearly love to go again.

A time to celebrate

After the storms, Saturday was a, cool, clear day. Days are only memorable when events make them so and the eightieth birthday of a retired coal miner was really delightful. The whole celebration was so lovingly and carefully planned that guests were treated to more than a glimpse of a devoted family man of God This man filled many shoes with distinction. Senators and other leaders saluted him with gracious words but the tributes of his children and family are what really resonated in my heart.
When we are eighty, the world is engaged largely through children and the friends who have managed to survive with us. If we are extremely blessed we still have friends to share a high school moment, exchange memories about working with a tough boss or to recall the frolics of our children. We sit in companionship with these friends who have travelled with us and need not speak because they know us and of us.
However, Saturday was a day for remembrance to hear of a life through the narratives of his family and friends with themes of sacrifice, loyalty, and heroism intertwined. What a life story! Many chapters remain to be written.

The music was feet -tapping good, the food excellent, and the peanut fudge so delicious that I ignored feelings of guilt and ate a second piece. So full of good cheer, I reflected on the excellence of this party and thought how much it suited my style and temperament.

My satisfied state was rudely interrupted by memories of my aunt’s 80th celebration. She arrived in a sky blue gown with a train of sea blue on the arms of a gentleman in his fifties who led her to a dais shimmering with lights. At 2am in the morning, as her guests reluctantly left, each with wine specially bottled, she invited us to her house for a cookout to see the day in. I was tired but I declined because I had to leave at 4 am for my red-eye flight. My eighty year old aunt amazes me, intrigues me and occasionally horrifies me. But I admire her tremendous spirit. I enjoy her sense of style, her joie de vivre. Now, I have two models to emulate. Would it be finger- licking fudge or woody wine?

Food, Fun and Fellowship

It’s been a month since I started to write about the celebration in honor of Dr Huang, the John Hopkins neuro-surgeon who saved my brother’s life. God uses many channels to heal and we remain in her debt forever.

While festivities provide an enjoyable break from routine they can also be disruptive. Since my mother and sister left for St Louis, I find myself unable to regain my stride and the delicate balance between work and leisure.

Yet these last four weeks of dis-ease have not been without their memorable moments.
I wanted so much to learn photograph but during classes, my pink and purse fitting camera broke. I resisted buying one of the DSlRS but succumbed. By then, the classes were over so I missed a good opportunity. Yet, I was able to take photographs of a house where families cooked, loved, fought and played being burnt to the ground as the first step towards re-building. I couldn’t help feeling sad as the focus of all those memories lit the night sky.

ON July 2nd I spent a most relaxing afternoon in a forest in Beckley. For the first time, I watched horse-shoe being played. Tried a few throws and missed. The catering reminded me of scenes of medieval feasts where dish after dish arrived to tempt groaning stomachs to have one more bite of this or that. It might be fish or ribs or maybe the corn one forgot first or second time round.

Of course, cook-outs provide more opportunities for eating until my stomach protested. One had so much food that we continued after Church the next day.
The Church picnic itself was not exempt from temptations of over-eating as the grills sizzled and the air was heavy with delicate flavors of well -cooked meats.
Food, fellowship and Fun should not be restricted to summer. As social beings, we are programmed to get together. For many people, Sunday is the day where the single or the lonely, the student or visitor could enjoy home cooking and fellowship after Church.

I am indebted to those folk who shared what they had with me, teaching me many skills in the process and giving me the confidence to go and do likewise. When there are so many restaurants, it might be even more economical in time and money to eat out. However, sharing food at home in fellowship feeds body, soul and spirit. So when you ‘re invited to dine with me, please say Yes. I really want to celebrate knowing you in a personal way.

Finding Mama

The cloudy day has not dimmed my spirits as I recall the sunny Saturdays of the 11th and 18t . My mother is beautiful and elegant. At eight- eight, she often succeeds in losing Alzheimer’s, remembers the faces of family, thrives on domestic chatter and in the words of her youngest daughter and carer “can hang with me”. This includes leaving home at 6.30AM and returning at nightfall for extended days out. Hanging out involves having flights delayed, cancelled or re-routed so that her journey time is eight hours longer. She gets to son's house completely orientated in place and names. She eventually makes it to bed past midnight without a single complaint.

I am in awe of this woman.

We shared no common interest during my childhood. Attempts by my mother to get close to her firstborn were thwarted by my disinterest in shopping , cooking or any thing remotely feminine. So most of my life, we loved each other but not our lives. Yet, I always knew that hers is a complex personality. In a crisis, she is a rock, in grief dignified, in tough times, loyal, always generous, a sharer of what she has but a hoarder of her thoughts.

Age and re-location have forced a walk in my mother’s shoes. As I reflect on the journey, my admiration of my mother intensifies. I long for her courage and her strength. Her commitment to do the right thing, her sense of duty and her hospitality are impossible to emulate but still they inspire me to try.

Now, at this time of our lives, our paths intertwine as we draw closer in interests.
On the 11th, I shared with her the joy of my brother’s successful surgery. Then on Sunday, we went to Church together. I am delightfully surprised that these days, a Sunday with mama is the highlight of the week.

Another step

After the distractions of the last week , this week has blessed me with warm weather and good news. After the waiting and many false starts, I have a definite offer for my house. Of course, until she signs on the dotted line, she is free to change her mind but I am optimistic. I have seen the clear fingerprint of God in this and am hopeful. Strangely, now that I have reached the end of the beginning, I am surprised by my ambivalence. So many fond memories are rooted to that house, so many great ideas were birthed there. Many relationships blossomed into cherished friendships.
In that house, people of all cultures, classes and races gathered around my table or spilled over the lawn or field beyond. Children romped and were never out of place. When I think of huge American homes, I am somewhat astonished at the company and comraderie that found place within that small five roomed house.
While I enjoyed that house for the people who blessed me with their presence, I would miss it for more personal reasons. I learnt to pour cement, tile walls, neither of which I’ll do again. I also painted everyone of its walls. My friend, Seema, who is an artist painted a seascape in my bathroom after Leslie helped me wall paper two of its walls. There was always something to be done and it was done teaching me a lot about maintenance.
Bad things happened there too. I was burgled twice. I heard of the death of loved ones. I almost lost my sight in one eye. And it was in this house after many years, in the depths of the night that I said goodbye in my heart to a relationship that undermined my emotional well-being.
So although, I agree to sell my house, I know that I won’t be selling my home for it is indeed true that home is really where the heart is at peace. While Grasmere is clothed with precious memories, ever so slowly, I’m finding new points of reference. I ‘ve been blessed to have somewhere comfortable to live for five years. Two years ago during a crisis, I realized that this temporary place was home. Now that chapter too seems about to end and a new book beckons.
As I reflect this Sabbath Eve, I am acutely conscious of the impermanence of life, of possessions and situations. I know that I’m passing through on a pilgrimage. Abraham, Jacob and Moses had great encounters with God on their journey. Tomorrow, as I worshi , I yearn for a similar encounter but even if it never happens, I am content because I know The Way and the Guide on whom I rely to see me safely home.

After the distractions of the last week , this week has blessed me with warm weather and good news. After the waiting and many false starts, I have a definite offer for my house. Of course, until she signs on the dotted line, she is free to change her mind but I am optimistic. I have seen the clear fingerprint of God in this and am hopeful. Strangely, now that I have reached the end of the beginning, I am surprised by my ambivalence. So many fond memories are rooted to that house, so many great ideas were birthed there. Many relationships blossomed into cherished friendships.
In that house, people of all cultures, classes and races gathered around my table or spilled over the lawn or field beyond. Children romped and were never out of place. When I think of huge American homes, I am somewhat astonished at the company and comraderie that found place within that small five roomed house.
While I enjoyed that house for ithe people Who blessed me with their presence, I would miss it more more personal reasons. I learnt to pour cement, tile walls, neither of which I’ll do again. I also painted everyone of it s walls. My friend, Seema, who is an artist painted a seascape in my bathroom after Leslie helped me wall paper two of its walls. There was always something to be done and it was done teaching me a lot about maintenance.
Bad things happened here too. I was burgled twice. I heard of the death of loved ones. I almost lost my sight in one eye. And it was in this house after many years, in the depths of the night that I said goodbye in my heart to a relationship that undermined my emotional well-being.
So although, I agree to sell my house, I know that I won’t be selling my home for it is indeed true that home is really where the heart is at peace. While Grasmere is clothed with precious memories, ever so slowly, I’m finding new points of reference. I ‘ve been blessed to have somewhere comfortable to live for five years and two years ago realized that it was home. Now that chapter seems about to end and a new book beckons.
As I reflect this Sabbath Eve, I am acutely conscious of the impermanence of life, of possessions and situations. I know that I’m passing through on a pilgrimage. Abraham, Jacob and Moses had great encounters with God on their journey. Tomorrow, as I worship , I yearn for a similar encounter but even if it never happens, I am content because I know The Way and the Guide on whom I rely to see me safely home.

Foggy landing-happy homecoming

My week away came to a heavy, jolting halt as the pilot seemed to brake sharply to slow the plane down. The air craft dropped so fast. Discomfort faded away to relief at being home when we realized that we had sailed through a blanket of fog so thick that we were almost diverted back. Safely on land in the early minutes of the young day, the fog enveloped us in a cosy world.

I was glad to be home and enjoyed the unusual experience of being missed. It was a challenging week which started when one of our flights was delayed and after a further two delays, our last flight was cancelled. It was a day so long that my feet ached despite my comfortable chunky shoes. Relieved to find a hotel, my colleagues and I faced the prospect of spending another day in the clothes we were wearing. I recalled what I had written about delayed flights and mislaid bags last week and resolved to be calm and stoical.

All our bags did arrive the next day when we deplaned at Fargo and although late, we were able to join our class whose main participants were police officers. A week so disruptive of normal routine moved me from my comfort zone; but I gained greater insight into domestic violence from many perspectives. I saw Moorhead through its food as we visited different eating places twice daily. We had little time or energy to sightsee although we did visit a Burlington coat factory. We worked solidly through the week and to keep us engaged, every class-member had a presentation on Friday. So we were all looking forward to being home. Fortunately, on Friday night, the decision was made to land and I was able to enjoy my day at home.

After sleeping in all morning, I left with David and Philip to mow the lawn of our elder brother while his arm heals. We had good fun and a great meal. Afterwards, I read a book and when I returned home, trimmed the roses and went for a two mile walk around our division admiring the carefully tended gardens. My best activity today was talking: to my three brothers, my sisters-in-law, and my neighbor. We connected in a look, a word, in laughter. So I am thankful that I’m home and tomorrow will offer special thanks for the blessing of the family.

Planting and Packing clothes

In forty-five minutes, it will be another day of rest as we wait in God’s presence and experience the icy patches of our hearts being melted by forgiveness, our minds being renewed with different thoughts and our spirits quickened with new resolve.

Tomorrow, I will need to take the Sabbath with me as I stand barefoot in impatient lines or squeeze past harried flyers trying to find their seats. How can I remain serene if my flight is delayed or luggage mislaid? Particularly when today was spent in a circuit of activities. I took my brother for his commitment, went to Charleston, then to the shops in Nitro before coming home to plant the many plants I bought from my idyllic nursery visit last week

Plants rooted, I changed into evening clothes, rushed to Dunbar to meet my brother before returning to Charleston for a party that was over. To salvage the evening we went for a Chinese meal . I have not finished my packing because I cannot decide what to take: woolens or cottons, suits or casual, skirts or trousers., red or navy.
I feel that the energies expended in making this decision should be saved for momentous situations but still I hesitate and ponder.

So this Saturday, I feel flustered and harried and I won’t be in Church to-morrow but I know God has loved me this week and has looked out for me. I know as Lord of the Sabbath, He transcends time and place. Whenever, I can find time to worship in celebration, He attends with new wine. I am filled, I am blest. I am at rest in His peace.

Dancing and greenhouse joy

Last night I went to a dance-a-thon, a fund-raising event for KISRA It was fun. Each dance was preceded by instructions so everyone could learn. It provided a good example that even if everyone is given the same opportunity, results would vary. Some folk after the briefest of instructions glided along like Fred Astaire, instinctively knowing when to twist, twirl and turn. Most enjoy it after a few practice runs. I get most of he moves but the turns elude me. I love dancing. Watching dozens of dances swaying in unison is like looking at fields of daffodils dancing in the wind; sheer poetry in motion. I took my two left feet home early after adding to my bucket list: Learn to dance before arthritis comes to stay.



I picked up my brother from work and as Captain D was still opened, I had a meal there for the first time ever. We waited for our meal but were gratified to know that although we had ordered different menus, our food was freshly cooked. My grilled fish was delicious, fried okra crisp and corn on the cob tender. My brother enjoyed his fixed meal too. So we went home replete and refreshed and ready for the weekend.

This morning, Philip came for David to visit Leon. David invited me but I thought that brothers benefit with time alone. Besides, I was offered a trip to a nursery along many miles of winding farm roads. I really did take note when the sign said 10mph. Nevertheless, the trip was perfect. Clear sunny skies, cushioned flooring and a village of greenhouses with plants: annuals and perennials, common and exotic, some just for ground cover, others decorative bushes.

This year, I’ve splurged on scented rose bushes. The great news is that I can keep the roses in their pots if they are watered and fed. I hope this works. Of course, I couldn’t resist some other plants too like a peppermint flower that smells like mint but mainly I selected those with varying shades of blue to purple. I can hardly wait to compose the different hues and textures into interesting and vibrant displays.

But I did wait because my brother who is recovering from brain surgery wanted to borrow my car like old times. He drove to the shops and bought what he wanted, another landmark on the road to recovery.

The beauty of this day reflects the beauty of my life. Being in good health, doing the things I love and knowing that the sick in my family are being healed is beauty created by the Hand of God. This beauty creates praise and makes my heart sing. It echoes in my spirit that someone who is special to me can even give beauty for ashes. To-morrow, in Church I will celebrate this.

Resting for the Sabbath

Friday evening and the heat of the day has past. I am in a woolen sweater as I was attending a course and froze for two days. This morning, I decided that I would be warm and the sun came out. I stopped at a Nitro lake to eat ice-cream and inhale the serenity of water kissing green tipped edge of land. The lushness of the trees hiding the hills made my brother, David think of home. I agreed with him as an afterthought. Switzerland came to mind as I recalled a lunch of bread and cheese by a lake there, an hour’s train ride from the Alps. We were hungry and the pleasure of eating was recalled by the children years later.
I’ve seen so many places that reminded me of different parts of the world but not in a bored, disinterested way. On the contrary, I seem to reconnect and to recall their similarities with joy. It’s as if the world is saying wherever you are I’ll show you beauty. Although I still enjoy finding picturesque places, I’m convinced that wherever I am, there will always be a spot to make me gasp in awe or remembrance. David commented on the sun lightening the trees which seemed almost yellow under the glare. I asked him if he painted as he has an eye for beauty. “No”, he said “I get the dimensions all wrong” and then proceeded to inform me about different artistic styles. “I love art”, he said in explanation but I can’t do it”.
Once again, someone close to me has surprised me by revealing another aspect of themselves. No wonder my concept of God is always in revision. There is always more than what I see or can understand. Although, intellectually, I know this to be true, my reality is usually based on just what I can experience.
This Saturday has been a complete day of rest so I can face tomorrow energized to worship a God who loves me and often surprises me. I can hardly wait to praise Him for all I know Him to be. I also want to thank Him for bringing a complex, loyal, loving, multi-dimensional person in my life. My mother and I love each other but I adore her courage, her quirkiness, her Ps31 approach. Tomorrow, I will celebrate her personality that has colored my life in starting ways.

Preparing for the Sabbath

Tomorrow is the Sabbath for me and for many Christians. For millions, it is today. For many hundreds of millions, it was on Friday. Even within Christendom, some theologians are not convinced that the first day of the week should be a day of rest. After all, even God rested from His labors. Why should we rest before ours?
As I am not a theologian, I celebrate the Lord’s Day on Sunday because of tradition. I feel that it is essential for human beings to have a day of rest, a day without commitments, a day where the only clock is the rhythm of our bodies as it tells us when to eat or sleep. A day should be dedicated to feeding the spirit that is often tired and bruised. Undoubtedly, praising God comforts the soul and uplifts the spirit. Yet, many times, I’ve been so weary that I long to be still as the eternal truths in the hymns caress my soul.
Unfortunately, many of our churches do not offer quiet moments of reflection or meditative songs during which we can catch my breath. Sometimes, the tempo is as frenetic as the routine of the week just past and adds to the sensory overload of our lives.

Lauren Winner in the Mudhouse Sabbath challenged the way I approached my Sabbath. Ever since, I have tried to use Saturday as a day of preparation for worship by structuring my Sabbath Eve so that Saturday evening comes with a sense of accomplishment. When I free myself from the busyness, I can approach church services with a rested spirit so I can give my energy to worship. Then it seems that I’m less mindful of the noise and more of my spiritual receptors are opened.

Today, I attended a Conference at the Huntington Civic Center but selected a class on folk dancing and another on Be choosy, keep moving for the afternoon period. The exercise from both classes elevated my mood. By 4p.m. I was home and the early trip this morning through the fog-laden streets of Huntington no longer mattered. Much more important, as it is an issue for thankfulness, is the fact that I stopped to ask for directions at the building just before the Civic Center and found easy parking. I was unable to use my GPS as I could not find the connector pin but I also found a new, better way to another destination.

On returning home, my brother and I searched the car to find the tiny pin. He found it and gave the car an overdue cleaning in the process. Good days are made up of small achievements. Sometimes, they are marked by helping hands. When a day is crammed with both, I am really blessed.

So I approach the Sabbath tomorrow with thankfulness, determined to bring my praise and thanksgiving to the Lord of the Sabbath.

Easter

The concerns of yesterday evaporated before midnight so Easter morn broke without added anxieties. Church was crowded but it was so good to see my mother in Church having made the long trip from St Louis. The combined choir sang beautifully, the little angels of praise singing the words with gusto and wonder. It is as if they truly realized the meaning of the words. As the melody from the harmonious voices hit the ceiling, I thought of the kettle boiled dry because I had forgotten to switch it off. The boiling kettle nagged me more insistently as the service went on. I stayed because I did not want to draw attention but I was thrilled that I did for my mother in her late eighties who suffers with Alzheimer’s spoke coherently and movingly for about two minutes testifying to the goodness of God. What a lady
After the service, someone wanted to take a photo of my mom, niece and sisters or so I thought. It turned out to be a family picture instead of women from four generations. I did not do a good job of hiding my impatience and disappointment.
Eventually I went home. I did not expect the kettle to b e off. Well better safe than sorry but I would save a thirty-mile journey. I would have been able to linger after the service.

Fortunately, arriving at my brother’s house made up for the wasted journey. All my family in West Virginia was their and my sister-in law catered for about thirty of us. Sitting on the dock of their riverside home with full stomachs a most agreeable way to spend a spring. We seized the moment to recharge our batteries and renew relationships.

Later back at my house, we had another opportunity to continue family bonding. It was amusing to watch my brother asleep lying on my mom bringing to mind pictures of our childhood. Parents so often underestimate their role yet manage to give children the security to last a life –time that however old they are, a mother's hug or bed provides comfort and security.

Thirty Ninth Day: Hope wins by a nose

My spirit feels so rested when I have a day at home with no appointments or deadlines except to cook for visitors in the evening. I woke up, dressed in indoor slacks, did most of the little tasks that get left when you are away from home over twelve hours a day, This is going to be my routine for the foreseeable future so I am busy with to do lists to ensure that my appointments are kept next week.

Since 2.p.m o’clock I’ve been expecting my mother, two of my sisters and two nephews. I was not at all worried when they did not arrive three hours ago but now the meal is ready and I have time to be apprehensive.
To add to my uneasiness, my brother who has been making a remarkable recovery is at the hospital after experiencing unexplained pain. Happiness is so fragile. A word, a fall, a sudden movement, a forgotten task can change the world forever,
Tonight, I have all the ingredients for celebration. I hope that I’ll be able do that in this infrequent get-together of family from three States but if I can’t then I will count my many blessings and know that God who has been with me on this special journey will not disappear

Earlier in the day, my goddaughter phoned me so that I can wish her a happy birthday. She is forty-one years old with a great deal of maturity. For most of her life, we lost touch so I was a very absent godmother. Last year, I met her mother who re-united us. Since then we have been maintained contact but I had long forgotten her birthday. So I was delighted that she called. She is obviously giving me a second chance to be in her life and I intend to take it.
So, despite the uncertainties of this day, I cling to hope. The Resurrected Lord, whose victory we’ll be celebrating tomorrow is the incarnation of hope in my situation. Because He lives, I can face tomorrow, despite my fears.

Good Friday-Repentant Martha

Who would believe that I forgot that today was Good Friday? Working for a Christian non-profit, I had the day off. I planned to make Hot cross buns yesterday but when I woke this morning, the significance of the day slipped my mind.
I read Isaiah22 twice to get the meaning, was awed by the vivid descriptions of war. The language was majestic, the metaphors so original, written thousands of years ago but still capable of conveying the total horror of war in a nuclear age. After all, the bitterness experienced in war does not change. The loss of a tent or a range house is equally painful when it is called home. The death of a soldier or massacre of civilians is lamented so this morning, my mind was trying to shut out these images. They stayed with me even while I tried to remember that God wants us to trust Him and not to depend on our own defenses.
I kept the doctor’s appointment, and then shopped for groceries, especially the yeast which was an essential ingredient for hot cross buns. I also bought an Easter lily.
I returned to the Jubilee Square with my nephew, to get a wardrobe forgetting the glue, which would require another trip later. As the morning raced by, I realized I had to hurry to get the buns ready.
I plugged in my food mixer for quick mixing only to find that I had mixed the yeast with the dry ingredients so had to start again. My British cook book and my Cuisinart manual as well as the yeast directions lay side by side on the table. I’m still not familiar with the processor. I’ve never made cross buns before so it was a project of trial and error. In truth, it seemed to be more errors than trial.
So, did I reflect on the amazing love of God that ransomed me? To my shame, not really! I have been so deeply engrossed in activities about Easter that I found little time for spiritual reflection.
This is not the first time I’ve acted like Martha and allowed myself to be caught up in many things. I’ve always been on Martha’s side, knowing that if we all sit down, even important things can be left undone, However, Mary had her priorities right. She did not miss out on relationship. So as I prepare to entertain eleven people tomorrow, I plan to try very hard to work at improving our relationship, every thing else is secondary. It is far too easy for me to be consumed with preparation than with people. It is sobering to think that the things I do for God can take time away from knowing Him.


Who would believe that I forgot that today was Good Friday? Working for a Christian non-profit, I had the day off. I planned to make Hot cross buns yesterday but when I woke this morning, the significance of the day slipped my mind.
I read Isaiah22 twice to get the meaning, was awed by the vivid descriptions of war. The language was majestic, the metaphors so original, written thousands of years ago but still capable of conveying the total horror of war in a nuclear age. After all, the bitterness experienced in war does not change. The loss of a tent or a range house is equally painful when it is called home. The death of a soldier or massacre of civilians is lamented so this morning, my mind was trying to shut out these images. They stayed with me even while I tried to remember that God wants us to trust Him and not to depend on our own defenses.
I kept the doctor’s appointment, and then shopped for groceries, especially the yeast which was an essential ingredient for hot cross buns. I also bought an Easter lily.
I returned to the Jubilee Square with my nephew, to get a wardrobe forgetting the glue, which would require another trip later. As the morning raced by, I realized I had to hurry to get the bus ready.
I plugged in my food mixer for quick mixing only to find that I had mixed the yeast with the dry ingredients so had to start again. My British cook book and my Cuisinart manual as well as the yeast directions lay side by side on the table. I’m still not familiar with the processor. I’ve never made cross buns before so it was a project of trial and error. In truth, it seemed to be more errors than trial.
So, did I reflect on the amazing love of God that ransomed me? To my shame, not really! I have been so deeply engrossed in activities about Easter that I found little time for spiritual reflection.
This is not the first time I’ve acted like Martha and allowed myself to be caught up in many things. I’ve always been on Martha’s side, knowing that if we all sit down, even important things can be left undone, However, Mary had her priorities right. She did not miss out on relationship. So as I prepare to entertain eleven people tomorrow, I plan to try very hard to work at improving our relationship, every thing else is secondary. It is far too easy for me to be consumed with preparation than with people. It is sobering to think that the things I do for God can take time away from knowing Him.

Thirty Seventh Day-Serving in Relating

Holy Thursday, night of the Last supper, although he knew that His hour was about to come and He wished that the cup could pass from Him, like a passionate teacher, Jesus took time to include another lesson. He wanted one more review before the finals. It is significant that He chose a lesson on humility and service. He, part of the Godhead used manly hands to wash and dry the dusty feet of his followers. When Peter objected, no doubt projecting on to Jesus his own sense of precedence, Jesus compassionately enabled him to submit by appealing to his self-interest. Peter wanted so much to be identified with Jesus that he was willing to have his whole body washed by Him Yet didn’t easily grasp the concept of servanthood.
Service is often mistaken for servility but Jesus by His action gave new meaning to the word. When I cheerfully use my initiative to meet the needs of others, I serve them no matter who or what they are. Therefore by demonstrating patience in a disruptive class or holding that class accountable for incomplete assignments is serving according to need.
So In the noise of chatter, people feel unheard. Many want to tell their stories. I find it extremely difficult to serve by listening and I find myself privileging some stories more than others. I try not to avoid blame shifting stories or recurring themes of victimization. My mind says: you made your own choices whilst my heart declares; you, but for God’s grace. So in servanthood, I pay attention to the story that frames the words. Whether they exaggerate, are dramatic o r are confrontational with their life-style, their story telling gives glimpses of the soul. Like Peter it is sometimes hard to wash “the feet” but learning from him, I know that a servant spirit expresses a loving heart.

Thirty Sixth Day-Working in Eden

Yesterday, I talked with someone who found a job. His delight in working reminded me that even in Eden, God gave Adam something to do. . He was put in the garden to work and take care of it. He did not have to pull weeds, as sin had not entered the world. Everything was perfect so what did he really do?
Well, I won’t ever know but what I do know is that God attaches meaning to work beyond its monetary value. Imagine having a divine commission to be a farmer r or a gardener. Both involve working with my hands. Was this God’s way of honoring labor?

There is a continuous contest between man and machines, between skilled labor and college graduates. Electricians and plumbers often earn more than some university professors. Yet society attaches different values to their job.


Work by its very nature is redeeming if approached from the divine perspective. It helps to structure our days and can increase our friendships. To find our niche at work adds immeasurably to our well-being. But it cannot be another god to be worshipped because it meets my self esteem needs and fills our days. Eventually, I will retire and if have not forged another identity, the transition will be traumatic.

In the meantime, as I eat and drink, I take Ecclesiastes to heart: There is nothing better for a man than to eat and drink and tell himself that his labor is good. Of course, as a woman, it is no less fulfilling.

Thirty fifth Day; Wormlike and Worshipful

The weather man was right. It did rain this morning so plans to mow the grass were postponed again. However, later in the day, it became a good time for pulling weeds as the water soaked earth made it easier to get to the roots.

Hours slip away when my fingers work in the warm, moist earth as I smell dry leaves and bursting buds. Now and then fat luscious worms will pause long enough from aerating the soil to make me queasy by their shiny, sometimes luminous appearance. Unmindful of what humans think and do, they burrow relentlessly, not thanked by man for making his crops better.

I don’t know if worms miss the family and friends so thoughtlessly crushed by people when they dare to show themselves. Surely, I think that by now thy would learn to hide whenever the earth above them is disturbed but they seem unconcerned with the risk.

I wish I were as totally focused on what I was created to do as the worms are or even as organized as the bees. But I allow myself to be distracted or discouraged. I am mindful of the risks to trust and to love so I hesitate and fail to seize the moment. Worse still, unlike these creatures that can only be themselves, I’m often uncertain as to what I should be doing
Of course, I am allowed countless choices as well as made in the image of the Creator of multi-universes. Therefore, my mind is multi-dimensional. Yet, my purpose really is expressed in the injunction “to glorify God”. How I glorify Him has no script. Therein lies my dilemma because I could subvert my purpose by so many good things. Few people want to stand out in the Christian crowd for the very good reason that history is rich with people who were led astray by their own imagination. Nevertheless, despite this risk, I have to glorify God as only I can.

As the days of Lent are drawing to a close, I have a sense more than ever of that purpose.
I shall keep the worms in mind, not least because when I’m done with my body, it will be all theirs anyway.

Thirty Fourth Day; Walk of Honeysuckle and Daffodils

We stopped suddenly teased by the scent of honeysuckle. I inhaled deeply and an ordinary walk around the neighborhood was transformed. The heady scent reminded me of my own English garden so lovingly tended. After the evening watering, the floral scents blended in the air but the roses that gave scent to those who linger by their stems were also wrapped in honeysuckle aroma. I envied the birds settling down for the night in an apple tree with the air so heavy with perfume. My little garden had a touch of Eden, It’s tranquility made me reflective.

Perhaps, it was because we were passing through forests and woods but the same sweet air in Mandalay created a different mood as mile after mile of roadway was like an outdoor perfumery It might be fanciful to think that one of the little children in Heaven was playing with God’s perfume for this glorious scent was in the country side across paths almost deserted by people. I can recall the feelings of adventure and excitement as I drove by sniffing the air to fill my lungs again and again.

Honeysuckle and frangipani are still two of my favorite flowers because of the magic of that journey across the Middle Kingdom of Mandalay. But if I love them for their aroma, I crave daffodils for its color and timing as it signals the beginning of spring, which reminds me of the resurrection. My life, like each year, has opportunities to begin anew if I but seize them.

So an ordinary walk with friends became an unusual treat of companionship, color and fragrance. What a perfect ending to any day!

Thirty Third Day-Broken to be used

This was not one of my best days but there has been so much to be grateful. Someone has said:” Don’t sweat the small stuff”. And today was made up of small stuff.
My temporary cap fell out taking with it a bit of tooth. I returned to work only to find that we had food without a tablecloth. So I rushed to the shops there I dithered between, uncertain which line to join. Unfortunately, I miscalculated for the shopper ahead of me had two trolleys and a file of coupons. I could not believe my eyes. I darted to the other counter but it was laden with groceries ad as she was out of ns of cans remained in her basket. The minutes ticked by into lateness. Space doze. I prayed for grace as I asked to have another till open because I did not want to appear rude. I ran out of the store clutching the tablecloth. When I was almost there, someone asked me to get him or her some eggs thinking
I spent two hours working on a presentation and just as I was about to send it to the printers, I lost it. Unfortunately, I had to see the dentist so I asked another colleague to re-type it. She gave me the good news just before the dentist opened my mouth. She had found it! The dentist was also able to repair my tooth ready for capping.
Rushing back to the office my email did not work. Several attempts to get the footnote with acknowledgements on one page failed but eventually, I got all 44 copies and went to the meeting in the middle of the tiebreaker. Then heard the news. Presentation due next time. All small stuff that frustrate and irritate.
The high spots: the incredible work the dentist did, a frank discussion with my brother and a spirit of thankfulness that there could have been more difficult irritations. Instead of small stuff, there could have been big stuff like a child being hurt, a father losing his job. Even with irritations, gratitude and joy permeate the day.

Friday was bathed in sunshine without the sticky heat. Any islander would have enjoyed the weather. Although high winds threatened a storm, the raindrops peeped out timorously before withdrawing into the clouds. I bought a beautiful table for work and enough coffee and tea for five hundred cups. It has been an exhaustingly good week. My youngest brother sits beside me. Any moment now, my niece and her friend will turn from dinner and fill me in on their lives in the Carolinas. We are content.
In spite of my apprehensions at the dentist, my tooth no longer nags me with a continuous ache. I thanked the dentist.
I have important work unfinished but I did some important things. Cela vie!
Tomorrow has its own demands that require an early start. No lie -in this week.
Yet, I’m so very thankful for God’s grace expressed in safety while going in the parking bay, giving us patient assistants to help us put the tab l and e in my car, placing pleasant clinicians across our path. Kindness is empowering and this week I have been touched by many fingers, Most of my contacts took little time but that pause to say”hi” broke the routine and set up a chain reaction of good-will.
Kindness often costs so little but when freely given, sweetens our lives richer and makes it smoother.

My brother remarked that “Today, was a good day, sis” more than once so I began to pay attention. We both cooked breakfast for our niece, her friend and another brother. We tried to. I don’t like eggs, particularly scrambled so was a bit thrown when they requested it. I whipped the eggs, added too much milk or so my niece told me when I asked her opinion. The grits were better although like scrambled eggs, it was the first time I was serving it.
My niece and her friend refused the beans and tea, She also passed on the grits but everyone ate bacon and eggs. The banter was excellent.
As in millions of homes, meal times aren’t only about the food. They are about caring, sharing and just being together. So breakfast was a success.

My youngest brother and I left the dishes unwashed and rushed to the library. He joined the library and I obtained a duplicate card. He spent an hour in the computer lab and I passed the time alone in the Books for sale section. I could not buy all the books but among the six I selected were the works by Agatha Christie’s Poirot and A Sense of History –the best Writing from the pages of AMERICAN HERITAGE, Mindful of my lack of an American education, I try to immerse my self in its literature whenever possible.
Leaving the library, I visited a carpet shop to find a rug. As my brother looked around, I checked my email and found that although I did not win a conference ticket, Proverbs 31 will publish my article. We completed our excursion by taking the scenic river route to check on some furniture shops. In the end, we found what we wanted nearer home.

We bought some extra fruit and toilet paper before returning home. So, what made the day good? Good days are often made of ordinary things: Cooking, reading, and shopping
Piecing together the little things, a tapestry of caring, commitment and cheerfulness emerges. It is better than a good day when love is shared and accepted.

Thirty Second Day-A good day of simple Things

This was not one of my best days but there has been so much to be grateful. Someone has said:” Don’t sweat the small stuff”. And today was made up of small stuff.
My temporary cap fell out taking with it a bit of tooth. I returned to work only to find that we had food without a tablecloth. So I rushed to the shops there I dithered between, uncertain which line to join. Unfortunately, I miscalculated for the shopper ahead of me had two trolleys and a file of coupons. I could not believe my eyes. I darted to the other counter but it was laden with groceries ad as she was out of ns of cans remained in her basket. The minutes ticked by into lateness. Space doze. I prayed for grace as I asked to have another till open because I did not want to appear rude. I ran out of the store clutching the tablecloth. When I was almost there, someone asked me to get him or her some eggs thinking
I spent two hours working on a presentation and just as I was about to send it to the printers, I lost it. Unfortunately, I had to see the dentist so I asked another colleague to re-type it. She gave me the good news just before the dentist opened my mouth. She had found it! The dentist was also able to repair my tooth ready for capping.
Rushing back to the office my email did not work. Several attempts to get the footnote with acknowledgements on one page failed but eventually, I got all 44 copies and went to the meeting in the middle of the tiebreaker. Then heard the news. Presentation due next time. All small stuff that frustrate and irritate.
The high spots: the incredible work the dentist did, a frank discussion with my brother and a spirit of thankfulness that there could have been more difficult irritations. Instead of small stuff, there could have been big stuff like a child being hurt, a father losing his job. Even with irritations, gratitude and joy permeate the day.

Friday was bathed in sunshine without the sticky heat. Any islander would have enjoyed the weather. Although high winds threatened a storm, the raindrops peeped out timorously before withdrawing into the clouds. I bought a beautiful table for work and enough coffee and tea for five hundred cups. It has been an exhaustingly good week. My youngest brother sits beside me. Any moment now, my niece and her friend will turn from dinner and fill me in on their lives in the Carolinas. We are content.
In spite of my apprehensions at the dentist, my tooth no longer nags me with a continuous ache. I thanked the dentist.
I have important work unfinished but I did some important things. Cela vie!
Tomorrow has its own demands that require an early start. No lie -in this week.
Yet, I’m so very thankful for God’s grace expressed in safety while going in the parking bay, giving us patient assistants to help us put the tab l and e in my car, placing pleasant clinicians across our path. Kindness is empowering and this week I have been touched by many fingers, Most of my contacts took little time but that pause to say”hi” broke the routine and set up a chain reaction of good-will.
Kindness often costs so little but when freely given, sweetens our lives richer and makes it smoother.

My brother remarked that “Today, was a good day, sis” more than once so I began to pay attention. We both cooked breakfast for our niece, her friend and another brother. We tried to. I don’t like eggs, particularly scrambled so was a bit thrown when they requested it. I whipped the eggs, added too much milk or so my niece told me when I asked her opinion. The grits were better although like scrambled eggs, it was the first time I was serving it.
My niece and her friend refused the beans and tea, She also passed on the grits but everyone ate bacon and eggs. The banter was excellent.
As in millions of homes, meal times aren’t only about the food. They are about caring, sharing and just being together. So breakfast was a success.

My youngest brother and I left the dishes unwashed and rushed to the library. He joined the library and I obtained a duplicate card. He spent an hour in the computer lab and I passed the time alone in the Books for sale section. I could not buy all the books but among the six I selected were the works by Agatha Christie’s Poirot and A Sense of History –the best Writing from the pages of AMERICAN HERITAGE, Mindful of my lack of an American education, I try to immerse my self in its literature whenever possible.
Leaving the library, I visited a carpet shop to find a rug. As my brother looked around, I checked my email and found that although I did not win a conference ticket, Proverbs 31 will publish my article. We completed our excursion by taking the scenic river route to check on some furniture shops. In the end, we found what we wanted nearer home.

We bought some extra fruit and toilet paper before returning home. So, what made the day good? Good days are often made of ordinary things: Cooking, reading, and shopping
Piecing together the little things, a tapestry of caring, commitment and cheerfulness emerges. It is better than a good day when love is shared and accepted.

Thirty First Day. Unfinished business

Friday was bathed in sunshine without the sticky heat. Any islander would have enjoyed the weather. Although high winds threatened a storm, the raindrops peeped out timorously before withdrawing into the clouds. I bought a beautiful table for work and enough coffee and tea for five hundred cups. It has been an exhaustingly good week. My youngest brother sits beside me. Any moment now, my niece and her friend will turn from dinner and fill me in on their lives in the Carolinas. We are content.

In spite of my apprehensions at the dentist, my tooth no longer nags me with a continuous ache. I thanked the dentist.

I have important work unfinished. I am keeping my stomach controlled and my mind focussed instead of living under the tyranny of a gurgling stomach and racing mind. This week I also did some important things. Tomorrow has its own demands that require an early start. No lie -in this week. Cela vie!

Yet, I’m so very thankful for God’s grace expressed in safety while going in the parking bay, giving us patient assistants to help us put the tab l and e in my car, placing pleasant clinicians across our path. Kindness is empowering and this week I have been touched by many fingers, Most of my contacts took little time but that pause to say”hi” broke the routine and set up a chain of good-will.

Kindness often costs so little but when freely given, sweetens our lives and emboldens us to face the world. Kindness makes the world seem cozier as we realize we share our world. We are not alone.

Thirtieth Day-

This was not one of my best days but there has been so much to be grateful. Someone has said:” Don’t sweat the small stuff”. And today was made up of small stuff.
My temporary cap fell out taking with it a bit the aisle, uncertain which line to join. Unfortunately, I miscalculated for the shopper ahead of me had two trolleys and a file of coupons. I could not believe my eyes. I darted to the other counter but it was laden with groceries ad as she was out of room, tins of cans remained in her basket. The minutes ticked by into lateness. . I prayed for grace as I asked to have another till open because I did not want to appear rude. I ran out of the store clutching the tablecloth. When I was almost there, someone asked me to get him or her some eggs thinking
I spent two hours working on a presentation and just as I was about to send it to the printers, I lost it. Unfortunately, I had to see the dentist so I asked another colleague to re-type it. She gave me the good news just before the dentist opened my mouth. She had found it! The dentist was also able to repair my tooth ready for capping.
Rushing back to the office, my email did not work. Several attempts to get the footnote with acknowledgements on one page failed but eventually, I got all 44 copies and went to the meeting in the middle of the tiebreaker. Then heard the news. Presentation due next time. All small stuff that frustrate and irritate.
The high spots: the incredible work the dentist did, a frank discussion with my brother and a spirit of thankfulness that there could have been more difficult irritations. Instead of small stuff, there could have been big stuff like a child being hurt, a father losing his job. Even with irritations, gratitude and joy made the day worth-living

Twenty Ninth Day-Expect the Best

I received another tribute this morning. No, not a floral arrangement that startles us with its artistry while our minds work overtime to capture the picture. We know that it will fade.and droop so we take photos to retain the memory. Floral tributes are impressive but this was just “Thank you” and it was said with such gentle genuineness that my throat tightened with emotion. It was so unexpected. In fact I expected resistance and hard feelings. What I got was the most priceless, enduring gift of all: understanding and appreciation.

It is not often that folk thank you when you disagree with their views of themselves. Confrontation takes a toll on both parties and love sometimes is not enough to ease the hurt and sense of betrayal arising from truth telling. The threat of exposure of my real self spurs me to run for cover. Paradoxically, I try to live such an authentic life that a false self has no space but self-disclosure is so much more liberating than being exposed.

Despite this, someone was brave enough to rise above their pain and say” Thank you.” I was stunned. My reply: "You’re welcome” was not automatic as it took me awhile to regain my speech. My mind was much faster and I felt slightly ashamed at how often I resign myself to expecting a negative outcome. Human beings have a limitless capacity to surprise. They cannot be pigeonholed or put in a box. After all, they are made in God’s image and likeness.

Sure, expecting the worse ensures that I have a Plan B and in some instances when the safety of others are involved, it is prudent to plan for the most adverse event. However, most of the time, this behavior is an act of self-protection and is underlined by idolatry. Am I not saying that I can look after myself? Am I not implying that I need to protect myself from folks like me? Once again, Jesus’ tolerance of Judas although he knew that he would betray Him teaches me another way. Jesus was open with the mean-spirited Judas but even in his vulnerability, he entrusted His life’s work to a self-serving band of men. They did change, of course.
But in the meantime, the Prince of Heaven accepted their failures and envisioned their future. We can do no less. His grace is sufficient if we trust too much.

Twenty Eighth Day- More than Routine

The summer weather of the weekend left today as spring fell asleep after clothing the landscape in grey. The cold is everywhere and it is hard to feel warm.

Sometimes we have perfect weather for sailing and then without warning we are in stormy seas but it is the same ocean fuelled by the same currents, washed by the same waters. Calm and storm are inevitable. And any seaworthy craft prepare for both.
It is so easy to lose my intention and return to old patterns excused by busyness or stormy waters.

Pre-occupied as I am with family, I realized that days have past without real intimacy. Prayer and Bible reading can become automatic activities. Chores to complete before I can read the book or watch the show. I know that I can feel God’s presence doing neither but when His presence is manifest, hours pass quickly doing either one. Then the Word becomes alive and quickens my spirit. Only the Living Word can be the mirror of my heart but only the Living Word can convict as well as cleanse. So I try again to practice His presence and I’m so grateful that He waits for me

Twenty Seventh Day-Significance

Assyria knew how to implement “the scorched earth policy as he picked off Jerusalem’s neighbors one at a time. Why did God give some messages to Isaiah the prophet and not the priest? By the time Isaiah’s prediction came through, the fate of the people was sealed but so was also the doom of the Assyrians. I can imagine how people laughed at Isaiah, the mouthpiece of God who was ignored and criticized. My significance does not rely on the words I speak but on whom I speak for.
I was meditating on this in the doctor’s office, when a lady who attended so. She thanked me .as she explained how much she’d learnt during my Her comments startled as well as cheered me. Memories of other encounters with grateful students quickened my heart and lightened the anxieties of my mind.

Her story gave me a glimpse of immortality for when acts of kindness are lodged in people’s hearts, I have a living memorial. The need to be significant, to actualize our deepest selves is part of being human. One day, I got a glimpse of what Christ 's death meant for me as an individual, He did not just die for sinners. He died for me as an individual. I was significant enough.
Whatever I do or be can make me pleased or frustrated but my true significance lies in how I relate to God.
When I help God’s children to feel valued and loved, when they learn new skills; I do God’s work. When someone, who was crushed by life, finds new meaning and hope, I co-create with God a better future for them. Work then becomes a sacrament. And everyone changed by the process is significant.

Twenty Sixth Day- Discovering Success

Twenty-five years ago, as soon as I returned home from anywhere, I touched play back to retrieve my telephone messages. Now, I can’t leave home without a phone. I also require Internet access to keep in touch so I was frustrated yesterday when a loose connection made the web unavailable. Twenty first century is punctuated by frustrations that would have left my grandmother speechless in the context of her life. A mother of seventeen children, who only saw nine to adulthood, she was stressed when it rained on lines of laundry, when the coals were too damp to cook or she ran out of kerosene for her lamp. So when I fret over a broken nail or inadequate web access, I need to remind myself to avoid stressing over trivia. Nevertheless, I often find myself swept along by the modern tendency to become anxious about the non-essentials In contrast, as one gets older, even legitimate concerns like work, reputation, status are only important through the lens of our end times. What is really important when work is over, when I may not even know who I am? Certainly, It won’t be how I look or what people think. I hope it will about who loves me.
Being with my mom is reading a testament to love and if the closing years of my life could be spent as cherished, then my life would be a resounding success. Success to me is what you have left that cannot be taken away by the ravages of time, place or people. So, I want to work hard to avoid the small stuff that saps my energy, robs me of joy and distract from my purpose.
Authenticity always comes at a price but Jesus gave himself freely to Simon as well as to Judas. At a time, when it is so easy to be superficial, I can only learn to be authentic by trial and error. Sometimes, I think it is more by error than anything else. Despite this, it is a start, the journey has begun and I am so very thankful to God for that.

Twenty-five years ago, as soon as I returned home from anywhere, I touched play back to retrieve my telephone messages. Now, I can’t leave home without a phone. I also require Internet access to keep in touch so I was frustrated yesterday when a loose connection made the web unavailable. Twenty first century is punctuated by frustrations that would have left my grandmother speechless in the context of her life. A mother of seventeen children, who only saw nine to adulthood, she was stressed when it rained on lines of laundry, when the coals were too damp to cook or she ran out of kerosene for her lamp. So when I fret over a broken nail or inadequate web access, I need to remind myself to avoid stressing over trivia. Nevertheless, I often find myself swept along by the modern tendency to become anxious about the non-essentials In contrast, as one gets older, even legitimate concerns like work, reputation, status are only important through the lens of our end times. What is really important when work is over, when I may not even know who I am? Certainly, It won’t be how I look or what people think. I hope it will about who loves me.
Being with my mom is reading a testament to love and if the closing years of my life could be spent as cherished, then my life would be a resounding success. Success to me is what you have left that cannot be taken away by the ravages of time, place or people. So, I want to work hard to avoid the small stuff that saps my energy, robs me of joy and distract from my purpose.
Authenticity always comes at a price but Jesus gave himself freely to Simon as well as to Judas. At a time, when it is so easy to be superficial, I can only learn to be authentic by trial and error. Sometimes, I think it is more by error than anything else. Despite this, it is a start, the journey has begun and I am so very thankful to God for that.

Twenty FourthDay

My mother is humming to herself while two of my sisters watch and comment on a cooking show, My brother who had driven from West Virginia to Illinois in seven hours was on his laptop trying to complete a day’s work. I tried to find a three-point socket for mine, as my battery was dead. It was an ordinary scene but precious to us because we live so far apart.

Our journey to Illinois was uneventful but the unexpected tracts of purple covered fields made us gasp. My brother broke into song: God bless America and we continued to sing through mile after mile of prairie-land, my voice choking with emotion. Although, not an American, the breath-taking beauty of the landscape, fringed with pine and purple and the mounds of sun kissed hills stirred a love of country. We talked about the vastness and splendor of the land, making favorable comparisons to the cities and highways in Europe

When we arrived home, my youngest brother took us to a lake where we walked for an hour unwilling to end such a beautiful day. It was a brief respite from our concerns because the tranquil scenery soothed our spirits.

Family life is strewn with simple activities and difficult decisions. These are often the times of greatest nurturance as people show their love and care. When Jesus asked if folk were willing to leave their family to follow Him, he was asserting the importance of family life. We only sacrifice what is valuable.

My family has strong personalities, which make for interesting living. As a little girl I fantasized about belonging to a different family. Mystery books whose heroines were robbed of their birthright fed my princess fantasies. I outgrew daydreaming and am really comfortable with my Christian heritage. Nevertheless, sometimes, like tonight, I am in awe of my family who continues to teach me about unconditional love and faith.

Twenty Third Day-Renaming Zebulun

This week has been temperamental so far: sunshine alternating with angry storms, and pouring rain. However, today it seems that spring has arrived with warmth and good cheer. It was a day when the spirit sings and difficult things feel less burdensome.

My mood was in tune with the day as I was uplifted this morning with a simple sentence. Although I have read the Bible so often, I am constantly surprised at how onion-like it is. There is always another and another layer of meaning. I was completely off guard this morning as I read Is 9: 1 Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future will honor Galilee….”

Even when we make we make wrong choices and endure the consequences of those decisions; there is still hope. Zebulun and Naphtali were brutally crushed by Assyria but Jesus will be called the Man of Galilee, the new name for their old tribal lands.

One of the blessings of old age, is that there are recurring cycles in my life so whether I pay attention or not, I can’t help but notice a pattern eventually. Recalling times of desolation past is reassuring, as I know that as the cycle evolves, so time will change,
The loneliness I felt on my first day of nursing school with all my family a continent away helped me adjust to the loss of friends decades later, The anxiety of driving my first car helped me cope with the stress of driving on the right side of the road.
Stressors punctuate my life and I look for the pattern to emerge to form a richer experience. But even when life’s experiences still leave me ill prepared to cope, Jesus, the Galilean, walks through my devastated lands and transforms with His presence.

Twenty two Days

Leaving the slip road to join the I-64 was a perilous journey as I was almost blinded. Strangely, the sun looked like a giant egg yolk, edged with vivid crimson... a glowing, dazzling circle in an aerial sea of blue. It was 7.30PM and in the mountain landscape, the sun seemed low enough to be in touching distance.

During the twenty minutes of my journey, the sun splashed more and more red across her face but retained her blazing brilliance. Wearing sunshades, sinking in my seat, looking sideways were all-useless at avoiding the glare. Keeping myself safe on a fast road when I could not look ahead was of greater priority. The sun was setting but I couldn’t gaze in awe.
When young, I woke up before daybreak, walked a mile to the ocean to watch the sun rise. This afternoon I felt threatened, not uplifted by its splendor. But the magnificent sun must stay in its orbit; unlike people who have choices.

I thought of folks whose brilliance shine so brightly that people like me wilt in their glare. Yet there are others equally luminous, whose glow light the way for me to go further or be better. I am blessed to have known such people. They have made me mindful of my own relations and more determined to be a sun that lights.
Is 6:13 refers to a terebinth that is similar to the oak but when cut produces a fragrant smell. When I am cut by the painful issues of life or even when God himself needs to cut away my habits or attitudes, I hope I can ooze fragrance.

Another day enriched by two vivid images: The blinding sun and the fragrant Terebinth. Both teach me but the Terebinth provides a template for gracious living.

Twenty one days

I’m more than half–way on my journey. This lover’s walk with God but today routine escaped me. My alarm worked faultlessly. I have two alarm clocks but was too alarmed by their undependability to use them as wake up calls. While taking iphone 101, I briefly tried out its alarm. After the first ring, it not only replaced the clocks but also became my favorite iphone feature.
So I woke up but did not read nor exercise today. The morning just flew while I stayed in bed and thought. This is a poor start to any day especially at a time when I ‘m struggling with relationship, I felt disappointed but before I could get established on a guilt trip, I was startled by a thought: Lovers don’t normally read letters before going to work. I giggled and gave myself a pass. At work His presence remained during some difficult conversations. His silence supported me as I felt myself responding impatiently to a phone call. Does she not know that I’m at work? Guilty for a second, I made a quick resolve to do better. This, too, is part of knowing how to relate to Him.

God did clearly speak to me to concentrate on a relationship with Him and at first; I conceptualized it as a growing romance. Now, half way through, it seems more about mopping the floors than candlelight dinners. It is knowing that despite my failures, frustrations and failings, God is still there. It occurred to me that God could never be disappointed in me, however close we become because I was always known by Him. It is I who has not known him. It is I who expected condemnation.

Instead, there is a sense of liberation. I’m not only forgiven but I’m loved.
MY face may wear o mask of care and thought but in my heart is a rising
Flood of excitement. Practicing God’s presence has some unique outcomes.

Storms and Smiles

The leaves were the only discernible objects among the debris that swirled everywhere. Everything that was not nailed down took flight. I longed to be home,
It was girls’ night tonight. Now, I am not a girl and my friends have husbands and children. They are not girls either but with their enthusiasm, creativity and boundless energy, the use of girls is not a misnomer. These friends are God’s gift to me but more about them at another time. It is enough to say that I wanted to meet with them tonight after a difficult day at work. Their listening hearts and caring hearts uplift and support me.

I reached my car through the dust as the first drops of rain smacked earth. Carefully reversing out of parking, I started for home. The afternoon lost its light as dark clouds held the rain. My headlights and windscreen wipers were ineffective against the sudden blackness thickened by the heavy rain. I drove one block and stopped by a mailbox. Ten minutes later, I tentatively started my journey home hoping that the storm had exhausted itself too much for a repeat performance. The weather improved the closer I got to home. If it were not for the soggy newspapers and limp, wet letters, I would have thought that Teays Valley had escaped the downpour.

My friends arrived and over tea, we reviewed the outline of a new book as we talked about our children and our work. We re-read some She speaks blogs and I particularly enjoyed one by Laura Bogess. Her pictures augmented her story so well that I, the camera phobic felt motivated to start clicking. This is one of the blessings of being with young people. They stretch your horizons. Indeed, you may even discover new countries so I learn from young friends who have such generosity of spirit. They patiently satisfy my endless curiosity, as I know so little.

Probably, my gift to them is the ability to take. In a world that is competitive, where individualism flourishes, to graciously accept what others give so generously is an act of communion. God, who through team work, undertook the creation is pleased as this too is in memory of Him.

She Speaks Conference Entry

The choir exultantly sang about God controlling the storm. It was a stirring hymn of faith and praise for their pastor was in the pulpit. In the 21st century, miracles do happen in answer to prayers.

Nine months ago, he was rushed from this church to the local hospital then airlifted to a regional center where they tried to control the bleeding in his brain. Five weeks later he was home under sentence of death. His condition was rare and the location of the bleed was considered inaccessible. However, if untreated, he will bleed again with disastrous results.

As the pastor directed us to 2 Sam .24:10-18 and asked us to “Come with me to the threshing Floor” I, his sister, reflected on an incredible journey as we raced across states to find an expert who was able to perform surgery. I cannot imagine what it was like for him not knowing if he would wake up, whether he had had his last romp with his grandchildren or cuddled his wife for a final time. Living with death and wondering how it would come. Would he be alone or in company? I could only watch and give him books to feed the soul along the journey.

At 5.30AM on Febuary1st we were the first to enter the surgery waiting room. It was a day made bearable by the many kindnesses of strangers who wished us well. His wife, my oldest brother, his children and I prayed and said goodbyes before 8AM after a final consult with the surgeon. I committed him to God and space age technology.

We were so conscious of the prayers of God ‘s people around the world particularly his congregation who was fasting all day until his surgery was over. They waited at the church to hear news. Unfortunately, there was an agonizing delay as we knew it was not going as planned. There were six instead of one blood vessel involved and the doctor did hesitate to continue but God used this lithe Korean lady as his instrument. She persevered, making medical history, as the repair was completed. We were the last family to leave that waiting room. At 11.30PM, we finally saw him. He recognized us, felt his toes, screamed that he was in pain-great signs of main functions. God had done marvelous things.

So today, two short months later, the choir sang passionately. The church rejoiced in answered prayer. I wept as he preached his first sermon without cognitive disability.

I have many stories for the She Speaks Conference of Proverbs 31 but with a grateful heart today, this is the breaking news: RUPTURED BRAIN, NEW MIRACLE, PREACHING AGAIN.
I hope that these six words would give me a scholarship to attend the She Speaks Conference sponsored by Proverbs 31 ministry. I already have books by some of the authors associated with the ministry. Please check this website to see what's on offer at http://shespeaksconference.com/

Nineteenth Day

My baby brother is sick. He is my brother but he is also my baby. Have I not rocked him to sleep, taken him for his shots, changed his bottom, heard his stories. After all, I even gave him his name. But now, he is sick. He has a mental disorder and my compassionate, charming caring and comforting brother is sick.

My heart is so heavy it can hardly beat. I try to compartmentalize the anxiety but my mind is open planned. The dividers I’d erected have crashed under the weight of the pain I feel. He is the child I do not have and I love him as I do my many siblings
Nevertheless, he elicits feelings of protection that makes me long to make his world safe, to flood his world with trust and hope. He is a great human being: intelligent, unselfish and supportive. He strives even when ill to think of others and he longs for an independent life. But he is ill and there are few resources to help someone who has so many skills. Of course tax dollars buy resources and powerful lobbyists set priorities. Babies are not the only group who need a voice, who cannot speak for them. Sometimes when we are sick, we cannot help ourselves. Well-intentioned laws designed to preserve privacy and prevent abuse or exploitation has an unintended consequence. It stops loved ones from securing help and being a voice for those in need of care.

I think of the man who was let down through the roof by his friends to be healed by Jesus. Today, it seems that in similar circumstances, one would be charged with kidnapping. Yet the average family does care and cares passionately for those they love.

Today, I break my promise. I ask God to help my brother. Although, during this Lenten time, I just wanted to be with God and feel His heart, I could not resist asking Him for this one thing…my brother’s well being . It just shows how much I need Him but I know that through my concerns at this time, a loving God is be with me.

Eighteenth Day

Another weekend. This week has simply flown and now we are in the month of April and its showers. I’m glad that I had forgotten that it was April fool’s day because I started the morning with serving porridge with heaping teaspoons of salt to replace the sugar I had assumed was in the sugar bowl. Not funny for my brother. A colleague at work told her husband that someone had cleaned out his or her savings. He survived without a heart attack. Pranks could be fun. Someone said that when we want to make God laugh, we make plans. Sometimes, life does seem to play me tricks as it leads me into unexpected places. The traits that irritate us in my family re-surface in the man of our dreams. I go to great lengths to avoid confrontation only to find the same person as my boss in the next job.

God reminds me again and again that I know the plans I have for you. That is a good note on which to start my weekend. I wish I could play: I wonder what... What is God's plan for the many projects of my life? Knowing would save me so many false starts, such wasted energy. It might also save me money but I would not have learnt to trust and without faith, it is impossible to please God.

Seventeenth Day

My first computer was bought in 1986. It was an Amstrad and it worked with two discs. I booted it by inserting the operating system then inserted the logos software. I bought it in a hurry to complete a research project on homelessness. My other projects were done by typewriter which was painstakingly slow for me when I wanted to be accurate. Making a mistake in the last paragraph without a way of correcting it neatly spoiled many evenings as tried to retype the page only to make another error.
If missing deadlines on a typewriter was a minor tragedy, it was heavenly to work on a computer with the capacity to self correct, copy and paste. I adored my computer and the ability to print perfect copies until several years later when I had another research deadline. Thirty six hours before, I booted the computer after an early dinner and worked non-stop except for coffee breaks all through the night. Next day I skipped meals and with the end in sight proceeded to work through the second night to be certain of completion. My energy lasted but my computer did not. At 4.30am in the morning as I was sorting out the Appendices, there was the acrid smell of smoke and burning. My heart survived the shock of knowing that the last 36 hours of constructing tables with carefully thought out analyses were lost in smoke. My infatuation with the computer was over. A second experience convinced me of the need to complete important work with time enough to repeat the process if necessary.

Twenty five years later, technology has transformed home computing to the extent that it is almost unrecognizable from the primitive models of the early eighties. I do not have a flair for technical skills but I'm no technophobe. I attend classes whenever I have the opportunity. I've even learnt how to build a computer. I can't recall much but I'm no longer mystified. However, my software skills need updating too so I enrolled in a Mous class. I have attended other classes before. Few made a lasting impression but this class inspires me. I can work faster and better. A whole new world of mouse clicks awaits. I long to spend weeks just immersing myself in one heading after another.

Yet, this world was always there within reach. It is available on my computer. It is accessible because the computer is in my office. Yet all its time saving, document enhancing features went untouched. I feel that there are some similarities with studying the Bible. There is a ribbon with many headings which I see but never explore.

Home Button: Trust in the Lord with all thy Heart
The Empowerment heading: He giveth strength to the weak
The Insurance Heading: I go to prepare a place for you
The Prosperity heading: My God shall supply all your needs according to His riches glory
Layout Heading: IN all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy path
There are so many headings I have never used and I've missed precious experiences on the journey because of unbelief and ignorance. Exciting times lie ahead as I explore the soft ware and Heavenly ware.

Sixteenth Day

Two of my colleagues attended another funeral of a loved one. Divorce does not always sever emotional ties. Long crushed feelings that are sometimes hastily packaged in an attempt to move on can surprise me. So I hope that these colleagues have peace in their goodbyes.

One of the great things about living my life is that no two days are the same. It is similar to fashion that has the same basics but changes with frills or shorter hems, plaids or stripes to make a difference between a new look and an outdated one. Today, had a higher quota of frustrations slightly eased by meeting three new people whose stories made me grateful once again for a grace-filled life. I’m less wary now of people who always claim to be blessed, particularly when it seems to be used like a slogan. However, even amidst the friction and pressure of office dynamics, it is stimulating to be involved at the roundabout of daily living.
It is also challenging when my every discourse is monitored. After all, if God is really with me, how can I be rude, deceitful or destructive? Jesus asked us to pray “Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven”. This suggests that prayers are connected to the outcome. God’s will is so clear about the behavior of the poor and the prosperous. If He is with me, then our togetherness should positively affect the lives of others. My father used to say that there was bread in the house of Joseph because God was with him.
I hope that today someone’s life was better because God was with me.

Fifteenth Day

I attended a funeral this morning to support a colleague whose father had died. I signed the book and waited in line to see the family most of whom I did not know.
I murmured something non-specific and said that I was sorry…just words but words are all there is in times like these. I wanted to use other words. I wanted to say that nothing would have prepared them for the heartache, for the emptiness, the knowledge that their world has changed forever. Fourteen months ago, I too sat in a front row seat looking at my father’s coffin.

Time has smoothed the edges of my grief but a song; a happy moment may end in unbearable weeping. Dealing with loss peels away the scab that forms around my heart and leaves me hurting again. As I have not felt able to put all the pieces of my fractured life together, I suspect that some pieces are too fragmented to fit and make the old pattern. This saddens me but these irretrievable bits present an opportunity to live life differently. There is mindfulness in living when you walk with sorrow.

This attitude makes me grateful for the well being of those me love. It makes me appreciative of all my blessings especially when I’m aware of tragedy in the lives of so many people. These tragedies put in perspective natural loss and assure me that the loss of my dad is just “a light affliction”.

My experience of affliction will differ from my colleague’s. In all probability, she will not find it “light” but she will have the presence of a compassionate, comforting God.

Fourteenth Day

The trip to the doctor was cancelled because I awoke with a cold. My voice might have become croaky but the searing pain in my throat has gone.My ears seemed blocked but they are no longer united by a painful rod. My fever has also gone and compared to the misery of yesterday, I feel fine. I decided to go to work taking two tablets as insurance, was welcomed with relief.

Not knowing adds so much anxiety to our lives. Despite the countless number of colds I have endured, I could not understand the level of pain yesterday so feared the worse. When the signs of an upper respiratory tract infection became apparent, I could relax, sip mint tea perfused with lemon and ginger as I wait it out.

It is said that in human experience "there is nothing new". So old experiences of people and situations come in new packages. I often hesitate to open the unfamiliar or worry because of the different shape or size of the problem when I've addressed similar problems before at another time in another place. Fear can sap my curiosity and often prevents me from opening the packages life sends. Yet even what seems to be new is often made up of parts of the old so I already have the skills and experience for a successful solution.

I will try to remember this when my new staff member starts to-morrow. I will hold to this belief when I feel overwhelmed with conflicting demands. I know that things, like my walk with God, change but remain the same

Thirteenth Day

Early Sunday morning, an arc of pain across my throat and ears woke me up. I felt feverish and wondered if the fever had affected my dreams which made glad to be awake. Although I was looking forward to going to Church, I thought that I should take care of myself by being sensible. So I read “the best of everything” that I had bought yesterday. The central character, a pastor’s daughter, was always given the best of everything by her father who paid her extravagant bills out of guilt for this treatment of his family. She married the man of her dreams but thought that he should accept her adultery and excessive debts because he promised to love her until death.

Even with the failure of her marriage and national disgrace, she remained unrepentant as she felt her problems would be resolved if she married someone rich enough.
Her egocentricity was breathtaking but it made me reflect on my excuses and the dynamics of my relationships. Sometimes we can expect too much of others.

Finding acceptance for other viewpoints is part of compassionate communication, despite the claims of postmodernism, not every perspective is privileged. While I agree that absolute positions should be taken with caution, I feel that there are some ethical issues that are right in any culture or time. Ancient virtues of faith, self-reliance, saving for a rainy day, help your neighbor, protecting the defenseless still have a place in our society. It is so

I want to move with the times the same as any teenager. Yet I recall the warning of the ancient prophets against removing the ancient landmarks; so I try, not only during Lent but as a lifestyle choice to let them stand.

Thirteenth Day

Thank God for weekends. I became increasingly tired as the week faded away but stayed up until this morning to complete an article. I didn’t have time to review it and when I went to bed, better phrasing of words and alternative sentences haunted my mind chasing sleep away. So I went to bed after 4am and I did not even hear my alarm.
I stayed in bed in carefree mood feeling that I should rest some more. At 11.30am, I had breakfast and completed Solomon or the Song of Songs. As a song, it will not make my Top Ten list but as one of the thousands of songs Solomon wrote, its beauty has endured. It is after all, a love story in the tradition of the prince and a pauper. At a time w hen I’m practicing a love affair with God, reading a love story in the Bible has His fingerprints. The confidence of the Bride and the adoration of Solomon have made me revise my critique of this book.

I exercised to a CD that buzzed in several places. A few days ago it was undamaged. Now the third and fourth tracks were tortuous as it crackled and slowed down showing some positions in slow motion.

I hit the stores searching for a suitable table for coffee dispensers and a rug. Bought two sensory toys because they were irresistible. I can hardly wait to see the toddlers’ faces on Monday.

Shopping for food was fun because I found some crackers I ate as a child. Although I can eat anything, the food of my childhood reaches parts other food does not reach. When I am sick or distressed, my comfort food is what I ate as a child. It makes me think that whatever happens, all is right with the world. A good of rest and no commitments enlivened by a lengthy phone call from a childhood friend is surely a blessed day.

Thank God for weekends