Let Heaven and Nature Sing, Especially Nature.

I went through a pagan phase as a mid-teen, in those pre-Twilight, post-Anne Rice vampire days, except I wasn't a Goth like the other people I knew who were pagan.

I didn't do it for the spells or The Craft or to make people like me. I did it because of the woods and the music.

When I think "pagan," my mind conjures (ha!) up images of dancing outside to Celtic music, and giving people names that are either hippie-ish to the max or with a mix of vowels and consonants unfamiliar to most American tongues. I think of intellectualism and sisterhood and beauty and oneness. Of course, I know these are not ALL of paganism's traits, but this is what I think of on this dreary winter day.

So I got to thinking...

Why have we as Christians distanced ourselves from that? Obviously we should distance ourselves from worshiping anything other than members of the Trinity, but why have we so easily given up the other aspects?

Why don't we, who believe that man was given stewardship of the earth, spend more TIME in that environment? Why can't we worship our Lord, the Creator, in the midst of His creation?

And dang it, why have we settled for peppy, mainstream, pop music as our worship music? Where are the fiddles and pipes and other good instruments?

Why is Christian sisterhood so different? Why can't we spend time together as females just cooking and laughing and sharing WITHOUT big hair and dinner-with-a-guest-speaker?

If we believe God made us, all of us, why are we so afraid to discuss the deep issues? YES, there are times where we ultimately have to rely on faith, but why are we afraid to use the minds our Lord gave us?

Why can't we enjoy the beauty around us, the moments we're given -- to be fully in the moment and loving Jesus at the same time?

These are the things I'm wondering about on this dreary winter day.

Why is death so difficult?

I know the title of the post probably prompts a few people to scoff, "DUH! Because death sucks!" in slightly better terms. I guess I should preface that I know death sucks, but I am one of those rare, weird people that wants to work for Hospice and deal with death regularly. I think that in itself is a calling and does not make me better or worse than you, just called to a specific area you are not.

That said, I've cried a lot over the past weekend because people in my church - people I don't even know other than faces - lost their 16 year old son this weekend. I've cried because that is what we do as humans and as Christians -- we grieve with those who grieve, and we try to bear one another's burdens. I cry because the pain of death is so great that it MUST be shared even if the mourners themselves are unaware of its spreading.

So WHY does death suck? If we are simply an evolutionary product, why wouldn't our coping mechanisms for a natural occurrence evolve so we wouldn't get sucked into a black hole when we lose someone? And coming at that from a non-evolutionary, spiritual perspective, why do we grieve so terribly when we have the hope that God is in control?

The answer, to me, is that death was never part of the original plan. Way back in Genesis, God created this beautiful garden and it had two trees in the middle, one of which was the Tree of Life and the other the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God told Adam & Eve that they were free to eat of any tree except that second one. He mentioned ONLY that second one by name and told them to eat of the rest. Which means, of course, that they could eat freely from the Tree of Life.

I often wonder what that fruit was like. Was it sweet? Did it make you tingle when you tasted it? Did you get a burst of energy from it? Or did it taste sorta vitaminy, in a good way, like organic stuff from the natural foods store? Was it soft or crunchy? Did it have a rind like an orange or a peel like a pear?

Anyway, mankind screwed up and disobeyed and then an animal died so they could be covered with fur. The first non-plant-cycle death happened as a result of that sin, and we've been dealing with death ever since. And I think there's a trace of us that longs for our original, sinless, non-dying state. There's a part of us that knows we weren't supposed to lose one another or to be lost ourselves and that part is desperately longing for things to be righted. That part of us - the little tiny iota of us that retains our original being - knows the incredible wrongness of death to our very nature.

Those are just very random thoughts jumbled up. I know there's a lot more to the issue, but I think that's the heart of it.

The Things That Matter

So now that I've had time to digest it, I'll post it. My Tater tried to kill herself the other day, and almost succeeded. When I heard the news, everything else faded away except the thoughts of "God, I wish I'd..." and the overwhelming urge to storm the facility where she is, bust down the doors and just hold my child.

We get so caught up in life and in ourselves that we forget the basic, most important aspects of life. We get caught up in looking right, in acting right, in money,in jobs, in pop culture. We forget the basic human connections that make life worth living.

Rare is the day you hear a dying person say, "I wish I'd had more shallow relationships." You hear "I wish I'd spent more time with my son" (or husband, or father, etc.). Rare is the day you hear "I wish I'd seen more mediocre films" or "I wish I'd played more Scrabble." You hear "I wish I'd taken that trip to the Grand Canyon my wife wanted to take."

Life is so short. We get one go-round. Even if you disagree with that, we get one go-round in this body and with these circumstances.

What good is it if we achieve everything material wise but have no one to share it with?

I hope this post will remind everyone that it's the PEOPLE in our lives that matter. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go play Wii...with my kids.

I so get it now

That old saying "If I knew then what I know now..." I get it.

If I knew then that I can be a confident, popular (and dare I say it...flirtatious) person despite my weight, I would've had happier high school years and probably not just dated burnouts.

If I knew that I could make people laugh myself, I wouldn't have cowered behind the "funny girl" and fed her jokes during Freshman year, watching her get all the credit.

If I knew that math and science were wayyyy cool and that I loved the logic behind them, I would have hung out more with the nerds and less with the stoners.

If I knew that I am naturally an extrovert and that life's circumstances had forced me to be shy and introverted, I would have taken some risks and probably become more of a leader.

I wonder what I don't know now that I'll know in a few years.

I am a tree (long)

I received something very neat in my email, from a friend who prayed for me and then sketched out the prayer. I kinda didn't ask permission to post it but I figure it was given to me and I'm not naming names. Plus this has really inspired me so I'm putting up the picture. The explanation is as follows (I edited the names):

You are the tree. Tall and strong, but seemingly lifeless. Peanut is in the tire swing that hangs from your branches. One side is starting to break. The grave is The Bear. A life that is dead to you and slowly being scribbled out of the picture. The yellow represents God. God will hold the rope that holds Peanut up together. God is still in your branches, and comforting you during this winter. Spring will come. God, as hard as it may be, is also still with The Bear. He may not be wanting God there, but God is God and He is with The Bear as well.

I was very touched by this and couldn't put my finger on what exactly touched me. But after a while I realized it's the line "Spring will come." I so AM that barren tree right now, seemingly lifeless. I have gone into survival mode, much like a tree during winter. I feel as though I will never again have beauty or fruit in my life. But yes, spring WILL come one day!

But never satisfied with the surface, I decided to look up what happens to trees during their dormant period. Trees in dormancy are protecting themselves from the elements, surviving. But more than that, their root systems are still active! There, under the ground, hidden from sight, their roots are still burrowing away into the ground, drawing life from the soil.

Oh, how I hope to burrow my roots deep into Life in my heavenly Father! and someday Spring will come!

And now, I leave you with the short poem "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer.

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast

A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair

Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain

Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree

What do you say?

What do you say when someone you know has been struck by the worst of tragedies?
What words are ever appropriate when no human should know the suffering of that person?

God knows, yes.

But no person should have to know.

You know in the book of Job, Job's friends came and sat with him for seven days and seven nights and never said anything.

I don't even think seven years would be long enough.

Pray for this family I (and some of you) know. They've lost a child in a horrible accident. And it WAS an accident.

A dirty little word

J O Y

That's a word that gets tossed around, usually by smiling faces who seem as if they've never had a rough moment in their lives. It's hard for some of us to even imagine being joyous ever, let alone possessing a life-long joy. But what, exactly, is Joy?

A quick glance at dictionary.com (What, you thought I was going to quote Webster's?) gives us a few definitions. The first is what you'd suspect: a rapturous or elated state of being. But it's the other one I care about: a source or cause of keen pleasure or delight; something or someone greatly valued or appreciated.

THIS kind of joy is what gets me through life. My life, as Morrissey claims, is a pigsty most of the time. But I possess that second kind of joy. I have four children, a couple of people I'd refer to as intimate friends and, most importantly, I have the hope of heaven. It is great joy!

That's why when I was having a really crappy the other day, I was able to turn on the Newsboys' Joy and still relate.

You give me joy that's unspeakable
And I like it, and I like it
Your love for me's irresistable
I can't fight it, I can't fight it

To Forgive

There's so much to say about forgiveness that I scarcely know where to begin. I'll probably blog more about it tomorrow but here's some random thoughts:

I've been reading a lot of Steve Taylor/Chagall Guevara's lyrics and ran across this song that I vaguely remember. Part of it says...

Follow his lead
Let the madness recede
When we shatter the cycle of pain
Oh, we will live
To forgive

I love that part about shattering the cycle of pain. If we hold onto our anger, to our bitterness, we are allowing the person who wronged us to continue controlling our lives. It is not THEM who is punished - it is US.

A couple of weeks ago I went to a church and found "If" by Amy Carmichael tucked into my bulletin. Amy was a Christian missionary in India who rescued temple prostitutes (children). She certainly saw a lot of things that we would find hard to forgive. This particular part caught my eye:

If I say, "Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget," as though the God, who twice a day washes all the sands on all the shores of all the world, could not wash such memories from my mind, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

Isn't that beautiful?

Heavy stuff today.

There have always been wounds within me. Even as a child, there was a standoffishness, an inability to let people really KNOW me. Now that I'm older, I wonder if that was really my problem or everyone else's. I always thought I was the issue but I'm starting to think everyone else is too self-absorbed.

Now there are deep, deep scars from years and years of abuse. I bear no physical reminders but I carry a sadness that is mine alone to bear. There is an emptiness in me, a void that I'm not sure can even be reached, let alone filled.

People try to tell me that I'll meet a man who will truly love and appreciate me. I just want someone who understands me. I've lived without love and appreciation for a decade. Just give me someone who understands.

...though I will always hope to be loved.