Tag Archives: spiritual encouragement

Political correctness …

Posted on December 27, 2012 | Leave a comment

has really cramped my style.  There are things I want to know, questions I want to ask, mysteries that I want to unravel, but since the world has decided that everything is taboo, it seems that I’m not allowed to ask.  If I ask what the significance of a certain dress is for, I am frowned upon.  If I ask what the red dot on the forehead means, I am given the cold shoulder.  I don’t ask because I find it odd or disturbing; I ask because I am curious.  I really want to know.

I want to know what someone from India has for breakfast on an ordinary day.  I want to know what someone from Germany holds dear in their heart.  I want to know why and how and who.  I am curious by nature and have a hard time keeping my questions to myself, but find that more often, instead of answers, I am given silence.  Why is it that we have to be so separate.  My blood is as red as the next person’s.  My heart beats, my lungs fill with air, my eyes see, my mouth speaks.

I spent my years in elementary, middle and high school fighting cliques, trying to belong in a place where I really didn’t.  I really thought that, once I reached adulthood, those things would pass away.  There are things I want to learn, people I want to photograph and cultures I want to know more about, but I feel thwarted by a bigotry, prejudice and hatred that isn’t mine.

I know folks of different nationalities and cultures, different colors and countries, but I, because of the standards the world has set, am an outsider.  I don’t want it to be that way, but try as I might to find a way to change it, I continually find myself on the outside looking in.  I would be honored to be invited to sit at the table for a traditional African American New Year’s Day dinner.  To participate in the beauty of the preparation of an Indian wedding.  To partake in the awe of a German Christmas tree decorated with candles.  To walk in the vineyards of Italy and see the beauty that is there, learn what makes them beautiful and listen to the song that the growing vines sing.  I want to sit in an Irish Pub listening to the storytellers as they weave their magic and feel that I am a part of it all, not an outsider, not an American, not  anyone except who I am.  How satisfying it would be to sit at a long table, whether I speak the language or not, with a culture not my own and just absorb it, draw it into myself and hold it in my heart for all time.  I want to understand the color of red in the paint of Easter eggs in Russia.   I want to know what the traditional foods of Hanukkah represent, what the words to the songs they sing  mean.   I have so many questions … and no one to answer them.

I am not politically correct.  I call a spade a spade and am not afraid to speak my mind.  I only wish that there were others, ones who were willing to share, so that what I know of would be more than what I know of.  I am willing to learn if someone is willing to teach me.  I am willing to open myself to the possibilities of endless fascination, but before I can, there must be those willing to open themselves to the possibility that everyone does not harbor a heart of hate.  I am a child of God, that is true in the purest form, and as such, I want to know all there is about the world I live in.  I cannot help it.  I want to know.  I want to learn.  I want to know.  Surely, in all the world, there are others like me.  Teach me and I will learn, and as I learn, I will teach others.  Together, one at a time, we really can change the world.  Come … Let us reason together.

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A heart for all mankind … a heart for knowledge … a heart for truth

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Christmas, to a Follower of Jesus …

Posted on December 26, 2012 | Leave a comment

is, second only to Good Friday and Easter, the singularly most important religious holiday that is celebrated.  It is true that Christmas, to the secular world, has been commercialized with thoughts of Santa, spending money and giving gifts that may or may not have any bearing on the holiday itself.  It has become a day about getting, getting more and then being disappointed in not getting enough.  But to those of who hold Christmas in our heart for what it truly means, it isn’t about getting at all, but giving.  It is the celebration of the Virgin birth of the Christ child.  Now, it is no surprise that there will be many who will scoff at this.  That is not unexpected or taken in offense.  I know, in my heart and soul, what I know in my heart and soul.  It brings me great pleasure to honor Jesus at the celebration of His birth.  To revere  Him for the Savior that I personally know Him to be.

It is a beautiful image in my mind to think of a sweet little baby, wrapped in swaddling clothing, lying in a manger that is normally used to feed farm animals.  As it has been taught to me by wise teacher, swaddling clothes were usually reserved for females in order to depict the suffering that they would endure through childbirth.  To find a male child wrapped in swaddling clothing was simply not done.  But Jesus, more than any woman bearing a child, would suffer.  And not only would He suffer, He would do it willingly.

I can think of none of the children in my life, not my daughter nor my nieces, that I would sacrifice for anyone, much less a sinner, a murderer, child molester, thief.  Not a chance.  I would sacrifice myself before I would offer up any of those little ones dear to me; and only then as a trade.  But willingly?  I cannot fathom.  Nor can I fathom knowing the day and the hour that I would have to turn my back on any one of them, leaving them to fend for themselves while I remove myself from from their suffering because that was the only way to obtain the redemption that their death would bring.   It would be hard enough losing a child unexpectedly, but to know, day after day, that the time was drawing near.  I cannot fathom.  Were it up to me, it is quite obvious that mankind would be doomed to die in their sins for at the last moment, I would balk.  I am, after all, only human.

I find it, therefore, an honor and privilege to revere the Christ Child and the Father who was willing to sacrifice Him for my sins.  I’ve heard it said that God is callous and cruel, but what an enormous amount of love it would take for mankind in order to make Him turn His back on the Son He loved just so that we might be redeemed.  Nothing callous about that.  It is, without doubt, love in its purest form and I can only hope that, as I go along this life I’ve been given, I can give as unselfishly as my Father and my Savior.

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Luke 2:1-7

2 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.

2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered

.7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

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My New Year’s Resolution …

Posted on December 23, 2012 | 2 comments

is to not make any resolutions.  It doesn’t matter what I say to myself on the eve of the the first day of a new year; life will come as it will come.  Things are stressful enough without adding to it unrealistic expectations and spur of the moment declarations.  There is more than enough on my plate now.  I find that the moments of quietness in my brain come further and further apart.  It’s not that I worry about things as I’m not a worrier by nature, but that there seems to be a revolving door of thoughts and images, ideas and dreams, revelations and memories that filter through 24/7.  Keeping up with what society deems to be important through material things and thought processes are as far removed from me as they can get.  I could make promises that I know, even as I make them, I won’t keep them, but in doing so, I am setting myself up for failure and, doing it on purpose.  I fail at what I attempt enough without doing it purposely.  But failing at something doesn’t make it a lost cause, on the contrary, it gives me insight for when I try again.  If I fail again, I will fail better and eventually, I will either succeed or gain better understanding of my limitations.

When I can see the things that failed in the past, trying again is easier because I know the things to avoid.  I understand more of what makes me tick.  It is a work in progress.  I can’t expect others to understand what I, often, have difficulty understanding myself.  I have failed at friendships, relationships, and many other things, but the only thing that will truly make me a failure is if I stop trying.  Once the will to try is gone, then nothing remains but to become a useless entity in the world.  I am who I am and will be who I will become because of the experiences I’ve had and the ones I have yet to experience.

The definition of a resolution is the act of analyzing a complex notion into simpler ones.  There is nothing simple about making a life-altering decision at the spur of the moment simply because it is New Year’s Eve.  Instead, it is irresponsible and self-deprecating to place unrealistic demands on myself that will plague my already overflowing brain with the  idea that I am not able to do what I vowed, in an otherwise magical moment, that I would do.

I want to experience that which I haven’t experienced and repeat that which brought me great joy.  I hope to see places I’ve never seen, visit places I’ve never been, find what I didn’t realize was lost and be there for the people who need me.  My life is a simple one, for the most part, and I can’t think of a good reason to complicate it with unnecessary static.

No, there will be no resolutions this year.  Instead, I will continue to take one day at a time and live it to the best of my ability, following the plan that God has for my life and relying on my faith to protect me from fear and indifference … and hope that, along the way, I am able to impact someone’s life by the one I lead.  Tomorrow is only lost if I decide it isn’t worth the effort and as long as I have breath in my body, the gift of life is worth the effort.

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Sleepless nights …

Posted on December 21, 2012 | Leave a comment

were made for blogging.  There is just something about being wide awake in the middle of the night that makes me want to write; makes me want to share things that mayhaps I wouldn’t share on a normal day.  I imagine many bloggers have an agenda that they follow religiously.  I have no agenda.  The filter between my brain and mouth fails with distressing regularity and ergo, the often off the wall, “what in the world was she thinking” blog posts become reality.  This night is no different from my life on a daily basis, a life that is filled with inconsistencies, confusions and ethereally beautiful moments.  Therein lies the problem; the differences are  not easily discerned until it is too late to turn back..

I have so many thoughts going through my mind right now that focusing on simply one is nearly impossible.  I am trying ardently to deal with, what I truly believe to be the answer to a prayer that I have been praying about.  The answer was not what I wanted to hear and not the outcome I had hoped for.  Nonetheless, I did ask for an answer and was given one.  So there you have it.  Question asked, answer given.  Whether or not I am pleased with the answer is irrelevant because it is not my will I am working to achieve, but my Father God’s.  He sees the big picture, the whole thing, all of the edges and I am left in the moment I am in at the  particular moment I am in.

That’s the thing about praying.  I ask for guidance and answers and, while I should be leaping with joy when I receive an answer from God, I find that sometimes, despite my best efforts, I question Him.  In this particular instance, I realize that I have been through a very similar scenario four times at this point and all four times, the outcome has been the same.  I am disturbed by this.  Not by God’s infinite wisdom, but that I am so predictable that I would take the same path, though with different beginnings, that lead to the exact same outcome.  One that offers no closure, but simply an abrupt end to what was thought to be a wonderful thing.

Life is confusing at times.  Though it has moments that are so beautiful, it hurts my  heart to look at them, I find that, for the most part, I am looking for answers to questions that have no answers.  It seems that the questions, more often than not, are riddles and I have never been good at riddles.  I threaten, in my  mind, to simply write people off and never try to correspond with them again, and then my conscious click in. There are times when I wish I didn’t have a conscience and could think and do whatever I wanted to whomever I wanted to do it to and not have a moment of guilt over it.  But were I to go there, then Satan would be as happy as a witch in a broom factory.

Throughout my life, I can think of four distinct relationships that have ended without closure.  Without reason or explanation.   Four distinct experiences that have, for reasons unknown, ended the same way.  I am certain that there is a lesson to be learned here, but obviously, I have not yet learned it.  I trust too much, share too much, give too much and then wonder why I am left standing, empty handed and alone, at the end of the day.  One would think that after so many experiences that end the same, there would be a red flag; a warning sign or some other type of blinking light that says “you don’t want to go there again”.  But there isn’t.

I am too trusting, too gullible, to easily manipulated.  I know this, but it doesn’t seem to help me learn from past experiences.  It is difficult, though, when each experience starts differently.  It is impossible to know, at the beginning, how it will end.  It doesn’t make being too trusting, too gullible and too easily manipulated any easier to swallow at the end of the day.  It leads to disappointment, as much in the deceiver as  in myself and adds layers to the wall that has to be rebuilt in order to preserve my sanity.

Friends come and go.  Some are much better at deceiving than others and, as I said earlier, being a gullible sort, I fall for the “we have so much in common”, “we are cut from the same cloth”, “I feel like I’ve known you forever” line.   I think that, in the future, I will be oblivious to this line of thinking.  I don’t like being used and am saddened that I have, once again, been simply a sounding board and ego booster that, once the course has been run, am nothing more than a  blast of wind on a summer day.

I wish I had the answers.  I wish I had the knowledge that is not revealed to me.  I live my life walking on faith and sometimes, the faith is misguided.  That is no-one’s fault but my own.  I am gullible and I do have a seeking heart.  That makes me an easy mark for those who’s only agenda is lifting themselves to a higher level.  I don’t hold it against them as they are doing what they do.  I hold it against myself for enabling them and allowing my thoughts and feelings to feed the fire and come to the realization that they thrive on this enabling and then forget me completely.

It is an humbling experience to learn that, even though I should know better, I still fall into the same traps of wanting to be a part of something important, something beautiful, something exceptional only to realize that I was only a stepping stone.

I want to be angry, but that is not in my nature.  I will cry and I will berate myself for being a fool, but know that, most likely, I will repeat the same cycle over and over again.  The complexity of my heart and mind is, in reality, simply too much for most people to comprehend and so they just pretend that I never existed.

I don’t mind it, overmuch, but with each transparency, I learn that I will likely never learn.  Such is the nature of my life.  But I’m ok with that.  I figure if I walk through a door with my eyes wide open then any surprises that come up are on me for, when I walked thorough the door, I did it willingly.  In my mind, I go to places unknown, with no stresses  or pain; no insecurities or moments of foolishness, but only the beauty of God’s Amazing Grace.  I am blessed even when I feel  more like I’m being punished.  No one can ever punish me as much as I punish myself and as long as I take it, it will continue.  Praying for the strength to break the cycle, even when it hurts.  I am me.  I am Gina.  I am not a doormat.  I will work each day to remind myself of these basic facts.

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For the first time in years …

Posted on December 18, 2012 | 1 comment

a Christmas tree is in my home.  I don’t really  know what to feel about it.  There are so many emotions swirling through my mind and heart that I find it nearly impossible to separate them.  There is, first and foremost, the pure joy of having a lighted tree in my house that I am moved to tears, over and over, moved to tears.  The smell of cedar permeates the very existence that I know.  The lights blink, fade and flash, making me wonder if perhaps I am having a spell of some sort.  I have only lights on the tree as anything else seems to take away from the beauty. I am enamored and find myself staring, nearly hypnotized by the purity of that which is before me.

I hadn’t really planned on having a Christmas tree.  It has been so long and the thought made me feel sad and anxious along with a myriad of other emotions  and to be perfectly honest, I was afraid.  Afraid of the thoughts it would provoke and the memories it would invoke … but as I look at and dream with the lights, I realize that it is not made of things past or memories best left unearthed, but perfect beauty.  I am  awed by what I see and know that the memories I am making are my own, not those that are carried over from time past, but mine.  I don’t know that I have, before now, had memories that didn’t include someone else, memories that, in my heart, belonged only to me.  But now I do, and so I will cherish them.  I can’t say for certain that when Christmas comes around next year, I will have a tree, but I hope I will.  I hope for many things and hope is a good thing … maybe the best of things.  As long as hope is alive, no good thing ever dies.  I am grateful.  I am thankful.  I am content.  I find that being content is, without doubt, one of the greatest feelings ever.  Yes, there are people I am missing in my life, friends that I seem to have lost touch with, loved ones who are far away, but contentment is something that comes from within.  It has little to do with the outside world and everything to do with how I feel when I am alone.  Being alone does not have to be coexistent with being lonely. I am not lonely.  I am, at times, confused, and possibly discombobulated, but not lonely.  I have everything I need right here.  Yes, I am content; a beautiful thing indeed.

CHRISTMAS

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The reflection we see in the mirror …

Posted on December 17, 2012 | Leave a comment

is all too often a misconception, a lie on the most basic level, depicting only the things we find wrong with ourselves on a superficial level.  There is nothing of the heart, spirit or soul that is seen when watching ourselves through a looking glass.  The imperfections of the physical can take on a life of its own if, when we look at ourselves in a mirror, we see only what is reflected back.  But there is more … much more.  The mirror cannot reveal what lives inside our hearts; the joys, sorrows, insecurities, strengths and weaknesses.  The image can be deceiving if we fail to look past the obvious.

How many times in life do we hear “you can’t judge a book by its cover” and then do exactly that when looking at our own cover.  We judge ourselves by the reflections of the physical and forget, sometimes, to remember that there is so much more to us than what is portrayed on the outside.  We ignore the beauty that lies within ourselves and forget that we have the capacity to relay our life experiences to others seeking a kindred spirit; our experiences with all the joys and disappointments that go with them.  The smiles we smile, the encouragement we, sometimes unknowingly, give, the experiences we have to share, the wisdom we have to pass on, the love we have that wells up, looking for a place to land, another soul to share it with, another heart to give it to; the possibilities are endless.  Hurt and disappointment are all around us; wayward souls looking for a bit of understanding, sympathy, empathy and encouragement.  Often the waywardness reminds us too much of what we already know and makes us want to close off, to forget the bad things that life has dealt us;  in doing that,  however, we forget the goodness that has come our way as well, hiding the joys and wonderment and then we become as lost as we thought we were to begin with.

All that is good and wonderful is within our grasp to give. The ability to share what we know and feel is something that, though sometimes difficult, is freeing on a level that will take us higher than we have ever been before.  When we give of what we cannot see from the outside it allows us to forget, for a while, that which looks back at us when we look too closely at our reflection.

I am as guilty as the next person.  When I look in the mirror, I see a plain-looking woman with blemishes and scars, eyes that are too big, brows that are too thick, lashes that aren’t long enough; the list goes on, the imperfections many.  Those things, however, are the superficial and dwelling on them is self-centered and vain.  But there is more to me than what I can see  when I look at a reflection of my physical self.  It often, though, takes the needs and desires, the hurts and disappointments, the joys and sorrows of those around me to remind me that I have more to offer than just what can be seen at a glance; a courage we often think we do not have within us.  Yes, it takes courage to share what lies deep within us so that others can find  understanding through our experiences.  In my daily work, I often see people at their lowest point; sick, disheartened, disenchanted with life and sometimes, at their rope’s end.  It is at those times that what I look like on the outside has no bearing on anything whatsoever, but what I have to offer from the depths of my heart that matter and make a difference.

The next time you look in the mirror, stop and think about what others see.  Wonder instead about the words you speak, the prayers you pray, the empathy you are able to embrace.  It will make the reflection in the mirror seem insignificant; for what we see of ourselves often has nothing in common with how others perceive us.  It is important that we see with our hearts and not simply what is perceivable with our eyes, for our eyes will often deceive us and when that happens, we are of little use to the whole of humanity.

Always strive to be who you are, not who you perceive yourself to be because of the reflection in the mirror.  The physical image is just that, but the spiritual and soulful image, well, that’s another story altogether and one that is begging to be told so that others, who feel they are alone, will learn that they are not.  Once they know that, they can begin to see themselves in a place other than in a looking glass.  And the impact has the potential to change the world, one person at a time.

underwater

Joshua 1: 9 ~Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

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When you don’t get to say goodbye …

Posted on December 16, 2012 | 1 comment

it leaves a void; a hole that can never be filled, a wound that never quite heals.  No one ever thinks that the last time you see someone will be the last time you see someone.

It doesn’t matter if it is a friend, husband, wife, mother, father, sister, brother, child.  It just doesn’t matter.  We always expect to have the next time.

But sometimes there isn’t one.

Sometimes life takes an unexpected turn that leaves us bewildered and wondering what, if we had  been given the chance, we would have said.

I found this out myself, first-hand, a few years ago.  I said goodnight to my husband and the next morning, as I did every day, left him sleeping when I went to work.  .

I, as every day before, left him a note telling him good morning and that I loved him, but didn’t wake him because there would be plenty of time when I got home for idle chat.  While I was working and running petty, unneeded errands, he left this world and when I got home, ready to share my day with him, he was dead.

There was no next time.

No next moment.

No next day.

I was devastated.

How could something like this happen?  How could there be so many things left unsaid?  So many dreams left unfulfilled?  So many moments that never found their way into the reality of every day life?

It is disheartening to find oneself with so many unanswered questions and unsaid words of love and devotion.  It seems that as time passes, there are even more words that come to mind that, if there had been the chance, I would have said.

We, none of us, have a promise of a single minute other than the one we are currently living in.  I learned a valuable lesson that day.  I learned to say what I was thinking, speak my mind and share my heart with the ones that are important to me.

But as all things, as the world continues to turn and time continues to pass, old habits find a way of re-entering my life.  I find that there are things I want to say, but wait because I am certain that now is not the time.  Or maybe I can’t seem to find the courage to speak that which is in my heart.

Either way, it means that I really didn’t learn anything from my experience and that all the pain and sorrow I suffered was for nothing.

What is it about being human that makes us hold what we feel so close to our vest?  To keep the thoughts and wanderings in our minds, hearts and souls to ourselves because we either feel that we will be misunderstood, ridiculed or simply ignored?

What is it that makes us feel that we are less than we are simply because we doubt our own importance in an ever-changing world?

I don’t want to be that way.  I want the people I love and care about to know that I love and care about them.  I want them to know that I think about them often, sometimes daily and sometimes several times a day.  I want to have the courage to tell people when they have hurt me so that they will know what moves my heart.

Time is fleeting and life is too short, even when there aren’t extenuating circumstances.

I look at my own life and instead of embracing it for what I have learned, I compare it to the lives of those around me.  I belittle my own experiences because in my mind, they are mundane when placed side by side with others.  I make excuses to keep my thoughts to myself and find reasons not to say what I need to say.

But if I don’t say what is in my heart, then if, while I sleep, I die, those words and thoughts will die with me.  The same goes for everyone.  There isn’t always another chance, another day, another moment in time.

Sometimes the last time really is the last time.

I try, sometimes, to remember the last words I said to my husband and I can’t.  I know at some point, I told him I loved him, but did he know just how much?

Did he know how I respected him for his knowledge and contribution to my growth in life and spirit?

Did he know that I needed him?

I can only hope where he is concerned, but in the here and now, with family, friends and loved ones, I have the power to tell them what I need them to know.  The power is mine and mine alone and if I choose to keep the words to myself, then if some unknown event occurs, the power that was mine will become a weakness I will be given no choice but to live with.

Life is short.  Don’t waste a moment.  Don’t miss an opportunity to tell someone you love them, are proud of them, are happy for them, miss them, are praying for them.  Don’t let the sun set on words unsaid for there is no promise that the sun will rise on that life in the morning.

Be well, my dear ones, and give each other the words that only your heart can say.  For tomorrow may not come and then the words will have no place to go.

spiritofjim

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Standing still as shattered pieces fall …

Posted on December 15, 2012 | Leave a comment

and cut me over and over is something that I know intimately, but I realized today that though I know it, I only know a little piece of it.  I have tried to imagine, even while I know I cannot fathom such an atrocity;  losing a child.  Then to realize that not only have I lost my child, but that nineteen other children were lost at the same time is immeasurable.  I find that each time I think of such a horror, I burst out in tears for those who are facing that situation even now.  Knowing that the world is mourning my loss would be of little or no consolation when faced with an empty bed in an empty room in an empty house in a now empty life.  Knowing that there were nineteen different families who found themselves in the situation I was in would bring no comfort, only more bafflement, anger and grief.  I think I would find it hard not to be bitter even as I was grateful, that there are parents everywhere holding their children safe this night.  There are no words, no gestures, no deeds of goodwill that can even begin to bring comfort after such a senseless and brutal death of a child.  No human words or gestures, anyway.    Losing a child is losing a child, be it from sickness after months of hope and prayers or because that child is taken by the hands of a madman, a stranger, who decided to gun them down in cold blood for sins that the children had not committed. The little children are innocents and because of it, the battle becomes not one against nature or sickness, but of one against evil.  It doesn’t make the loss any less painful, but it does make it different.

I have spent the better part of the evening trying to wrap my mind around what a relatively small, close-knit community must be feeling at this moment.  I have not succeeded.  Each time I picture in my mind’s eye the tiny bodies lying shot to death, I have to remind myself that I live in a country where young children are not gunned down as they attend kindergarten class.  I tell myself that surely, there has been some mistake and that twenty children were not killed for a reason known only to a madman.  I tell myself that it couldn’t possibly happen where I live and then immediately seek out my nieces and hug them so hard that they complain about it.  I find that I cannot let them go.  They squirm and complain, but letting them out my arms before I have breathed in the scent of them, touched their sweet little lips to mine and stroked their downy hair is not an option, not for a while, not until I am convinced that they are real and safe and accounted for.  Something that twenty families in a small town in Connecticut will never have the opportunity to do again.  The sorrow and pain that I feel is no more than a drop of rain in a writhing ocean compared to theirs and that in itself makes me cry even harder.  I want to help.  I want to console.  I want to encourage.  I want to bring comfort.  But it is not in my power.

I cannot comfort them with words or gestures.  Their lives have been irrevocably changed for the worse.  What likely started as a normal day for these families ended in bone-crushing sorrow and depths of despair that cannot be described within the confines of this blog.  The cries and screams of mothers and fathers will echo down every valley and soar above the highest mountains for days and weeks and years to come.  Such sorrow cannot be contained and even though I did not hear them with my ears, my heart breaks at the sound I know is there and I find myself sobbing, yet again, for what cannot be changed.

I will do the only thing I know to do for them and that is to pray for comfort in a time of sorrow so black and so deep, an abyss that seems to have no way out.  Time, it is said, is a great healer, and from personal experience, I know that to be true … but time has never had to heal me from the loss of a child and I find that while I have compassion and a deep, deep sorrow for the loss, I cannot even begin to comprehend it.

Lifting up, in the name of Jesus, those who will be unable to stand for a long time is the only recourse I have.  But stand they will and fight they will and remember they will.  The road will be difficult and strewn with landmines and  obstacles that will take them backwards more than forwards; at least for  a time.  They will never get over it, may not get past it, but hopefully, can one day, come to terms with it enough to get out of bed in the morning.

This night, as the nation and the world mourns the needless loss of little children, may we join together and pray collectively so that a veil of protection can be woven around the grieving families.  Let us tear our clothing and throw ourselves to the ground to wail for that which threatens to suffocate us.  They have suffered enough for a lifetime.  Let us pray that that they can face it tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that.

The little children are in the hands of God, but the hands of their parents are empty and their hearts are shattered.  Join me as I pray that they will be able to find some measure of comfort in some aspect of this tragedy and that in time, the memories that hurt them so deeply now will somehow bring them the comfort they seek.  I don’t know what else to do.

soaringhawk

Romans 12:21 Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

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Posted in baby, blog, brokenness, compassion, courage, death, death of a child, death of a loved one, emotions, Encouragement, faith, family, fear, feelings, from my heart, God, help, Horror, Jesus, Life, life experiences, loss of a child, Moving on, Photography, prayer, Sorrow and loss, spiritual healing, Time

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Being a greeting card designer …

Posted on December 7, 2012 | Leave a comment

was never  in my plans; it wasn’t even in the back of my mind.  A thought not yet thought, a dream not yet dreampt.  It never really occurred to me that I could design greeting cards until one day, four years ago, when I was looking for a place to make a birthday card for my friend Len.  I wanted to use a photograph of our Great Pyrenees dogs to upload to a card in order to wish a happy birthday to my dog-loving friend.  I had looked up such sites before, but could find none that would allow me to upload my own photographs onto the card.  And then, out of the blue (always a sure sign that a blessing is in the midst), I found Greeting Card Universe.  It was exactly what I had been looking for and the site said that I could upload my photographs and make cards out of them and actually make money off of them.   I had an overwhelming urge to do just that, caring about the photography and not really expecting to make any money from what came out my heart and head.  The site said that it could take several months to sell a card and it could be years before any revenue was made.

My husband, who was still living at the time, encouraged me to make more.  To put the words in my heart with the photographs that I had been given.  I had to come up with a name for the store and because I give God all the glory for what I see through the lens of my camera, Through the Eyes of the Spirit just popped into my mind.  Jim was one of my biggest fans and a sounding board for new ideas and thoughts.  He was brutally honest and I appreciated that, as honesty is very important to me.  I began to put words to the photographs I had taken and created cards that I could scarcely imagine that anyone would want. I was at a crossroads.  A place where I had two choices; share what I had been given or cowardly hide it away because I couldn’t fathom that anyone would want anything that I had created.

So I did it. I took the leap of faith and uploaded a card with my own photograph and my own verse and prepared to wait for months or even years for anyone to take an interest.  Eleven days later, I sold my first greeting card.  The feeling was one of jubilation, honor,  humbleness and, quite honestly, disbelief.  I simply could not believe that there were people who had an interest in the words I had to say, words that were given to me, those not my own, but placed in my heart by a faithful God.

I immediately considered the first sale a fluke and then more came.  And more after that.  It seemed that I had a knack for coming up with the words that people wanted to say, but didn’t quite know how.  I made card after card, the verses rolling off my tongue as though they were native to me.  What inspiration and joy I had from each one and every time I had a sale, I was thankful and gave thanks to the Lord who had given such a wonderful thing to me.  It became a ministry.  One of encouragement to the downtrodden and suffering.  It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.  Many times I cried over the verses for they were born of life experiences and hardships that I would never have dreamed could ever be anything more than a burden.

It has been four years since I joined the world of greeting card design and more than 20,000 cards have sold.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Twenty thousand.  I am stunned.  I continue to be stunned.  And with each sale, whether it be for one card or 500 cards, I feel the same as I did when the very first one sold.  The thrill and exhilaration has not faded.  Each time I get a notification, I first thank God, for it is all for His glory.  My name will fade from the mind only moments after hearing it, but His name will still be on the lips of His people until the end of time.  I am  honored that He has chosen me to be a part of His ministry through something that I love as much as my life itself.

In my heart of hearts, I am a photographer.  I see things differently and that, in itself, is a blessing.  I would love to be able to thank every single person, from all fifty states and thirty different countries for their support.  It isn’t possible.  I  don’t know who buys my cards.  All I am privy to is the location from which the card was purchased, but that doesn’t impede my desire to pray when I sell a card for “loss of mother” or “college graduate” or “thank you from bride to father”.  I am grateful for each one and feel a sense of gratitude and humbleness that out of  hundreds of thousand of cards, someone picked mine.

I don’t take this blessing lightly as it has had a profound influence on my life.  And I am, as I said, very grateful.  I am blessed beyond what I have the words to say and at times when I am feeling low, He lifts me by using the talents and gifts He gave to me to bring joy that would otherwise be absent.  I am in love with Jesus and take great pleasure in knowing that He loves me more than I can ever love Him.  Although life has a way of kicking me down from time to time, it cannot compete with what lives inside of me.  Life will go on whether I am a part of it or not, but how wonderful to know, that through the gifts given to me, that I am able to bring joy and encouragement to others.  That, without doubt or reservation, makes my life worth living and for that, I am grateful beyond words that I can say.

So again I say, to everyone who has ever purchased a card from Through the Eyes of the Spirit, I hope you got even a tenth of the joy from receiving the card as I got from creating it.

blackandwhite_rainbow

Isiah 41:10 ~ So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

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Posted in believer, bible verse, black and white photography, blog, brokenness, choices, christian, courage, dreams, emotions, Encouragement, facebook, faith, feelings, follower of Jesus, friends, from my heart, God, Greeting Card Universe, Greeting Cards, insecurity, Jesus, joy, Life, life experiences, love, Photography, Sorrow and loss, spiritual healing, story, strength, Time, worship

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falling without grace…

Posted on December 1, 2012 | Leave a comment

there is a wrong way and another wrong way.  Nobody (except maybe stunt people) gets up one morning and says to themselves, “today, i believe I will trip over something ridiculous and break half the bones in my body simply for the fun of it”.  I can’t think of a single normal person who hopes for such maladies.  I’m sure there are others who will be glad to see November end, but I feel that I want it very badly and am anxiously awaiting the stroke of midnight tonight.  While the date on the calendar has little to do with karma, fate, cosmos or other things that have little to do with anything and everything to do with nothing, they can certainly cause an immediate attitude adjustment.

I spend much of my time hiking and simple climbing over rocks and through crevices, sliding down hills and holding myself upright with trees because the trail I am on is too steep to stand otherwise.  I’ve had minor incidents on these rambles, bruises and sprain or two, but it took much more simple, mundane and downright boring ways for me to actually put myself out of commission with injuries.

I have gone my entire life with only two serious falls that caused great distress over breaking things.  The first happened when I was somewhere around the age of ten.  My mother had just bought me these incredibly great bracelets.  They were colorful and at least an inch wide each.  There were three of them and they were great; I could scarcely wait to show them off at school the next day.  As it happened, however, I was walking upright, as humans often do, and just fell over. Tripped over an imaginary line and fell down the patio steps. I skinned my knees and elbows pretty badly, but that was not the worst of the incident.  I broke my bracelets, all of them, and actually cried over them.  The second, which was much more serious, resulted from a slip in the shower and nearly destroyed my ankle. I remember threatening my (now late) husband that if he called the paramedics before I was dressed, it would be himself who needed immediate emergency care.  Thanks to an exceptional Orthopedic surgeon, I can’t even tell that it was ever broken (except when going through a metal detector; that still requires much explanation and often being pulled aside for questioning).

This month, however, the record has been, like my poor body, shattered.  Did I fall while climbing the treacherous trail to the white rocks?  No.  Was it while descending the winding rock steps to my favorite falls?  No.  Did I do it while standing at the edge of a 2,000 foot drop, inches from the edge, just to get the perfect photograph?  No.  Mayhaps by climbing the steep, shaded so usually slick hill to the cabin behind our property.  No, not that either.  I did it first by tripping over my niece’s Basset  Hound and, just as those broken bones and stitches were healing, secondly by tripping over an open dishwasher door.  Not only are these very boring ways to seriously injure oneself, it makes it hard for people who ask what happened to hold in their snickers.

They may as well laugh about it; I do.  The alternative is to have a continuous pity-party and make myself feel worse than I do by reminding myself that, until clearance is given from the current orthopedic surgeon, I am unable to steady my camera with it’s heavy zoom lens with my left arm.  Being the bad patient I am, when the moon was so beautiful the other night, I decided to blow off his recommendations and take some shots of the moon.  As wonderful as the  high of photographing something so magnificent was, the doc was right.  It was excruciating.  But man, oh, man, I did get some great moon and Jupiter shots!  Some pain is just plain worth it.

While my broken nose is healing, my fractured ribs are less slowly trying to  send me over the edge, the chipped kneecap doesn’t squeak quite so much, the progress with my shoulder is much slower.  The feel of that bone moving around makes me sick and when I get sick, my ribs hurt and my collarbone threatens to go on strike and stop doing its part to hold my head where it has been all my life.

I guess the moral of this story of the wrong way and the other wrong way to fall is to just not fall to begin with.  I’m convinced that if I didn’t get as much exercise as I do traipsing around the countryside, strengthening my muscles and bones, it would have been much, much worse.  As it is, three broken and one chipped bone, a busted mouth, a scar worthy of acceptance into the Klingon clan scar directly between my eyes, gashed chin and a separated shoulder joint has been an eye opening experience.  These events tell me that is safer to climb a steep, slippery trail with big rocks and little leverage than it is to walk across my own (flat) driveway or through my own (also flat) house. To cheer myself, I had planned to head to the mountains tomorrow, however, this being the height of hunting season, it would be just my luck (as the streak has already shown itself to be targeting me personally) to have a stray bullet find its way into my skull as I drove along the winding mountain roads.    For those who laugh at the escapades, don’t feel bad.  Laughter is the best way to get through difficult situations and I have no problem poking a bit of fun at myself.  Have had many laughs up to now because looking back, it was pretty funny.  It’s still quite painful, but is beginning to be more funny than painful.  The downside to that; it hurts to laugh.  I find myself impatient to get back to the difficult, dangerous climbs and trail shoots so that I will be, once again, safe and sound.

whiterocks_trailshoot-150whiterocks_trailshoot-104

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Posted in accident, blessings, blog, deformity, emotions, Encouragement, facebook, facial injury, feelings, Hiking, humor, injury, laughing at myself, laughter, Life, life experiences, Moving on, Nature Photographer, Photography, story, Time

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