Wishes

Many of you have heard me preach about meditation and the power and strength it can bring into a life. I am one lucky gal because my favourite mediation spot is often my big, deep, jetted tub that sits under a huge picture window. Because of where I live, I can bathe, by candlelight, while staring out of this window because there is nobody but the animals to notice me. Nearly every night of late, as the days get longer, I have been able to spot the first star of the evening from my bathtub. And yes, I do still make a wish each and every time I spot that first star. For the past few nights, my wish has been essentially the same and it has been fervent, begging from the depths of my soul. Well, tonight the star answered back. (Ain't it just like me to get a sassy one.) She pointed out to me that she has heard my wish for a few nights in a row now and she feels my angst but the fulfillment of this wish is entirely up to me. It is in my power to see it to fruition or not. I began to whine and beg for some outside assistance because I don't clearly see or believe that I can do it. The star got right back in my face and bluntly stated, "Then you will fail". That was all she was going to offer, she then turned her glittery back to me and refused to offer another word.


I am not gonna lie, I sat there for a few moments in a full-on pout. How dare she talk to me in that fashion? Her job and only serious responsibility is to grant wishes or at least the promise of a wish come true. But then, as I watched the darkness gather outside the window and stared at the candle flickering on the side of the tub and my meditation deepened, I realized that the star had done her job, she had kept her part of the bargain. She had granted my wish. What I want to achieve with my body and my life is one hundred percent in my power. It is wholly up to me. I can choose to be empowered and make correct choices and bring on real change or I can ALWAYS find a reason that it is too hard, or not the right time, or that I do not have the support structure to make real change.


Thank you, Miss Sassy Star. I will do all that I can to see my wishes through and then pass along what I have learned to make another person's wish come true.

Beauty always surfaces

I tried to write a poem about the feelings that I experienced today and I may come up with something yet but the emotions were too big and so I needed to write a blog post. I don't always see this clearly, the words that I posted as the title to this post, but today I am working to choose to believe these words and I am going to try and hold this belief as much as possible. This truth struck me so powerfully today as I stared over the side of the monument that stands over the USS Arizona. As we got off the ferry that takes us out to the monument I was struck, overwhelmed actually, by the odor of oil that permeates the site. I had not expected this and it nearly knocked me over. There is such a sense of reverence but at the same time, the oil smell was so physical and corporeal, such the opposite of spiritual. I caught my breath and went inside the monument. I was leaning over and watching the hole that opens in the floor in the center of the monument and watching the small drops of oil rise to the surface and create rainbow streaks in the water. And then I noticed the fish, darting and playing in the ruin. And then it struck me. This rusted hulk, this tomb, has become something wonderful and yes, beautiful. I went from opening to opening, studying the wreckage and watching the sea life dancing and I realized that the entire Arizona has become a living coral reef. The coral has anchored and established itself there in that metal and life has sprung from all of that death and destruction. And even the oil, constantly seeping up to the surface, is not damaging this life, only enhancing it with the rainbow sheen that one peers through to see the wreck. It is glorious. And I was flooded and filled with such a sense of peace and comfort. And as I listened to the park ranger describe the ceremonies that take place to burying ashes of the survivors of 7 December 1941 who choose to return to this place to join their shipmates and the ceremony that occurs yearly on the anniversary date, I had such a sense of fullness. These men, who have not yet been released from their duties, who stand on an eternal watch, they are at peace, they are redeemed and avenged and they rest easy. And, they are content as long as we remain grateful and vigilant and work hard to keep the world as much a place of peace as possible. And watching the reaction of my children, how much they were touched by all that they heard and saw in that place, I feel so much hope.

The real cycle of life, the service cycle.

I have messed up so many things lately, mostly due to having misplaced my priorities. But I am still being blessed and being allowed to see blessings come to others. God is awfully good that way. I have lost some friends along the way this past week and I am still filled with confusion and sorrow about all of my mistakes and I find myself doubly stunned that God will still find it in his heart to bless me. But I can see how the good works I have managed to squeak out offer me the opportunity for blessings in spite of my many shortcomings.

A dear friend stepped up for me this week and came through when I was laying on my bathroom floor wanting to die. She went out of her way and I was praying for blessings for her and, you know what, that prayer was answered. Because she did what she did for me and that put her getting home much later than she wanted to get home, she happened to arrive as her children were working together to put the ornaments on the tree. She was able to sit in her car and just watch them through her front window as they laughed and reminisced and shared this duty happily together. It was a powerful moment for her, a real gift, as this looks to be the last year this will likely happen for their family due to college and grown up life taking her oldest to another state next year. There is not a better gift that I could have ever wished to offer her and I am so grateful that in serving me, the timing was such that she was given such a breathtaking moment.

Today I wanted to be at church early so badly because a talented organist friend of mine was playing the greatest piece of music ever written as prelude to our meeting. (That piece of music is Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" in case you were wondering.) But I needed to take care of a sick child and deal with yet ANOTHER leaky tire on my car and also do the groundwork necessary to make certain that our family could pick up a friend who we were gifting an afternoon at the Evergreen Children's Chorale concert after church. This friend has a tough time getting around on her own right now and much in her life is a struggle and I know that she loves music more than anything in the world and so I just knew that we had to get her to this show but the snowstorm was making that a bit tricky with her wheelchair and all. But a little legwork and brain power showed me the way to make it work. Well…we got to church late, really late. Poor Seviah was giving a talk despite being ill and she had to walk up in front of everyone and I will probably go to hell for that, but, well, add it to the list! Anyway, it came time for us to have our rest hymn, a song that we usually sing as a congregation between speakers to wake us up and get the blood pumping again. But today it was announced that my friend Gaylene would be playing her prelude number for the congregation since so few of us were able to hear it before the meeting. This was an amazing gift for me and I sat with tears streaming down my face as she played. For me, this was a hug from the heavens telling me that my good efforts were being noticed and there was someone there to help me repent and work past the messes I keep making.

Seviah gave a beautiful talk today on the scripture in Proverbs 4:26 where we are admonished to "ponder the path of thy feet". She reminded us that it is indeed a path we walk, not a trail we have to blaze, because a savior has walked the path before us and has felt what we feel and has been pierced with the pain that we feel and the pain that we deal to others and has overcome it and now gladly offers to show us the way and hold our hands as we try to do better. He is also offering blessings to remind us that we are indeed loved, despite the shortcomings. Whew, that's all I can say.

I have a book bug

Yes, I do have an illness. I used the word "bug" in the title of this post because it is the only word that I can think of that is a synonym for "severe illness" that begins with a B and I really wanted the alliteration.

Okay, this admission comes as no surprise to any of you, but I have had a few experiences of late that cause me to realize that perhaps it is bordering on a psychosis.

I took a normal friend to the library with me the other day and pulled up my account and she saw the number of books I have checked out, on request, and in the variety of lists I maintain on my library account to check out soon. She was torn between being amused and disturbed. I giggled about it then but later began to really think about me and books. And I began to wish that I had not shown her that particular small symptom in my greater malady. I felt acutely embarrassed.

As I sit here in my library writing, I look around and I see a house that is in desperate need of attention. My guys have been away all week and so it has just been me and Seviah here and we have been intensely busy juggling all that needed doing. So…I sorta have an excuse. However! If you look at any one of my bookshelves in this library or in any other of the various rooms that I stash books, you will find shelves that are in perfect order and every one of my 3000+ volumes have been carefully cataloged on a spreadsheet so that I can locate a book at a moment's notice. And doing the hard work it took to create such a catalogue was one of the happiest times of my life.

I also had a conversation with another friend this week when she inquired as to what I was reading. I responded that I was reading "Mugby Junction", one of my Halloween classics. She seem puzzled and asked what I meant by Halloween classics. I explained that it was one of the books that I read nearly every Halloween time. She didn't seem to understand so I explained that I have classics that I read every year at certain times of the year. She is an avid reader and so I thought that this would make sense to her. It did not. I began to make a few queries with other readers and learned that I am rather alone in this approach.

I did find that one of my students keeps to quite a rigid schedule in her reading. She always knows exactly what book is coming up next on her TBR pile. I am not that disciplined. I do keep the pile(s) in some semblance of a to be read order, usually by what is due next at the library, but I have a terrible time sticking to the order. I get ornery and pull one right out of the middle quite often. But I was grateful to hear of this young lady's approach to reading, it made me feel less alone.

I have pondered on this quite a bit and I have decided that I am not going to continue to be bothered or embarrassed by this behavior. I am too old and set in my ways to change (not really what I believe but it sounds good) and it is just time to be what I am and get comfortable. So I will return to Mugby Junction with all of its train tracks leading so many different destinations and its famous ghost story "The Signalman", the story that the Doctor deemed the greatest short story ever written.

Ah, the Doctor, now there is a whole new Cynthia psychosis...

In Tune

Many years ago we purchased a piano from a used furniture shop. We got it for a small amount of money because it was not in great shape and sounded really icky. We fixed up the outside and made it look pretty and put it in my library where the kids, well Michayla, have tinkered with it for years. It looks good in my library, It is a great place to showcase my one splurge piece of art (the head of the Madonna from Michelangelo's Pieta) and I like knowing I have a piano. However…it is painful to listen to. I mean really painful. I have tried a few times over the years to get someone to make the trek to Bailey to tune the poor instrument but was never successful for a price that I could justify. Well recently my friend Valerie and her family decided to purchase a cabin in our area and begin the process of converting their lives to mountain living (yippee!). Valerie is a musician and a piano teacher and so she happened to mention to me that she was moving a piano into the cabin and would need the services of a tuner. I jumped at that and told her that if she could twist someone's arm to come up then they could have two jobs for their travel. She made the arrangements and yesterday Mike came and made my piano sound pretty. I cannot tell you how excited I am about the sound it now makes. We have the dubious distinction of being the worst piano that Mike has encountered in all of his years of tuning. But I can smile about that because now we can make beautiful music.

There was a lesson that struck me deeply as I recorded my day last night before bed. We are often like that piano. We take good care of what is on the outside of us, we often look good, or work really hard to present a good face to everyone around us, but we do not have harmony on the inside. Our notes are filled with clashing discord. But we just keep working on the appearance and do not take the time to fix our keys, to tighten our strings and clean and adjust our hammers in order to run as smoothly on the inside as we do on the outside. There are times when we dabble in fixing the inside, but so often we find that the price is too high and we feel so alone. THEN…someone comes along and is willing to help us split the cost of the tuning. We come to realize that we don't have to shoulder then entire cost and burden alone and there is someone to show us the process and help us along the way. For me, the ultimate aid comes from the Savior, but often his works is done through others and I am so very grateful for so many people who have helped to carry me and lighten my burden and the high cost and effort it takes to keep me even mostly in tune.

My piano is not tuned to perfect concert pitch, it could not be pushed that far. Mike explained that these instruments are living things and can only be pushed so far in a single tuning, especially one as out of tune as my poor piano. So, it is a half a step flat from perfect, but it is in tune with itself. I tell you what, that is me as well. I am not perfect, but I am trying and I do get tired from the efforts I make to make myself better and I have to rest at times and accept that I am not perfect but that I am feeling the connections to those around me and I am sounding good for the moment. Mike said that one day, in the future, he could return and do more work on my piano, after she has had time to rest (yes, I am making my piano a girl). God is the same with me. He pushes then he lets me rest and then he pushes me again. I am glad that I have God and that he knows me and that he is patient enough to use this instrument even when I am a step flat from concert perfect!

Until she wears out

There have been so many powerful experiences in the past week that I need to just sit at this computer and write for hours to make certain that I capture everything before it begins to fade. But all of these great new insights and awe-ha's (Michayla's spelling and I love it) have worn me out. And I do not think that this is an accident. Today as I was leaving church, I watched my friend Jennifer take her wobbly one year old, Lexi, by the hand and walk with her from the far corner of the building clear out and across to the far end of the opposite parking lot. I was walking behind her, watching her adorable chubby little legs desperately try to keep up with mom and not fall down and just be a big girl. (Most of you don't know Lexi, but she really is a spitfire and wants to be as big as possible as soon as possible…kinda like her mom was as a girl…) I almost said something to Jennifer about being a brilliant mom because that long walk is gonna wear Lexi out and there will be a bit of peace and quiet for awhile for mom. Then it struck me. That is exactly what God did to me this week. He stuck his finger out and let me hold on and take my bowlegged, wobbly steps and see some great new sights and learn a few new things and remember a few old, important truths. And he took me the long way round and, boy oh boy, did he ever wear me out. And now, I can picture him kicking back and saying, "Whew, I wore her out for at least a few minutes and now maybe I can get some peace and quiet without her asking a million questions about a million things and begging help for a million people." Okay, maybe not in those words, but I think he is hoping for a breather from my endless curiosity. I am also seeing that I am like our new little puppy. Sometimes you just want to throw that chew toy REALLY far in hopes that she will take a bit more time retrieving it and bringing it back to you and then proceeding to chew on everything else but the chew toy. God would appreciate it if I would just chew on the, quite meaty, bones that are already sitting in front of me instead of running around trying to find more. But…I know he loves me and I also know that all of these questions and queries are part of spiritual gifts that he gave me and so I do not plan to give him much of a breather.

Boy was I a dope.

When I was younger and I first was attracted to genealogy and family stories, I kept searching for ancestors from some exotic locale. I was not at all excited about having most of my ancestry come from the United Kingdom. This seemed so boring. Boy was I wrong. As the years have passed, my love of all things British and Scottish has been unearthed and then has grown to be an enormous part of my personality and my focus. Then I was finally able to make the trip of my dreams and I learned that all of those genetic memory theories that I have been hatching and fostering for years had real validity and I was not travelling, I was returning home. I have been terribly homesick every day since I returned and the experiences that I had there brought me over and over again the realization that I had ancestors there who are still loving me and looking out for me from the other side.

Since I returned, I have been studying the history of this land and these peoples and it has been a fascinating journey. And right now I am studying the Anglo-Saxons and that early history of England. I am married to and my children are Egberts (Egbert is considered the first king of England) and so I wanted to learn more about those "barbaric" tribesmen who finally came together and began to form a kingdom. Boy was I wrong. These people were in no way barbarians. They were amazing and had an intellectual life that is rich and bountiful. And then I saw that they were also fiercely autonomous and proud and I am falling in love with these people. When Pope Gregory sent missionaries to this island, he felt strongly that God was telling him that these people would only accept Christianity if it was presented in their language, on their terms. He instructed St. Augustine of Canterbury that he could not convert these people like they had been converting people on the continent. They could not use only Latin. They had to use the native tongue. And this worked. The Anglo-Saxons were converted, but on their terms. With the use of existing pagan sites and dates of worship being utilized, not replaced, in the name of Christ. And these people changed the face of Christianity and brought a power and a strength and a sense of personal worship that had been lost, I think, since the time of Christ. I thought that I knew the power of men like Wycliffe and Tyndale, but I was wrong. The power of these men and this attitude was forged centuries before Wycliffe, with men like the Venerable Bede and Alfred the Great. And as I sit here studying tonight, I am positively soaring at the thought that I am descended from such a people. There are things that I miss about being young, but not being stupid and small-minded!