Peace will find a way

Yesterday, December 1st, was a difficult anniversary. Maggie Long, a seventeen year old wonder child, was murdered in her home in our neighborhood. It is a hard anniversary for me as a mom and a teacher and it is an even more difficult anniversary to my daughter and many other young people who loved Maggie. And these are all kids that I love. And yes, the fact that the murderer has never been caught adds immensely to the difficulty.

I had made the decision to sign our family up to sing sacred carols with the stake group that had been invited to do so in the Olde Golden Christmas parade on this date. I felt the need to be out and about, doing what good we could be doing on this date. It was a wise choice for all of us and we had a terrific time and loved the hours we spent as a family wandering the shops and streets of downtown Golden after the parade had finished. We even got to take a horse drawn carriage ride around the city!

Getting to the staging area of a parade meant a lot of flurry on a Saturday morning and so I found no time for my morning meditation, on a morning when I really needed to meditate. I was frustrated by this, but it couldn't be helped. We arrived at the staging area just in time and had a great time watching all of the participants arrive and prepare. As we were waiting, I heard my phone ring repeatedly but when I checked it there was no call. It was then that I realized that I was hearing real bagpipes and not my phone! I followed that blessed sound and discovered a bagpipe group warming up on the patio of the visitor's center. I found a bench that was sitting fully in the morning sun right next to Clear Creek and I sat down and listened as the sun warmed my face. As I sat I heard Scotland the Brave, Simple Things, Amazing Grace, Good King Wenceslas, and finally, Greensleeves. If you know me at all you would understand that if you added a wee bit of Bach to that playlist you would have the mediation music for Cynthia down to a tee. I cannot even describe how glorious this personal meditation moment was for me. I sometimes think that I cannot really meditate away from my beloved Bok Gardens, but that was about as perfect a meditation as I have ever experienced.

Later in the day, I walked into a clothing shop and saw, as if there were a neon arrow pointing to it, the most adorable flannel cardinal nightgown. This is always a sign that my great grandparents are near and want me to be aware. (Don't laugh, it's true.) It will sound silly to most of you, but I knew in that moment, as I had known on that bench a couple of hours earlier, that I was so very not alone. I was so loved and hugged and there are plenty around me, seen and unseen, who are taking good care of me. I didn't even realize it until that very moment, but that is the message I most needed on this difficult day. I just needed to be reminded that God is so aware of each of us and while he may allow us to struggle as a part of being mortal, he also never leaves our side.
 

Managing technology

On a recent trip to Florida I had an experience that really caused me to think. I was so caught up in getting photos of flowers and a variety of things that I missed a really wonderful moment. It took my breath away and really opened my eyes and I have been thinking and pondering on this ever since. I have set a new goal for myself, and I would invite others to consider trying the same thing. I will be working to make sure that I have truly caught an image in my brain and recorded it there and acknowledged the feelings I am feeling before I work to catch anything on camera. And, I am making it all about me, not about sharing with others! Yep, in this instance I think it is okay to be selfish and self-centered.

This is the photo that I was trying to get when I had my epiphany. I wanted this photo because I wanted to write a blog post about how the gardenia and its magical scent goes through stages and the aging flower still smells wonderful but in a different, spicier way. I want to see myself as that aging gardenia, still having something positive to share, but different than the new, young flowers out there.  I still have something to offer, especially as a teacher of young people. But the writing of the blog post and the capturing of the photo should not have taken precedence over the powerful jolt I got from the spirit in that moment. I should have stopped and really meditated on that rather than on getting the perfect photo for a blog post (this is one of several shots...)

Sunday evening, the leader of our church, the man I consider a modern day prophet, gave a challenge to the youth of our faith to take a seven day fast from social media. And after the seven days to make an assessment of what they missed, what relief they found, etc. As a teacher of youth, I feel the need to take on this same challenge. I have been posting "Unplug Every Day Challenges" on my Facebook wall and I will refrain from even that for one week as I truly work to unplug! (Except for posting Kodren's update tomorrow, I will still be doing that!)

I will report back in seven days and let you know what withdrawal/misery/joy/relief/peace I experience along the way. Thanks for reading! I love you all!!

In the end what matters?

I have just spent the past couple of weeks doing a fairly in-depth study of the Byron brouhaha. Let me warn you off of ever thinking of doing such a study yourself. The whole Regency aristocracy is a depraved nightmare and you just don't want to go there. I have learned a few things along the way. While I love the Romantic poets, I mean I seriously love a number of them, I do not agree with their philosophy that one must have a certain level of depravity in order to allow one's genius flag to fly. I read apologists for both Lady and Lord Byron in my research and was quite stunned to read over and over again, that Lord Byron could not have created anything beautiful unless he was a depraved monster, that his depravity led to his genius (okay, they say it much nicer than that, but that is the gist of what they are saying). I am now going to work on creating a list of people who made the best choices they could make, given their health and circumstances, and still wrote works of beauty. Feel free to offer up your suggestions.

I also came away identifying with Lady Byron in a number of ways (except for choice of husband, I got that right, she did not). She had a marvelous ability to read other people and make a quick assessment of their needs. However, she could not turn that gift on herself and gauge her own needs and monitor her own responses in a healthy way. I can relate to this struggle. She was a philanthropist who truly understood where the education system needed to go, a sharp departure from where it was currently running in her day and she went to work and turned the lives of many children around with her educational programs, schools, and offerings. I have grown to love and appreciate this woman.

In the end, would I seek out or accept a life of selfish depravity if I could, as a result of such a life, write the way Lord Byron could write? Or...would I be content to be largely forgotten and even vilified by many, even though I was a decent writer in my own right, if I could make the difference in the lives of children and be a patron to such great contributors as George MacDonald and Charles Babbage? I am walking away from this course of study believing that, though she was far from perfect, Lady Byron made the correct choices.

Submitting to a Mentor

Each year I "submit" myself to a mentor (in addition to God) and study from their words each day and try to incorporate the wisdom they offer into my life. This year that mentor is Seneca, in the form of his moral letters to Lucilius. On only the second day of this mentorship, in his second letter, Seneca addresses reading with a strongly worded letter including the following quote, "Be careful lest the reading of many authors and books of every sort may tend to make you discursive and unsteady. You must linger among a limited number of master thinkers, and digest their works, if you would derive ideas which shall win firm hold in your mind. Everywhere means nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends up having many acquaintances, but no friends. And the same thing must hold true of men who seek intimate acquaintance with no single author, but visit them all in a hasty and hurried manner." He goes on an elaborates, but you get the idea.

Okay...I will admit that the first time I read this letter, I scoffed, major eye rolling. However, it will not leave me alone, my brain won't let it rest. My soul reminds me constantly that I cannot demand that my children and students submit to mentors if I am not willing to do the same. So...I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna read a far fewer variety of authors and take a few authors to a place of depth this year. This is proving to be far more difficult than I anticipated. I need some accountability so I am putting this out there and posting to my fellow Facebook book junkie groups so that they can hold my feet to the fire when my flibbertigibbet self goes running after every pretty cover displayed at the library. (If you are in one of the groups that I report to regularly or if you are a part of my physical life, please feel free to scold and reprimand as I wander.)

I have to admit that, as I've made preparations to follow Seneca's admonition, other scattered areas of my life have become more stable, clear, and uncluttered. In fact, I find that I am getting chills quite frequently as I realize that bringing reading, my greatest passion, into a place of order is likely going to have an intense effect on my entire world. I hope to report back on this as I think this could be quite huge. In the meantime, I'm curious, what "limited number of master thinkers" would you invite in if this challenge were presented to you? I REALLY want to know!

Light

So...it is that long-awaited day, the day of the eclipse. So much hype and so many people running all over the country. It has been interesting to watch, especially as a Wyoming child, seeing the throngs of people move through all those small towns. We were content to be in our mountain home and enjoy the 93% that happened here. We had no glasses but I remember as a child when I saw an eclipse the sky was kinda boring but everything else was magical. This time was no different. As I was watching and pondering and even meditating outside I was overwhelmed with powerful thoughts. If I had turned around and stared at the sun, I would have damaged my eyes permanently. We cannot handle that kind of light. It is the same with God. We cannot handle his brilliance with our mortal eyes and yet he is shining on us always. True faith comes not from demanding to look at the light, not demanding proof and seeing all of his light for ourselves before we will believe, but in turning our back and allowing the light to shine safely on our backs while we make beautiful shadows and do great things from the light that is shining on us always. Spending our energy demanding proof or demanding that God show us his love by what he gives us, like some kind of Santa Claus, is damaging to our souls, it leaches the greater vision from us and we lose the ability to see and to be warmed and strengthened. And there are times of eclipse. There are times in our lives when trials or emotions or struggles come between us and the light and there is a drop in temperature and there is a dimming of the radiance and the birds stop singing and everything feels dull and we can be frightened or feel despair. It is then that we must remember that the light has not moved, it is not going anywhere, circumstances or our own decisions have caused a cloud or a body to pass between us and the light but it will pass, the light is available still in full force, we just have to either wait it out or make new decisions that will cause the interference to move along. And even as the darkness is blocking the light from hitting us fully, we can dance, just like the leaves on the trees, and make magical, half-moon shadows and that in itself will cause the darkness to move along more quickly, bringing us back into the fullness of light. God is my constant. I am grateful for the light that I feel shining on me. And...now...my job is to keep dancing, to keep making my shadow something of beauty no matter how much of that constant light happens to be shining on me at the moment.

Place of worship and comfort

There are many different places of worship. There are those who find temples in nature, in their own homes, in a ballpark, and, yes, in a theatre. Today, I got the news of the loss of a dear man who was a friend and a colleague and I am devastated. My heart shattered as I tried to grasp that, after such a long battle for his health, Scott is gone. I was struggling to get my emotions under control as I headed to the high school for the parents' meeting for Seviah's volleyball team. While my intellectual self knew that it was 6:00 and that most everything save the gym would be locked up, I said a prayer that perhaps I might be able to get into the auditorium. You see, this was Scott's realm. This was his place of worship. And this particular stage at Platte Canyon High School was where he had spent his happiest days (and those are his words, not mine). In one of those beautiful tender mercies that God and the universe will send our way when we most need it, the auditorium was open. I listened in on the parents' meeting and then I slipped away and sat in the dark auditorium and sobbed my heart out. It was so right. It was where I needed to be, in a place where Scott was so at home. Life feels rather like a blank, empty stage right now. Now we have to build a new set and locate new props in a show that no longer contains Scott LaBelle as a character and that hurts more than I can express but I would still take this pain over the thought of never having acted alongside Scott on this world stage. "He was a man, take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again."

A refuge in the storm

Yes, this is a tree, just the trunk of a tree, but this is my blog/journal and I wanted to have a photo to remember this experience. If you look close enough you can tell that this tree and the ground in front of it have a dry spot, surrounded by lots of sogginess. We made a trip to my beloved Bok Tower Gardens on Sunday and we got there and made the trek to the tower just in time for two things, the 1:00 concert and a heavy downpour. We all ran for the shelter near the tower but I could not hear the bells from inside the shelter due to the rain pounding the roof. So I grabbed the umbrella from my husband and I headed out into the rain to see if I could find any sort of sensible place to hear the concert. You see, the numbers that were listed in the concert included Ben Jonson's Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes as well as Bach's Organ Concerto No. ! and so it was seriously like the concert had been chosen especially for me. I just couldn't let a little rain cause me to miss it. As I wandered around the tower, getting more and more drenched, I suddenly noticed that there was a large Spanish Oak, right next to the tower that seemed relatively dry on one side. I headed there and propped myself and my umbrella as strategically as possible against that trunk and I had a front row seat to the most wonderful carillon concert! As I stood there with my eyes closed, contemplating and taking it all in, the thing that so often happens to me at that place occurred, I got a word stuck in my mind. The word "refuge". As I listened to the music and let the word steep through the layers of my brain, so many of my favourite psalms kept floating through my thoughts. The Lord is identified as a refuge time and time again in these verses that I love, and he is indeed a refuge but refuge isn't always comfortable. The origins of the word mean to "flee back" and that is what the Lord is, he is a place you can run back to in times of trouble. However, even as the tree gave me some measure of dryness and safety, it wasn't a complete shelter. The Lord seldom gives complete shelter either, we must deal with the natural consequences of free will as well as weather some of the storms of being human but he never forces us to weather them alone, there is always some sort of refuge available. Again, it is often not as complete a refuge as we might wish, but it is a strength and a place of safety nonetheless. Then there often comes that moment when someone comes along and wants to share your refuge. As I stood there listening and meditating, Karl came to find me and startled me as he snuggled in under the umbrella to share my small, dry space. I am not gonna lie, there was that split second when I felt that flare of frustration, of wanting to keep the entire place of refuge to myself. But my better nature quickly took over and I scooted and let him in. Now the refuge was less comfortable but also warmer as it was shared and we were both less alone. Sharing our refuge can be a tough choice, but it is always the right choice and sharing will nearly always bring added safety and strength. And I felt peace, peace that I only feel at certain times and in certain places and then I carry it with me in that still place inside of me to pull out when needed. I am deeply grateful that I have an awareness that I am not alone, even when I am uncomfortable, that I have someone to turn to, someone to lean my back on, even as I battle the demon(s) in front of me. Oh, and Bach's Organ Concerto No. 1 is the perfect music to accompany this blog post. Listen to it some time, it sounds like a storm at the beginning and then resolves itself into a celebration of conquering.