I didn't ask you to succeed, only to obey.

Seems I only blog when I get chastised. And it happened again today. Well, maybe chastise is too strong a word. Let's call it a gentle reminder.

I was at a seminar at church today about stress and well-being. We did this really neat exercise called Lectio Divino, which is latin for "divine reading". Basically there is an oral reading of a passage, a period of silence, the reading again, a longer silence, a final reading, and a last period of silence. In those times of silence, you are supposed to reflect on what you've heard, and listen for God to speak to you through that passage, in a way that is meaningful to you.

The scripture was Psalm 27:1-6, and it begins

¹ The Lord is my light and my salvation—

so why should I be afraid?

And I had to ask myself, "Why, indeed?" With the Lord to light my way, how could I possibly get lost... unless I look away from the light - gee... I've never done that ;)
The one thing I felt God was clearly saying to me as I meditated on this passage was this - "I didn't ask you to succeed. I only asked you to write. The rest is up to me."

So. I have no excuse now. I will do my best to keep blogging, sharing my progress with you all, as few or as many as you may be. I am also going to make a genuine effort to write the stories that have been knocking about in my head. Some, I may even share someday.

Thanks for stopping by. See you again soon.

It's so easy to get distracted

I logged on to post some more of my random musings. When I got here, I looked at my page and thought, "Gee, I should have a picture of a bench in the header>" So I went looking for one. I don't know why I thought it would be easy to find a bench that represents me. I can't even find clothes that represent me, so forget a bench!

I wanted a bench that looked inviting, so all the cast iron stuff I found was right out. No picnic benches, we're not having a meal. No pictures of lovers, that's not what this is about. Oooh, here's a pretty one... never mind, that woman doesn't look like me or anyone I know. And cultural diversity? Seems like that only exists in the real world not cyberspace. Ok, so how about a beach, I like it. I also found one of a group of people who looked like they were hanging out. Perfect! Oh wait, there's two women who seem to have stopped for a quick chat. Awww, and a cute one of two little girls sitting by a lake, looking across at the big city. It's nice to have options.

Next step, put a pic on the page, see how it looks. Oh my stars and garters! Who told me to go and to that? Now my colors are all mashed up. We won't even mention the fact that the pic isn't anywhere I wanted it to be. Steeeeeewps! (That's a West Indian way of saying I'm kissing my teeth). Undo. Try another picture. Good grief! That's even worse. Charlie Brown, don't you know you'll never succeed? Never you mind Lucy, I'm gonna kick that football, you wait and see. Just hold it steady.

Maybe if I resize the picture and change the colors on the page, then I'll get what I want. Ha Ha! Nice try Sambo. Too many bright ideas have landed many a good man in jail. Better quit while I'm ahead. Fie! I will not be defeated. Maybe if I click here, and move this here, change this over here, and what's this doo-hickey for? CURSES! Foiled again. Why am I yawning? 90 minutes have gone by since I started this nonsense. You've got to be kidding me. And to think I was gonna blog today. What a waste. I hope my page looks like it did before I started, but I'm too tired to check.

I hope that tomorrow I still remember what I was gonna blog about. Be good to you!

I wanna try something

It's a new day, and I've made up my mind to try again. More writing. I've actually got something I want to get off my chest. Cyberspace is great for that. I'm also going to make it more challenging. I was reading a book about finding one's voice, and there are great writing exercises in it. One of them is to try to rewrite a news story using single syllable words. So, I thought I'd try it. Not the news story part though.

I have a friend. I think my friend will have a hard time soon. She is there for each one near her, like her ma, her pa, her son, and so on. If we need help, she will help. She does not think about her needs or wants, or if she does, she feels they do not need to be dealt with for now. A lot of us have turned to her of late, and I think this will soon take a toll on her. I think she might be on her way to a burn out, and I do not know how to help. I do not think I can tell her to take it easy, she will not hear me. But I want her to know I care, that I am here for her, just to lend an ear, or a hand or any thing else she may need. How can I tell her this and not make her mad at the same time?

Of course I can do this!

So many times this year, I turn around, and there's something else or someone else reminding me of what I've been hearing inside me... "It's time to make a change. It's time to do what you've been called to do." Yeah, I know. But I'm not sure I'm ready. Course, I don't know when I'll ever be ready. So forget about New Year's resolutions, I'm starting today. For at least today. Come tomorrow, I'll start again. And the day after that... Until it becomes a habit.

I'm gonna just come right out and say it. I am a writer. That is one of my callings. Is it the only one? I don't know. But it's certainly a big one. Words are my friends. I know how to use them. I'm really good at using them as weapons. Ask anyone I work with. You're sure to easily find someone who has been scarred by my words, some are still hemorrhaging months later. Forget that, ask my husband. :) I'm even better at using them to create walls and masks. It's how I protect myself. Countries wish they had defenses as strong as the walls I build with my words. It's time I learn to use them as a soft caress, as a blanket. Words can soothe. Words can heal. Funny, that's not what I sat down to write, but hey... it is what it is. I'm sure I'll eventually figure out why I wrote that, and haven't deleted it yet.

What I wanted to do was write down my thoughts. When I see it "on paper", it's easier to make sense of things. I've been asking myself for the last few weeks, Why do I listen to the lies of the Devil? Not an original thought of mine. I was at a conference or listening to a tape or something. The speaker made this observation, and obviously it struck a chord somewhere within me, that is finally reaching my consciousness.

For those of you new to this blog, I am a Christian, I have been since I was a child. When I was a teen, I had no problem hearing God's voice and following it. And overall, life was pretty good. Somewhere along the line, I stopped listening. After a while, I forgot how to listen, and then I somehow became hard of hearing when it came to God's voice. I still went to church from time to time, certainly for "The Majors" - Good Friday, Easter Sunday and Christmas. Did the Sunday Christian thing - you know... as soon as you're out of sight of the church and the people in it, do what you want. But part of the truth of the matter is, Christianity is about who you are, and whose you are. I'll come back to that in a minute.

I don't know if this has been your experience, but it's certainly been mine. There's always someone around to throw negative at you... You can't do that, You're too fat / little / big /stupid /whatever. Usually it's me saying it to myself. And I believe it. When did that happen? When I was a girl, there were so many things I was gonna do and be. Life was before me with so many possibilities. Where in the world did they all go?

There were three things that I wanted to be with all my heart when I grew up - a wife, a mother, and a writer. Well, I am a wife. I haven't been the best, but I have tried, and I've spoken to women that I think are good wives, learn what they do and have done. Read books about being a good wife. Asked my husband... I think I'm doing ok, but there's room for improvement. I am a mother. Same thing. Not the best, but I've studied, and am still studying, trying to learn what skills a good mother possesses. And people tell me I'm a good mother.

So why in the world, couldn't I be a good writer? Why am I giving into fear - False Evidence Appearing Real - silly acronym if ever there was one, but really... Where's the evidence? I'm going by hearsay now? And I love it when God drops these little nuggets in my spirit... learning to hear the voice. God just reminded me of why I stopped writing way back when. I had written a story, and one of the people I had written about found it, and was absolutely furious. I hadn't written anything negative about the person, but the story overall was negative I suppose. It's all about perspective, and I didn't know about changing names to protect the innocent back then. Anyway, I decided then that I wouldn't write again - and I haven't but for school. What God just told me is that that one incident should prove that I am a writer. It was fiction, and it evoked a strong emotion in someone. Isn't that what all writers aspire to?

Writing is a skill that I have, and it's time I develop it. I've attended a couple of writers' workshops and conferences. So far it's been wasted money because I haven't done anything with it. Time to change that. Time to face some truths. I am God's child. He knew me before I was in my mother's womb. He has counted every hair on my head. God knows me inside and out, and still I am His beloved. How amazing is that? And if there's is one thing I have always known, He is the God of Truth. He says I am a writer, who am I to doubt this or to believe any one or anything that says otherwise. All that's left is for me to act in accordance with that Truth. It's gonna be quite an adventure. Stick around!

He sure told me!

I'm having a "discussion" with God. You know, one of those pointless discussions, because He's obviously right, and I'm not, you know what I mean?

Has this ever happened to you? I'm not a morning person on a good day. If I had my way, I'd be going to bed as the sun comes up. But this morning, I'm in my state of half stupor, having a real in-depth conversation with myself, since that's the only time I really pay attention to what I have to say - no outside distractions, right? So I'm having this conversation with myself about vices... okay, sin then, if I'm being honest, mine in particular. I have this one sin that I keep doing over and over. I know we're not perfect, and all have sinned and all that, but the whole point is once you know about it, you get some measure of self control and stop it. Or at least, that's what I've been taught.

My smarter self says to me, why don't you pray about it, since you're having so much trouble. So I do, and half way through my prayer, my half asleep stupid self decided to get smart mouthed with the Lord (or at least, that's what hindsight is telling me - at the time it seemed like a legitimate question). I wanted to know what happened with this whole "lead me not into temptation" business. Doesn't God pick that particularly moment to answer me clearly. All the other times I've been begging to hear Him, now He talks (but that might go back to my half stupor and actually not being distracted, so I probably only just heard Him). You know what He says? He says, I'm not leading you into temptation, you're going out looking for it.

Well pick my peas and fry my bacon. I don't want to hear the truth!!!! What kind of madness is that? As you can well imagine, I just stopped asking questions right there. It's early Monday morning. That was more truth than I was prepared for at that hour of the day, and really, I didn't expect an answer. Not such a clear one any way. As if that isn't bad enough, I've got my smart self yammering away in the back of my head all morning. "looks like you're gonna have to make different choices, huh?" "Thought you'd get a quick fix, did you? A little sprinkle of pixie dust, or a little breath of the Holy Spirit, and it would all go away? HA!" I'm just about ready to soak my head I tell you.

What do you guys do when you find yourselves in that position, if it's ever happened? And if not, how'd you manage not to?

What does our faith really mean?

It's been a while, I know. But I'm back, at least for now anyway, and I'm annoyed. You know, a real West-Indian vex. I probably working myself up, if the truth be told. This is what has my knickers in a twist - hopefully I'll make sense. My gran died a couple of days ago. My ma asked me to take care of arranging the service with the rest of our family. To tell you the truth that part was surprisingly easy. You know how you hear about someone dying, and people losing their minds arguing about "Well, she would have wanted this" or "He told me it should be this way"? We didn't have any of that. This tells me my gran was pretty constant, and that's a neat thing. So we've put together what I think will be a really nice service at gran's home church, and there's a fellow at the church who's trying to rain on my parade. At least it feels that way.

My gran loved herself some Jesus. And you knew it. If you didn't, you hadn't been listening, cuz she didn't keep it a secret. Ask her how she is... "Hanging on by the grace of God". Ask her what you should do about something... "Pray chile, just pray." Mention you don't have something, or you want something... "The Lord will provide." See you tomorrow gran? "God willing, I'll see another day." See what I mean?

Gran was always in church, or singing a hymn, or praying, or just plain being a Godly woman. At least, that's the woman I knew. And she prayed for us, all the time. some of us went astray, but I think it's a testament to her memory, that just about all of us... (I think there's 17 or so of us grand, great-grand, and great-great grandkids)... have a home church and a faith in Jesus and the Resurrection. We are where we are not only because my gran loved us, but because of her firm and unyielding faith. Which brings me to my vex.

Gran believed, I mean she believed, in the Resurrection. It is our hope of glory, that we be made perfect in Christ. Now she's died, and you better believe she's up there dancing with the angels and God Himself. And He is well pleased with her. That's what she believed. That's what I believe. That's what my family believes. So, isn't that reason to be happy? reason to celebrate? Isn't that the whole point of our faith?

So when I mentioned to this gentlemen at the church, the "interface" between the church and us if you will, that we wanted the ceremony to be upbeat, not all mourny and weepy, he balked a bit. Apparently there's some decorum to be followed. Probably a good thing I didn't mention that we want to dance near-naked before the Lord like King David did. Some of the funerals I've been to will near make you hang yourself, they are just so depressing. Well gran wasn't a sad person. Oh yeah, this gent also told me in my first phone call that we were having a full communion service. Granted, it wouldn't have been my first choice, but I don't object. Since communion is one of the deepest forms of worship, if you ask me, why not sing songs of worship at the same time. Well who told me to ask that? And ignore the warning signs that followed immediately thereafter. Cuz I also asked if we could have a tambourine and a drum. I nearly broke my nose on the door that slammed in my face, and this was a phone conversation. My man was NOT happy. Is this a funeral or a party? There are some things that are simply not done in our church. Well excuse me Mister Man, but if we cannot celebrate that those who are dead in Christ are raised in Him, if that's not a born-again Christian, I swear I don't know what is!

I half way feel like we need to go in there and shake this church up... remind these people why they go to church. I mean what is the whole point? What about the prayer my gran and my ma taught me when I was a child... "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." Or the well loved hymn, Jesus Loves Me, the last verse - "Gentle Jesus, with me stay, Close beside me all the way, When at last I come to die, Jesus take me home on high." Well, she did, and He did. Now what, the rest of us shrivel up and moan and groan and say Oh Filth, You weren't supposed to take it seriously?

I really thought that if we believed in Him, our reward was a place in Heaven. REWARD!!! Jesus said, in my Father's house are many mansions, and, I go to prepare a place for you. If Jesus is preparing a place for gran, I will promise you it's not an outhouse! Come on!!!!!! Why can't we be happy? Why can't we rejoice at a funeral? It isn't proper my foot! It doesn't mean we don't miss her. I think it means we get it.

Had a bad day

Right now, Daniel Powter's song is going through my head - "You work at a smile and you go for a ride". Yeah, the smile is not coming easily today. I can't even go for a ride. Right now I feel completely inept, like a total failure. I can't get my hair to turn out right - ever. I can't help my daughter with her homework, and she's struggling in school. I can't keep my house clean. I can't lose weight. Right now, at the very moment, I feel like a whole heap of can't. I am trying not to have a pity party.

But the fact is, I'm an extremely capable woman. I am smart, I have a job - a good one even. I'm practical and logical. I speak 3 languages , 2 of them fluently. People like me. Apparently I have an aura. I don't even know what that means - but two people have come up to me on different occasions saying that there was this aura about me, and they had to come and talk to me. Ok, that's a little creepy, and while one of the two was a man, he definitely wasn't trying to pick me up.

My friend, and fellow blogger, posted a "Prayer for a crappy day". Boy did he nail it. I think I'm gonna go pray that now.