Sticker Parade

"Stickers," Ezra says in a semi-sedated drone. Then, as if awakening from the trance that turning pages in a book affords, he exclaims, "I have stickers on my pants!"

"Do you want a sticker, Mommy?" And, with determined effort, he comes up to me and plops Jupiter on my arm.

"Save some of your stickers, love," I say, glancing down at a wedge of cheese and a centipede that have joined the parade on my arm.

And then, I feel the weight of it. No, not of Jupiter. Nor the empty weight of an Ash Wednesday fast. Nor the chill the resides in my feet on a cold, cloudy day. It is the weight of being a mommy.

Children are delightful and bring such joy, but there are those sticky moments of molding a child's character amid the whines, will'nts (as Ezra says for will not), and wild places that need pruning. For every success, there seems to be myriad more moments of apparent set-backs. And yet...

And yet, is not that life? What would life be without the set-backs or challenges or practice that living requires? Perhaps you, too, would be quick to say Save some of your stickers, love. But should we? Or rather, should we encourage our loved ones to give them away? To share in life with those they love?

So, my prayer for you, friend, is that someone lavishes love on you today. May Saturn or a snail or even strawberry shortcake plop on your arm today.

Wavering Rings

Ripples ooze across the pond in such a way as to mimic the murky tar in its depths. It's as if someone just tossed a pebble or a vagrant cloud squeezed a small smattering of rain droplets onto the water's surface. Shock waves ripple from that point of contact and radiate a series of wavering rings. Those points of contact seem to come from nowhere, though. It is an invisible hand that plucks them into action, at least according to my limited sight.

Odoriferous excavation pits at Rancho La Brea in Los Angeles, California, have yielded some remarkable finds over the years: the Californian saber-toothed cat, the Columbian mammoth, the dire wolf, et cetera. And yet, when visiting this fascinating destination, I could not help but consider those rippling rings. Near the Observation Pit, where a natural-light well garnered cob-webs, its ornamental grate seemed to imitate the idea of those pond wavers. Imagine being stuck in tar: your body as the point of contact and exerting awkward rings across the water's surface. Without a helping hand, you would not get out. You would feel like the zebra, which Ernest, Fritz, and Roberta of the 1960 film "Swiss Family Robinson" find, caught in dense mud on an uninhabited island.

And yet, how often do we really feel that way in life, friend? There are times when we feel stuck, perhaps in a relationship, in a job, in a habit, in expectations, and with no helping hand. And yet, so often we are too afraid to ask for that helping hand. Our own hubristic perspective quiets the voice, with which we could call out for a friend; it slaps the hand, with which we could reach out for help. Do you feel this way?

If so, know that you are not alone. God cares about you. There are people that you may not know well, yet, but whom God has placed in your life for just such a time. Be brave and be bold and admit that you cannot always do everything yourself. Let others show you the love that you need. 

Second Night-sky

Although I am hemmed in by the comforting quilt-like folds of rolling mountain ranges, the ocean's landscape still fascinates me.  On the one hand, the immensity of oceanic space overwhelms me with fear.  If I were pinpointed upon the silken skin of the most remote water, that expansive fluidity would appear as mind-boggling as the distance from Terra to her sun.  The cold sweat common with delusional illnesses, when clouded nightmares prickle neck-hair and the body projects itself from the dream by sitting in shivers stark-straight in bed, provokes the edges of my mind when I mentally thrust myself on the horizon of the sea.

And yet, on the other hand, I imagine the rhythmic current, constant on my limbs and back, the support of the seawater, and the under-viewed beauty of nature's puddled tears.  Consider the multitude of sea creatures, whose shimmering glow mimics the stars that shine above, so as to create its own map of constellations.  And, there, pressed at the point where two night skies meet, I imagine the stories above and the stories below that thread these stars together.  Or, consider the brewing clouds, whose fullness brings a silent snow or heated thunderstorm battering upon the land, but also glistening onto the flourishing ocean.  What would it be like to see firsthand snow sift onto ocean-dunes?

Friend, does something terrify you?  Perhaps you have an impending decision or a looming deadline; perhaps an illness caters that which you want not or a past experience emerges from the depths?  Regardless of the fear that threatens to overwhelm, try to turn your eye in a way that sees beauty where you dread.  Remind yourself of the comfort of a friend or love, and cautiously peer at that second night-sky to imagine the beauty there to see.

Reeling shadows

In the waning sun, light sprays over a frost-bitten hibiscus tree, whose leaves wrinkle into brown and yellow chrysalides—but ones hanging like hollow wombs. Instead, those leaves proffer life to a shadow display, which holds the essence of Impressionist work in a slowly moving reel. It falls on the light cherry laminate, on the walnut-stained baseboard, on the white-wash wall.

The animated painting seems to breathe, even as the day fades. And amidst this dying, a whirlwind of white noise, like the sharp murmur or the speckled texture of out-of-tune frequencies, amasses and works to consume that shadow. This swarm, friend, resembles the multitude of love-negating happenings that infiltrate life. Harsh words, pride-filled sins, torturing memories, aging aches—all those heart pangs that press like weights upon our backs can easily overtake even our most engaging attempts at grasping the way we want to live. We try to hold and contemplate and experience beauty and truth, but in so doing, we smear them with our fingerprints, so that our faulty vision is further skewed by our humanness.

Do you feel this way, friend? Does the day seem to convolute into little tornadoes of negative emotion: anger, pain, despair, anxiety? You do not need to experience these things alone. We are meant to be communal creatures. Who do you trust? Who can show you love beyond the layer of common colloquy? Reach out to them, today. And know that you can be a source of light to others, too. Even in our mutual brokenness, we can cast shadows that proffer a projection that dances with a love ready to withstand the chaos that envelopes the day.

This little light of mine...

When I was very young, like my sons are today, myriad people reprimanded me for being a loquacious and hyperactive child. I still recall the day a pastor stopped mid-sermon, cast his eyes earnestly in my direction, and told me to settle down. In kindergarten, my cheeks blushed fire-pink when a teacher shamed me for wiggling and whispering from my padded mat at nap-time. Other elementary experiences left me in fear of a particular teacher, who admonished me to stop talking when a girl beside me was the guilty party, who denied my request to use the bathroom during her mathematics lesson and smirched me for the result of a pungent puddle on my plastic chair, whose overtone - even when she was absent from the room - led me to clean up my own vomit (that I unintentionally let loose one day upon arriving in her room) so that I would not have to experience her humiliating gaze.

These experiences remind me of the quote sprawled across the wall of the Dotheboys Hall schoolroom in the movie-from-a-Dicken's-novel, Nicholas Nickleby: "Fear him who formed thy frame." This quote, for me, exudes the knowledge of Psalm 103:14, "for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust." But, the mercy and compassion bolstered by scripture is completely lost on the schoolmaster that wields such a weapon against his school children. For God holds pity on mankind; God knows our limits and does not seek to break us.

Reflecting on the pains of the past and resolving to live differently are fundamental to showing and experiencing love in this world. My pains have caused me to become a contemplative spirit. Charged with being shy, I take things to heart. And yet, I want to interlace my actions and way of living with the careful observation needed to show compassion for others. Perhaps this derives from that sensitivity.

Our social and cultural standards dissuade individuals from such sensitive and reflective living. Constant motion, egocentric striving, and characteristics of mania are endorsed, as the blogger of Forever Becoming also purports, but not a quieter and more-intentional way of life. Friend, let us encourage more contemplative and meaningful living. Dare to talk less and observe more. Dare to consider the impact your words, your demeanor, and your way of life have on others and on the world. Dare to be a source of encouragement, rather than a source of denigration.

Autumn Unveiled

The color splash of autumn is inspiring. A mix of fresh blue from sky, soft white of cloud, rust-red-auburn-vibrant-orange of leaves is like a master-made painting, where each brushed stroke adds a bit of soul; or a richly-woven tapestry, whose colors and cloth-materials work in harmony together; or a musical composition in which the notes tickle your ears long after the piece is played; or a person devoted to God in such a way that produces selfless acts, both tangibly love-based and life-altering.

Imagine the brightness of a stained glass window - one with colors so mellifluous that they seep into the very soul of the viewer. Truly rapturous moments do not happen every day. And when they do, they are written on the heart. Remembering such moments, especially when the evils of the world have brutalized one's senses, is like flashing a flood of unveiled heaven before the eyes. When trees unveil their colorations without chlorophyl, the enchanting beauty that results connotes that same spiritual spark that spirals us onto a journey to know God. When lichen and moss kiss silver bark on a fallen tree, it seems to signify the life-filled possibility in ourselves even when we feel broken. When we are juxtaposed with moments that exude God's presence, we yearn for more as soon as they are gone.

Today, friend, I pray for your eureka moments. I pray for your soul to be cleansed by the light-giving burn of a candle during prayer or the mesmerizing marrow of hallowed words or the immense peace of spending time in nature or with a forever-friend, all the while engaged in the moment.

Today, friend. Today.

Sharing apple slices

"I'm not an expert or anything.  But I think I did a good job," Joey said.  Since I was in another room at the time, his proclamation sparked both alarm and curiosity into my head.  I quietly went into the kitchen and saw two little boys with their shaggy-haired heads close together.

A butter knife in one hand and a juicy apple in the other, Joey was slicing the apple for Ezra to eat.  Not only did he have a cutting board covering the work surface, but he even fished the miniature shape-cutters from the gadget-drawer to use in popping stars, hearts, and ovals from the cream-colored meat of the fruit.

Have you ever counted yourself unqualified or unable to do something?  Have you ever felt you were unworthy for a particular hobby, station, or other life experience?  Often, I downgrade my own worth because I don't think I'm making a difference in a tangible way - do you ever feel that way, friend?

Perhaps you'll never win a Noble prize or travel halfway around the world; maybe, your life is filled with the routine of caring for children or fulfilling responsibilities at work.  But, this doesn't mean that your life has little worth to those around you.

You would be surprised how the choices you make each day can impact others when you least expect it.  Smile, savor the view your life holds, and know that you are not alone.  We - each of us - can be a benefit and joy to one another.