Wordless Wednesday

From the end of the earth I will cry to you. When my heart is overwhelmed; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Psalm 61:2

Photos From "Fleeting Fall" Bowman's Wildflower Preserve

Love and Pain

" To love at all is to be vunerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxeries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." ~CS Lewis

She is wearing the locket with her memory of her old horse in it. The one she bravely comforted as she waited for the injection to work it’s way. Her days are now spent tending and caring for our two new horses. It’s a splendid sight to see as I peer out the kitchen window. It wasn’t that long ago she dipped into disinterest and put a guard on her heart about the decision to purchase and try once again. She didn’t want the pain.

"Love those horses and you are just gonna hurt," little one said.

"Don’t I know it girl."

Taking her tiny hand in mine, it is difficult at best, but I try to explain that love and hurt are unavoidable and that it’s all worth it still. This sensitive one, already coping with my illness and loss for a time here, looks up at me with her pale little face. I go on blabbering some thing to the effect that love is the greatest, as even when the pain comes-and it will-the pain cannot steal the joy. It hurts terribly at times, but it can’t snatch away all the memories loving brings.

I’m not sure the kid fully comprehends.

I ponder at times if adults fully comprehend. Can we tolerate being loved? Can we allow God to love us and reciprocate? I mean really count the blessings and live all loved?

For me, it is a courageous act, to exercise that trust muscle, to constantly live it and model it in front of children daily. It’s a humble task to be entrusted with, but every single step is a brave step, to risk love and to be loved as God gifts us with such joy. It does my heart good to see the little one leap back into the journey. She is out there now every free minute she has caring, training, and falling head over heels in love with those two little horses.

A Friendly Question

It’s absurd, I know, but some times I am hesitant to ask Friends where they stand on issues or to share their thoughts with me. They are all nice enough, but it seems we all don’t have so much in common some days and stand for what we do not believe more than what we do. At times I feel alone viewing Christ as my Center. I do not want to bend someone’s nose or cause them to be uncomfortable or even possibly be angry, but I’m curious if I am a lone Friend living with a joyful belief of daily inner baptism and communion with the Lord and one another?

I know, I know...many of you will think I am ignorant. I respect we all differ and do not feel the need for outward symbols of these daily inward realities. I do not feel they are outwardly necessary either. But are they realities to us as a society or to any Friends anymore inwardly, is my burning question.

Here’s the thing. I awake each morning and I’m not carrying around a truck load of guilt, but by midmorning, I can realistically count my short-comings. It’s a daily adventure. I think about the body and the blood each day. And not a day goes by I don’t think about the ever-present baptism in the Spirit; that non-stop cleansing fountain. I think of it as a journey of grace with a love that bubbles up with laughter for the daily gifts, to be intimately cleansed in the water and to sip the cup, feast on the sacrifice given.

Perhaps I am odd. A definate quirk. I was raised in a Christian church that practiced these outward symbols. I did participate at the time, but I never felt them required to be a friend of God. I was happy. I now attend a Quaker meeting and of course, we do not practice these things. I am happy. I guess in truth, my position has not changed on this one item since being that itty bitty little girl in the back pew chewing gum and swinging her legs to and fro. I did those outward practices, felt I was loved and accepted not by the ritual, but by the Lover of my Soul. To me, it was reality and already done for my soul. The seed was planted back then and I knew I yearned to simply to live it daily. Adjusting to Friend’s ways in this just felt right.

I come for my own reasons to worship as an unprogrammed Friend, but I do not come out of a resentful background. Likewise, when reading some literature on the Society of Friends for the first time, I was not horrified, as some of my Christian cohorts seem to be with this non-necessity. Instead, I rather saw it as a blessing of freedom to be offered to and accept the gift anew each day. I was quite relieved when reading Jack Wilcut's book Why Friends are Friends, that I could identify with his position being similar to mine. So I shyly and hesitantly inquire, do any Friends out there have a voice on the spiritual sacraments?

Rest

One glance at the calendar and all its squares we are passing takes my breath away. I inhale deeply, try to be brave and say goodbye to color. I’m waving my farewell and facing the realization of mid-autumn a little late this year. I want to slow down, make time stand still to celebrate and most of all let go of my racing thoughts to make more room for God’s. I so often pummel Him with words rather than rest in love.

I’m glad to live in an area that experiences four seasons. Some times they just seem to fly by too fast though and I realize I’ve not been intentional enough with my days and with God. Not about all the doing, but more about the being. The vibrancy of autumn has awoken me to this with all it’s leaves, fall mums in russet hues, pumpkins and the smell of fireplaces in the air. I’m memorized by the giggling I hear out amongst the mounds of leaves. But this time is so fleeting and it is soon to be winter. It’s time now to slow down, rest and cut a clearing through the mental clutter and our activity; make a way in, because the Teacher paints with the most awesome colors in the song of the Spirit in every season.

Looking at my end table, Resting Place by Jane Rubietta begs to be read. It’s a quiet escape that invites me into a more meaningful retreat of slowness and solitude. I can do this- start small and slow down a little more each day. It will help me to turn the pages in the book, the calendar and the leaves and just maybe turn my heart more as well.

In Memoriam to Christopher J. Klicka

Yesterday the home schooling world truly lost one of it’s most awesome advocates and greatest friends. This man, chronically ill with MS, never ceased to inspire me to press on teaching my children through my years of challenges through watching his accomplishments and courage. Chris was an attorney and lobbyist for HSLDA (Home School Legal Defense Association,) author and had seven children of his own he raised with his wife. What an example of bravery, working to the very end and even having two further books in progress at the time of his death. My heart goes out to his family. May they be blessed by peace and cherished memories. His life needs to be remembered and celebrated for the bravery he had to press on despite his circumstances and for the freedoms he helped grant to us today.

If interested, you may read about him here: http://www.hslda.org/docs/news/200910050.asp

It's Christ Who Strengthens Me

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" came to mind as I tried to sit still with another bad drug reaction. No matter how hard I try to live this or any good, I cannot do it on my own strength. It is in this earthly vessel, the weakest of the weaklings and a coward really, he makes himself known to me. How shocking really. He gives me strength I could not have on my own. It’s about abundance-to still be here. I don’t know what each day will bring, but I know the Lover of my Soul does. How I love him.


Here is the poem I wrote in my journal in response to Philippians 4:13 a month ago when starting this drug. I wait and pray for another chance.

I want to be brave
and fly above
the dark clouds
of my oppressive
illness.
Not be captive
to it, but
transformed
like a carefree
butterfly
eager to take
off into the
unknown,
the next flight.
~JL 8/09

Update

I have not been blogging much recently due to some medication difficulties which have caused me to be fatigued more than usual. During this time, I've been shown the truth that the little things here matter more than other bigger things and I only have so much energy per day.

So I am putting most my energy towards our schooling and home life. We actually began back to our studies since mid-August and rejoined our home school group. We've been to Park Days to celebrate starting up again and are looking forward to a few field trips.

It's year nine for us and it took a little convincing myself this year. It wasn't a sure thing with how I have been feeling, so many doctor appointments and considering the girls ages and needs. There's many good private schools in the area, but none affordable. Quite frankly our experience of the public school with our son didn't fit the bill for the upper grades. I'd like to avoid it.

After much conversation, prayer and getting other help, I was convinced as every year since this experiment started to continue. Possibly the girl's wishes and these summer photo memories clinched it the most for me. The girls are motivated to be home and together. We're on to another year.