Wordless Wednesday

Here is the reason I may indeed, need to go wordless for a while!

For the Birds....again

Continuing on in our unit on birds, we made this very simple recycled bird feeder out of a soda bottle. It has only been up for a week or so now and we’ve had to fill it numerous times and it seems to attract even more birds than the large, expensive gazebo one we purchased a few years back. I like this as it attracts the smallest of the birds and I can see it from my chair.

For as long as I can recall, I have had a fascination with birds. They are such a joy to watch and to listen to in the thicket while I take my late afternoon walks. Birds also are a tangible reminder to me that God cares for them and will certainly take care of me. I’ve had that strong thought come to me at various times in life–when I was laid off my first good teaching position, when I first was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and when that weird stomach virus just would not go away and turned out to be a pregnancy...you get the point. I find them comforting and reassuring when my emotions are ready to take flight. They are chirping little characters that remind me of God’s presence and provision.

This February 12-15 marks the 12th annual Great Backyard Bird Count in North America. It is organized by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and invites anyone who has interest in birds, old and young, to celebrate and collect data in their particular area. They have great lesson plans, print outs and information on their site to assist in this and only ask in return that you input your data on types of birds and vital numbers counted in the location you live in. It will be our 7th year of participating and is a good way to brush up on bird identification skills. I feel we were much more accurate when my son participated with us, but us girls are preparing with anticipation. It becomes a bright spot during these bleaker days of winter.

"Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!"

Luke 12:24 NIV

Homeschooling is not for Cowards

This week we dissected an owl pellet. I don’t advise this before lunch. Heavens no. It would have been much better first thing in the morning or late in the day. Regardless, it was one fascinating project once the initial shock of dividing the bones from the fur wore off. The girls loved it and were able to identify the bones of a mole and mouse as the delicate fare the owl had before the big event.

Gone are the days we sat and cuddled on the couch simply studying and talking about owls and reading one of my favorite winter books Owl Moon, by Jane Yolen.

The girls want more hands on activities. So we created our own curriculum for science this year as we all feel that we want to experience and fulfill certain final urges before we step into the highschool lab scene in our household once again. I chose the topical units to be covered and the girls determined all the projects and experiments. Here, without further ado, is a glimpse of the dissection.

Regardless of all this, I still have my well-loved copy of Owl Moon and have read those comforting and familiar words again, if even to myself:

....When you go owling
you don’t need words
or warm
or anything but hope.
That’s what Pa says.
The kind of hope
that flies
on silent wings
under a shining
Owl Moon.

Wordless Wednesday

We were blessed to be able to celebrate my mother's 70th birthday this week with my 92 year old Grandma present. Four generations of women in our family are represented in these photos...lots of love.

Love has it's source in God, for love is the very essence of his being. ~~Kay Arthur

Just One Friend and Prayer

Quakers are individualists, so it is no surprise to find wide views on the topic of prayer or ‘holding in the Light’. I tend to see all of life as a prayer. I have not achieved such, but believe in the practice of ceaseless prayer. I envision it as a link to God. Lovers talk; it is how we connect and get to know one another intimately and it is possibly the closest space to God we can get to in the present. I use the terms interchangeably and I like the phrase to ‘hold in the Light’, as it reminds me that it is more about abiding rather than a list of requests to check off at day’s end.

I never learned rote prayers as a child. I approach prayer with awe and respect, but much as a child in natural conversation as I go about my day uttering whenever I am led. I often find myself praying for others, for an issue, or asking God what is up with a certain situation, what direction I should take or if I am being released from something. I pray for forgiveness and many times, I am just silent. It is then I feel God reaching out and initiating to me more. I am grateful for that form of prayer, knowing I may rest in it and I am covered.

Because I believe in an open universe view, I feel we can co-labor with God. He holds his plans and purpose, but in some mystical way I know that it is possible for him to change them through that of God within us. I don’t feel that is a ticket to peppering God with requests or bargaining, but rather another avenue to discern and align myself with him. It’s not all about wishes, dreams or winning a prize, but a process of transformation. My thoughts on this evolved through years of physical challenges that started in my early adulthood and while getting to know others with chronic illness and pain.

John Woolman said, “The place of prayer is a precious habitation...” I often wonder why prayer is so infrequently discussed and consistently lacking as part of a meeting for worship. No, it usually will not bring back a baby, stop a friend from dying, mend a family or cure a disease–though it could. Possibly, it could do more, like cure my rotten heart attitude, comfort, or heal in another unexpected manner.

I recall as a teen asking my youth group leader why my best friend could not be healed and had to die. He told me, God did heal her but it was just not how I wanted. I’ve taken that with me throughout life and believe while I cannot see all the purposes in that, I have been the recipient of good and a life road map from her–a way of living unto dying. What once was broken in me is a mended treasure wrought from years of prayer and memories from that experience.

Something in me about prayer opened up wide about four years ago. I wrestled for pain relief, amongst other serious items for myself and others. I came to the conclusion that although God loves me, he is not as interested in my physical well being as he is in my soul. During those first few years I learned about yielding to his path rather than grasping for my own or what I perceived others to need. I often feel that God heals on different levels, in his own time and often to our surprise. Back then, some of my experience was painful, but when I revisit it now I can behold the beauty and the way I was never forsaken. I’ve learned that holding others and myself in the Light is a process of God initiating a change in me and my desires more than anything else. God does not need my suffering to act, but if I remain open, I may know more of him. It is an honor Friends have to commune in this miraculous space, and a humble privilege to whisper prayers on behalf of others that are placed before me by the Spirit.

This practice of being a Friend has reinforced to me the importance of moving slower as led. It has also helped explain to me why I’ve been uncomfortable being on large prayer lists of people who I do not know. At one point, when I was very fragile, I had literally hundreds of people praying for me, many groups who did not know me. When no answers were seemingly in sight, I longed to rest in that and accept that as my answer. I needed it to stop. Not many people understood. At silent times I tend to recall the times in which I’ve felt closest to God and find comfort in knowing he remains the same. I also began to sense that if I did not feel the connection of those praying, or I did not feel the prayers were paralleling God’s will at the time, they were futile. I could be mistaken, but they felt more than futile, they were unsettling to me and possibly disobedient for me personally, though a comfort to others. I fervently believe in prayer, but often times it becomes a very personal item to me as I’m sure it is to others. I was then shown my need to learn to respect other people more.

Likewise, when I became strong enough to volunteer in the chronic illness ministry, I was overwhelmed with the sheer number of encouragement and prayer requests. I was quickly given good advice to take on those cases that which I felt empathy for. Jesus himself often was moved by compassion and said to come like children to a father. I learned to distinguish amongst them what was my concern or what I call my “inner yes.” If I sensed a certain dread, I set that case aside in trust that it was for someone else. Most of these people are not asking a way out of their problems or diseases, but rather seeking a touch from others, God’s presence and the grace to endure. The most life-changing thing I’ve learned from these dear ones is that prayer puts pain in it’s place, which is not before the priorities of God. I’ve watched healing of the heart occur, bitterness melt away and hope be born of suffering. I’ve touched spirit to spirit with some of the most courageous souls and together we have learned that prayer is a means of connection and ability to come into an awareness of the Divine Presence working in us and through us. I have so far to go. They continue to teach me, and I find that prayer is no longer like that of a chore from childhood, but an invitation. It is alive, moving and breathing communication that is summed up in Thomas R. Kelly’s words that are left for us:

“How then should we lay hold of that Life and Power, and live the life of prayer without ceasing? By quiet, persistent practice in turning of all our being, day and night, in prayer and inward worship and surrender, toward the One, who calls in the deeps of our souls...Begin now, as you read these words, as you sit in your chair, to offer your whole selves, utterly and in joyful abandon, in quiet, glad surrender to the One who is within...Walk and talk and work and laugh with your friends. But behind the scenes keep up the life of simple prayer and inward worship. Keep it up throughout the day. Let inward prayer be your last act before you fall asleep and the first act when you awake.”

December Thankfulness of the Heart

"Life without thankfulness is devoid of love and passion. Hope without thankfulness is lacking in fine perception. Faith without thankfulness lacks strength and fortitude. Every virtue divorced from thankfulness is maimed and limps along the spiritual road." ~John Henry Jowett

How I miss the mark and limp some Decembers. The upheaval in the calendar is a challenge to me, but I want to walk the best I can and not put a damper on everyone else's time. I long to cherish Christmas oh so quietly in my heart all year long. But my children with their twinkling eyes and joy of expectancy remind me that the 25th is one of those days as well. And so it is, and I join in and continue the count if you will put up with me again. My prayer is that the holiday is more in the heart and in the being, rather than all the doing; that it's about love and this awesome Jesus of my every day.

Gratitude swells up in my heart for:

healthy children in the winter

daughters who help make cookies

star gazing

silence

buds ready to bloom

people of prayer

candles in the evening

making the Centurion laugh at the live nativity

the mitten tree near the stove

holly and evergreens

love, light and life

Jesus come as baby to this earth....

"Thanks be to God for this unspeakable gift." 2 Cor 9:15

Love Letters

I’d know her handwriting anywhere. There sprawled across the floor in front of me is a pile of my late Great-Grandmother’s letters that fell out of my old Bible. She had made her life speak to her loved ones from the arm of her favorite chair in her last years. One by one, I picked up the pretty pastel bits of love and memories. Her writing, the ink and all look like no time has slipped away, but it’s been a good couple of decades. She never knew my husband or met my children but her words live on.

She spoke in scriptures, poems, in quotes and in prayers. Leafing through them the thought crossed my mind that just maybe I didn’t get my love affair with reading words from university professors, but this elderly women without a day of higher education. The last time I saw her was when I parted for my junior year of university across the states to the mid-west, far away from the family nest. Reading the letters and poetry now, it’s clear to me that a degree could never take the place of this kind of wisdom and deep love of family. While she may have sporadically attended a house of worship, she whole-heartedly attended to the Holy Spirit inside her. She was clearly one of the Christ-followers.

And she didn’t just send letters, she decorated them with color, stickers and her great big God love. There were flowers, butterflies, all things nature and hearts. Picking one off the floor, I turn it over and read my way around the pink heart the words "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Isn’t that the truth.

She was a farmer’s wife and raised seven children. She lived the Great Depression and fed the hungry. Several of her children still live today, in a row of quaint little homes near her old property. It’s a place of nurturing and love and I don’t have to wonder why. I recall what it felt like to be in her home. My Grandmother, who lives next door and still holds my hand during visits today, celebrated her 92nd birthday last month and so I am amazingly blessed.

Upon every visit to Great Grandma’s home, I’d sit by her chair on the floor and we’d chat and inevitably I’d end up getting to pick from her finest patchwork pillows, a new treasure for my bedroom. Before I’d leave she’d have given me the run down on what or where each patch square came from: so and so’s dress, skirt or left over fabric from a blanket or such. What a collection I had-as many pillows as stuffed animals. Next a bag would be filled of special food and goodies from her old wooden pantry out in the kitchen. I some how sensed it was more than food in that bag, but her way of giving love. And then I’d say my goodbyes and wait.

Wait for the mail truck to come to our long country lane. It was then I learned the thrill of writing and receiving letters, what seems like a lost art today. I share these poems, scriptures and words of wisdom with my children now and I take them deep into my heart and recapture the memories of those moments of safety and love. My girls have become letter writers. I some how feel that I’m to continue where she left off given that I’ve now got a favorite chair, a slower pace and a whole lot of loved ones that need to know my love for them.