The Next Big Thing...

Those of you who know me, know I can't just fade off into the sunset, right? I'm not one that can idly twiddle thumbs for any length of time. There's only so much imagination that can develop from doing nothing but watch the grass grow.

As time continues to evolve from days to weeks, I can feel that old friend of mine trying to catch up to me. The friend that is constantly nudging her way into my conscience thoughts, whispering in my ear..."Will it be enough?" "What will you do when loneliness builds a fort next to your garden?" "Why didn't you at least make an effort to show yourself friendly when you had the chance?" I will admit, this is the biggest concern of mine as I transition from being a very visible business owner, to a stay-at-home human who is creating an alternate life, that seems a bit foreign, yet has deep roots. No pun intended. But, first things first...

My mom seemed to know everything about God's green earth and all the plants that grew from deep within its soil. From the food it provided, to its lush flower gardens. She tended them both with such care. Such understanding of their needs. From the garden to the table was birthed in reality in our family, and our mother was the best (at virtually everything) in our part of the world. "In our neck of the woods," we used to say. Erna Prater could tell you the hour and the minute (at least it seemed to me) the green beans needed picked off their vines and exactly how long they would last before needing to be snapped and prepared for canning. Neighbors helped neighbors, back in the day. All hands on deck, kind of thing. Time was of importance, if a family was to have food enough to make it through our harsh Oklahoma winters. 

I envied my mom, even as a little girl. Oh my goodness...the bushel basketfuls we harvested of green beans in their season!!! The rows and rows of potatoes we dug from the ground! The onions! Not to forget the acres of corn we not only harvested, but shucked and canned, while keeping large batches out to cook on the daily. Plus, we shucked them by hand. No microwaves in my day, where one could just put them in for about 1 minute and they come out clean as a whistle. Nope. We grew up working for our food. The baskets of apples from the rows upon rows of apple trees that lived on OUR property, just waiting for our enjoyment and health! Beck and I would climb up a tree after school (the apple orchard sat between our one-room school house and our home), and we'd sit and eat as many as our bellies could hold. One bunch of fruit "trees" I'll never forget. The Concord Grape vines that grew just down the road from our school house! They were beautiful to look at, and so very thick with luscious grapes. Becky would climb the trees next to them and throw bunches of grapes down to me. She fell out of a tree, once. Scared the begeebers outta me seeing her all tangled up in the grape vines.

Our little family of 12 could do anything. Wellllll...in reality, by the time I came into existence, there were only 10 mouths to feed, and it wasn't long before there were just 7 children and 2 parents. My oldest sister, Helen, the first-born, had already moved away, had a husband and a daughter (Sydney Gail)...all before I was born. I was an Aunt, before I was born. Ha! My oldest brother, Melv, was away, somewhere, being a Navy SEAL fighting the good fight. On one of his furloughs, he took a picture of me, when I was around 18 months old, sitting in our front yard, wearing his SEAL hat on my extra large head. I think it fit. 🙄  So, by that picture I know he showed up on occasion. The third member of the clan, Don was living in California (I believe), when I was born. He had married and moved away. I really don't remember much at all about him, until I got much older, I just don't recall those first 3 being a part of our lives. That doesn't mean they weren't. It just means I didn't get to know them until I was considered an adult. Most likely because they had their own families and I don't think any of those first 3 had the honor of working at the Prater Sawmill. Lucky kids! I could be wrong on that. I don't have proof they didn't, but I was much too little to remember if they did. I did get to know them a bit better as an adult, except Helen. She lived in Tennessee and I was 14 years old before remembering I even knew who she was. My memories of those first 3 siblings are so scarce. But this blog post isn't about my siblings, as wonderful as they were/are. It's about the youngest of the clan. ME! 😉 "The spoiled one," they used to call me.

Wellll...this "spoiled one" learned how to work at a very young age. I'm grateful for that. Now. But I never got to really know my mom like I would have liked to. I knew her as the one who made sure we were all cared for. She was our nurse, our doctor, our care-giver, all rolled into one. We were always dressed in clean, pressed, hand made (by her) clothing; but only when heading to church, or school. The rest of the hours, we were in whatever we could find to pull onto our body's. Only shoes in the winter if our feet had grown too big by summer time. Then we were simply bare-foot if there were no shoes to hand down that fit properly. If our work demanded shoes, then our parents somehow found the money to get what was needed. Tummies were always satisfied with nutritious food. "Food for the hard workers," she would say. Two of the girls got to stay home and help mom. They worked hard, as well. Just more protected. I wasn't one of them. Dad took the healthy of the group with him to work the lower fields, the log woods, the sawmill, the cattle. There were two of us born not so healthy, so mom was allowed to keep them at home, away from places they could get hurt.

As you can tell, as a story teller, I tend to go down rabbit trails. One thought spurs another, and before I know it, the story has taken a turn from its original purpose. The only excuse I have for this is that I have lived enough of life that stories are in abundance. And since it is only one life I have lived (well, possibly two...NOW you're interested, aren't you), they all connect to each other. That's my best guess. 😂

Sooooo...would you like to take a peek into what I am working on for those pesky retirement years? If not, that's okay too. I'm most likely going to blog about the process anyway, as soon as things start moving over here. 

Until then, here you will find me...in Mary's World. Thanks for listening. You can wake up now. 😉

Transition Time...Resistance is Futile

The time has come. The time is now. Just like it was time for Marvin K. Mooney, it is time for me to "just go now." 

I've never been one to wait until the exact time of transition, to transition. This major shift is no different than the last in that I am in full prep mode. My mind has accepted the change and now my body must respond with action. That is what seems to be delayed...

They say knowledge is power. The preparation has been where the power has shown up, and has been on-going for nigh on a year; my understanding of what is staring me down is clear, yet I hesitate to begin the process, knowing full well what is coming. But it is coming. Soon. The plan is to let the promise of an exciting next chapter in the life of one MJLewis, to begin as soon as possible. Pretty sure there will be "phases" I will experience, as the fist clench hold onto the comfortable begins to release its grip. At least, that is what I'm telling myself. At most, it's completely true. The exciting part. Meaning the previous 50 year chapter, has been worn out and used up. Yet it somehow feels as if passion is giving way to something else. Something that isn't fully understood, just yet. And so it begins.

Switching gears here, staying true to form, I'm reminded of the transition of Jesus our Christ (since today is Easter Sunday), when the time had come for the cross. Thinking of the time he gave his all that we might have life, if we so chose. In the here and now. Before he came, there was no choice. It all was certain death. Getting more real, I wonder what his prep time felt like. I wonder if he resisted for a time (like I have) before finally giving in to what he knew he must do. According to Scripture, he did. He went to the garden and spent the entire night asking for "this cup to pass from me" if it be the will of the Father. UNLIKE me and the transition I am looking at, the cup HE spoke of was the one he knew he must drink from...for us to have life. Real life. The cup that demanded he give his life, so we could have ours. So he might renew our understanding of whose we were/are. To restore our memories of him. To remove the deception of the one who convinces us we are worthy to be seen as perfect, worthy to think we know ourselves better than God does, and to give us freedom from the one who hands out empty promises. 

We must consider the physical and mental pain Jesus surely endured. For you and me. For all of humanity. I don't mean to compare my decisions with those of our Lord and Savior's. It's just sort of ironic, the process one (anyone) must take when transitioning. There always seems to be the "hold onto what you are familiar with" before giving in and loosing the grip we have on it. Even when it's not in the best of circumstances. And yet, another story is forming in my head. Oh, the rabbit trails this mind of mine does take. First the natural, then the spiritual. They walk hand in hand. Always connected.

A few days ago, while listening to an interview (wish I could remember who it was with...didn't recognize the name), with someone who had near death experiences (three, to be exact), my attention was focused on what he was saying. He had been "dead" for 20 minutes and already in the cooler, on the first go around. With each experience, the transition from this life to the next, was the same. He never felt death. "It is like stepping from this life, into the next. No death," he said. "I was immediately in the presence of God," he continued. 

That's what Jesus did when he said, "It is finished." Death had no hold on Jesus. Now, it has no hold on us.

There are times that a particular piece of my past life will flash into my mind. I rarely enjoy those moments and leave them as soon as possible. Still, I realize that was a former me; a former "life". A former condition. It's all behind me. I transitioned from that life to this one. Yet, for whatever reason, everything seems to have a connection to, well, everything! For instance, from the beginning of time, we all have had the need of transformation. Ever since the days of Adam and Eve, visiting with the enemy of their Creator, transformation has taken place. From purity, to impure. Then back again to pure...of heart. Restored. Made new. For which I am eternally grateful to Jesus, the Christ...who makes us whole.

Today is the day we celebrate the resurrection of our Christ, defying death. The one who transitioned for us. The One who left his throne to become fully man, while still fully God, to bring us life. To show us the way to be complete. How to walk among the injustices of this temporary world. To love with a pure heart, not a deceived one. And to give the promise of an eternity spent with him. "Oh death, where is your sting? Oh grave, where is your victory?" ~I Corinthians 15:55

May 5th is the day I truly begin the next phase of this earthly life, as the presence of my business's decorated walls begin their own transformation. Still working behind the chair until May 24th, just in a different atmosphere, so-to-speak.

Transformation, in literal terms, will begin soon. Very soon...

Looking forward to this next chapter of life, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Dad and His Sanctuary

Did you know a study has been done citing various physiological benefits of spending time in nature, including a decrease in stress hormones, sympathetic nerve activity, blood pressure, and heart rate? It would seem that some trees release aerosols that increase immune-fighting cells and even reduce fatigue. The term "forest bath" was coined in Japan and speaks of going to wooded areas for healing and restoration. Don't you find it the slightest bit interesting that science has discovered the restorative qualities of God's created world?  Something else I am finding interesting is the fact that I'm about to go full circle as this next part of my journey begins. Welllll...maybe not FULL circle, but I'm certainly looking back and considering walking at least a portion of the path I began on. It's also interesting all the surprises God is putting in front of me, lately. Not once have I considered "retirement" to be a thing for me. "It's not in my DNA," I would say. I was taught early on that work is not a dirty word, even though it may involve a bit of dirt. Work has always been a privilege to me. Sure, there were some jobs I had along the way that I did not like, but always appreciated what I gained from having them. Lots of lessons learned from the "School of Hard Knocks" as Dad would say. 

Dad was a pretty serious kind of guy, but if you watched closely, you would catch glimpses of his humor. He had the best smile! One would never guess he had so much on his mind. So much responsibility. So much caring for the least amongst us. For those who struggled in life. Maybe he could relate to them. Having 10 (make that 12, counting himself and mom), mouths to feed, he and mom certainly had no time for themselves. Sure...they both had their sanctuaries. Mom's was her garden of flowers. She was grateful for the garden where our food grew, and tended to it daily, but her flower garden was her sanctuary. But dad...

Dad would tell us he would be back in a bit, and head to the upper pasture where there were plenty of trees to prop up against, and plenty of open space to knell and seek instructions for the life he had been called to. I'm fairly certain he enjoyed the large patches of blackberry clusters he had to work his way around, as he headed toward his favorite tree. He most likely grabbed a few along the way, being careful not to reach in too far because of the chiggers that would attach themselves to him. Chiggers are a definite distraction!

As a child, I often wondered what he was doing in the woods for such a long time. As an adult, I pretty much know. Yet, I can only imagine the groanings he must have presented to God. Or the amount of worship he offered, as he thanked God for sending his son to cover our sinful nature and for the Holy Spirit who guides us when we don't know up from down, or just how we can manage the days and nights of being giving the charge to guide others, in addition to taking care of his own family. 

As children, at least back in the era from which I came, we were not allowed in adult conversation. I can 't recall a time when I was even aware such a thing was happening. Yet it must have been. I do remember a time that I overhead Dad telling Mom the church he pastored had warned him about his new found faith of being holy spirit filled. He would have to leave the church if he preached about it. He loved the people of that church, so much so, that he withheld what God had shown him, had poured into him. Having heard this conversation, I was affected by it. In a most negative way. I wondered how he felt, knowing God had given him fresh understanding, yet wasn't permitted to share it with those he held close. Did he struggle because of it? Pretty sure he did.

Still, Dad had his sanctuary that he visited almost every day. There wasn't much time that he could remove himself from the daily needs of working a farm and running a sawmill. He had to make the time; remove himself from that life, in order to navigate it. I wonder if his heart pulled at him as he waited for the time he could commune with God and nature, knowing it was there he could let everything go while reaping the psychological benefits of spending time, alone with his thoughts, as he stepped from all the distractions that pulled him down. He must have loved his time with God. He must have loved the freedom his spirit felt as he encountered God's life-giving presence. It's what held him together. Of this I am sure. Simply put, Dad's sanctuary healed and restored him.

This blog post was formed to remind me of this fact, should I ever get too busy in this retirement I never saw coming. We all need a sanctuary. One that lets us commune with nature. One that allows us to breathe in deeply and exhale slowly. I know no better place than in God's tree filled forests with open skies that allows our soul to stretch and leave behind (if even for a moment in time), the cares that pull at us daily. My sister, Becky, could tell you how refreshing it is. Probably the reason she loved Colorado's mountains and waterfalls. And the reason she uninvited me (you read that right), and my husband from going on a trip with her and Den one year. But that's another story...

Looking for my "forest bath", as always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Change Within the White Space

Photo by Lindsey Lewis

Some days I actually get all the needed sleep, but most days I wake early. Really early. Like 3 AM early. Or 4 AM. Some days it's even in the 2 AM hour. Today it was a bit after 4, and my mind instantly formed a prayer for the day. This was the response it sent me: Change happens when in the white space. 

No, I haven't gone stir crazy just yet. Still have a working business for a few more weeks. Eight more, to be exact. My head is just swimming with navigation at the moment. To explain myself, so much is happening right now in my world. I won't bore you with details, but I will tell you that white space is a needed time for me. Time to set myself aside without obligation. It's where change actually begins. It's a time to settle, think, assess, and simply be present in life. It's a time to breathe easy. Our minds do need breaks from time to time, right? Mine does, at least. And for me, it's mostly a time to rest in God's presence, simply to wait for Him and the wisdom I feel He pours into my heart. It's what I love most about this particular season of change. Not only has Spring (new life) begun in the natural realm, but one might speculate that a type of Spring (new life) has come to the natural realm of my own life. Possibly the spiritual, as well. I'm here for what is staring me down.

Today, the nuggets of truth that God extended to me; verses I have known all my life, was brought to my attention. God knew I needed to revisit these today. 

• Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. ~Joshua 1:9 
• Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. ~Proverbs 3:5 
• I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you. ~Psalm 32:8
• There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1
• Do not be anxious for anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ~Philippians 4:6
• Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. ~2 Corinthians 4:16
• The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge, for the ears of the wise seek it out. ~Proverbs 18:15

Have you ever thought about the "coincidence" of everything being connected? Like when you see something in the natural realm of living life and simultaneously see God in it?  Even the written word will come to life when attended to. Just as we ourselves come to life when our life is attended to. Physically, and spiritually. 

Now, connect the spiritual with the natural. Consider the line spaces that a paragraph gives us. Just like the one created by starting this new paragraph. They give us "white space" intended for a moment to refocus...giving us time to consider what the topic is and what it's really about and what its importance is. They also enhance readability. Right? They are meant for focusing the reader...and possibly a thought change. A redirection. Just as God redirects us in the "white space". First the natural, then the spiritual, then comes understanding.

I'll leave you with why "white space" is important in the natural AND in the spiritual:   

1) It gives us clarity while reducing visual clutter. 

2) It creates a visual hierarch, of sorts, causing us to see the most important elements. 

3) It gives us balance. Who amongst us doesn't need that?!

Did you just connect the dots between the natural and the spiritual? What I'm saying is that everything is connected by God's design...if we but look. If we but see...

Paying attention, and hoping you find your white space, here you will find me...in Mary's World. #embracingthenewnormal #embracingchange #leaningintoGod #theforgottenway