But First, Coffee

After 26 hours of sleep, with only a possible collective 2 hours of semi-alertness, I am finally fully awake. I think. It is now 11:10 PM, on a Saturday night.

I had arisen early this Saturday morning with full intentions of getting my study cleared of all non-essentials, once and for all. It was going to take most, if not all, of the day.

But first, breakfast...and coffee.

It wasn't long after, that I knew not much was going to transpire in the way of productiveness on this beautiful day. My body was dragging, my head pounding, my throat aching, my energy lacking. Back to bed I should go. The study could wait. Again...

WHY??? Why am I so lack luster? Why can't I seem to get my energy level back up? Is this the way it's going to be in quarantine? Oh no...you are wrong! I have tried to push myself. I have tried "making" myself just "dig in and get busy". My body rebels. So, it's back to bed I go...

What you just read was typed out 3 days ago. I have no idea what was happening, but I had not felt on top of my game, so-to-speak, for a couple of weeks. At first, I thought, "Ummmm...do I have COVID-19? But, my wiser self came through and realized since there was no fever present, it most likely was just the results of mental concern over being mandated to close the salon (for SIX weeks), and the fact it was now pollen season...with curtains of green falling all around our house, our cars, the back porch, EVERYWHERE!

I am feeling much better today. Still dealing with a bit of allergy issues, but have energy, at last!!! There is still a little work I need to do in the study, but most things have been put where they belong (in the study, at least). So much needs to be tackled while I have this time away from the salon. I could talk about the closets in this house. But I won't. Ugh!!! They are next on my list. When I feel like it. Mentally, feel like it. Have you ever known there are things waiting to be addressed, but you just don't have the fortitude to address them? That's me, at the moment.

I have wanted to sit at my computer, for months, now. I'll walk by the study, glance in, and say, "I'll get to you eventually." Just for eventually to never come. Now that eventually seems to have shown itself, I'm not really sure why I am taking this valuable time to just sit and type out random thoughts. But I'm loving it...

As I glance out the window, only the US flag, perched on the front wall of our porch, is moving. Whipping around, as if in battle. The Spring flowers are showing their beauty, the grass is greening up, and all is still. Everything is still. Eerily still. Few are actually going to work these days. Most are sticking close to home, hoping to avoid the fearless COVID-19 virus that seems to have blanketed our nation, along with all the tree pollen. Only this virus is unseen, unlike the lime green pollen. It's creepy. It's dangerous. It will attach itself to you without you even realizing it. And then it begins to choke you, until you can barely breath. How does one loosen the grip of an unseen enemy?

God gives wisdom to those who ask. I do believe our nation, divided as it may be, is praying. Asking God for His wisdom on how to fight this. Our light at the end of the tunnel? That would be our scientists, whom God has given the ability, the desire, the intellect, to find a path of safety. And eventually destroy this unseen virus with antidotes, with immunization, with dependance upon the only One who cures our diseases.

Where can one find hope in all the uncertain foreseeable future? Watch closely, as neighbors begin to walk past your house, while staying 6 feet apart, but walking in sync with each other. Listen closely, as the birds sing their forever songs, filling the atmosphere with beauty. Breathe in deeply the scents of Spring that linger long after you go inside. Taste the flavor of home cooked meals, after they've sizzled on the grill, or in the oven. Feel the gentle breezes, as they play with your hair and wrap your skin in soothing touches. Revel in the laughter of your children, as they play around your feet, begging you to join in.

As I sit here, considering all the beauty of the world, I am still, and forever will be, curious. WHY is there never any toilet paper, paper towels, or Kleenex to be found on ANY stores shelves???!!! Ugh! Where's my coffee?

Staying hopeful, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

My Therapist

"...for such is the kingdom of heaven." ~Matthew 19:14

Our 3 year old granddaughter, Reagan, shows me the kingdom of heaven, on a daily basis. Well, the days I am given with her, at least. And I'm pretty sure her parents have noticed this as well. I'm really not surprised. We raised 2 children of our own, and many were the days I felt God speak to me, using their little voices. I always knew He was telling me He understands and "hey...here's how that works if you want a great outcome."

Toddlers are really perceptive little beings. I think it's because they are still experiencing memories of where they came from (and here is where I may lose a few of you).

"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you." ~Jeremiah 1:5  Before we were in our mother's womb! True, He was speaking to Jeremiah, one who was predestined to be a prophet to the nations. Yet, I so totally believe that even though we are not all prophets, we all were known before the foundation of the world became reality. So...we came from Him, in a much deeper reality. And at some point we will all return to Him. Some to give an account, others to enter into their rest. Okaaayyyy...getting off on a rabbit trail.

A few days ago, Reagan and I were playing with plastic Easter egg shells. She loves dinosaurs and was trying to force a really small one into one of the eggs, as a "surprise" for Grams. She was focused. She was determined. And here is what I noticed. She encourages herself.

"Come on, Reagan...you can do this!" she said. Wow! 3 Years old. Innocence at its peak. She believes in herself. Please, God...help us not damage that belief!!! On another day, while kicking a ball out in our front yard, the wind kept whipping it to the left of where I was aiming for it to go (toward her) so she might give a return kick. She just stopped everything, came over to me, placed her little hand on my arm and said, "Don't give up, Grams. You can do this." WHAT?! Sooooo much wisdom coming from this little person.

By-the-way. The kingdom of heaven is not a physical place. What?! Romans 14:17 tells us that the kingdom of heaven is not a place where one eats and drinks, but is a spiritual realm over which God reigns as King, or the fulfillment on Earth of God's will. That being, righteousness (right living), peace (calmness the world doesn't understand), and joy (an abiding state of being), while living on this planet. "I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one". ~John 17:15

As I ponder years gone by, I can see areas where I stopped trusting. Stopped believing in myself as an overcomer, and began to let situations define me. As the years flew past, sometimes raging as they swept by, I stopped listening to the nurturing spirit God placed within me. The "I can do anything," spirit that was a part of who I was. It soon became a fight, or flight, thing for me. And then a, "just put one foot in front of the other," thing. Then a feeling of being much like a cork, just bobbing along, out in the vastness of an engulfing sea. I began to put aside the place of strength and swapped it for whisperings of ineffectiveness. Of unimportance. I really took a wrong turn and followed the path that was overgrown with despair, sadness, alone feelings, and self centeredness. All the while knowing this would not turn out good. It was much like being focused on healthy eating, then deciding to throw it all out the window and begin eating things that would eventually destroy your health. Knowing there was no possible good outcome.

And then Reagan shows up on the scene. What an amazing gift God has given, not just to me, but to all who have the honor of being where she is. I'm listening again. I'm hearing the still, small voice, coming over loud and clear, coming straight from my little therapist. 

"You can do this!" "Don't give up!" 

 


Praying this mighty warrior spirit of Reagan's remains active throughout her life, and here I'll remain...in Mary's World.

A Child Shall Lead Them

Recently (within the last couple of weeks), our forward thinking granddaughter began interacting with the times I speak aloud to God. Especially at nap time. Since it appears this girl is going to be a tenacious problem solver, she rarely is in the mood to take 5, or in nap time lingo, 60-120. So even prayer time can become long, as she attempts to solve the problems of nap time.

Auntie Lindsey stopped by to play

On one such occasion, after going through the rituals of book reading, dancing to music as stars and moon danced along on the ceiling, and asking Grams to "be" one (or another) toy she plays with, it was past time to lay down and quiet ourselves. Easier said than done...

She needed to "tell me something", or "I need a hug", or "I love you...hold me", or "I not ready." Some days she just starts talking about anything and everything. I'm sure there's a story she's trying to lay out for me, or maybe it's yet another ploy to keep those big, beautiful blue eyes of hers, open. On that day, I caved. There was just too much cuteness happening, and I found myself laughing uncontrollably (inside...as my body shook). She felt it, and began laughing, and laughing, and laughing. I figured I had just eliminated nap time, so in the spirit of "I need to win this game", I lifted myself off the floor where I knelt beside her bed. Stood up, and lifted her as tiny arms flew around my neck and strong legs wrapped around my waist. She was there to stay. At least for a bit. We talked. We laughed. We made up stuff that only the other world knows. I'm pretty sure there was laughter happening in Heaven that particular day as the angles watched a little girl giving so much joy to one who used to be a little girl. A very long time ago.

But...it was time to seek instruction from a higher power. "God," I began. "What would you suggest I do with this treasure you have placed in my arms? How would you have me relax her enough to get her quieted and ready for sweet dreams?" On the heels of my prayer, her little voice reached out as her head tilted backward, with eyes looking upward. As she smiled at the ceiling, she said, "God, tell her to rub my legs. For a long time." And then she giggled. She is all of 2 years old.

Reasoning with Momma

That was a couple of weeks ago. NOW, she prays to Walter. Walter is one of her special Beat Bugs characters that is in the form of a soft plush toy she takes to bed with her. Always. Until just recently. That's another story.

Why she is calling upon the name of Walter is anybody's guess. I just say, "I pray to God. Not Walter." She then changes her prayer, and poor Walter has to take a back seat to God. She loves praying, however. I rarely have to remind her of who to pray for, anymore. She includes anyone she has ever come into contact with. I'm pretty sure Olivia (the little girl she met at Jump Street two days ago), will be in her next line of requests. It will be interesting to hear how she prays for Olivia. And, she never forgets to ask God to bless each family member at work, and usually ends her prayers with "I love you."

My prayer is that she never loses that child-like love for people. Even when she doesn't understand what is happening in her world, that she chooses to forgive. That we adults never squelch the pure, innocent spirit, that resides within her. That, like her mother, we always address her with a calmness...instead of yelling, thinking that is the only way to get her attention.

Until next time, here you will find me, listening for instructions from a child (or her mother)...here, in Mary's World.

P.S. I love my day job.

What Time Is It?

Cleaning up my iPhone, during the wee hours of this morning, I ran across a note to myself, that was more like a conversation with God, dated 2/28/2018.

It read: "Humanity is flawed. I am flawed. Remind myself to be patient and kind. Always use kind authority. Help me not to listen to the lies of the enemy of my soul that would tell me to retreat, hide, stop laughing, stop sharing. Help me to be present in a real, life-giving way."

And as a reference, I noted 1st Corinthians 13. Aha! The love chapter. There we find the true definition of love. You know, that word that is usually used as a verb and is loosely thrown around without much depth of meaning. No worries. This post is not about that since I've already laid out most of my anxious thoughts about love, in a previous post. This post is about that little voice (that occasionally becomes big), who stands guard in the deepest recesses of my mind, ready to shout, "RETREAT!"

I don't know why I felt it necessary to place this note on my phone, on that particular day. Evidently, something had stirred my anxiety levels to a high and there was a need to hold myself accountable. It's pretty amazing that as we look back, we can see God was orchestrating our life while in the middle of a potential demise. Even though we thought it was coming from our brilliance, our own wisdom, it was by design.

Aristotle once said, "There is only one way to avoid criticism: do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing." And Charles Swindoll, "Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it."

Why do we need constant reminders to live life to it's fullest? Why? Are we seriously so distracted, so self-centered, that all we can see is 2 feet in front of our face? While we are asking, why do we feel attacked, so easily? Does it come from those years between the ages of birth to 5 years, when data comes at us like the speed of light and we absorb it all, so we might pull it all up from the archives of our mind when we become adults? Goodness, I hope not! Maybe it's just that we feel inferior, or less than, whoever is speaking to us. Is that it? Goodness, I hope not!

What time is it, anyway? How much longer do we have on this planet?
What is important enough to consume our days, weeks, months, & years? Is it even possible to always be kind? Is it even possible to love someone more than yourself? Where is that crazy invisible line we don't want to ever step over? Why aren't there flags that pop up in front of us when we are getting close to that line? Why?

Could it be that life is actually a training ground? Is it possible that someday we will realize we cannot control others, but only ourselves? And, seriously, how long should it take to grow up? I'm well beyond the "young adult" season. Some have said it takes at least 30 years for the brain to mature. My question, then, is why don't we see more mature 30 somethings? What is defined as maturity, anyway?

I think I'm going with Charles Swindoll's statement that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I respond. But that still doesn't answer the question of how long does it take to become mature, does it?

Here's a thought:
1. Don't be a bully
2. Avoid gossip, rumors, and talking about others behind their backs
3. Be the bigger person if someone is unkind to you
4. Keep an open mind. Your ideas are not the only ones available.
5. Have confidence in yourself
6. Be genuine
7. Accept personal responsibility

Watching the clock a little too much, here in Mary's World. That's where you'll find me...

The Invisible Line

"Better late, than never," is a well-known proverb. Some arrive late, but that's okay because at least they arrive. Right?

It seems an invisible line has been drawn that one crosses without realizing it, until the moment of truth slaps them in the face. So to speak. Within the last week, I have visited two separate (very separate), establishments. For the record, I was neither late nor early, to each of these places. I was right on time. My time.

Last night, I became fully aware (once again) of that elusive, invisible line, that one crosses as they travel life's roadways. Late, or otherwise. You know the one I speak of. It's that place of tranquility, instead of clamored chaos. It's the "would you please turn that music down a couple hundred notches," place. It's that "Sorry. What did you say?" place. Good grief. I couldn't even think of how to subtract a simple equation because the noise was sooooo LOUD in the place. To make matters worse, the girl at checkout had the voice volume equivalency to that of a mouse, while your "final experience" guy shouted (yes, shouted), your name when the order was ready. I'm pretty sure it was because that would be the only way one would ever come to the counter to pick up their order of the day.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Oblivion is a place I rarely allow myself to visit but have been known to take a trip or two, there. Truth be told, I have been accused of actually living in the fantasy world of explosive reality, obscured only by the untrained mind. Chew on THAT statement for awhile...

The Yang of last nights Yin experience, happened only last week. And, if you know anything about Yin and Yang, you'll totally understand my statement. Just let me say I'm not a bit surprised by the actual definition of Yin and Yang. "Two principles, one negative, dark, and FEMININE (yin...uh-huh), and one positive, bright, and MASCULINE (yang...go figure). Describes me and my husband, to a T!!! Yeah. I know. I'm pretty sure that was Eve's fault.

Anyway, my husband and I had decided to visit a new restaurant in Cary, just last week. It looked promising, as we walked into an atmosphere of visual tranquility. Not saying it was spa-like, but it was spa-like. Almost. From the moment we walked in until our heels lifted off the exit step, our 5 senses enjoyed a quiet dance that those who have crossed the invisible line from chaos to tranquility, understandably want to be. It wasn't boring. Just peaceful. A place in which one could breathe without the heart rate jumping through the roof, or having the need for Advil. A place where your Northern extremity didn't need to be held, but one could actually have a conversation with oneself...if need be.

These two establishments that both offer exciting dishes for the palate are almost total opposites. If I were Lady Justice, I do believe the scale would tip in favor of the spa. Yeah. It's that invisible line, and I don't like headaches. Clearly, they both have their targeted audiences. 

The moral to this story? Never despise the quiet places. Soon enough you'll be visiting them as well. THEN, you will understand that crazy invisible line was there for a reason. We can deny it's there, and try convincing ourselves we are still 30 years younger than what we actually are, as we vehemently proclaim, "BRING IT ON!" But...it's there regardless. Our brain knows it's there, it's just not "in your face" obvious. And one day, you too will step over it and really, really, love it!

One last thing. You will know if you've arrived on time, or if you're shamefully late. But, you WILL arrive. Vertically, or horizontally. (Did I just go morbid there?)

Ahhhh...living the life, here you'll find me. Here, in Mary's World.

Where Are My Sunglasses?

"Hiding" from Grams

Have you ever begun something, set it aside for later, and later never appeared? For whatever reason, my blogging desires have come to the surface, of late. So, looking into the "draft" archives, I found a post I had started back in 2013, that never got finished. Five years later, it has reminded me of a game Reagan and I now play. Hide and Seek is an amazing game, as seen through the eyes of a child. All you have to do is duck your head, and/or close your eyes, and whoever is searching for you, even though they may be looking directly at you, cannot see you. Even if you say, "Is Reagan in the _______ (fill in the blank), and she really isn't there, you will hear her sweet voice from another room (where she really is), loudly say, "No." If you start to leave the room she is in, she will make a noise, as if she is trying to whistle so you will know you are close to where she is. But only when she is REALLY hiding. Like behind a chair, or closet door.

I love this kid, sooooo much!!! She consistently puts a smile on my face and laughter in my soul.

So, with that, here is the archived draft from 2013. Left dangling, unfinished; I think I will finish it today.

      I left work a wee bit early today. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable being where others could see me...and business had become quiet. While driving home, I decided to put my sunglasses on. Ahhhh...all of a sudden, my confidence in who I am began to become evident to me once again. All it took was to remove my regular eyeglasses and replace them with sunglasses. I felt hidden from sight. No one could see me. Weird, how that happens.

     Yesterday, in a moment of frustration, I decided to cut most of my hair off. It had become way too long for what I'm accustomed to, and just the day before, a contract worker explained why he was laughing as I walked out of my place of business. "I thought you had a motorcycle helmet on," he said, choking on his own laughter. "I guess it's time for a haircut," I quietly replied as I quickly slipped the key in the lock. Motivation came flooding in, as I determined once and for all, to change the way I looked. My evidently large helmet sized head sank lower as I walked out the door.

     When my girls were mere toddlers, I would place a dish towel over their heads where they couldn't see me, and we played peek-a-boo for what seemed like hours. They would giggle as I said, "Where's Lindsey (or Meghan...whichever it was)." You know the game. When they pulled the cloth off their faces, I would say, "Oh! There you are!" It was a fun game for them...and me. That simple act of placing something over their heads created a sense of invisibility. I guess it lingers into adulthood. My sunglasses had become my personal dish towel.

Ah...the essence of youth and cute hair. You rarely, if ever, see a child fussing about their hair and how it looks. And yet, it's usually adorable. Combed, or not combed. The only time it's important for them to be invisible is when they are hiding from you.

 As the years travel quickly past me, I still remain young at heart. Is it possible that's how God intended it to be, like, forever??? I've said it more than once, "I still feel as if I'm in my 30's." My body may be showing signs of being a few years older, but who I am, is stuck back in the 80's. Where are my sunglasses?

If you've lost me, look for me here, in Mary's World...behind the sunglasses.

Night Visits

Well, they seem to have started their attempt at bondage once again. It's been awhile. The night terrors I have experienced over the years, have paid me a visit 3 times, in the last week. Last night was a bit different, in that, not only did the sheet of unexpected attempts at silencing me happen, there was also a throw-back dream (of sorts), that followed the screams piercing the late night hours.

But first...a little history. Many years ago, before giving my life to God, I would have recurring dreams of water. A lot of water. In those dreams, I could barely keep myself from drowning as the water reached out for me. In one dream, I had a baby that, as we were going under, I would stretch as high as I could to lift her enough to keep her head above the foreboding waters. She was always safe, but I was under the water. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. That was God telling me I had to die to what I was, in order for the new to be birthed and alive. And the new me would live.

But the most vivid dream of all was the recurring one of falling into a pit of sand that would not cough me up, no matter how hard I tried to free myself. The more I tried digging my way to freedom, the more sand spilled in upon me until it totally covered up my only way of escape. As the last bit of sky was removed from my sight, and the sand had totally engulfed me, I felt the urge to turn and look to my left. When I did, a large opening presented itself to me, with light pouring through it. One that was so simple, so easy, to walk through. And I did. God had made a way of escape, where there seemed to be none. And all it took was for me to stop grabbing at the thing that was burying me. Again, I didn't realize it then, but I do now. 

The night terrors began years later. The first one was in December of 1974. They consistently, and periodically, visited me over the coming years. I never knew when they would present themselves. Looking back, I can remember times of extreme stress being my companion, as I navigated life. The years prior to becoming a Christian had left a lot of mental & physical baggage that needed unpacked. I really don't know if the stress caused the terrors, or if the terrors caused the stress. Not long after laying my head down to sleep, many nights just as I was drifting off, a very demonic face would come from a far corner of our bedroom, and with sonic speed, stop just short of my face. I would wake with a blood-curdling scream. Those were during the young years of my Christianity, and prior to becoming a mom.

The terrors would stop for quite a while, only to return later. Never knew why they stopped, but was tremendously happy about it. Then they began again, with full on force, in 2013 upon moving to North Carolina. But with a different terror. Now I was experiencing a grid-like object hovering over my face, as it threatened to smash into me or imprison me. I was also "seeing" short (talking 3 foot tall) guys of Indian (not Native) descent, standing only a few feet from me. They stood, just gazing in my direction as if trying to decide who I was. They never threatened me, it was just intensely terrifying to wake and see someone in my room...watching me.

Last night, and for the last two times of visitation, the terror presented itself as a see-through cloth just drifting over me, making me think it was going to cover me. These terrors all feel so real. I believe I am fully awake, but seem to be in a dream-like state, then STARTLED awake. Not able to remove the cloth, my being just reacted with screaming. And then, the dream came. It was different, yet the same, in that I was about to be consumed. I was heading out to purchase more twigs and vines for a display I was preparing. When I got to the store, a wall of dense, multi-colored and hardened sponge, had blocked the entire store, allowing no entrance. As I made my way forward (stubborn, I am), I found myself engulfed by the wall of foamy sponge. Did I fall into it? I don't know. But, I do know there was only about 3 feet between me and safety as I tried to remove myself from certain death. The wall began to wrap itself around me until I couldn't move. I could still see the sky, so reached upward, trying to find anything I could grab onto to get me to safety. But...any move I made only caused the wall to further secure its victim. Like a fly caught in a web, and much like the pit of sand of many years prior.

I awoke, having had no escape presented to me. During my morning shower, I pondered this dream. I know direction is trying to lead me. I also know I am trying to hold onto something God is asking me to let go of. Something that is sucking the life out of me. And guess what is laying at my doorstep. Fear. Little Much Afraid is looking directly at the situation she finds herself to be in, and all the terrifying cousins she must encounter along the way to freedom are lurking, watching every move she makes.

So, here I am, Lord. Speak. You'll find me here, in Mary's World...