The Silent Cry

"The face is a picture of the mind as the eyes are its interpreter." ~Cicero    
"The eyes are the window of the soul." ~William Shakespear
"The light of the body is the eye." ~Matthew 6:22

If evidence of our condition comes through our eyes because eyes are the windows to our soul, or if our face betrays what's on our mind; there are many souls walking the surface of our planet that is in deep despair. And their silent cries are deafening. Their eyes are covered in a mist that has created numerous, indifferent responses without so much of a glance in the direction of any question that may be asked of them. They are everywhere but the geographic space their body stands upon.

Of late, it has grabbed my heart in a way I never expected. Possibly, because I have dealt with deep sadness; a loneliness in my spirit. At first, I was just annoyed when coming face to face with what I perceived to be a less than admirable attitude. I've complained to my husband, my daughters, and most likely to anyone that would listen. It's so very hard to tolerate an attitude of indifference. Research has shown that 68% of customers do not return to an establishment because they have experienced an attitude of indifference in those serving them. I can verify that is certainly the case with me. I have way too many options to have to subject myself to people who couldn't care less if I shop with them, or not.

I really don't expect anyone to kiss my queenly hand, but it would be nice to give me a quick "I see you" glance and possibly a slight uplifting at the corners of their mouth. Especially if I'm in their check-out lane at the grocery store, or department store. Or sitting at their table, or booth, in the restaurant where they are employed. It just unnerves me. At the very least, it's impolite. And...I've always decided the amount of tip to leave, simply by the attitude with which one served me.

Of late, my heart has hurt for the sadness (indifference) I see in people's eyes (their souls?). I rarely see smiling faces when I'm out and about. Everyone seems to be in their own little world. And it's not just at places of service. I see them walking down the street, driving a car, standing in line. That world doesn't look like a place I'd want to live, even though I have found myself visiting that place on occasion.

Why do we brush people off so quickly? Have we decided they are just miserable people to be left alone? Or maybe, just maybe, they wish someone cared enough about them, to offer friendship or just a smile. A real smile. Surely I'm not the only person who enjoys seeing happy people or receive the "I see you" smile.

Because we have a story, we can bet that everyone else has a story, as well. Stories of hurt, of deep pain, of hope lost, of uncertainty. Stories of loneliness and deafening silence, of shattered dreams of a simple, peaceful existence. Those are the people who need to see life still IS worth living.

Do we have a part in making sure they know this? If so, what does that look like? How could the silent people, who have the Words of Life, speak up, without offending or sounding self-righteous?

It's also been said that "actions speak louder than words." ~Abraham Lincoln

Maybe we can just start with a smile...

Sorting through my thoughts, here you'll find me, in Mary's World.

Strolling Down Memory Lane

In the cool morning air, with coffee in hand, I took an unintentional stroll down memory lane this morning. I love this time of day (5:00a.m.-6:30a.m.) and the beauty outside my living room window beckoned me to come on outside.

A perfect 64 degrees, the stillness of the early morning captured my spirit. I decided to "just walk a bit." As I stepped off the front porch and looked around at the majestic Oaks, slender Elm, the Sycamores and the Walnut trees, my mind took me back to the days when our girls were just beginning their life's journey.

The first swing that hung by ropes from the large Oak tree that edged our drive, began it's gentle back and forth motion with Lindsey, our very active first born. She loved the swing and would giggle with much happiness when pushed. But she couldn't stay there for long. She had to be in other parts of her world...exploring, creating, singing and praising the Lord with hands lifted way above her head as she made up songs that touched her mother's heart and made it smile with gratitude. So creative, that one.

It was for her third birthday that Daddy created the big playground for a place she and her little sister could entertain each other, and the sounds of giggling girls could warm any heart within hearing distance. Momma even used the swings when she had some alone time...later...after her children were grown and gone. The set started out with tire swings until a neighbor rebuked the girl's daddy for not making "real" swings. The playground was upgraded pretty quickly. But now, as I watch the memories dance around in my head, I notice the ground where it was designed, now bare, wishing for the feet of little girls again. Or is that just me?

The wide slide made out of laminate cabinet topping had to be oiled frequently, in order to offer up a sliding experience second to none. There was also a sandbox placed just under the deck that was at the top of the slide, and two swings made out of rubber and large chains were hung ever so enticingly from the solid oak beam that stretched out to connect to the deck. I had put in a request for a ladder that ran from the deck to the large, old Oak that simply begged for a tree house to live in its branches. We never got that far...but what we had, brought a lot of enjoyment. And the non-existent tree house was vivid in my mind as I watched the girls climb up the horizontal bars attached to the tree, or clamored over the extended ladder, to have tea time in the playhouse.

In the backyard that bordered a wooded area, were two fruit trees. A very productive apple tree, that neighbors from all around would come to gather in some of its harvest and a somewhat fruitful peach tree that served only the family it belonged to. The apple blossoms were always a favorite with the girls. Many a picture was taken with the two of them under that tree when the blossoms were in full bloom. Lindsey demanded it.  I still am in awe of her ability to capture with a camera, what she sees as beauty. Little did we know that a bit of her future was being formed...

As the months turned into years, our lives took many a turn. One such turn was when Lindsey's sister, Meg, was given a beautiful Appaloosa horse as a gift of love, near her 13th birthday. Half of our acre wide homestead had to be fenced off to make room for this generous gift. Trottsey had come to live with us and needed a place to graze and lope around. Again, Daddy (and uncle Danny & Grandpa Denzil), came to the rescue. A lean-to was added to an existing shed that was created years before, as a playhouse for the two sisters. Now, Trosttsey could get in out of the weather, and have a place to eat dry food or just snooze. A little later we had to acquire a larger area for her to get enough grazing and to stretch her legs out. Didn't take her long to nub out our yard and there really wasn't space for running. An adventure was about to happen that none could have predicted. To this day, I am still in awe of Meg's ability to calm and direct animals (and people). A bit of her future was being formed...


What you have just read, was typed out more than a few years ago. I seriously cannot remember when I began this draft. We were still living in Oklahoma, where the girls grew up because I do remember that particular morning. Why I didn't finish it, is anybody's guess. Most likely I had other fish to fry and just forgot about it. My thought is we were about to make the move to North Carolina and I was taking in all that I could about the place we had called home for the last 37 years and then became distracted by the necessities of life, just to leave it dangling in the archives of this blog space.

I love memory lane! Even the memories that, while experiencing them, weren't so happy. They formed our family. They caused us to stick like glue to the solid foundation that Christ had built for us many, many years ago. We had so many wonderful, happy times; but it was in the darkest of times that we grew to love each other the most. It was in the hard, challenging times, that we pressed into our faith that God would help us move the mountains, or at least create a path through them, and come out the other side, still a family. A family that would understand love just a little more than before the mountain presented itself.

Love is not a feeling. Love is a choice. Sure, we have a lot of warm, fuzzy, feelings when we are happy. But that's not real love, even though we call it that. Love will move mountains. Love covers any adversity and calls it opportunity. Love doesn't hold the injustice of words spoken and determines it's revenge. Nope. Love doesn't take a wrong suffered and retaliate. Love loves. In spite of pain suffered.

We can always trust the words of the Father. "Be strong and courageous. I will never leave you, nor forsake you." ~Deuteronomy 31:6.

I've shared only a few memories, here. Memories of when our children were small. Yet, God's memory of us goes much further back. He knew us before He formed us in our mother's womb (Jeremiah 1:5 and Ephesians 1:4-5). He knew the path we would take, yet He loved us enough to sacrifice Himself and show us that we could, indeed, overcome anything that presented itself unpleasant to us. He showed us how to love. Really love...

Making memories, while living off memories, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.

So You Think You Have "Fallen in Love"

I've lived a lot of years. A lot! 😉 I have learned some things. I have still yet to learn other things. But, I have come to the conclusion that we don't "fall in love", but that we CHOOSE to love. We choose to love in spite of others actions, or the lack of their actions. We choose to love, because we were first loved by the Father. And He showed us what real love is.

Sound miserable? It's not. Oh, some days I would dispute that. But reality causes me to take a deep breath and look a little closer at what love really is. I do know that beautiful word is used waaaayyyy too many times to describe sexual feelings, comfort feelings, getting what I want feelings, and the all-around-feel-good feelings. The sun is shining, feelings. We're going to the beach (or mountains) awesome feelings.

But, what happens when life throws you a curve? What happens to "love" when trustworthy suddenly becomes irresponsible? What happens to "love" when there is no beach trip because there is no money to fund it? What happens to "love" when the one you "love" has a different point of view and expresses it with a raised voice? Do we still "love"? Or in that moment, do we decide the "love of our life" is not who we want to be with any longer? Oops! Love leaked out somehow. Love has been replaced with anger. Love has been replaced with the pain of harsh words. I just can't believe there to be any long-term relationship without differences that hurt on occasion. Love is a CHOICE!

Just to help us out a bit, Scripture defines love for us. This is how one measures love. We don't "fall in love". If you can go through this list and say with an honest heart, that you pass the love test, then you are indeed a very special person. Almost perfect, ready to be reunited with your Maker, and collect your just reward. Love is a choice, simply because life is unpredictable. For me, the first two out of the gate keeps me grounded, and aware of just how much I still fall short. Patient & kind. At all times.


I Corinthians 13: 4-8a

v.4. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
v.5. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
v.6. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
v.7. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
v8a. Love never fails

The road less traveled is the one that is narrow, with hardship, and must be lived by faith in the One Jesus Christ, who sacrificed everything so we might have an eternity with our Creator, all the while having an understanding of the way of peace and true love, while on this planet. Why is that? Because few will give up the right to control what comes in to their life, and what don't. Many try to enter the love gate by allowing for human effort and all other of the world's religions. It's non-exclusive. These are those who don't believe that Jesus is the only way to the Father of all life. Ah...the truth in the lie of tolerance. Jesus died for ALL, but all don't choose Him.

There is only one way to know what love truly is. And it isn't easy. Love takes denying yourself. And that's a tough one.

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World. (It really belongs to God, but he's loaned a portion of it to me). 😉

Crazy Lady on Warren Avenue

I was so glad to spot this sign in a local consignment shop, yesterday. That sign swept all my fears right out the door as it said, "Welcome, crazy lady Mary! Sit a spell and have a glass of sweat tea."

There have been a few instances (okay...more than a few), that a North Carolinian could have sized me up and declared me to be a little lop-sided in the belfry. Oklahomans already knew this, since I had been around for, let's see...39 plus years, and they had grown to love me. The understanding ones (those with similar issues), anyway.

I'll just throw a couple of questionable instances out here, and you can let me know if I'm Southerner enough to parade my crazy. And while you read, don't forget the declaration of the aforementioned sign...

Instance #1. It was somewhere around July 9th, or 10th, of this year. My husband had made a trip back West, leaving me to fend for myself. That's not always a good thing. I take things to bed with me. For protection. Like my very sharp letter opener.

On this particular evening, my psyche had already been put on high alert from an event that took place moments after going to bed. Something (or someone), pounded the outside of the house just about 3 feet from where my bed was. It wasn't just a little scrape, or thump. We're talking, "let's knock a hole in this wall", thump. As my eyes stretched wide with terror, I stealthily moved quietly out of bed, grabbed my dagger and iPhone light, ready to make anyone that might be trying to enter crazy Mary's house wish they had not. And of course, I found no one around. Completely invisible to me, maybe they had decided to hide in the dark recesses beneath the screened in porch...also a short distance away from my bedroom. Geez, who beats on the side of ANYONE's house after 11pm? Someone with a death wish, evidently.

I finally told myself it must have been a blind deer trying to find new growth from any of the bushes they missed the previous night, thinking my bedroom wall was foliage. Hey. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do to assure yourself you will be alive come morning. We do have motion sensor lights on the outside of our house (somewhat comforting), and one of them was glaring into the night's darkness. Just as I suspected they would. I knew by that, SOMETHING triggered it!!! I decided to leave those lights on, and return to bed.

Once there, I found that sleep wasn't easy to find, either. When at last I dozed off, a gentle "beep" went off in the hallway that is adjacent to our bedroom. What???!!! Okay, as my heart muscle began placing my chest in a choke hold, I knew that someone who had been dishonorably discharged from the military was now in my house, and had some sort of explosive that was about to go off. Thus the beeping noise. I really didn't know what to do. I waited (without breathing). 5-10 seconds later, there was another soft "beep". So, what is this guy doing? Just STANDING in my hall???

I knew I had to face the music. With my trusty letter opener gripped tightly in my right fist, again, I was ready to leave my mark on whoever had been bold enough to cross my threshold. The hall was empty. Surprise, surprise. "beep-beep-beep". WHERE is that coming from?! Then all went silent. At that moment, I realized it was the carbon monoxide detector. What should I do? Am I being gassed as I stare at it? Will I be able to get out in time since it is an odorless gas, I really can't tell how long I might have. Wait! This is too easy for Dennis. His wishes could not be allowed to come true. I should call the FIRE DEPARTMENT! They will rescue me! They're up all night anyway, and it's only 1 am. Okay, Google, find the number for me.

The fire chief told me in his very professional voice, to "leave the premises now." Now??? Ummm...I'm not clothed properly. So, being the bright young lady that I am, I said, "Do I have time to put some clothes on?" Please. Do not ask what was going on in my crazy head. I HAVE NO IDEA!!! I can only imagine the laughter, the jokes, the innuendoes, happening after I closed that conversation out.

A huge fire truck arrived within a few minutes. They had even prepared a second one that had began it's journey to Warren Avenue, as well. Three firemen got out of the first unit and made their way to our house, preparing for the worst, I'm sure. I was just leaving the house, when they pulled up. Yes, it took me awhile to find proper clothing in the middle of the chaotic stressors of the night hours. Good thing I was still in the house. Someone had to unlock the door for them, since I missed that memo. I think it quite possible, as I now reflect on this event, that my brain took a vacation without inviting my body. An empty shell remained to figure out something an alone person should never have to.

I'm going to cut this story short, even though there is a lot more to share about it. The beeping was not coming from a carbon monoxide detector. We don't have one, the fire chief tells me. It was the fire alarm. The fire alarm that was 18 years old and the battery was going belly up, but wanted to alert me first. Whew. I may not die after all. At least not from being gassed. Embarrassment, maybe. But not from carbon monoxide poisoning. Not tonight...

Instance #2. See the picture to the right? What do you think THAT is? If you guessed a bone, you would be correct! Hanging on my backyard swing. Yep. This happened just a couple of evenings ago. It was a beautiful evening, with a cool breeze blowing, so I decided to sit a spell (minus the sweet tea), out on the backyard swing. I always look the swing over, before sitting down. Simply because it's back is up against a wooded area and I don't relish the idea of a snake just dropping down for a visit. I don't like the shape of their tongues. It makes conversation double sided, if you know what I mean...

When I spotted this bone, I immediately took a picture and sent it via text message to my husband. My, in the house, relaxing, husband. He had mowed the yard the evening before, so I wondered what he was thinking by placing a bone on my swing. He claims he didn't do it. Right. I figured he was trying (again) to make me think I was going mental. But when he came out to take a look, I knew he was telling me the truth. He didn't do it. Okay. Where did it come from? He said it "probably dropped out of the tree." What??? Look how big that thing is! It dropped out of a tree. Yeah. I'd hate to come face to face with whatever drug that thing up the tree. Ya know, the tree that is in my backyard. Yeah, THAT tree!

So, who put the bone on my swing? And why were they in my back yard? And why did they choose to hang it from my swing? Why not throw it into the wooded area? And, why were they in MY back yard??? Had they been swinging? WHY were they in my back yard?!

As the evening drew to a close, I couldn't get this partial, dehydrated, strangely odd bone, out of my head. I googled the human humerus. Bingo! We had part of a skeleton's arm hanging from our swing. And from the length of it, it appeared to be the bone from a small child. Maybe an 8-10 year old. My next move was to text my reality-check daughter. She never pulls any punches, just tells it like it is. And it's mostly, "Mom. You're over-thinking this," daughter. "Maybe you should call the police and let them decide," she surprisingly said. Even she agreed the two looked similar. Similar enough to have it checked out.

Now my mind began forming all kinds of scenarios. 'Cause, like I said. This girl never sugar coats anything. Straight up truth. AND, I had always thought the dip in our backyard was because people were buried there. Granted, my mind may be a little over-active at times. A client suggested the dip in our yard was most likely a previous garden spot. Whatever... ;-)

So....the nice policeman arrives, and I show him my pictures before going out to where my husband had thrown the bone. This was like at 9:30 pm, and it was very dark out. That's significant. I'm not sure why, it just is. Plus, I was pretty sure my name had popped up in the system before the guy came out. Remember the fire alarm thingy? I'm probably marked by the City of Cary as being an unbalanced person, so there's that.

The evening came, and went, just as fast as that bone flew through the air on it's way to another adventure. The officer declared it to be an old animal bone. Good enough. But still...HOW did it get on my swing, and WHY was it there? According to the nice man, "a kid probably found it, and while walking through your private yard to get to his house, across the street and a half mile behind your house, through brush that needed a machete blade placed against it in order to pass through, probably just decided that was a good place to hang it. You know, up high, instead of conveniently placing it on the lower support bar. Cause kids are like that. They take the hard way, instead of the easy."  Ummmmm...right! *eye roll

Now, it's your turn. Do I fit into the North Carolinian atmosphere? And would you offer me a sweet tea if I came to sit a spell?

I am optimistically awaiting your response...here, in Mary's World.

It's Amazing What A Curtain Can Teach You

I've been wanting to blog for a very long time, now. Since mid February, to be exact. Nope. I'm not a procrastinator. Life just has turned out a lot of brain fog that likes to travel in circles, while it navigates my new normal. You'd think 5 years would be sufficient to adjust, right? I'm gettin' there. I'm gettin' there....

I was going to post about Walking a Narrow Line, or Keeping One's Balance, or Placing One Foot in Front of the Other, or Walking the Fence, or Why Rubber Pads Are Bad Support Bases While Standing on A Ladder. But then I tried to access my blog site...

My heart is JUST NOW starting to beat in a regular rhythm, after about 30 minutes of head banging. Crazy stuff happens in cyberspace, especially for the tech challenged. The blog I had never had trouble accessing since 2010, now would not allow me to post. And just why not??? Could it be that since it had been a full 7 months since my last visit, big brother thought I had died? Could it be because some weirdo had accessed my blog and stole all my really great posts, and there was now nothing to show? Could it be that my website had connected to the blog (after all, it WAS showing my business email address...weird), and erased everything not pertaining to the beauty industry? Yeah. I know. That one was a little bit of a stretch.

So...very looooonnnnngggg story, short. I was logged into my business account instead of my personal account. Since I have not yet created a blog driven by Google, for that site, it's no wonder it was saying I did not have a blog yet. Good grief! I'm really not sure why that made my heart pump a gazillion times a minute, nor why I thought you'd want to know that. I guess it was the thought of losing all my posts and that all of you would cry. I was frantic inside, while trying to be nice (my husband demands it), to the fella on the other end of my conversation piece that was telling me there was no technical help for the blogger. Breathe out, Mary. Breathe out...

So...I recently changed out the sheer curtains that allowed a lot of light to filter in through the blinds, as they hung in the spare room where Reagan takes her naps, when she is lighting up Grams life. I replaced them with black-out curtains, thinking she might rest better in a pitch black room. I knew she wasn't going to like that. Nor was I. Not sure why I thought it a good idea, other than the fact she is used to sleeping in the dark when she's home, and I think also, at her daddy's.

Every time I walked by the room, all I could see was darkness. Maybe a bit of light was peeking around the edges of a couple of curtains, but mostly, it felt foreboding. The removed sheers had provided Reagan a place to hide from Grams, and she'd never had trouble sleeping before. But these heavy, thick, black, monsters were just too dense. She couldn't see Grams trying to find her. Nor could she shake her head no, when Grams asked if she was behind the curtains. When she woke from her naps, Grams now had to walk into a dungeon to get her and couldn't see that beautiful smile she always had, upon first awaking. Nor could Reagan see Barley, Bunny, Spice, Bear, Willie, Tommy, or Cuddle Bear because it was so crazy dark! She couldn't even be sure she was even sitting up. Too dark to tell. Bad call...

Today, the sheers go back up.

The moral of this story? Never block out the light. Functionality goes down the tubes in dark places (hiding really means hiding when in the dark). Laughter is minimized. Since one can't see their hand in front of their face, one can't know that anyone is listening to their laughter that is meant to be shared. A sense of aloneness develops (can't find our friends), and the room gets really cold. The good news? We can always choose light, if we'll but remove what is creating the darkness. Never block the light.

Until next time, you'll find me letting the light shine in, right here...in Mary's World.

Why I Chose to be Called Grams

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." ~William Shakespeare

I think it matters not so much, as to what we call our grandmotherly selves, we'll still smell the same. That could be a good thing, or a not-so-good thing. Ha!

Not that many months ago, possibly 9 or 10, I was asked what I'd like to be called by our first grandchild. I really had no preference. All I cared about was that MY baby, was going to have a baby, causing my status to change just a bit and inevitably be reminded that years were flying by way too fast. All I could think of was that I seriously hoped God would bestow more years than I expected, so that the little person about to enter our realm of existence would know and love her grandma.

Creativity in choosing a name outside of my original name, is not a strong point I possess. As I began filtering the over-used Grandma, Granny, Gran, and Nana titles, I decided none of those really fit my personality anyway. Why I thought about our girls, and what they are generally called by their friends, I really couldn't say. But I did. Lindsey is called "Linds". Meghan is known as "Megs". I figured Lindsey's name was just shortened, but when I asked her (some years ago) why she called her sister "Megs" instead of "Meg", her answer was so interesting to me that it pushed the creative mind to the forefront. At least I thought so. I really did love it, even though I don't call her "Megs"...she's always been Meghan to me. Or Meg.

ANYWAY...that is how I decided on Grams. Not Gram. Grams. Yes, I am aware that I'm not more than one person and I do realize the use of an "s" means I must be talking about something Gram owns, or there is at least two of me. But, come now. This is the 21st century and many words in the English language mean something totally different than when I was growing up, somewhere way back in the 20th century. Right? Everything is acceptable, or if it isn't, we don't care. Truth be told, I was almost afraid to talk when I first moved to North Carolina (total culture shock compared to where I came from) for fear of saying some embarrassing thing without realizing it. But, Grams is a pretty safe word. As far as I know.

Now...when Reagan begins real talk, who knows what she'll call me. It may be something I, nor anyone else, would have thought of in a million years. But seeing as how incredibly smart that girl is, she may blurt it right out and surprise the socks off us all (I may expect a little too much). One thing is for sure. I will love whatever she chooses to call me, because it will set me apart. Special person that I am. Grams is just a starting point for her to consider.

Now you know. And until Reagan begins speaking English, here you'll find me, known as Grams (with an s), in Mary's World.

So, You Just Want to be Happy

Sometimes it takes a few years of living in the last season of one's life, to get a grasp on true happiness. I've lived many a year thinking happiness comes from the results of another person being what I needed them to be...for me. Tell me what I want to hear, rub my back, pick up your dirty clothes, put your shoes where they belong...did I know this about you before I married you? And happiness also came from the purchase of "things". Sometimes small purchases would do the trick. A collectors item, a new outfit, pretty flowers. Other times, it only came from big purchases. Like a new living room suite, bedroom upgrade, new car...well, you get the picture.

If I could leave this world with one piece of advise to young married couples...even the non-married, living-together (cra-cra) people, it would be what I'm about to say now, with full knowledge that I will possibly get a lot of negative feed-back from those that take the time to read. And possibly, a few kudos...

It's been said that we make our own happiness. I may buy into that only a little. If we aren't happy with ourselves, our own lives, it's doubtful we'll have the ability (within ourselves) to be truly happy. Having said that, one cannot live in happy bliss 24/7. Without allowing ourselves to experience life, all of life, we never grow. Never acquire understanding. Never experiencing fulfillment.

God knew. God created. God graced us with the ability to touch His heart, as HE touches ours. To obey His way of life. In that...we find true, fulfilling happiness. In that, life's shortfalls, life's disappointments, life's unexpected events, become a place we can still have true happiness. If it weren't for that, I would be sad most of the time. Others fail me. I fail others. Others have crazy quirks that I can't be around for long periods of time. I have crazy quirks that others can't be around for long periods of time. So?

Please stop saying, "I just want to be happy," if you insist on making it about other's short-comings. Of course we want to be happy. God created happy for us! Those endorphins that people yearn for, and often seek through medication, can be ours at any given time. Without false positives.

Yes, it is true. Many times I do not have a smile on my face. I am a very serious thinker, that often appears to be mad. I am not. Please don't ask me what is wrong. And don't tell me to calm down. I'm thinking...just thinking. Sometimes I think out loud. It doesn't mean I'm mad. Geez...I would have to think long and hard to remember the last time I was seriously mad. Aggravated, maybe, but a long way from mad.

There is so much at stake here. It doesn't mean I am not contented. And many times it does not mean I am unhappy. Sometimes I am unhappy. Sometimes, I allow myself to worry, then I'm reminded that my God is so much bigger than my concerns. He's got this. I don't have to worry. I pray. I pray a lot, knowing that my God loves those I pray for. Knowing He loves me. Knowing He honors mother's and grandmother's whose heart (and anyone's heart, actually) belongs to Him.
         
II Chronicles 16:9 says, "The eyes of the LORD search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him." In the good times, in the bad times, in the indifferent times...God will strengthen our hearts and make us glad. Happy. It doesn't come (and stick around) from husbands, wives, daughters, sons, in-laws, friends.  

So, stop it. Please stop it. If I hear it one more time..."I just have to make sure I'm happy," I think I'll croak (some would possible rejoice at that moment). 

Instead, how about saying, "What can I do today to please the heart of God?" When we follow His ways, we tend to become happy people. Giving people. The world stops revolving around us. But to get there, we must travel a few self-centered roads it seems. At the end of those roads we just might bump right into truth. God's truth, that takes us a while to learn. Because we are lazy. Because we are self-centered humanity. Because our eyes are on what others can do for us, instead of what we can do for others. Because we give up way too easily. Because we aren't willing to fight for truth. 

"Wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." ~Matthew 7:13-14. God tells us that self-centeredness is common, but leads to a destructive life style, and that godliness (right living) is found from a very uncommon place. One must cut down the thicket, so-to-speak, to find the path that will give a full and complete life. Sadly, we often take the easy way out, right? No thicket clearing for me. I'm too busy making sure I'm happy with false positives. With temporary happiness. Right?

Life can be hard as we try to find the over-grown path. The forgotten way. Heads up...work is not a dirty word. Work is rewarding...in many a way.

And this, folks...is what came flooding into my heart this morning as I prepared breakfast, here...in Mary's World.