Opinions & Snakes

I've been absent from writing lately as I have been otherwise occupied and not “felt” the desire or need to write. However, on my way home this evening I was listening to “worship” radio and began to think about what really constituted a “worship” song. While ruminating, the thought struck me “you need to write about this.” However while booting up the computer and getting my supper ready, I became aware of a much larger topic I needed to write on.... being opinionated!

Lately, I've come to discover just how opinionated I am and vocal with my opinion at times. I went to Webster's to look up this word and its meaning. I was dumbfounded to say the least and a wee bit convicted. Webster's defines "opinion" as a noun meaning “View; belief; conviction (good, right?) However, the adjective form of the word (opinionated) is defined as “Bigoted; prejudiced,” OUCH! To be a bigot, you must reach the point of being intolerant. So a question - have I indeed become intolerant by holding strong opinions?

I often say in regards to others “everyone has the right to be wrong, including myself,” and I believe this statement. Everyone has the right to hold an opinion, and tolerance comes when I'm willing to hear the person out; respectfully consider their view, and whether or not I agree in the end, not take offense. So okay, maybe I'm not a bigot, however.....While looking up “opinion” the pages fell open to “supercilious,” an adjective meaning “disdainful; contemptuous; arrogant.” (It's amazing how GOD directs even in non biblical reference books!) Now, I am more than a wee bit convicted, for I fear I may have left the shadowy realm of being opinionated and entered the dark world of supercilious. 

I like the word supercilious, not because of its meaning, but because of its sound and the picture it paints in my mind (I like descriptive words.) When I say the word , “super-ccccilllll-ious” I hear the hissing of a snake, as it slithers through the garden of my thoughts and emotions. I can hear how sinister it is to be disdainful, contemptuous and arrogant. And similar to a snake, it can hide beneath the flowers and statues of my subconscious. I am reminded of how insidious these feelings can be, and just as tempting as the snake was in Eden. While I hold strong views, beliefs and convictions; guideposts for my life, I pray against becoming arrogant, contemptuous and disdaining of others in my heart. I'm not sure how the snake enters, but I don't want that black, tongue flicking, venom spitting creature in my garden! As always this is my opinion, respectfully submitted for your enjoyment, whether you agree or not.  

Small World

I am amazed whenever I look at the “stats” for this blog, specifically where my readership is from. I know I have readers here in the U.S.; but what amazes me is readers from the other side of the globe. I want to make a “shout out” to my international readers, thank you for reading!!!

This past Sunday was Easter and I had the honor of opening the church services at a friend's campground for the summer. What a glorious day, and indeed an honor to lead! I can't tell you the entire sermon, because I got caught up in a variety of thoughts based on some of the points the preacher made and one in particular has come to mind after seeing where my readers are from.

Have you ever felt “small”? I know I have whenever I have met impressive people or stood beneath tall buildings. The minister on Sunday talked about how when you go up a thousand feet in the air people look very small. Or when you fly and look down 12,000 feet you can't distinguish cars, much less people and tall building look like toys. I've heard earth described as a “little blue marble” when viewed from space. If we were to fly to the nearest star, the earth would simply be a point of light on a sheet of black. The scripture that comes to mind for me is “...what is man that Thou art mindful of him...” For our God lives outside the realm of space and time. We are small! And yet God takes notice of each one of us, knows us individually. He knows the length of our life, the number of hairs on our heads, our comings and goings, everything about us God knows and cares about. Standing here on earth, I feel disconnected from others. So many miles separate us and oceans divide the continents, but pull back up into space and we see how small a planet we live on. When I stand at the beach looking out to sea, it is hard for me to imagine someone standing in Europe looking back, it is so far away and yet in God's eyes we are up close and personal.

I guess where I'm going with all of this is first, I am overwhelmed with the thought of the God of the universe taking thought of me personally. I am one of millions living on this small speck in space and yet I am on His heart and mind every day, all the time. If God takes notice of someone so small, who am I not to acknowledge His omnipotence and greatness? Secondly, I want to take a moment to appreciate and acknowledge everyone who takes time to read what I write. It is humbling to know there are readers in Russia, the UK, Latvia, Colombia, South Africa, Indonesia, Germany, Poland and France in addition to my readers from the United States. The internet has certainly brought us closer, but not as close as we are to our Heavenly Father's heart. It is good to feel small and loved largely!

Child of the manger

On the church liturgical calendar tonight is Maundy Thursday. The name "Maundy Thursday" is derived from the Latin word “mandatum” meaning "commandment." It is the Thursday before Easter, observed in the Christian Church as a commemoration of the Last Supper. But history lesson aside, while I was driving home I happened to flip on my CD player to see if there was a disc in there. Low and behold the last CD I was listening to was the Simple Truth Christmas CD “Child of the Manger.”  It happened that the song coming on was the title cut, and that got me thinking once again about the angels and their thoughts regarding the next four days.  So here is a summary of my thoughts and reflections, my Easter devotion so to speak.

The Angels, here was the group who sang Messiah’s birth 33 years earlier to a group of lowly shepherds on the plains of Bethlehem, standing powerless as they watched Jesus, Son of God, sorrowful to the point of bleeding sweat in the garden, betrayed by one of his close friends, beaten beyond recognition and hung on a cross to die. “Glory to God in the highest, peace, goodwill toward men” was their song of praise to the God of the Universe, creator of all things, who had become flesh to dwell among his creations, but there was no peace or goodwill at this time; heaven was silent as the angels stood in sorrow, gazing down on Calvary powerless to intervene.  All it would have taken was a word from Jesus and all heaven and earth would have been moved for this one man, but He didn't speak. There is an old hymn, which I want to share the refrain of:

He could have called ten thousand angels.

To destroy the world and set Him free.
He could have called ten thousand angels,

 But He died alone, for you and me. (Ray Overholt, 1958)

However, we all know that was not the end…..

Early in the morning, on the first day of the week, the angel rolled the stone away and then he turned to speak. “Why seek the living out among the dead? For the child of the manger has broken the bonds of hell.” (“Child of the Manger”, Simple Truth)

When Jesus rose from the dead; triumphing over Hell and Death, I imagine the angels once again standing as they did on that winter’s night over Bethlehem, wing tip to wing tip praising GOD. Heaven was no longer silent. This Easter Sunday morning I would hope in the midst of all the chocolate bunnies, colored eggs, and baked ham we would stop and savor the Savior. We would with the angels honestly and with understanding sing “Glory to GOD in the highest, Peace, and Goodwill to men.”  For the child of the manger is the man (the risen, exalted LORD) of Calvary; happy Easter everyone for now and eternity.

Rock solid encouragement

West Quoddy Head Lighthouse
South Lubec, Maine

Needing some inspiration and encouragement right now, I am going to return to a happy time last summer. I spent a weekend with my sister, niece and her family Downeast in Lubec, Maine and on Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada. We stayed overnight near West Quoddy Head Light in South Lubec and trundled around the area, while I told stories of our mother who grew up there. What a treat it was to spend time in such a special place with such special people. An additional, all be it unexpected treat were the lessons I learned from my sister, a rock hound. There are a number of years which separate us in age, and one of the casualties of this gap was I wasn't aware my sister had minored in geology in college, I just knew she was a teacher. As I consider my current state of discontent with winter lasting so long and life being a daily struggle, I am going to look back on that trip and to the rocks to give me encouragement.  

Gabbro, an Igneous rock
Campobello Island, NB, Canada

First, did you know there are only three different ways rocks are created: Igneous, metamorphic and sedimentary.  Igneous rocks come from the fiery center of the earth. They are called into being from a coalescing of minerals in a molten state; born out of creative fires, which harden as they cool. Sedimentary rocks are born from the dust of the earth, built from the skeletons & shells of sea creatures, from the particles left behind from weather worn rocks; particles pressed together until they become one. And lastly, metamorphic rocks were once one thing but through heat and pressure have become a totally different being, taking on a new likeness.

Most people recognize granite, it’s an igneous rock. Almost everyone knows Limestone a common sedimentary rock, which when subjected to heat and pressure becomes marble, a well-known metamorphic rock. I love gneiss (pronounced “nice”), it is probably my favorite of all metamorphic rocks. Gneiss is formed usually from igneous rocks; I want to be a piece of gneiss. But to be a piece of gneiss, to be metamorphic, I have to be heated to the point of malleability, and undergo pressure. Oh, do I hear trials & tribulations?

Con Robinson's Point
Campobello Island, NB, Canada

Have you ever wondered why rocks are shaped the way they are? There is beach on Campobello where most of the rocks are round or egg shaped and fairly uniform in size and shape. I asked my sister, how did this happen? Once again, I was faced with trial and tribulation; for those particular rocks got their shape from being tossed in the ocean, rubbing again each other. We’ve all seen rocks with hollows in the side. The hollow was formed while the rock was in a heated state and it had another rock or other hard substance lain against it, creating an impression.

Cutler, Maine

 So here I am writing about rocks and seeing a parallel with my current life. It all comes back to heat & pressure changing me from granite into gneiss, from limestone to marble; rounding my sharp edges by rolling me around in the surf, rubbing up against other stones. Did I say I was going to a happier time?

There are many other parallels to be drawn later, but let’s end this tonight by saying I wanted some rock solid encouragement, and I got it. Heat and pressure making me into something new, something better; now if I can just survive this winter with all my minerals intake. 

The hopes and fears...

I awoke this morning to my basement being very, very cold as the downstairs door had been ajar for most of the below zero night. Once again I started my morning in a state of rage; rage born of fear. I have developed a very keen sense of danger almost to the point of compulsive. I am fearful of driving in bad weather, fearful of not having enough money to buy food or oil or gas for my car (which is how I get to work.)  Right now my hot water isn't working right. It hasn't been right since the house froze at Christmas, I fear I have to find someone to assist me in fixing it, which means spending money I  may not have.

I have often found GOD speaks to me through song, preparing me for a lesson. I get an idea for a song, start writing it, even finish it, thinking it was for someone else only to figure out it was for me.  This past advent season, the Christmas carol “Oh little town of Bethlehem” caught my attention, specifically the last stanza of the first verse “…. the hopes and fears of all the years, are met in Thee tonight.” While starting to write a song, I had the sense (at the beginning of December, mind you) GOD wanted me to learn what that line meant. And as I sat in my literally freezing house on Christmas day, all that would come to me was “the fears of all the years are met in Thee.”

It is a well documented fact that the most debilitating mental health issue in America today is Depression, with Anxiety disorders along side it. Anyone who bought stock in the pharmaceutical industry, specifically those companies who manufacture anti-depressant & anti-anxiety medications have done well for themselves financially. I’m not “down” on medication, sometimes life is better lived through chemistry. My point is our advanced, first-world, industrialized society has some unresolved emotional issues; most of which stems from fear. Fear of failing to attain our hopes.

I decided in celebration of the Lenten season to make a commitment to devote my attention solidly on a person when I am speaking with them, foregoing the temptation to look at my phone, computer or TV while talking with them. In my opinion, we are so driven as a society to do more in less time, we are driving ourselves to exhaustion; physically, mentally and emotionally (body, mind and spirit), attempting to “multi-task.”  As was evident from my previous post, I have been without inspiration for a few months. Life has “taken it out of me” so to speak, I've been plagued with doubts; given to moments of intense fear, I have felt the pressure to do more with less time and resources; fearing I would fail in this venture.  I have divided my attention in so many directions for so long, trying to keep all the balls in the air; I fear I have dropped one. As I come out of the icy mist of the winter of my discontent, I will add another item to give up for Lent: fear. I will seek to ignore the distractions and devote my attention solidly on Christ, in whom “…the hopes and fears of all the years are met ….”

A year of …..

I have lost count of how many people I have attended funerals for. I can’t even really tell you where 2013 and the first three months of 2014 have gone. I just know the last time I posted to this blog was April 2013. I went so far as to look back at my calendar to see what captured my attention for all that time. I know my mom had eye surgery, I spoke at a women’s group, sang a few times, attended funerals and went to work. I had a week off at Thanksgiving, which I happily spent with family. I was supposed to spend the entire week of Christmas with my family, but due to a nasty ice storm I didn’t make it home until December 26, once my house was safely thawed from it’s frozen state after being powerless for 2 days and even that trip was made in a nasty little snow storm.

This post was going to be named “A year of discontent,” but that is not really an accurate portrayal of the last year. The past 12 months haven’t been all that bad, really; there have been good moments. I had opportunity to go Downeast with my sister and her family. What a wonderful time we had discussing rocks and geological formations. I started to write about it to post to the blog… but you see how far that got. Mom & I went lighthouse hunting down on the coast of Connecticut, ultimately finding the lighthouse an uncle tended.  I made it to PA in the spring and saw daffodils in bloom, while Maine was still frozen. And I did write a couple of songs, one was a funeral song, which got sung a few times too many for my liking.

The clocks are due to be turned ahead this coming weekend. It is supposed to be spring, you know the old adage, fall back; spring ahead. You could never tell it was spring by looking at the thermometer or the depth of snow I still have in my yard. I never did make resolutions or goals for this year. I think at the time I was too busy worrying about the cold, snow and oil bills.  I did choose a “word” for the year; one I chose while driving on icy roads once again!  The word for the year is “glide.” My intent is to learn to let go and to glide on the wind currents. Tipping my wings to maximize my lift above the earth and guide me safely around the sharp mountain outcroppings.  How am I doing with this?  Not real well at this time, but just like the coming of spring, I can always have hope of change.

I don’t have any magical words of wonder to write, I am frankly at a loss for insight. This post will go up, even though it is more perspiration than inspiration. But maybe this is what it is meant to be, just a humble attempt to regain some of my frozen creativity and thaw the ice that traps my brain.

Season change

According to the calendar, spring has arrived in the Northern hemisphere, although as many will attest to it doesn’t feel it here in Northern New England.  The weather forecast is calling for snow showers and mixed precipitation.  The good news is the angle of the sun will make certain whatever falls and attempts to stay on the ground, doesn’t.  The two writing groups I belong to are encouraging member’s to blog about spring, I’ve seen posts about renewal, pussy willows, warm sun and the return of green grass; all wonderful writings, but not what’s on my mind at the moment.

In addition to the calendar, I have come to mark the change of seasons by the sports I watch, activities I engage in and holidays. Spring for me arrives with the NCAA women’s basketball tourney (Go Huskies!) I know I am close to the end of winter when the NASCAR Daytona 500 is run. Summer is marked by baseball (which I don’t follow until the World Series and then only teams I am interested in) and fall arrives with the advent of football (American style, again a sport I don’t follow until the Super Bowl.) I know spring has arrived with the opening day of fishing season; summer with Memorial Day, autumn with Labor Day and winter comes the week after Columbus Day.   Thanksgiving, Christmas and Fourth of July are seasons unto themselves, and not associated with anything meteorological. Living in Maine I learned to see the seasons as Mud, bug, hot mowing, autumn, and wicked cold shoveling.

There are many spiritual and philosophical applications to season change, but frankly those heady, lofty thoughts escape me for the moment. I will tell you marking season change by holidays, activities and sporting events makes me appreciate the everyday.  When there isn’t a sport I watch or a holiday the year passes as usual and I enjoy the usual. Many people are “grousing” about the length of this year’s winter weather and perpetually wishing for spring. There are days I long for warmth, but by marking seasons not by the calendar but by activities makes me look forward to the next change and not wish for something I have no control over (i.e.: the weather.)  At the moment I am in the everyday, the lull between my next change of season, which is fishing (when it warms up enough.)

Per usual this is my opinion, but I recommend marking season change by activities and holiday not by the calendar. Since the holidays seem to be a bit more predictable than the weather.  Have fun my friends, happy season change!