Living the dream... in part

I'm an outdoor person, I love camping, fishing, traveling, sitting outside beside a fire...etc. Most of my winter pictures are outdoor shots, even though I don't like being outside much during those months. Now, I have this dream, which combines my creative writing side and my love of the outdoors. My dream is to someday be writing songs and blog posts from the front porch of a little house on the ocean. Now, given the rate of my exposure to those who would make me a full time author or composer this pipe dream seems a little “packed solid in the pipe; smoldering,” meaning not likely. But today I decided to live at least part of this dream. I took my laptop out to the table and chairs on the back deck of my house, overlooking my woods. And now, here I sit happily typing away, swatting at mosquitoes (better go get the bug dope) wondering why I hadn't thought of this before.

Dreams are funny things, aren't they. I get a picture in my head of how something should be and am unable to see past it. Oh I can talk a good talk about making small differences in people, and how even the smallest gesture is huge (God delights to use the insignificant – see my other blog “5 & 2” on John 6:9), but when it comes to writing, and I mean both music and blogs, I battle with the feeling of “why bother your audience is small, who do you think you are?” Please someone tell me I am not alone in this feeling. I admire those who can persevere; living part of a dream and pursue the rest over time. My personal life verse is taken from Esther 4:14, “... for such a time as this.” I believe God spoke this verse to me many years ago as an explanation and encouragement, knowing I would need to be able to look at the small stuff through HIS eyes, not my own.

Regardless of your spiritual beliefs I want to encourage you to join me in making a commitment to live at least part of your dream, while pursuing the rest. I think I'm going to make a point of charging up my laptop battery, and drag out my guitar so I can sit on my deck writing; living part of my dream. No matter the size of my audience or the condemning voices in my head. If my only readers are my friends and only the wild turkeys in my woods hear me sing I will persevere and pursue... for who knows who will see and hear what I bring to the kingdom, for such a time as this. (Esther 4:14)

Okay time to go in, the mosquitoes are getting quite thick. They are not a part of my dream!

Smelling Summer

There is nothing quite like summer in Maine. Many people love to come to Maine as was evident this past weekend with a 12 mile plus back up coming out of the state. I counted myself very blessed to call Maine home, and even though I am “from away” I was taught at an early age to love the “Pine Tree State.” There are a number of “hot spots” here, Bar Harbor, the Southern Maine Coast, the Belgrade lakes, Moosehead and Baxter State park. I have learned there are generally two types of people who visit Maine, those who love the ocean and those who love the woods. My siblings are good examples of this for my brother, were he to live here would have a house on the ocean. My sister however does not feel her visit is complete without a pilgrimage to Mount Katahdin; regardless of where she is staying in this big state. I am a mixture of the two; a product of parents who split their vacation time between the ocean and the woods (although I am admittedly, more inclined to ocean.) I have vivid memories of days spent in Lubec and others of moose watching at the base of Mount Katahdin.

West Quoddy Head Lighthouse and Campobello Island are good places to go if you like both woods and salt water, for there the “...deep-voiced neighboring ocean... answers the wail of the forest.” (H.W. Longfellow, Evangeline) The smell of spruce, moss, wild roses and lupine mingle with the smell of salt, clam flats and fog. Many people do not like the smell of clam flats, comparing it to the smell of manure (and that is being gentile!) But like the taste of Moxie, you need to be “raised” with it to appreciate it. My father had a great deal of influence on me, for I remember as a young child when crossing the Piscataqua River Bridge into Maine my father would roll down all the windows; breathe deeply and remark on how clean the air was. Even now, as I cross the bridge I open my windows and breathe deeply all the while thinking of Daddy.

This entire post is the product of my ride to Connecticut last week. It was a hot, steamy night inland, but as I neared Portland, I saw and felt the fog as my nostrils filled with the glorious scent of salt water and wild roses. I love that smell, for it is Maine to me, the only thing missing was the spruce. Often we are encouraged to take time to smell the roses, referring to taking time; slowing down. But I want to encourage you to simply smell. Barbecues, flowers, freshly mowed grass, trees and bushes, rocks as they are heated in the sun, pavement and new tar. As you drive through your day, roll down your windows and breathe deeply, smell summer.

Evanescent Musing

I'll admit, I'm a weirdo when it comes to language. The older I get the worse I get about words, spelling and grammar. The other night I was watching a documentary on the Royal Family and someone used the word “Anachronistic” when speaking of the pomp and pageantry that so often accompanies official functions. I loved the word “anachronistic” and since my muse is quite evanescent, I thought I would take time to write about “big” words. I'll add the definitions at the end, so you don't have to look them up, but humor me if you will. In 2013, Wayne State University published a list of the top 10 words worth reviving. Of these words I've chosen my favorites. So here goes my attempt to use them in this post.

I dislike buncombe, and persiflage, although I'll admit I'm given to persiflage when with my friends. I don't enjoy listening to those who natter, which is probably why I don't listen to news programs or political forums. I find myself wishing to dragoon them to loftier plains of precise speaking as they attempt to winkle my sympathies. Unfortunately, I consider most news and public speakers Troglodytes, hence my penchant toward not watching the nightly news; as that gives me the fantods. I know I can be mawkish about the English language and may be perceived as chelonian and anachronistic in today's world.

Phew, there is my attempt, the only word left on the list from Wayne State is Cerulean, I'm just not certain how to use this word. It is a beautiful word and I like having cerulean colored clothes, but.... I guess I just used it. I did use a couple of others because I liked them, hopefully you won't consider my offering simply nattering. Either way, I hope this foray into the world of archaic words inspires you. One last parting thought, don't let the troglodytes give you the fantods; keep looking up into the beautiful cerulean sky.

Definitions:

Anachronism. something or someone that is not in its correct historical or chronological time, especially a thing or person that belongs to an earlier time
Evanescent: soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.

Wayne State University's 2013 top 10 list of words worth reviving:

Buncombe. Rubbish; nonsense; empty or misleading talk. 

Cerulean. The blue of the sky.

Chelonian. Like a turtle.

Dragoon. To compel by coercion; to force someone to do something they'd rather not.

Fantods. Extreme anxiety, distress, nervousness or irritability.

Mawkish. Excessively sentimental; sappy; hopelessly trite.

Natter. To talk aimlessly, often at great length; rarely, it means simply to converse.

Persiflage. Banter; frivolous talk. 

Troglodyte. Literally, a cave-dweller. More frequently a backward, mentally sluggish person.

Winkle. To pry out or extract something; from the process of removing the snail from an edible periwinkle.

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.