Quiet Day Thoughts

Patient Trust

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

{this moment}

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Holding Hands

Sometimes I wake up with a song in my heart and on my lips. I usually feel it as a gift from God. Some message that He wants me to have for the day. It's a blessing -- a bliss.

I don't get a song/message every day, and I don't believe that means God doesn't have a word for me every day. Some days are songs. Some are scriptures. Sometimes it's a blog post, or a comment on Facebook. I admit to liking the songs best, though. I find myself humming them all day long. It makes me think of walking through my day holding God's hand.

And then I remember -- I'm the one who let's go. He never let's go of my hand, but I let go of His. I don't know why -- I get busy or restless. I forget He's there. I think I'm all on my own. 

Maybe that's when He gives me that extra push with a song. To wake me up, and remind me that He's holding out His hand to me. And everything is better when I put my hand back in His, and listen to His song.

linking up with Five Minute Friday

Replicated

So Mama Kat wants to hear the story of my birth.

To be honest I don't really remember it. Hardy, har, har!

Lots of people have stories they've heard all their lives about being born. There is a scene in the movie Signs where Mel Gibson's character recounts the birth of each child to comfort his children as they await impending doom. The stories are life affirming and perfect for each child's personality.

But that's the movies.

Here's what I've been told about the night I was born.

When my mother came around after delivering me (this was back in the days where they knocked women out completely), she asked my dad what they'd had. He said a little girl who weighed 8 lbs. and 11 oz. She passed out again. The next time she asked the nurse and got the same answer. Being a little more coherent she asked what year it was. Her confusion stemmed from the fact that when my sister was born 2 1/2 years earlier she had received the same information. Yes my sister and I weighed the exact same thing at birth. That's my mother's story.

My father tells of driving home from the hospital in the early morning hours after my birth and driving past a horrific car accident. Once he got home all he could think about were the people in the wreck and all the blood he had seen. So apparently my birth was surpassed by someone else's tragedy. 

So there you have it the stories of my birth. Inauspicious beginnings. Being mistaken for my sister by my own mother, and causing my father to be traumatized.

It's been the story of my life!

linking up with Writer's Workshop

Taking Out the Trash

It's hard work. This cleaning up after another's life.

My father-in-law died on April 27th. Nearly 3 weeks ago. There have been extra things to do since then. 

Before he died, there was visiting with him, sitting with him, cooking for him. There was much praying for him, and in his later days, much hand holding with him. All extra things to do, but different.

Then it was care and concern for a human life. Prayer for a future life.

Now it is more like taking out the trash. I've been taking out trash my whole life, so I know how to do it. But this time there's a catch -- it's not my trash. It's someone else's, and who am I to say, "This is trash, but this is worthy of keeping because he kept it"?

I am just the daughter-in-law. Not even a blood relative. 

Sometimes I catch myself sounding cold and unloving -- unChristian -- about this man's detritus. 

All the stuff we strive for and hold on to, and when it's all said and done someone else will cull through it all determining it's value. 

So last night I met some men at his house. They were from a local church here in town. They are having a yard sale to raise money for their youth group on Saturday. They loaded up bags and boxes of my father-in-law's clothes and possessions to take for their sale. I was relieved to see the clutter walk out the door, but a little anxious too. It's gone. Irretrievable. 

As they left, one man took my hand, and said, "This is a good thing you are doing. I know it's hard, but it will get better." He talked of cleaning his mother's house out after she died, and how it made him look at his life, and make some changes.

I've talked with lots of people in past few weeks I would never have talked with otherwise. And it's been good for me. I have difficulty connecting with others, but I've done pretty well so far.

And maybe that's the gift my father-in-law left to me. Not his furniture or dishes, but the opportunity to do some reconnecting. To be reminded that I am capable of handling things. Even the hard things.

For me that's the best proof of healing.


linking up with Imperfect Prose on Thursdays

A Work in Progress . . .

see more at Wordless Wednesday and Wordless Wednesday Bloggers and Wordless Wednesday Blog Hop

The Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY . . . May 14, 2013

Outside my window . . . it's sunny and pleasantly warm. A true spring day.

I am thinking . . . that sinus infections should be outlawed. 

I am thankful . . . for time to take care of things around my own house. I spent yesterday cleaning and catching up on laundry. Today has been catching up on phone calls, emails, and handling text messages.

In the kitchen . . . last night was roasted chicken, pinto beans, and spring greens with cucumbers. Tonight depends on what's in the freezer.

I am wearing . . . denim capris, a summer tank top, crocs, and a sweat jacket because it's not as warm as I thought.

I am creating . . . a pillow for my front porch made from scraps of cotton yarn I have left over from previous projects using this pattern.

I am going . . . to keep working on putting things back together in my house. It's such a good feeling when I have the time and energy to nest in my little home.

I am wondering . . . about this quote:
"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just ordinary people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise…life is like an old-time rail journey – delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is the thank the Lord for letting you have the ride… "
Gordon B. Hinckley

I am reading . . . Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey. Very dark!

I am looking forward to . . . the upcoming summer and opening of the pool at the YMCA. I do love getting my swim in and then lounging in the sun with a good book and a cold drink.

I am hearing . . .  the tv as I type after lunch today.

Around the house . . . the clutter is diminishing . . . slowly.

I am pondering . . . the state of the Union. If I think about it too much my head may explode!

One of my favorite things . . . is striking order. I've said it many times before, but in the deepest places in my heart I love organizing.

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . a meeting tomorrow followed, I hope, by the long awaited haircut and possibly a pedicure! Thursday is lunch with friends and a meeting called Women's Mental Health:Navigating Emotional Wellness. Then Friday I'll probably be back at my FIL's house, and Saturday I'm attending a Quiet Day of prayer hosted by Dovehouse Ministries.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing . . . 

half of the front of the new porch pillow

for more visit The Simple Woman's Daybook