Barefoot

“And Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ 

Everything turned on Moses’ being willing to ‘turn aside’ – to interrupt his daily routine to pay attention to the presence of God.  He didn’t have to.  He could have looked the other way., as many of us would.  He would have just missed the Exodus, the people of Israel, his calling, the reason for his existence.  He would have missed knowing God. 

But he didn’t miss it.  He stopped.  He “turned aside.”

John Ortberg, Spiritual Disciplines for Ordinary People

Earth is crammed with Heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes-

Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I pledge… to stop.  To turn aside.  To live barefoot.  I don’t want to miss a thing.  And you?

 

photo: My Hub and My Hero, waiting on a miracle.

One Country Mile

photo by Kinsey

Such a  little road of no significance

one perfect prairie mile

stretching east to west straight and true as only a prairie road can

pointing your slender, ruddy finger from ferry road to river hills

centre of my universe.

You were not designed for traffic

for getting harried people from point A to point B

indeed, Google Maps knows not of your existence

and there is no reason why they should

and oh, how I love that thought.

Our little country mile

that brings us home

that piles up high with winter snow

until we are closed in

within

delighted at the prospect

of not getting out

and no one getting in

just reveling in the mystery of home.

Oh yes, there are the neighbor folk

dear people that they are

their yard light a beacon half a mile up the way

warming our hearts

when the nights get dark

and we could feel so far removed from reality.

For you, oh little country mile

are off the beaten track

just where we like you.

In the middle of nowhere

centre of our universe.

I learned to run on your crunchy surface

fields of wheat stretching away from me as far as the eye can see

I revel in the sound of your little sandy stones under my feet

or the wheels of my children’s bicycles

or my beloved’s tires as he turns in the drive at day’s end.

What walks and confidences have been shared

along the ribbon of your ruddy lane

and you hold all dreams and secrets well.

I can’t but smile when I turn your corner

See the river hills rolling away before me

and the stately trees that line your flank

arresting the wind and furnishing a still and magical shelter

for the traveler blessed to pass beneath their shadow.

The two little farmyards half mile apart

One so perfect, so manicured, lovely

a feast for the eyes and the soul.

And then comes ours

and I just smile. 

Little country house with many gables,

Big red barn with tumbledown stables

windmill reaching to the sky

five little children on the fly

from orchard to pond, garden to gate

dugout to pasture and back again

You are only one bantam country mile

yet you harbor so much joy

and so much life.

Raccoons and muskrats, deer galore

foxes and coyotes, skunks and more

owls and eagles, hawks and squirrels

all hide in your ditches, your woods, your bowels

my little country mile.

My  sweet country mile

on this homey country quarter

in a vast prairie province

in this magnificent northern nation

on this continent of continents

center of my universe.

 

 

Home.

 

my contribution to Random Acts of Poetry.

Missy’s Marriage Bed

I spent the night on the couch the night before I read this. 

Couldn’t resist sharing the laughter.  Haven’t laughed till I cried like that in awhile.

In my personal fairytale turned nightmare I tiptoed quietly into our room (in the pitch dark)  about 10 minutes after my dragon slayer had gone to bed, quietly flipped the cap on my water bottle and took two swallows.  He violently pulled his pillow over his head and mumbled, “Can you settle down, already?”

Alrighty, then.  I crawled oh-so-carefully into bed and laid there trying not to move a single digit, praying quietly for a  few minutes when all of a sudden the entire bed heaves, he literally LEAPS out of bed, hits the floor, SNAPS on the light and stomps heavily over to the closet.  I lay there with a a facial expression that looked like I had about 4 too many plastic surgeries, that’s how high my eyebrows must have arched.  I mean, REALLY???

After fumbling around in the closet for a different pillow (don’t ask), he came back to bed, and I commented on the irony of it… all things considered.  He got that.  And he did apologize, but…. REALLY??  LOL!

Needless to say, when I heard the pitter patter of little feet coming into the room about 10 minutes later I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that if either one of us were to get any sleep, ONE of us was going to have to find the couch. 

And in some twisted way, after fourteen years of marriage it is very romantic to hear your husband’s feet coming down the stairs in the morning, to sense him crossing the room, and bending over  you to kiss you good morning, albeit with breath that really could slay a dragon.

Oh yes,  our beautiful Italian cotton  sheets also boast stains and ball point pen scrawlings and yesterday my lovely pillow with the crocheted Italian lace was used as a punching bag, bullet proof vest and trampoline on the living room floor for the course of the morning.

It’s really nice to know that you’re not the only one living a fairytale that sometimes has more of the qualities of a  nightmare.  And knowing that you are not the only one who has pistol shots going off in your bedroom in the middle of the night….

Ah…. laughter is good medicine.

Not all Paradise, but Heavenly Nonetheless

photo by mcfly1980

“ It was not all Paradise by any means, but everyone was better for the division of labor system. The children throve under the paternal rule, for accurate, steadfast John brought order and obedience into Babydom, while Meg recovered her spirits and composed her nerves by plenty of wholesome exercise, a little pleasure, and much confidential conversation with her sensible husband.

Home grew homelike again, and John had no wish to leave it, unless he took Meg with him. The Scotts came to the Brookes' now, and everyone found the little house a cheerful place, full of happiness, content, and family love. Even Sallie Moffatt liked to go there. "It is always so quiet and pleasant here, it does me good, Meg," she used to say, looking about her with wistful eyes, as if trying to discover the charm, that she might use it in her great house, full of splendid loneliness, for there were no riotous, sunny-faced babies there, and Ned lived in a world of his own, where there was no place for her.

This household happiness did not come all at once, but John and Meg had found the key to it, and each year of married life taught them how to use it, unlocking the treasuries of real home love and mutual helpfulness, which the poorest may possess, and the richest cannot buy.

This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid, safe from the restless fret and fever of the world, finding loyal lovers in the little sons and daughters who cling to them, undaunted by sorrow, poverty, or age, walking side by side, through fair and stormy weather, with a faithful friend, who is, in the true sense of the good old Saxon word, the `house-band', and learning, as Meg learned, that a woman's happiest kingdom is home, her highest honor the art of ruling it not as a queen, but as a wise wife and mother.”  Louisa May Alcott, Good Wives.

This just sums up my life so perfectly, right now.  The Peasant Princess Project has just helped me to refocus and get excited about RULING my little kingdom again, as it is showing me how I had unwittingly fallen prey to so many little lies (remember the foxes?!) that were ruining my vineyard.  Some of them were external lies of lifestyle choices, and some were internal choices of attitude.  I have delighted in watching the transformation as I repent, truly repent, not just with sorrow, but with a turnabout of behavior.  How when my heart is turned toward home my husband and children thrive, and I blossom, and contrary to what one might think, becoming more home centered doesn’t rob me of opportunities to step “out” of the home, it actually provides me with more in a way.  In a balanced, beautiful, blessed way. 

My heart is just full to bursting with this new stepping stone of maturity in my life, it has brought things into such a beautiful balance and I truly do feel like the richest girl in the world.  The richest girl, who still suffers from PMS, because like the title stays, it’s not ALL paradise by any means.  =)

A Valentine in March

photo by tijmen

I cry your mercy–

pity–

love…

aye, love!

Merciful love that tantalizes not,

One-thoughted,

never-wandering,

guileless love,

Unmasked,

and being seen–

without a blot.

O! let me have thee whole,

–all–

all–

be mine!

That shape,

that fairness,

that sweet minor zest

Of love,

your kiss,–

those hands,

those eyes divine,

That warm,

white,

lucent,

million-pleasured breast,–

Yourself–

your soul–

in pity give me all.

Withhold no atom’s atom or I die…

John Keats

Now if that’s not enough to cause a girl to sigh, I don’t know what is. What a gift is this love!  What a visual of the love He has for us and desires from us (minus the pity and mercy on His behalf of course).  It leaves me rather… breathless. 

“Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.”

Isaac Watts, 1707

Brilliant.

May I just say, completely and unabashedly that my daughter is BRILLIANT?  *grin*

We got a doozy of a poem in our literature selection today.  A real doozy.  I choked on the words a bit and wasn't at all sure that we needed to be going there... but needs or not, I have found there is a usually a valuable lesson to be uncovered in most any revelation, and have learned to use it to my advantage.  Indeed, I am thankful that there is NO topic that my children would consider taboo to discuss as a family.  So today, it was this... this... elusive (or it was to me in the moment) piece of poetry about lust, and temptation, sex and sin.  Like I said, a real doozy.  About halfway through I said to my daughter

"Um.  I'm not sure why we need to be reading this."  and she said...

Oh... hold on.  I'll tell you what she said after you've read the text, and then you can tell me if indeed my daughter is not brilliant.

A SAINT'S DAMNATION


Aleister Crowley

You buy my spirit with those shameless eyes That burn my soul,
you loose the torrent stream Of my desire,
you make my lips your prize,

And on them burns the whole life's hope: you deem
You buy a heart; but I am well aware
How my damnation dwells in that supreme

Passion to feel upon your shoulders bare,
And pass the dewy twilight of our sin
In the intolerable flames of hair
That clothe my body from your head; you win

The devil's bargain; I am yours to kill,
Yours, for one kiss; my spirit for your skin!
O bitter love, consuming all my will!
O love destroying, that hast drained my life
Of all those fountains of dear blood that fill

My heart! O woman, would I call you wife?
Would I content you with one touch divine
To flood your spirit with the clinging strife
Of perfect passionate joy, the joy of wine,
The drunkenness of extreme pleasure, filled
From sin's amazing cup. Oh, mine, mine, mine,

Mine, if your kisses maddened me or killed,
Mine, at the price of my damnation deep,
Mine, if you will, as once your glances willed!
Take me, or break me, slay or soothe to sleep,

If only yours one hour, one perfect hour,
Remembrance and despair and hope to steep.
In the infernal potion of that flower,
My poisonous passion for your blood! Behold!
How utterly I yield, how gladly dower

Our sin with my own spirit's quenched gold,
Clothe love with my own soul's immortal power,
Give thee my body as a fire to hold--
O love, no words, no songs--your breast my bower!

and she said; "don't you think it's about Samson and Delilah?"

"Well... hmm... I don't know about that."

"I think it is." 

The girl's got my imagination and then some.  After finishing the reading she went on to defend her interpretation with the following arguments;

1.)  Delilah had shameless eyes
2) Samson was damned through trusting her
3) the reference to hair in the third stanza seemed to provide a clue
4) his comparing her to wine, which he could not drink, another.
5) the reference to "soothing him to sleep". 

Now really, she may not be "right" but you've got to hand it to the girl, she's not wrong! 

Was I ready to go there?  No... no-indeed-I-was-not.  Am I glad we did?  Yeah, I gotta say... it feels very strange, like my little girl is not really my little girl anymore, but the truth of the matter is that she is NOT my little girl.  She is growing up.  I'm so glad that I get to glimpse inside her head and heart at each twist and turn in this journey of education. 

Going For Gold

“What will we carry?

What will stay with us?

What will shine like gold

when the story’s told?

Some things will tarry

some will return to dust

There are things we can

and things we can not….

keep.”

Alli Rogers

This song has been playing over and over in my head in recent weeks.  The hype and mania surrounding the Olympics always has a way of rubbing me a wee bit  raw.  Not that I don’t enjoy watching as much as the next person but somehow, when it’s all said and done, I am left wondering about a lot of things.   It makes me question what we’re going for.  In some way we are all going for gold in one arena or another.

A golden paystub, title, home, job, something that will make us feel worthwhile, recognized, appreciated… a winner..

Jesus had it all.  And he left it to become a servant of all.  He left His golden throne for a dusty old manger, his mansion of glory for a carpenter's hovel, streets of gold for dusty roads in the backwoods of Judea.

And he calls his own to do likewise.  As I ponder going for gold I think of my good friend Shane, and his beautiful family, packing up to move (back) to Haiti,  leaving the comforts and riches we live with every day to become sojourners in a community reduced to ashes and rubble.  They prepare to go, and their act of love and service will shine like gold in the hearts of those they minister to.

What things will tarry?  Really tarry into eternity I mean.  Only what we invest into others.  The seeds of love and kindness that we plant in the soil of other lives.  The examples of Christ’s love that we live out as we reach out and seek to embrace others and invite them to join us on this golden journey.  This journey towards the only thing that matters, the only thing that will endure, the only thing that will stand the test of time.  A relationship with the Creator of our Souls.   To be beyond excited, beyond crazed about this journey that will end at a heavenly podium, before our heavenly father, and the bridegroom that waits to crown us with many crowns. 

I look at my children.  My husband.  The people I rub shoulders with every day and I think that there is no greater calling than to LOVE them.  SERVE them.  Be Jesus hands and feet to them.  And surely there can be no greater reward here or in the hereafter than to hear those words,

'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!.”

Sometimes it seems so far from stellar.  So…..mundane. This stripping myself of me, tying this apron of service around my waist, getting on my knees and washing another’s proverbial  feet.  It requires as much dedication and commitment and sacrifice as any Olympic dream.  Maybe more.

The Peasant Princess Project, Part VIII

“I opened the door for my lover, but my lover had left and was gone… I looked for him but could not find him, I called for him but he did not answer.” S of S 5:6 photo by plusverde

Stepping Stone #32 Don’t Drive Him Away.  If I don’t welcome him into this home, my heart, my day planner, our bedroom  with open arms and a soft heart, he will inevitably go looking for another soft place to fall where he can be rejuvenated.  Not that personal pursuits are not important and good, when they are in a position of healthy balance around a beautiful relationship and healthy family dynamic but when they are to fill a void, to escape, or out of desperation… the scales are tipped and the marriage will suffer.

My Lover has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.  I belong to my lover, and my lover belongs to me.  He feeds among the lilies.  Song  of Solomon  6:2-3photo by coscurro 

Stepping Stone #33 Chase Him Down.  Note to self, this is humbling.   She was his, but she held back, he was hers but she pushed him away, and now he has gone searching for beauty and peace elsewhere.  She was once his Lily and his oasis, now he gathers lilies elsewhere.   Does she sit sulking and justifying?  Bemoaning what they don’t have and wishing things were different?  No.  She runs after him. 

Turn your eyes from me because they excite me too much.  Song of Solomon  6:5 photo by trublueboy 

Stepping Stone #34 Make Eye Contact.  Note to self; I know it well.  It’s the key to melting conflict. I can not look him in the eyes and stay mad.   I’ve said it myself. “I don’t *want* to look at you.  I’m mad.  I want to stay mad.  I have the right to be mad.  Don’t touch me.  Don’t try to butter me up and smooth this over.  You wronged me.  I know if I let you kiss me and touch me and smooth my hair and hold my face and look me in the eyes I will melt and right now I want to be hard as flint. 

“I went down into the orchard to see the blossoms of the valley, to look for buds on the vines, to see if the pomegranite trees had bloomed.  Before I realized it, my desire for you…” Song of Solomon  6:11-12 photo by npiggy2

Stepping Stone #35 Forgive. Note to self; He went somewhere else, blew off some steam, thought about it and realized that this was not God’s design for their marriage.  Whatever his wife had done, God did not want him to pursue other means of satisfaction.  God wanted him to be fulfilled in his marital relationship and not let sin drive a wedge in there and send him packing.

“Come back, come back, woman of Shulam.” S of S 6:13 photo by vxdigital

Stepping Stone #36 Repent.  “Fish swim, birds fly, Christians repent.”   We swallow our pride, we admit we were wrong, we mourn our shortcomings and passionately seek to pursue maturity by the power of and for the glory of God.