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Out of Order...

10/22/2014

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How quickly I lose perspective..."I'll take joy?!"


It seemed like a great concept at the time, but life can get really messy really fast, 


and who's idea was that anyway? 

Oh.                         Mine.                                 Well then.  


This post is for all of you who (don't know me very well and) might think that a woman writing a blog with posts like "I'll take joy,"  a woman who has a soapbox entitled Thursdays are for thankfulness and regularly encourages others to be present in the moment... doesn't lose perspective.  Regularly. 

I have news for you.  

A perspective of gratitude can evaporate faster than you can write 
"Out of Order!"


 It's embarrassing, really, but perhaps you'll find it a bit reassuring.  We're all on this journey together, and sometimes it seems like a lot of uphill, with plenty of "Out of Order" all along the way.  Keeping my perspectacles on my face is a daily...no, honestly, usually hourly challenge.  (I owe the perspectacles concept to Glennon Doyle Melton over at the Momastery. I say to you, Read it!!)

So, I've been having some First World stuff management problems recently. And here's where the perspectacles need cleaned and placed on my nose over and over again.  I know, I really do know that these are First World problems.  It's just that I do live here...and having things Out of Order! is oh so inconvenient!

It allstarted with my washing machine a few weeks back. Or, it all stopped... Occasionally, it just wouldn't "wash."  Turn the knob, pull, click, nothing.  Repeat.  There were days when dropping the lid with some extra ummph brought the desired result. Youngest became my washer tech; he had the lid slam knack, and we'd do a little happy dance and forget the problem.  Until next time.  


Last week, it all came to a screeching halt..no, a silent halt, and for the past 13 days, we've been doing laundry in the homes of friends and relatives or by hand in the utility sink or bathtub which, as it turns out, is a tad unhandy.  The repair guy removed the faulty part on a Thursday, and five days later called to let us know that he was (?finally?) ordering the replacement part but it was more expensive than he'd expected.  Order it already.  


A week later, the new part was installed…and I still couldn't do laundry.  House call didn't fix it…inpatient treatment was needed.  (And that's different than impatient…which is how I was feeling.)   I watched them haul my washer out the door and wondered when/if it would return. Although I had some moments of being grateful that I didn't need to go to the laundromat because we have kind and generous friends, those moments seemed rather far and few between.  I began to sense that my gratituder was also Out of Order!)  I couldn't see the blesings for the hassle.  

The internet was the next thing to go.  Poof.  Someone vacuumed under the computer desk, and we haven't been in cyberspace since.  It's been five days since I checked my e-mail, and I can only imagine what a mess that will be.  I've had a long message half finished for my far flung daughter-in-law…and there it sits, waiting to be completed.  It's hard to write when you have no idea when you'll be able to hit send.  I'm amazed at the number of times each day I think, oh, I'll just look that up…oh, no I won't, it's Out of Order!  I want to find a recipe, directions to…just about anywhere, (you know me?!), a movie review of the latest "must see" about which Youngest has been obsessing, news updates on that missing teen, points of interest in the area where we hope to "get away" in a few weeks, weekend weather forecast. No, no, no, and no.    I generally stay in touch with quite a few of my friends and relatives primarily by e-mail/facebook messaging, etc,  and the overall effect has been quite isolating.  I know, so First World, but that is where I live, and it's been crazy to feel so disconnected.  Even our land line phone seems to be in on the conspiracy, as the buzzy feedback keeps conversations short and to the point.  Max thinks this is possibly related to the internet issue, and the phone repair guy is supposed to arrive "sometime before 7pm." Okay.

And then the van died.  It was time to make the daily trip to pick up Youngest after his half day of school.  I inseted the key, turned, and heard…click.  Nothing.  Wouldn't even turn over.  Dead battery?  What a Monday.  Fortunately, Max was in town and available to make the necessary stop, and he came home and charged the battery later in the day.  But next morning, just to be sure, I decided to double check.  Funny sounds under the hood when I turned the key…and when I pulled the key out, funny sounds continued. Strange. Very very strange. And one more thing was Out of Order! in my world.  
 
I wrote most of the above post yesterday, "before 7pm," and sure enough the phone tech guys arrived early in the afternoon.  They had less trouble finding our problems than they had finding our house.  (Gotta love rural.)  In minutes they had fixed two separate issues. We ended up with a new modem, faster DSL, and no more hissing on the land line. Free long distance even.  While they were here, I saw my washing machine moving through the back door...and shortly, swish, swish, the whites were on their way to spotless.  

"Oh yeah," the phone guys joked, "we fixed that too."                                     


"Do you know anything about mini-vans?"


Two out of three wasn't bad. But I felt a little qualm of...something as I did my happy dance in the kitchen, like something in ME had been Out of Order!  I paused to recall some simple joys that came my way in the midst of the turmoil.  I remembered the utterly peaceful morning I spent in someone else's living room as I babysat my laundry.  I thought about the extra reading I'd done in those evenings without the internet, and realized that a certain level of peace had been achieved when Youngest knew "getting on the computer" wasn't even an option.  I felt deeply grateful for sharing friends, for local laundry repair guys who were kind and dependable if not fast, for readily available, trustworthy phone technicians. But clearly, I was a little Out of Order! giving thanks after the problems were solved, looking back and noticing that there had been these little joyful  moments all along the way.    Oops.  Out of Order!

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
I Thessalonians 5:18 esv
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So I'll be working on that, and I'm sure God will be working on me, reminding me that when life gets Out of Order! I don't have to wait around to be grateful, to give thanks, to take joy!  Today, as I write, the washer whispers our towels from ewww to freshness.  My feet are warm, my coffee is hot, and I know the dryer will tumble every piece to fluff.  I have so many everyday blessings, but when my perspectacles slip off, I seem to notice only the problems. 


You too?  (Please say yes?!)  


So, for this day my gratitude list will include some serious non-essentials that make my life embarrassingly easy.  Another day, I will go deep, and explore the wonder of God's creation and the unfathomable mystery of His love for me, but in this moment I will give thanks for  flush toilets, warm clean socks, working refrigerator, hot water at the bathroom sink, electric lights and outlets, a coffee maker, and my dad's car to use while the van problem gets solved...gratitude is definitely in order.  


Yes, gratitude is the order of the day, today.

Everyday.  

Every.day.  

Even (especially) when life is Out of Order!            










                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Hummin'B                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

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Happy birthday, Dad.

10/15/2014

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Today would have been your eightieth birthday, Dad.  Wait, 80th birthday???  When did that happen?  For many years, I never even realized you were getting older;  it seemed I just turned around one day and noticed your shoulders were stooped a bit, and your thick dark hair was salted with gray.  

Sometimes I  stop short when I realize you and Mom are both gone, even though it's been over a year since that last parting.  Still, I wouldn't wish you back..for your sake.  It's been a long time since you celebrated birthdays with your mom whom I never knew.  (Do you mark birthdays Over There?)  I'm sure you're spending time with your dad, whom we all called "Gramps"  and your (oldest) favorite sister, Mae.  I imagine you are regaling anyone nearby with your mischevious storytelling, and I smile, realizing you'll remember all the details and every single name.  

It's been a bumpy year here.  Your (youngest) favorite sister's health is on a downward spiral, the Phillies were in the tank the entire season, and neither the stock market nor the Republican party seem to be able to get it together.  You would have had a lot to grouse about.

Funny things remind me of you.  I think I cried the day my clothesline broke, because the excessive electrical tape wrapped around the loose end of the wire reminded me of the day you put it up.  Whenever you'd roll into the driveway on Hickory Lane, I knew your yellow toolbox was tucked into the trunk, stocked with whatever you thought you might need when you got here.  (I always had a list...)  This summer I wore your flannel shirt when I needed to protect my arms from the wild itching of the bean plants, and I would think to myself, "Dad's helping me in the garden today."  And last week when I cleared out the tomato plants, your ingenious "one pull" knotting system made the job much easier.  

I don't get to Strasburg very often anymore...my two best reasons for visiting no longer exist.  And when I do pass through, it's not the same. It's not quite "home" anymore.  The guys who bought your house forgot to weed the flowerbed along the barberry hedge all.summer.long, and someone else is living in the house next door,too.  The Main Street Closet a few doors down now stands vacant...I remember when it was a garage with a little store, and I would venture over there myself to buy something for mom.  It was a big deal to be so far from home "on my own."  I still feel that way some days.  I find myself humming the lines to a song you probably wouldn't like because it's not "country." (And you'd have serious doubts about a group named Building 429, but it's good stuff, Dad, true stuff:) 



All I know is I'm not home yet, this is not where I belong...(Building 429) 
I remember how you used to enjoy visiting the farm where you grew up;  you called it going "down home,"  but I'm guessing that "up home" is even better.  You are finally, truly home, Dad.  I might be a little jealous, because "all I know is I'm not home yet, this is not where I belong.  Take this world, and give me Jesus, this is not where I belong... "  Enjoy it Dad, enjoy.  And, leave the light on for me.  Happy Birthday, Dad.
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I'll take joy....Part 2

10/9/2014

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I made a decision, (was it Monday?) to take joy.  (You can read about it here.)  I smiled at random moments as the phrase resurfaced in my mind.  I felt like I was in the drive-thru line at Starbucks, ordering a drink to kick-start my day.  "I'll take a hot mocha latte, grande."  And then someone inquires, "Would you like whipped cream with that?"  Yes, yes, I'll take whipped cream.  

I'll take joy.

Or, I'm rattling off my son's Burger King order:  "I'd like the western bbq cheeseburger please." And again, the voice, asking, "What would you like with that?   "I'll take fries."  

I'll take joy.


I'll take joy.
  I whispered the phrase to myself throughout the day, neck deep in recovery from an intense but wonderful "mother-of-the-groom" wedding weekend.  Every plant in the house needed watered, and when I paused a bit longer to take pleasure in my odd little cacti collection, I nodded to myself...I'll take joy.  The washer never stopped, I had "stuff" to haul to the attic, and I'd promised to make sloppy joes for the concessions stand.  That laundry still waited to be folded,  The to-do list didn't seem to have an end... 
But, mid-morning, I dropped everything.  "I will take a walk," I told myself and no one in particular.  "I will take joy," I whispered to God, grinning again.  

[I've been closely observing "what works" to lower the stress/anxietyworry levels in my life, and these walks are near the top of the list. A long meander works too, but more time is required, and then anxiety slips back in while I'm trying to make up for lost time. So, regular brisk walks with occasional meanders seem to be a good combination for me.   Still, I must choose. More on this thread on another post.]

So, before I could talk myself out if it, I snagged my tattered walking shoes and headed out the door. And honestly, what else could I choose to do in those thirty minutes that couldn't be done later…or not at all?  What would I remember in a week or two? Fifteen minutes out, fifteen minutes back, that was my specific time constraint since Youngest would be waiting to be picked up at school, and then he'd need lunch. 

The air was brisk and so was my pace.  I breathed in deeply. "I'll take joy."  Smile.

I noticed the blueness of the sky, 
heard a crow caw from the dead oak snag along the creek, 
and inhaled the scent from the half mowed field of greenest green alfalfa.  
I spent a few minutes chatting with the neighbor boy who was walking two massive work horses back to the barn for a noon break.  
I focused my eyes on the first flame orange tree along the fence row…might be a maple. 

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It was a very ordinary morning, yet in each common moment I could murmur, "I'll take joy." 

A yellow butterfly, probably a Clouded Sulphur, one of our most abundant butterflies, danced up from a fencerow weed.  It was nothing spectacular, just an everyday yellow splash of color that fluttered ahead of me, settling on a purple thistle.  

It seemed to be waiting.  For me?  

By the time I drew alongside its perch, my escort rose on quivering wings and continued ahead a few more yards.  This scenario repeated multiple times as I advanced along my route.  At times the golden sparkle hovered just in front of me, eye level, as if to say, "Come on, come on," and I discovered I could not walk as fast as that wisp-winged triangle could fly. Who knew?

Eventually, my new friend circled behind me and I continued onward, with a quiet laugh.  (I've never gone walking with a butterfly before!) And then I noticed another one, and another.  Pausing on a thistle here, hovering over a daisy fleabane there, daubs of yellow or white rose in a winged flurry as my shadow crossed their world.  Another. And another.  Three here, a lone dancer there, not a monarch among them, but oh so lovely. 

"I should be counting," I thought to myself. It would be perfect to add the sighting of a dozen or so butterflies to my 10,000 Reasons gratitude list for today.  (It started as a One Thousand Gifts list, but that was a few notebooks ago…) I thought about it as I peered over the bridge wall - no ducks in sight today, and the Great Blue Heron had winged silently overhead half a mile ago.  I'll take joy, I reminded myself, and decided that on the way home, I would count butterflies along that one weedy section of fence row.  

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I started counting…

One simple Clouded sulphur, three Cabbage whites, another splash of yellow, on and on; 


I counted simple joys. 

Forty-six butterflies danced skyward on a quarter mile stretch of unknown country road, 


an unkempt fence row lined with thistles some farmer thought his son had taken care of months ago.  


I couldn't stop smiling. 

 Forty-six butterflies.  Forty- six!!


One ordinary moment after another, I counted, 


and I took joy, yes. I. did. 






Dear God,
I will take joy, one butterfly at a time, 


and I will be grateful for this moment. This one, oh and that one too.  

I. will. take. joy…with a side of butterflies. 


                                                                                                                                                                                                                   HumminB

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I will take joy...

10/7/2014

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I've been returning to Sarah Young's powerful little devotional book Jesus Calling recently.  I had read through it once (or twice?) before, but somehow the compelling messages keep drawing me back for nourishment and hope.  The bottom of the page scripture connections to each entry challenge me to find strength from the unfailing Source when life looks unsettled. 


It's been a little wild and crazy on Hickory Lane recently- (all year, actually!)  This month, being mother of the groom was fun but exhausting, and trying to squeeze in a few hours of daily home school learning around the part time traditional school enrollment schedule of Youngest Mystery has been intricately complicated by early dismissals for long bus rides to away soccer games. I'm still unraveling the joyful mystery of being Grammy, and some of the phone calls from far places have brought a renewed focus on being a praying mom.  And, for awhile, it seemed that I would be canning grapes juice and tomatoes until the snow covered the garden.  So, digging around in the Word has again been a source of strength and stability during some emotionally precarious days. Yesterday, I read this:   
Remember that joy is not dependent on your circumstances...
True joy is a by-product of living in My Presence.  
Therefore you can experience it...anywhere.  (Hmm, any time too?!!)  (p. 292)
Oh, what a good word for a Monday morning...after a weekend jam-packed with emotional intensity, multiple transitions, late hours, and completely disrupted routines.  It was a Monday of a Monday.  It was good to be reminded that joy wasn't dependent on my circumstances.  It was a refocusing relief, surrounded as I was with snarly attitudes, a boatload of laundry, and a to-do list that didn't want to end.  And there was more...
Do not judge a day devoid of joy just because it contains difficulties.  
Instead, concentrate on staying in communication with Me.
If you make problem solving secondary to the goal of living close to Me,
you can find joy even in your most difficult day.  (p.292)

Hmm.  The pondering began...could I find joy even in my most difficult day?  Or at least, in this day?  I knew it was going to be a challenging day, but I was fairly certain it wouldn't be my most difficult day.  It would just be bumpy because I was exhausted as was everyone else in the household.  But on this day I could still find joy?!  And what would that look like?

The designated Scripture passage was a description of someone else's most difficult day, and as I read I knew immediately that my first world stresses weren't much by comparison.  Still, these struggles were mine, and since comparisons are generally unhelpful and odious (thank you Madeleine L'Engle for teaching me this pithy truth) I simply moved forward into the wonder of the words before me. 

Habbakuk 3:17-19 from the ESV with notes from the NRSV,  NASB, NIV, KJV, and NLT. (This alphabet soup is my way of unpacking the shades of meaning of the various words and thoughts, since I don't read Hebrew, and I think of the result as the RBZV, the revised Brenda Zook version!)

Though the fig tree should not blossom, does not bud
     and no fruit be on the vines, -no grapes on the vines, produce no fruit,
          the produce of the olive fail, -olive crop fails, labor of the olive shall fail,
               and the fields yield no food, -fields lie empty and barren, produce no food,
                    the flocks be cut off from the fold, - no sheep in the pen, flocks die in the field
                       and there be no herd in the stall, - the cattle barns are empty,

Yet.  Yet.  Yet.  Yet.  Yet.  Yet.  All six translations with their varied descriptions of the dire straits of the the writer in his most difficult day, pause to agree on a single conjunction that is changing my perspective.  Even though all of this happens...or doesn't happen, Yet,

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.  Okay, I.will.  It is a choice to be made. By. me.  Rejoice. But- there is more. 

I will - in case I overlooked it earlier, the phrase comes again, clear as a bell across the morning quiet - I will; choose it.  
take joy - oh, how I love this phrase. Other translations declare - be joyful, exult in, find my joy in, rejoice in, etc.  

I will joy in the God of my salvation, says the KJV.


Joy as a verb;
 joy as a noun.


Joy as the lens through which I view my day, whatever that day may bring. 


"I will joy.  I will take joy."  


I turn the phrase over in my mind, clutch it close to my heart, like my neighbor's golden retriever with a bone she can't put down.  

I will joy.  I will take joy...

And the only way I can do this is to return again to the unfailing, utterly reliable truth of the next phrase: 



God the LORD is my strength - force, Source, supplier of all I need. Because of this truth, I am able to take joy.


Oh God, I want to take joy today;  I want to joy in You, and receive joy from you.  
Help me.  Remind me of Your Presence, Your strength.  Your salvation. 
Whatever this day brings, whatever my  "YET," I will take joy.   


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    I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years
    (if I'm gonna be 100 and something someday...) 
    ​living life as a country woman who is a
     writer, gardener, wife, mom,  nature observer,  teacher,and most of all a much loved child of God.  

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