God has blonde hair...

And He giggles. Trinity Grace turned 2 on April 5. Her older sister, Faith Ryan turned 4 today. And today was their birthday party. I adore my nieces and obviously, they adore me. Trinity and I swang (swinged, swung??? I didnt' do well in English, I'm a musician)...we sat in a swing together for half an hour. Blissful. One of the cool things about kids is that in order to play with them you have to be in the moment. I loose track of time, and I forget about all the "stuff." Maybe this just happens when you are the Auntie visiting for the weekend. Probably. Nonetheless, it was a good reminder and I hope I'll remember those giggles the next time I get too serious about life.

Prayer

When I started this blog, my goal was to write once a week. Well, it's been Easter since my last post. Oh, well. Mostly, I've been super busy with work. And life has just been kind of hard the last 2 weeks. I know...welcome to everyone's world.

I've been married for almost 3 years. So far, I've discovered that married life is just hard. Well, shit hit the fan again a couple of weeks ago. One morning I was doing some writing and praying. Prayer has become more and more of a mystery to me. I used to believe that praying was getting God to do things: heal, provide, change something or someone, etc. What I believe today is that prayer doesn't do that at all. Prayer is for me. Prayer raises my awareness of the Divine, of something/someone that's bigger than me and me trying to be connected to the Divine. I was writing my prayer this particular morning and in response to the current marital conflict, I asked God to "help me me bigger than I have been before today." I'm not perfect just so you know. I've certainly done my share (or more) to contribute to things in my marriage being hard. I was acutely aware this particular morning that I just wanted to be different. Really. I wasn't praying for him to be different or the situation to be different (at least not this time). For this day, I wanted to more patient, more accepting, more kind. I believe that I received what I prayed for. Now, you've probably heard the old saying that God answers prayers in one of three ways: 1)yes, 2) no, 3)maybe. I'm not sure that subscribe to that notion anymore. I think God always answers prayers. And I believe that God answered my prayer that particular day...with MANY f'ing opportunities to be more kind, more patient, more accepting. I think God answered by giving me the chances and the awareness to make different choices. And I did fair...I think. Maybe my husband would have different opinion. At the very least, I was aware. This is not bragging on myself by any means. It's my ramblings about prayer. 'Cause it's just a big mystery...just like God. Hmmm. Go figure.

Choices

A couple of years ago, I wrote devotional for our teenagers for Passover Week. Now, I'm a singer not a writer. Nevertheless, I attempted the task. Well, it's Palm Sunday and I thought I would be brave and share it with you. It makes this post way too long, but I'm doing it anyway.

Choices

` It’s the last week of Jesus’s life. Crowds of the curious, desperate and hopeful had been following him for a couple of years. He had performed miracles and healed many people. Sometimes he told stories no one understood, not even the disciples. He had many friends and was making many enemies. Now this week was here. He always knew the time would come. It is time for Him to die.
What was he thinking? Maybe he didn’t know how fast things would happen, but I believe he knew his death was imminent. How did he feel? How would you feel? What would be going through your mind? No, really. Stop and think about it. What would it be like to know you had just a few days to live? I wonder if there was something Jesus regretted…something he did or didn’t do? When he left home, did he tell his mother how much he loved and appreciated her? Did he ever do the thing he had always wanted to do?
I’m reminded of the months preceeding my father’s death. Daddy told us many times, “I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to leave my family.” One night when all of our family was gathered together he told us, “I’m going to a place I don’t want to go yet, but I have to. When I’m gone, I want all of you to stay together and get along. Be good to each other and love one another.” Quite a blessing from someone who would die just one week later. He knew he was going to heaven and that knowledge made things easier for him. It didn’t remove his sadness. Yet, he courageously embraced his reality and tried to make the most of his time. I think Jesus did the same. He must have been sad. He wept in the garden hours before he was arrested. He shared a meal with his disciples. Jesus gave them his blessing and admonition to remember him and love each other. Jesus knew what had to happen. I believe he embraced that destiny in spite of his very real human struggles. However, unlike my father, I think he had a choice. Jesus was no different than us with his abilities to make choices. I think he could have chosen to put his “destiny” off a year…or 10…or 20. Why not live out more his life? Things were going well with his ministry. He loved teaching and so many peoples’ lives were being changed. Why not stay here longer and care for his aging mother? He had choices. He chose this time. Why? The only guess I have is love. His whole life was about loving others and teaching them how to love.

“I have loved you as the Father has loved me. You must go on living in my love…I have told you this so that you can share my joy and that your happiness may be complete. This is my commandment: that you love each other as I have loved you. There is no greater love than this- that a man should lay done his life for his friends.”
John 15:9-13 (JB Phillips translation)

Jesus had a great love for those around him. He also had a great love for mankind. And he loved his Father. He knew his death would liberate mankind, making it possible for us to know God the way he did.
And so, next Sunday is Easter. We’ll celebrate that love. We’ll sing happy songs, watch children hunt Easter eggs, and have special meals with our families. As Easter approaches, I offer you a challenge. ..to be mindful of your choices. Make brave choices. Make loving choices. How would you live if this was the last week of your life? Here are a few suggestions:

Be thankful!
Notice the little things: Spring flowers, the nice bed you sleep in, or a pantry that’s always full of snacks
Say thank you!
Do something kind or of service to someone—anonymously
Breathe deeply…just because you can
Did I mention being thankful?
Tell the people you love, “I love you.”

Tim McGraw recorded a song that says, “Live like you were dying.”

Let’s try it and see what happens.

Bluebonnets

My father passed away in August 2004. He is buried at a family plot in Belfalls, TX. It's a small, country cemetery near the thriving metropolis where he grew up, Oenaville (pronounced "oh-ee-na-ville"). I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful there. Last year, late in the winter, I planted bluebonnet seeds over his grave. Daddy loved the Texas wildflowers. He and his wife would often travel to the Texas Hill Country during Springtime to enjoy the beauty. Traveling on the motorcycle, of course. The bluebonnets are blooming now in Central Texas and they are stunning! So, I drove to Belfalls Cemetary to see if those little seeds had managed to grow. And they did. Two big bunches of flowers had already bloomed and there were lots of tiny little buds waiting to pop. They were so beautiful and I cried. I was so happy!! Losing my father has been the saddest thing to happen to me. And I miss him so much. Over the last 2 and 1/2 years I've taken many opportunities to remember him and honor my own grief. Planting bluebonnet seeds on his grave was one of those efforts. It brought my heart so much joy today; and today I needed it. (That's another post.) Even planting those seeds offered me an amazing experience and today it became full circle. This little cemetary is smack in the middle of farm land. The ground is black and rock hard. When I traveled to plant the seeds, I took a rake, shovel, pick, hoe...I expected to really work this ground in order to plant the seeds. To my surprise, it wasn't much work at all. A year and a half after his burial, there was still a pretty good mound on top of the ground. When I started raking back dirt, I found that it moved very easily. This mound of dirt wasn't hard at all. So, I continued to rake and little by little I keep seeing these green spots. The more I raked, the more I saw. I finaly bent down to see what they were. They were little green shoots. Little green shoots, probaby weeds, growing in the middle of the dirt pile. It was one of those moments where I was clear God was with me; showing me; opening my eyes. I sat down on the grave stone and wept. God was near and I felt it. In this place marked for death, there is life. Death was not the final word, even for a burial site. Today, life was apparent again...vibrantly! Daddy would love them.

I hung out for awhile, even lying on a blanket watching the clouds. I'm thankful I hang out with teenagers so much...they remind me to do stuff like that. I wish I took more moments like this to just take in life. While I lay there, the lyrics of a song went through my head. It was a song I sang at Daddy's funeral. He picked all the songs at his service. A bunch of songs from Cowboy Church services he listened to on the radio. This one is called "Place Where I Worship."

O the place where I worship
Is the wide open spaces
Built by the hand of the Lord.
Where the trees of the forest
Are like the pipes of an organ
And the breeze plays an Amen chord.
O the stars are the canvas
And they light up the mountains,
Mountains are alters of God.
O the place where I worship
Is the wide open spaces
Built by the hand of the Lord.

There's a carpet of green
And the sky-blue roof above
And I'm welcome there alone
Or with the One I love.
In your heart take a good look
If you follow the Good Book
You're sure to find you reward.
O the place where I worship
Is the wide open spaces
Built by the hand of the Lord.

Here we go!

My first blog post...ever. This is going to be fun.

Today's Bible Study at church was supposed to be the story of Jesus healing the 10 lepers. Unfortunately, we didn't get it to it. We needed to talk about some church stuff, some of which was about Youth Camp this summer. Some of them don't want to go because we're going with a bunch of other churches and they don't know anyone. The last 2 years we've only taken retreats or extended weekend trips by ourselves. So...change is upon us. They'll be fine. They will make friends and have a great week. They just don't know it yet. Anyway, this story. As I was doing some research, I discovered that this another story about a Samaritan. There were 10 lepers. Jesus said "you are healed go show the priest." Nine took off and one stayed long enough to say thank you. Luke seems emphasize that fact that this "one" was a Samaritan. So, now I have all kinds of questions about this story. It no longer seems like Jesus was trying to make a point of being thankful (which is such a powereful practice) BUT...maybe there's more to it. First, why were Jews and Samaritans hanging out together? Does being an outcast remove social and religious barriers? Where did the Samaritan go and "show himself?" Certainly not the same place the now-healed Jewish lepers were running off to. Why did the others not stop to say thank you? Maybe another statement from Jesus that God's grace is for everyone. For the listening Jewish audience, is this another jab at their separation from the Samaritans...like in the story of the Good Samaritan?

Just some questions. I'm no scholar. I'm not educated in anyway theologically. I studied music in college.

By the way, I have no idea how to do all the HTML stuff to make my site look cool. I just read some stuff and I don't get it. I'm a right-brainer. Maybe I'll work on it...later.

Allow me to introduce myself

I grew up in church. I mean the “every time the doors were open I was there”, grew up in church. A good Southern Baptist church at that. I knew all the stories. I knew what they mean. I have dozens and dozens of verses memorized. Faith and God were all were very neat and tidy until about 1993. I started going this church where the pastor talked of “being saved” as an ongoing, repeating process, instead of one trip down the aisle to shake the preacher’s hand. There were staff members who had been divorced and now remarried. Like the church’s pastoral counselor. Hmmm, I was taught it was a sin to divorce and adultery to remarry. Three years later I would go through my own divorce. I later learned that my now ex-husband was gay. I had to deal with divorce for me; find God in this. I was taught that homosexuality was wrong. Now it had touched my life in a very intimate and unique way. I had to search out how God fit in. I grew up being taught that having sex outside of marriage was a sin. My beliefs challenged my life as a 30 thirty-something woman in a relationship. I was taught Christians don’t drink. And I didn’t until my thirty’s. Today I love good wine and margaritas. And all along the way, even back to college, unsuspecting men and women found their way in my path offering me different perspectives of God and faith. Their God was bigger than mine. Authentic lives of faith with less rigidity. Some of them took the stories of my childhood and turned them upside down. Often times, exploding my God view, my “Christian” view. Over the past few years, I’m discovering I don’t really know all the stories afterall. They don’t have “an answer”; or only one point to make. With so much of Scripture, I think that the church at large has completely missed the point. I don’t have all the answers. God is not neat and tidy. And it’s wonderful. It is perhaps, my salvation. I lead a Bible Study each week for the teenagers at my church. It’s a small church, not like the big ones I grew up in. I like it. The kids are really not like me when I was their age. I find this delightfully refreshing. It’s also a tremendous challenge. Each week I'm faced with stories I thought I knew. I try to look at them in new way and offer them something we can kick around for an hour. The discussions we have are amazing. These young men and women are intelligent, savvy and insightful. I don’t have to have “all the answers” for them. Thank God. But you can’t just wing it with them. They smell bullshit from miles away. As their “teacher”, I’m also a student. Most of the time a very willing one. They are always teaching. Now, I've come to this place...a blog. I love to read them. I know some cool ones. This time I'm coming for myself. I’ve come to process, write through, and articulate what I’m learning. Kick around with you my life on a spiritual journey. And I’m an artist. I love to sing and I’m pretty good at it. I also love to write. My writing has mostly been for me. I feel tugged to use my creativity and love for writing in new ways. We’ll see what this place brings me. And I want to hear from you. Leave me your thoughts!