Disney World

Lydia some years ago with her "Ears on".

Lydia called last night at 12:10am Florida time to let me know what a great time they are having at the Magic Kingdom. (I was rewarded for buying Lydia her own phone). The maximum waiting time to get on a ride has been 10 minutes, with most rides having no waiting time. I think Debbie and her sister Cindy truly transform into children when they enter Disney's creation.

Post by Gary

Sorry, but the word verification is back.

This is Gary, temporary blog controller. The spambots have hit again, so I put the word verification on to prevent Debbie from giving in to the uncontrollable urge to remove the spam comments. Sorry for this inconvenience.

Riding the Wind

Recently I received a strange and unexpected gift: Pain.

Episodes of blogging, online newsreading, email composing, and even old-fashioned pen-to-paper journal writing result in shooting pains up my arm that settle as a dull ache in my elbow. The right hand fields the greater affliction, of course, but both arms carry the painful resonance at times.

A gift? You might question.

Yes, a gift.

Pain . . . that gift that nobody asks for, yet every time it enters my life I come away with some new understanding or acquisition that changes my life remarkably.

Pain: The motivator to change, accept, adapt as fits the situation.

I trust this episode will be no different.

For me writing is like breathing . . . I must do it. Copious journals and rambling blog posts attest to my natural inclination to put thoughts into words scrawled in a place that holds them for longer than the breath a voice carries them upon when they become conversation. The spoken word evaporates or changes into remembrance (sometimes incorrectly) over time, whereas words etch a thought (right or wrong) that lasts intact.

Alas, this delightful dalliance of blogging and soul-refreshing exercise in journaling must be laid aside for a time. Healing must happen.

What will I do? What new activity will fill the moments previously blogged?

Aha! Therein lies the adventure, and I eagerly await it!

In the act of creativity,
the artist lets go the self-control
which he normally clings to
and is open to ride the wind.

~~ Madeleine L’Engle ~~
Walking on Water (81)

And so, I unharness the strictures that cause pain this day, spread my arms wide, trust that wings of delight will sprout fully, and take off to ride the wind. I anticipate soaring over new territories and discovering new ways to create and share and enJOY it all.

When I return (and surely I will, though like a famous Hobbit drafted into service, I know not when I shall cross this bloggy home’s threshold once again), I shall come bearing gifts gleaned from the quest. More than pictures and retelling of tales, I hope to bring a fresh beacon of insight worthy of sharing.

As for today . . . I must be off this computer and about the business of relying on wings so that my arms can rest and rejuvenate.

Be well, sweet friends. I carry you in my heart and prayers until I return to sweep off the welcome mat and put on the kettle once again.

. . . and the wind gently blows . . .

. . . newly unfurled feathers ruffle . . .

Whoosh!

Eddying Thoughts Tumbled Out on a Tuesday

Anuna’s mellifluous harmonies waft about the room. My diminutive blue willow teapot steeps with just enough tea for me. My devotional moments drift into prayers of the deepest nature reaching the depthless font. All stresses fade, all tensions melt . . . for just a brief moment I rest in complete peace. I am home.

My mountain-top moment begins to fade, even as I weep for it to stay. Phones jangle, appointments demand, dust settles . . . my feet touch earth with a thud.

I shy away from the computer, knowing that tidying tasks and planning details should devour these productive morning hours. Absently I pick up pen and journal and fall into another stream, swirling down a spout of tumbling thoughts and gushing feelings – a waterfall pouring forth from these moments set aside from the routine.

I came here to my little cozy spot on the web to share something . . . but the basket I carried here stands somehow strangely empty. Did it spill out? Did I fail to gather anything?

Maybe it is enough to simply say, “Hi” without a carefully orchestrated message or diligently uploaded pics. Maybe I can simply rest and fill teacups with friendly invite to send a simple “Hello” back my way.

Of late, my life has been sloshing high and low on waves of lurching activity outside the normal confines of cottage and gardens (and will continue to do so as we prepare for a trip to Disneyworld from the 14th through the 22nd), but for just this little moment I sit peacefully in my favorite cozy chair and gaze out at the brilliant foliage garlanding the gardens even as the roses blossom and bud relentlessly.

I sigh . . . I smile . . . I count the gifts of a gentle life.

I thank Him.

Though the headlines bombard me with fearsome predictions and dire assessments, though advertisers attempt to shift my thinking away from simple living in favor of indebted complexities, though accepted practices crowd life with superfluous events, I linger in this moment of complete satisfaction – knowing His grace nourishes me sufficiently unto abundance. I thank Him for infusing me with so many gifts, seen and unseen, appreciated and challenging, popular or unusual . . . still and all, I thank Him.

Dancing off to a-typical drumbeats, I think of Madeleine L’Engle’s words from Walking on Water: Reflections on faith and art:

Often we forget that he has a special gift for each of us, because we tend to weigh and measure such gifts with the coin of the world’s marketplace. The widow’s mite was worth more than all the rich men’s gold because it represented the focus of her life. Her poverty was rich because all she had belonged to the living Lord. (p. 26)

She adds the thoughts of Emmanuel, Cardinal Suhard:

To be a witness does not consist in engaging in propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.

How aptly these words sum up my little life in this little town in such a little speck of time and yet how BIG it all feels when I awake each morning. Each decision, thought, and movement sparks a reaction somewhere, somehow, some way. May my mysterious ramblings and curious dances bring glory to God, I pray.

And now I have babbled on long enough and have yet to remember exactly why I decided to open up this window and jot down something to share . . .

Still and all, I have come to say “Hi” and for today I hope that be enough.

Happy Tuesday, my sweet friends.

: D

Sunday Wonder

From the rising of the sun

Unto the going down of the same

The LORD's name is to be praised.

Psalm 113:3