itsawonderfilledlife

Maybe it’s the dark season, maybe the flu virus that demolished my weekend plan or maybe just the abundance of time in my brain …

I was abiding in the doldrums yesterday, my thoughts going to and staying on the dark side. Gotta say, by bedtime I was brought low.

Then I awoke this morning with one word on my mind …

WHATEVER

and I knew fully and immediately what the message was and who it was from.

Whatever …

whatever is true,
whatever is noble,
whatever is right,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely,
whatever is admirable
think about such things

A passage from Philippians, memorized many years ago, as a child attending a Pioneer Girls club, surfaced … just. when. I. needed. it.

coincidence? I think not.

The Psalmist tells us, “I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you” (Psalm 119:11). There is something powerful about scripture that has been memorized and how it surfaces in our minds when we need it’s message, it’s hope, the most.

According to a Psychology Today article, written by Ryan C. Warner Ph.D.,

“Neurologically, positive thinking activates brain regions involved in emotional regulation  and reward processing, such as the prefrontal cortex and amygdala. This activation triggers the release of neurotransmitters like dopamine and serotonin, known for promoting feelings of happiness and well-being.“

Whatever …

Whatever is on our minds, threatening our sense of inner peace, striking us with fear, making our stomachs turn with worry … whatever it is … job lay offs, change, death of loved ones, isolation from loved ones, rejection, stress, loneliness, change, depression, anxiety … a virus in the midst of the winter doldrums … these whatever verses are a U-turn, a reminder that where we allow our thoughts to go can affect where they stay.

This isn’t happy-clappy stuff folks, to make the switch in our minds to that which is positive is to fuel our thoughts with something that can help us manage the stresses and frustrations and seasonal affective disorders and whatever else our minds are struggling to have the resilience to cope through. In a sense, positive thinking is the most valuable nutrient for our brains to function and cope well in this sometimes dark and stormy world.

” … brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” Philippians 4:8-9

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Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart

A few months ago a song was perfectly inserted in a show I was watching and it delivered such significance to the scene, for I knew the song well.

Be thou my vision is undoubtedly one of the oldest hymns still sung (believed to be written in the sixth century), though it (as with many older hymns) began as poetry. Written by Saint Dallán Forgaill in honor of an act of faith and defiance to the wishes of the High King of Ireland, by Saint Patrick. It was not until 1919 that the verses (reworked about twenty years prior) were put to music … the hauntingly beautiful Irish tune, “Slane”.

I am so thankful that I was reunited with this song, for it has been a comfort, a balm, a reminder of hope and certainty in a time where hope and certainty seem out of sight.

It has also been a good, swift, metaphorical kick in the pants.

As I listen to, hum and even sing (in the privacy of my home) the truths of the verses, I wonder how it is that we who have faith, who worship such a faithful High King of Heaven

could feel that our world, politics, leaders, global financial systems, loss of community is hopeless.

How could we, who put our faith in God, be so dominated by the news of the day?

Perhaps if He is in our thoughts
“by day or by night
waking or sleeping
thy presence my light”
… our rest may be more restful, our days less anxious.

Perhaps if we trust first in Him to
“be Thou my wisdom,
and Thou my true word”
… we will know that wisdom is better than strength or power.

Perhaps if we abide
“ever with Thee
and Thou with me, Lord
Thou in me dwelling
and I with Thee one”
… we will know that loneliness is dissolved.

Perhaps if we deny the wealth, the privileges we hold in this world,
“Riches I heed not, nor vain, empty praise
Thou mine inheritance, now and always”
… we might not worry about losing them.

Perhaps if our communications are more often about
“Thou and Thou only first in my heart
High King of heaven, my treasure Thou art”
… others might believe in the God we say lives in our hearts.

Perhaps if understand that our victory is already won,
“whatever befall”
… we will not fear what this world and it’s leaders may do.

Perhaps if we raise our hands in praise more often we will be wringing them less.

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.

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She bares her feet,
uncovered, exposed.
Her legs uncurl, straighten.
It is dark, cold,
early in this new day, month, year.
Familiarity tells her there is a surface,
a cold, hard floor on which to land her feet.
She’s done it thousands of times, yet
Yet this new day, this first day
is so full of mysteries
and the void of knowns gives her pause.

For had she known one year ago,
what happenings that year would bring …
and yet,
Yet, nothing could be
… can be known in advance.

There is no security in knowing what a previous year might bring,
that cold, hard surfaces would become shaky,
that knowns would become unknowns,
that death and life can take your breath away.

As her toes touch down, uncertainty remains.
She moves her foot forward,
dropping down, slowly, silently.
tiptoeing across the cold, flat surface.

A new year,
like that floor,
unknown, empty, flat and cold.
We take our first steps, slow and cautious,
toes vulnerable, bared …
bared to whatever they might encounter.

She knows there is a hard surface on which to land,
days, hours, minutes, seconds
Yet … what will fill them?
Meals, activities, work, sunsets and sunrises
laughter and tears.
tears … this is the unanticipated, undesired bump in the night
as we cross the threshold of a new year.

For what will bring the tears?

And yet, what will bring the laughter?

So, tiptoe my dear,
Cold and hard,
Shadowed and clear,
Eyes opened full,
Toes moving forward …

Forward, for … there is no other direction now to go.

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“I’m going to do it all different, better.”

That was my wordless declaration as an adolescent girl, rose-colored glasses perched precariously on my button nose.

The idealism of youth can be a powerful motivator, a fire-in-the-belly, a pedestal of goals to stand upon (and fall down from).

And yet, that was me. My first-born determination … the embodiment of ‘the iron that had entered my soul’. I was going to do it all different, better than my parents, my mother.

In recent years I have come to understand that my rose-colored glasses, first-born determination and good intentions amounted to …

so many more failures than I’d counted on.

The unexpected, undesirable results have had me wondering what I missed in my perfectly planned goals. They have also caused me to take another look at the parental case study of my early years, my own parents.

And this reflection has had me hanging my (arrogant, critical) head in shame …

for now I am starting to get it,

for it is not all about me … me goals … my plans … my formula.

We, as mums (since, I am a mum), set out to do and achieve our goals … not a bad place to start, but we cannot influence every result, we are not the only ones who impact our households. We also mess up, in all of our humanness. Then there is that blessed curse of freewill (I hope God is ready for a tête-à-tête when I arrive in heaven)!

Awhile back, in the midst of an intense conversation with one of my kids, I expressed something like, “I cannot believe you would think that was the right decision on that subject.”

To which they responded, “how am I supposed to know what is the right decision, this is the first time I have been this age, in this situation.”

BOOM!

mic drop

Good intentions aside, aren’t we all living this life for the first time? There are no professionals in this thing we call life. And, life does not have a formula to follow for guaranteed results (save such lofty hopes for products promising to defy the effects of aging). We do our best (the only thing we can do) and then … life happens.

It all brings me back to my adolescent declaration that “I will do it all differently, better.”

I can now see how well my parents did, with what they knew, what they had at their disposal. They did their level best. Could it have been better? Of course. But, they were limited by the same realities that I am. They were doing their best, because they were living their situations, their lives, for the first time.

Now, I watch my mum navigating the changes and challenges of her life in the past few years. As she has walked through grief and loneliness. As I have observed her learning new things, making tough choices, making decisions on her own, embarking on independence later in life. You see, this is the first time she has been in this place, this time.

And my rose-colored glasses have been lifted off my face.

And I see now, with a clarity I was blind to in my youth.

And something new replaces a formula for guaranteed results.

It’s grace, understanding that this is her first go-around too.

I am learning to give grace to her, as a practise of the Golden Rule … to treat her in a manner I would hope to be treated.

I am so proud of you mum … thanks for modelling that you can pivot, change in the winter of life … your first time being this age.

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It’s early
Still
Clear
Quiet but for the geese across the lake
Ripples on water.

There’s a nest above the door
Momma bird flew off when I stepped out to the deck … my presence scared her off.
But she’s not far off
Lingering within sight of her home, her babies.

That’s what momma birds do
Protect their own.

I feel a kinship with this feathered momma
For I know the innate drive a momma feels to protect her own.
I know the fear
The desperation
The sense that it’s all up to me.
But is not …

What momma bird doesn’t know yet is that some day soon her babies will fly
She might even be the one to push them from the nest.
And in their flying off, strong and prepared,
She will have done her job.

The quality of which may not inspire a best selling how-to book,

but,

It will have been her best

And done with the greatest of love

She’s been flying away from the nest, bit by bit, for years now.
We humans don’t just take one leap from the nest, but many small ones.

And today she flys off with her chosen one.

They too will live along this lake, with the momma bird. One day they may have their own to protect, but for now I pray they protect each other, from this day forward, for the rest of their lives.

Fly my pretty, fly!

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