Mary's Heartbeats

I ran to the ringing phone, trying to beat the answering machine to the call. The young man's voice was familiar, but I mistakenly greeted him as his brother. "No," he corrected me, it was him, it was really him. His voice was a miracle, I hadn't heard it for so long. He's alive, he's not lost! His thoughts sounded clear and his words burst with full joy. I choked back my tears as I told him how I had prayed for him day after day. His life and return now stood as my answer that God answers prayer. He told me he loved me and hoped soon to see me. I hung up the phone with my heart full of praise. . . At least two years had passed, since I last heard from him. I recalled how when younger, "all my boys" had such fun at the beach. We'd leave before sunrise and stay way after dark. The next day, we'd scramble to get to our church. We'd fill a half row as the praise songs would start. He'd sing with great gusto, ...

Opening the patio door, I was immediately drawn outside. It was still so dark this morning, but our backyard was brilliantly bright. There in front of me, the western sky held a setting circle moon, dimmed with wispy clouds. It made a beautiful skyscape , especially as it peered through my neighbor's pine. I couldn't help but utter praise to our Creator God who so thoughtfully gives us a brand new day like this to start . . . My mother always loved the moon. She especially enjoyed the dark Arizona nights when it was just a low hanging sliver in the sky. Full orange colored harvest moons got her attention too, and she would often remind us to "go look at the beauty of the moon." I am thankful for these simple memories that come from the morning sky. Mom has passed, the moon has set; out of darkness, pain and sorrow, shines the Light. . . ". . . and it was a month which was turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a good day ....

"You gain strength, experience, and confidence by every experience where you really stop to look fear in the face . . .you must do the thing you cannot do." (Eleanor Roosevelt) I never thought that I could do Yoga. Those awkward and peculiar poses seemed so foreign to to my body. Yet, I knew that it was a practice I should learn, since I knew I was putting so much indirect stress on my body that I was setting myself up for future cardiac events. Heart issues and chest pain all are physical manifestations of fear; fear of letting go, fear of change; squeezing all the joy out of life and resisting the flow of life. Fear easily creeps up in me in subtle ways until it has me in its grip, and I admit I was trapped, until I learned yoga. Almost a year later, I have discovered the benefit of breathing, the ability to de-clutter my mind, and reward of actually having a "core". I remember my yoga teacher telling us to use our core when we did particular poses. ...

How the tide did change! The timid conquered people were given the upper hand. At just the right time, Mordecai went from being taunted, defamed, doomed to die, to being the greatest and most famous in all the land. It's the greatest irony, the exiled one now rules; out of obscurity and humility the mighty hero comes. . . This story gives me hope and challenges me to perservere. The reality before me, the things I see that seem to be unfair are not the final word. There is something greater going on. Perhaps, it is for me to learn patience, trust, and faith that God does know my circumstances and what I can't control. In his time, my fear can flee, my weakness change to strength. . .

"One could say that being denied a reward constituted an injustice." (L.C. Allen, T.S. Laniak , 2003) It's usually easier to pick out injustice when it is obvious, when people are denied basic human rights. It's always easier to identify it when someone else has done it, especially if they have done it to us. Perhaps, the greatest injustice is when we ignore, keep to our own business or remain silent. Although we may not have the power to make all things right, we do have the ability to reward those around us. It may just be acknowledgement or affirmation of the good they have done. It may be looking out for their best interest and putting ours at rest. It may be practicing kindness and modeling respect. It's taking initiative to always set the record straight, remembering that there are many who have assisted us in getting on in life. We are not self-made individuals, we bear responsibility with one another, we can begin to end injustice w...

The edict was final, the Persian law stood, the day fast approaching when all the Jewish people would be killed. Yet, the irony won as the humble hero now reigned, and with the Queen's blessing, the plan for defense and provision was proclaimed. In just enough time, the people would live, no annihilation or plunder would happen, their race would survive. Provision would come but with cost. . . I can be so easily fearful when provision is lacking or late. I often think of it only in terms of escape, but that is not how it's played out in life. Even Jesus was gripped with despair as he agonized over his trip to the cross. "Let this cup pass, anything but this!" was his plea. Provision would come but with pain. . . Prayer paves the way for provision, and builds my trust, especially when my prayer is barely a sigh for just help. Patience grows in the waiting and hope comes with each day. Provision will come but with grace. . .

It was such a beautiful day, one in which I was glad I lived in California. Pouring myself a fresh coffee cup, I peaked out the window at the small hole framed by our trees and fence, catching a glimpse of the bright snow capped peak. The backyard tree was sputtering leaves as a small group of colorful, finch like birds hopped off and on every branch. They were so chirpy, and their colors lit up the tree with hues of yellow, orange, green, and blue. It would be a good day to ride up the hill. . . I started out with the intention for pictures, so I added my camera bag onto my back. Right away, I felt weak; I hadn't ridden as much as I had before winter and the time change, and now was I losing the strength in my legs? My mind was all cluttered and seemed out of sync with the nicely, neat earth washed white from the the storms. Why does it seem there is never enough? Why no matter how hard that you work, there seems to be such incredible gaps; gaps that grow b...

There I sat all primed to write, my blog before me, when blackness fell. It immediately consumed my screen and all the room's surroundings. Silence followed quickly too, as all the household power quit. I peered my way down through hall and toward the backyard windows. At least my kitchen had a bit of morning gray so I could find the way. Ah, candles with matches, and even a flashlight too, now all I had to do was wait; watch and wait in darkness light. . . It was almost like the night before, but then I made the choice for it to come. I heard the news of terrible storms to head this way, yet my dog had already warned me of that fact. Goldyn had seemed so restless, even in the house, pacing round the kitchen and the family room. Unable to totally sit still, except for a few times when his eyes and ears became attentive to the pounding rain. I found myself chasing him around the house, trying to get him to calm down. It didn't work, it was only a futile race. So...

One was smug with pride, a royal member of King Ahasuerus ' court. The very one who demanded all to bow and give him due respect. He boasted of his power, his riches, his multitude of children, and told of every single time the king had bragged and boosted him above the others. His friends and wife fell for his trap of great conceit, and plotted with him how to end the life of one that seemed to threaten him. But that one was so different, a humble quiet sort of soul. An exiled one, a foreign one who also found a place in royal court. He sought to serve the king by loyalty, and gave wise counsel to his queen. He had actually averted an assassination plot, and though it went unnoticed by the king, his loyalty remained unchanged. He knew himself and would not give in to the self- conceited one; honor is never given by demand. . . The plot ends up with the prideful one bestowing praise to the lowly one. The one with so much power and pomp ends up without, the one wit...

They stood at opposite ends, each with opposing views. Both were hurt and angered; both were misunderstood. Communication now was only business polite. Open verbal dialogue had all but ceased, and written words were passively displayed. If one gestured near the center or loosened grip, the other quickly countered by a tighter, more grounded hold. And so they played for days. Tug of war does not accomplish much. There is no triumph in dragging your opponent through the mud, for even winners are splashed and hit with flying debris. It is such a childish game that wastes all useful energy. It's a poor model of strategy, and yet it's easy to end if both would just give up. Life is much too short for me to play such games. Even though they both asked me if I'd join in the fun, I told them no, let go, and walked away. . .

Are you happy? Are you happy in your work, in your marriage and relationships? Are you happy with your kids? Are you happy with your home, the car you drive? Are you happy with yourself, your body or your hair? The list goes on and on, so many possibilities for happiness . . . or so it seems. Happiness can be wrapped up in what we have or don't have; it can be based on certain circumstances, and often can be an easy excuse for us when we want out of situations. All we need to say is that we weren't happy, and that seems to give us reassurance with our choice to quit, divorce, move on, or make a drastic change. Sometimes, no matter what I do or try to do, happiness can elude me, and others may never be happy with all I've attempted to do. I discover I have no power or control over happiness. It really is just a fleeting feeling. It's like peering out my window at the majestic winter scene. The clouds are thick but breaking, there is a bit of sunshine pi...

Sometimes there seems to be too many choices. I find myself always trying to figure out what the right choice should be, and yet I see that many of the choices put before me would be okay. No matter how old I get, sometimes I wish that I wouldn't have to be the one to decide. Life would be so much easier if I could see into the future and receive that affirmation that this is the best plan for me. And yet I don't possess that power, I don't even have God telling me directly what to do. Yet somehow, I have made it well so far, even with all my blunders along the way. . . It's like walking with Goldyn. It's taken time to teach and train him how to walk with me on leash. When we first got him from the pound, he jumped and pulled and ran just like a wild man set free. He didn't understand the need to sit or place, he only wanted to pull me with his plan of course. He barked and tugged ferociously with any approaching dogs. Even I became the object of h...

Long, long ago an ancient Persian king fell prey to spin. He heard it from the best; he heard it from one all consumed with keeping power for himself. It sounded like the perfect plan, just make a law to kill the people who threaten you by their presence in your land. They are a bit peculiar too, and not like us, the reigning few. "I'll pay the cost," the king was promised, it all seemed too good to be true; "just leave the matter in my hand." And so he sat and drank, while chaos spread around. The pain is in the spin . . . Even now there is so much spin that's spun. I hear it on the TV commercial, that "actors tell us lies so that we can see the truth." The daily news has so much commentary and political bias, it's almost impossible to decipher what is fact. Even our conversations with one another can be clouded with the spin that excuses our behaviors or blames others for our own foolish folly. And the end result of all this sp...

She was sitting right by the phone, when I called to say I'm on my way. "I can hardly wait till we're together, it's been sooo long!", she said. She greeted me with her great big smile, hug and kiss when she opened up the door. It was just like coming to my parent's house, the same small apartment, the warm glow of table lamps, and a blue patterned couch with matching chairs. We got busy with conversation as I sat on the floor mending the bottom skirts of her chairs. She was so glad to have that done, now no need to repair those chairs with unsightly tape. Driving off to dinner, we continued with our news, so many surprises to tell, she delighted with joy with all that I shared. Pulling into my driveway, she exclaimed, "Now, I'm home! Oh, how I love to come to your place." I showed her the gift that would soon be assembled for her, a shiny new walker! She was initially stunned, "you did way too much!" But her excite...

I was pushing my cart down the soup and sauce aisle, when I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. Ah, there was actually another person like me who intently reads labels, good for her! I passed by her and focused back on what I needed to get. But then I felt a soft pull on my shoulder and there she stood. Dark hair and skin, inquisitive eyes peering from her glasses, she pointed directly at the phrase "contains less than" on the pizza sauce can, and asked me the meaning in very broken English. I smiled back and did my best to describe that meant "quite small". She thanked me and described her purpose of making a pizza for her son. We met again a few aisles over, this time in the dairy section. Now she eagerly forged toward me to ask what kind of cheese went on a pizza. I pointed out her choices and showed her even better prices for some that were the same. She happily responded as we finally parted on our ways. I walked out of the store, ...

There is a reoccurring theme in stories of hardship and distress. Just when things seem to be the worst and there is no escape for the one oppressed, the theme of favor, provision and place appear. I see it over and over again. It's most evident in the story of Joseph, but also throughout the story of a young exiled Jewish girl named Esther who finds favor from her captive Persian king, bountiful provisions, and ultimately the place of being Queen and saving her people from a genocide. I don't understand that,it seems to make no sense. It's like the pine tree that roots and grows up tall from just a narrow crack in a rock. Often I find myself wanting to be in the best situations, the easiest spots, trying to avoid the hardships and risks in life. If I'm in a difficult time, I usually am looking for a quick way out. Sometimes, there is escape, most times not. Maybe, just maybe, I am in that circumstance for something greater. Perhaps I will find favor; provis...

There is never enough time in the day. I started out behind as my alarm clock failed and I slept on, at least an hour later than my usual wake-up. Thankfully, Goldyn pawed the side of my bed to arouse me from my slumber. The sunrise already had run way ahead of me, as it spread its pink tentacles across the sky. I tried to catch up with coffee, as I completed morning chores. I focused on the positives that would get me through my day, but now with this late night blog, I realize time has won. I never got my hour back, in fact I think I lost more time in trying to get caught up. Now I'm spent, the time is spent and gone; the reserve is entirely empty, gone, deplete . . .

Walking out into the fresh air, I was relieved. No payment due today. Just able to walk in and get my new shiny crown, and be done in about 20 minutes. Well, at least I don't have dentures yet, although I'm beginning to think they would be much easier to care and maintain. I just don't get it. I do my best to be a healthy individual, I don't eat sugary, sticky foods, I brush and floss, 3 times on most days, and still it always seems that there is work to be done to repair my aging teeth. Is it me or the dentist? Certainly, we need medical reform, but I wonder what about dental reform? I have insurance, even now have a high paying PPO, and yet it seems I can never walk in and have just a regular appointment without there being needed "more work that isn't covered" on my plan. When I started with my present dentist, all I wanted was a cleaning. But after x-rays of every single tooth, snapshots of my bite and face, I was told I would have to c...

Lord, how reassuring to know that You are here in my days. I don't hear your voice directly, I never have seen you face to face, I never have put my arms around you. And yet I know you are here in my life. I know sometimes it even seems to me that you may just be a figment of my imagination , but now I've lived long enough to know you're here. There is nothing in my life coincidental , nothing happen-stance, nothing lucky or even disastrous that you don't know. Through the happiest days, the saddest days, the most satisfying days, the most troubling days, the richest and the poorest days, you are here, really here. It's like the book of Esther, your name is never mentioned once, and yet your providence and presence is written in every page. So again today, be in the pages of my life. . .

Those blue inked circles on the page of the devotional book caught my eye this morning. Instantly, I knew who made those marks. Had I given her this book? I couldn't quite recall. So I started flipping through the pages and I found more lines and circles. Yep, that's my Mom, I forgot that I had lent this very book that had been signed and given to me. In those moments of seeing her deliberate ink around the words of joy, peace, strength, trust; and lines under "at long last I know," I suddenly missed her terribly. It seemed as if she was sitting there with me, her arm around my shoulder, and I was privy to her thoughts as I searched for further notes. Interesting that the book my Mom had marked was penned by my very special second Mom. No doubt it is a blessing to have just one Mom who loves you so, but to have another one when the first one's gone is truly a gift from God. I remember the first time I met Ruth. I had heard she was an author, and b...

I love breathing in the crisp cool air of this Saturday morning as I begin my walking and running ascent. There is such freedom in the release of my sweat and my breath; it makes my mind feel uncluttered, at peace. I have been reminded of that tiny seed of revenge that could sprout and grow within if fed by my emotions. And I don't want to go there, even near there. I want to dig it out of me before it ever roots. I realize that resentment, frustration, exasperation, personal hurt, self-righteous anger, the fatigue of being faithful and enduring can make a rich deep soil for revenge to grow. But today, once more, I am releasing that negative energy. I don't want to become like the one who arouses such emotions as that in me. There really is no joy in seeing the demise or destruction of another soul. There would be no pleasure in that one to gravel or beg at my feet. Rather, I choose to model a better way, the way of being redeemed and transformed. No longe...

I knocked on the door, knowing that it didn't really matter and that I would have to enter with leaving my words behind. She was one of my patients I have seen over the years. She and her family were all totally deaf. For me, it had always been a challenge to communicate in a meaningful way. In former days, I would find myself frustrated with lack of time to adequately meet her needs. It always seemed that the neediest person was jammed into the busiest part of your schedule. But today was different, I was going to do my best to let her know her results. We greeted one another with smiles and handshakes. I sat down and began to write out the details of all her reports. We feverishly wrote back and forth, and in between my scrolling and notes, her daughter would sign back to her. It was an interview of silence, yet there was so much being said. I looked to her face, I looked to her gestures, was she truly understanding what I had been saying? And then it happene...

It was like walking into a pie shop. The aroma of fresh baked delights seemed to be so inviting. The pies looked yummy, still hot with aroma steaming up and around the room. Luscious fruit fillings, carmel meringues, and colorful cream fillings all captured my eyes. I was ready to indulge, I was ready to bite into that perfect piece of pie . . . But it wasn't exactly what I had hoped for. Reality left me with a disappointing taste. The words we form are often like the illusions of my pies. Words can woo us, entice us, yet fool us. They look and sound so good, especially to the ears of the one who doles them out. Yet to the listener the sweet spin always turns out to be a sour, bitter bite. That's how the words simply came from her lips without hesitation. They spilled out in what she thought was an orderly, pleasant way. Topped with so much excuse and fault, I couldn't decipher the truth in the flow. I had heard it all before. . .

Negotiation is not an easy road to navigate. I travel mine with optimistic expectations, and yet wonder if those hopes will even be heard or considered. It's difficult to detach the feelings that support the offer. It's difficult when you feel defensive because what you've done as been deflated and devalued. It's difficult to negotiate when trust is lacking from the start. But those are feelings and have no part of working out a deal. It's time to stick to the plan, point out the facts, get down to the figures. It's time to be the calm, to be the rational one. It's time to take the high road, to be the person of integrity you know yourself to be. It's time!

Every January begins the time to prune. I arm myself with gloves and long sleeves to combat the roses' thorny stalks. How such a beautiful plant can have such a painful stem is beyond me. Even with my careful clipping I come away with bleeding pokes and scratches. I then begin to trim the vine that robustly rules our eastern yard. Amazing that it has grown so thick these past fourteen years. If only it had been that way when we had first moved in, maybe ol' Qausimoto, our terrier mix, never would have learned to scale and jump the fence it covers. Yet the vine hides the scars of our towering Palm tree that cracked and broke its blocks. Now to look at it all, you never would have guessed the former stories. Pain is always a part of my life. It lurks among the beauty and the bounty of my days. It always comes with lessons for me to choose to learn. Like the lesson of faithful love, even when the one you love jumps the fence and runs away. Or the one who gr...

Sometimes it is better to hold your tongue, to refrain from that comment that would seem to say it all so well. I had been totally annoyed and fed up with my neighbor's cats. First of all, I am not a cat person and really only tolerate kittens. But I had discovered that the cats across the street had discovered my dry flower beds as their new sandbox. There is nothing like cleaning up piles of cat poop intermingled among fragile sweet pea shoots. Plus, the final straw was the day I found their deposits in my vegetable boxes. It was horrifying that day! I found that Goldyn, my awesome Rottie mix, had come upon their treasure too, and delighted in rolling himself in their pooh. Ugh! There is nothing like trying to clean pooh stuck in and around a silver choke chain, plus bathing him on a day not originally planned that way. I was set to cross the street and tell them directly to stop and contain their cats or else. . . The right time never seemed to come, I could never ...

She had just one more question she told the front office staff, as she stopped by to see me on a busy pre-holiday morning. I was in the midst of seeing patients back to back, with hardly any spare minutes in between. I had called her the night before, giving her the results of her breast biopsy. It is never easy to break the news of cancer to anyone, especially at a time of usual joy and blessing, like Christmas. Yet, I knew her anxious heart, and I did not want her to have to wait for an extended time; that for her would certainly feel like an unfriendly eternity. So that afternoon, I called again. She had picked up the referral for the surgeon, but she was wondering, "what would you do Mary, if you had this diagnosis?" What would I do, if I was told there was a very early breast cancer deep inside my left breast? Would I opt for surgery? Or would I wait? Would I seek alternative treatment? At times like these, I am reminded that I am just like my patients I ...

Well, I am actually doing this blogging thing. . . it all started after I was inspired by the movie Julie & Julia . Plus I was encouraged by my son to blog each day, and in return, he would exercise daily. Yes, it is a bit challenging to do, especially since it's early in the morning and my thoughts are usually just the ones off the top of my head. But after a week of doing this, I am finding enjoyment and pure pleasure. In fact, I am beginning to think of more things to write about. . . who knew? On this new day of this new year, I do not want to be a person of greed. How pathetic to allow greed to be your motivation for work, for "caring" for others, for ruling your life. I know of a woman possessed by greed, she fights for every last penny, she covets every last dime, especially if it's your dime. Yet the reality is the more you hang on, the more you lose. The tighter you cling, the more control you enforce, you stand to lose it all. You lose respec...