Mary's Heartbeats

Here we are at the very end of the year.  It races toward us with increasing momentum.  I'm not quite sure why it seems to gain speed as we age.  But it's relentless in its pursuit of ending.  Hope lies in the fact that a new year will quickly follow.  I have realized in these days of journeying through time, that perseverance and endurance is a forward motion. I can't just sit out the rest of my days, there is no place for laziness.  I can't resist or dig my heels in when situations seem to go against me.  No, life is lived by moving forward, in the same direction, pressing on despite how fast the year succumbs.  But in the process of moving on, I need to stand the ground I've gained, build on what I've learned, yet still press on. . .  So with a heart of gratitude, I let go of 2011.  What's done is done, the past forsaken.  But what I've gained is not.  True, my journey came with volatile and turbulent times, days of utmo...

The year is quickly ending, and I find myself contemplating and reflecting.  Reviewing my blog, I ended last year with the thought that it was time to push off into deep water.  Life is not lived in a harbor or upon the shore. It's not avoiding or denying, but rather accepting the depths of trials and hardships.  In this process, I've discovered the buoyancy of God's grace enabling me to live with joy and peace, despite my circumstances.  I have come to know the meaning of being a disciple.  It's not about outcomes, it's not about manipulating and control, it's being . . .  In my ordinary life, I need to only be seeking after Christ . . .  Be silent . . . be still before God . . . Be sensitive for His Spirit for guidance and wisdom . . .  Be obedient to His Word . . .  Be filled with His Love . . .  Be genuinely caring for others . . .  Be a vessel of hope . . .  Be a light . . . Be . . . "The way to liberation...

Goldyn is such a contented creature of the heart.  After arriving in our home about seven years ago, he has found his place.  A former stray and dog pound occupier, he's now at home in our yard, our couch, and at times upon my lap.  Lately, he seems to enjoy the pleasure of being laid out on his back.  He almost beckons anyone passing by to come and scratch his belly.  Peace pervades his mood.   Of course, he didn't start out like that.  He was a feisty, nontrusting pup, who thought he needed to be in charge.  He growled over his bowl of food or treats, unsure if they were really his.  He tugged at a dog leash in a wild way, unsure of how to walk and run with one.  He chewed and bit so many things, I gave up hope at times.  Especially, when my leg calf became the thing he'd try!  Yet, little by little, we seemed to figure each other out.   He came to trust his master.  I learned to understand his nature. ...

I was all wrapped up in my thoughts that morning as I gazed at the  beauty of the colored trees.  The cold nights have certainly contributed to their deeper, richer hues of amber, gold, and crimson.  The wind seemed to sneak up on me, in a sort of hide and seek game, but I didn't mind.  No, I was focused on the peace my heart had found over the past few months.  As I was pondering that very thought, I started running down the path toward home.  All of a sudden, a gust of wind shot a round seed ball directly under my foot.  Instant pain grabbed my foot and ankle as I wobbled and bobbled.  Oh, here we go again!  Pain, trial, suffering!  I had to almost laugh, although inwardly crying from the pain, I was outwardly visibly wincing.  I had to get home, so I relished the fact that I didn't fall, the ankle hadn't ballooned instantly, and though it throbbed with terrible pain, I still could walk.  Isn't this exactly what I've learned ...

Life is built on seasons.  We're in the one of lingering autumn and early winter.  Our days are short, the frequent winds have just about blown off all the colored leaves.  The skies are filled with gray all day and every once in awhile raindrops fall and pour in torrents.  In these moody days of nature, I have found again the warmth of friends and kindness. Yesterday, I packed up cookies.  I carefully arranged some on the snowman tray and others in the Christmas boxes.  I sealed them up with cheery bows and cards.  Then I went across the street, right next door, and to the corner to deliver my goods to each neighbor.  It was fun to catch up on each one's news.  I realized again the blessing of having such fine neighbors in our lives.  It's a simple thing to take the time, but when I do, I come away thankful and full of joy for relationships in my life. I'm reminded of my Mom when I do those actions.  I remember well how she w...

Stumbling into the eerie peace of early dawn, Trying to hear the time chimed out by our grandfather clock, I paused. . . Our most beautiful autumn That scene of colorful trees of gold and crimson   Lay silent. . . Except for the humming of the winds Swirling through the leaves. Taking my walk and run uphill with Goldyn Led to downed trees and branches. Evergreens snapped apart Now lined up like fallen dominoes. Eucalyptus trees and towering oaks appeared to have just toppled over, Revealing shallow roots That stood no chance against ferocious wind. The serenity of nature lay broken, Where is this way of peace? No doubt those people of long ago questioned too, Since so much time had passed.   Their world seemed fractured Their nation ruined, oppressed by Roman rule. But God in His infinite love, Breathed Peace in the womb of the Virgin Mary. Birthed in a back inn stall, Humbly entering our human life Jesus the Savior w...

I've always wanted to be in Paris to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary.  But the time arrived sans tickets to my place of celebration.  Yet, I find myself realizing that celebration is not bound by place or circumstance.  In fact, celebration like so many matters of the heart is more about who you are and not the situations you create. Case in point, I noticed as I rode the bike path that the backyards of many homes are  quite unkempt.  True, a lot of them have horse stalls, but even the surrounding areas  are filled with wild weeds, dried out grass or just plain dirt.  When you travel down the street side, the front aspect of their home is shown, and a different view is there for you to see.  The lawns are neatly manicured and gardens trimmed.  Some homes are freshly painted but only on the front, the sides are left undone.  I often wonder why?  It seems we're interested more in curbside appeal than finishing the job....

I woke up with the realization today of 25 years of marriage.  I had to wonder, how did we get to this point in our lives, where did all those years go?  I feel somewhat surprised when I realize that I have lived longer with this man than my own family of origin.  But that is just a naive statement in comparison to my parents who were married 66 years.  That's a lifetime!  I am always reminded of their marriage whenever I make waffles.  I have their wedding gift of a waffle iron, given to them in 1936, and it still makes the best waffles ever!  Now that certainly speaks of commitment and consistency!  Or better yet, it speaks of endurance, being a proven product that continues to provide quality.  Maybe one message for marriage is to be consistent and committed in your love, but more importantly, be enduring.  We have traveled the rocky road of adulthood together and now are entering the older set of years, endurance is no longer an op...

It's interesting that the older I get, the more I don't get.  I have discovered that there are just things unexplainable in life.  Things don't always work out the way I expect.  Life is often unfair and unjust.  It seems that if you make any headway in life, you're sure to have at least more set backs and failures than successes.  Yet, in spite of that reality, I have also discovered the freedom that comes from having a prospective on life that sees unexpected and unwelcome times as "Providential seasons."  What am I talking about?  It was a much earlier time, back in the days of Roman rule and power.  All we have left to read is a letter sent to a friend.  The writer tells us that he is "sending his very heart" with all that he is writing.  We're not exactly sure of the background, other than there has been an escaped slave that has actually become a supportive friend and great helper to the writer.  But now, Paul, the one who...

" Squawk . . . squawk . . . squawk!"  I know that familiar sound, as I rode down the street.  I started straining in the bright sunshine to get a glimpse of one of my favorite sightings in our neighborhood.  The squawks continued to chatter vigorously, and then I caught up with the culprits.  About eight of them were lined in rows on the swaying telephone wires, dressed with their yellow bellies and bright lime green coats.  They formed such a picturesque scene, especially with the autumn trees in the background.  Wonderful parrots, flying free and enjoying their morning counsel with one another, what a regal bunch!  Obviously, there was much to talk about, and they didn't seem to mind my fascination with them.  I remember when I first saw one or two of them.  I was way up the hill, and when I glimpsed one flying overhead, I thought for sure that someone must have lost their pet parrot.  But that was before I learned that our climate act...

Dear Lord, I want to come before You today with praise and thanksgiving.  Thank you for your constant care and provision for us each day, thank you for the gift of life itself. Thank you for my husband and your faithfulness to me these almost 25 years.  Thank you for his children and the gift of a granddaughter that has turned my husband into the sweetest Grandpa. Thank you for our son and his precious wife.  Thank you for the blessing we have had in him, and now for the privileged gift of such a beautiful daughter. Thank you for my brother and sister, and for those other brothers and sisters who are unable to be with us today.  Thank you for each of the families they represent, for all the nephews and nieces, and nephews and nieces to come.  May you bless each one. And Lord,  keep us close as family, always knit together.  Keep us loving one another and forgiving one another, because as you have told us "love covers a multitude of sins."...

My nose was awakened by the paw of Goldyn.  Mmm. . . it's still pitch black and the morning air is brisk even inside our home.  I buried myself a bit deeper in the covers and flannel sheets, but Goldy wouldn't give up as he kept nagging me with his paw to wake up.  Once up, I recognized that autumn days have arrived. It's a short season, but one which grabs your attention with its cold wind, bright colors, and dark days. As I started on my bike ride, my eyes caught all the changing trees.  Leaves were scattered on the lawns and on the streets.  I like the amber, crimson trees the best, although the neighborhood is full of golden ones as well.  It's interesting to me that the colors seem more glorious when they are given a darkened background.  They seem to shine more brightly when black clouds build behind them.  Even other plants seem more brilliant, as I love the bougainvillea that cover many fences with it's lavender, orange, and deep red p...

I don't know what it is exactly, there are certain days of golf I probably shouldn't play.  Especially, those in which I haven't had had my regular practice days completed beforehand.  The golf course becomes unforgiving and has a way of reminding me of that all through the game.  Yes, golf serves to humble me.  Somehow it always feels worse with other spectators watching you choke.  Just like yesterday, I found myself more often in the tall grass, side hills, and water than on the fairway.  Good thing I had taken extra balls, because I think I lost at least six of them.  My redeeming moments were short and far between.  I have to wonder sometimes, why do I keep on playing?  What is there about that game that keeps me striving and grinding even with that kind of day?  Is it making me a golfer ever? Humility and meekness seems to come through pain.  It certainly isn't automatic.  I think human nature strives to outshine one ...

Picking the newest blossom from the bush, I saw that the rose was full, yet not completely open.  Pink edges were tightly bound in the center of the bud and soft petals framed around it were just beginning to unfold.  The rose wore the morning dew and brought to me the sweetest scent.  Yes, it would be the one to grace our dining table for lunch.  Then I found myself wondering out loud, am I the rose or the weed? Roses are so inviting, their beauty beckons you to come and view them close.  Their aroma pulls you right up to them, to deeply breathe their fragrance.  Each day they give you another picture as they effortlessly open and burst with blossom.  Mmm, I wonder if I have that same attraction?  Does my heart give off an aroma in which others want to be around me? Or am I like that pesky weed that just shows up in places of its selfish whims, always trying to outgrow the plant? A rose is such a paradox, for its beauty rests upon a thorny...

"I'm so glad to see you again," she gushed. "I've wanted to get back here sooner, to tell you thank you for pursuing that MRI for me."  Tears began to well up in her eyes, and I found my own beginning to mist up too.  I hadn't seen her in over a year, but I had read over her past notes and realized her absence had been because of having breast cancer.  But here she was before me, radiant and perky.  Her hair loss was covered with an orange bandanna, and her smile contained good news that with chemo her cancer now was gone.  Yes, there would still be surgery to face, but there was hope with the illness found so soon. . .  It's been a hard week for me, sometimes I feel so overwhelmed as I go from door to door. Behind each one is the life story of a person in need.  Not everyone can express their needs directly, as often they lie woven in descriptions of surrounding events.  I find myself keenly listening and sorting through, attempting to clar...

"Why are you messing around with that ol' weed?" my husband yelled out from the backyard patio door.  "It's not a weed," I muttered softly under my breath.  It's the unexpected Saliva that arrived smack dab in the middle of my herbal garden.  It has continued to grow and thrive, bringing a few more smaller stalks with it.  I am discovering that the unexpected and uninvited brings to me much joy.  Not unlike the surprise that greeted me in my vegetable garden.  Just when I was ready to dig up all the summer fare that had such dismal produce, right before me was my pepper plant now bursting forth with fruit.  Just when I'm ready to give up, the plant decides to thrive! Yesterday, while pedaling up the hill, I found myself singing "Open my eyes to Your heart, Lord."  The real song is titled "Open the Eyes of My Heart."  As I kept riding, I realized that my eyes have been seeing life in a new way.  Yes, we have to have an open hea...

Today is a monumental day in our family history.  My oldest brother turns the wonderful age of 65.  He becomes an official recipient of Medicare, along with  half priced meals for dining out, and discount airplane seats. The golden years or better yet, the sunset years loom before him.  It still sounds strange to me to say I have a brother who is 65 years old; it's like saying you have a brother who could be your father. . . but not.  With this day, I realize another unfortunate fact.  My brothers and I are separated by multiples of five, so with the oldest being 65, it's only a matter of months before we too will join him at 60 years, and 55 years for me, no less.  Wow, that means we all will be senior citizens!  Not only that but we could be considered geriatrics!  Whew! Somehow, it seemed so much better in years before, 5-10-15, 20-25-30, even 40-45-50!  I wonder how did we arrive so quickly? I pondered these numbers as I walke...

Sometimes I just don't get it.  Each time I plant my garden of vegetables, I carefully work the soil.  I put in fresh fertilizer to replenish the nutrients, and dig deep into boxes to get it all thoroughly mixed. I pick healthy plants to start out the season and provide the water to get them growing.  I watch for progress, checking for a good outcome of plentiful crops.  Sometimes I have boxes that overflow with abundance and sometimes like now, nothing to really speak of.  My arugula seems to have been satisfied by some critter I never actually saw, but each day I went out there to look, more leaves were chomped away.  The tomatoes turned spindly, the peppers rarely produced, the eggplants just grew leaves, the onions were salvageable, but the raspberry bush stay leaned.  How could it go from such an abundance to pittance?  Viewing my summer garden of defeat, I realize that I've been a person who focuses on the outcome.  And of course, w...

I didn't plant it.  To be honest, I have no idea how it came to grow in my herbal garden.  At first, I thought it was one of my greens.  It looked to be a healthy plant to eat.  But when I tasted its leaves, it only gave me bitterness.  I continued to watch it grow; it even brought a few others with it.  Then it sprouted deep maroon tassels, and I knew that it was not a herb but a flower for my enjoyment.  Mm . . . it must be a Saliva plant, but I have never had that in my yard, and yet, here it grows.  It's stately, a vision right before my eyes whenever I stand and look out my kitchen window.  It's tough, even if it tends to droop and wilt in the summer sun, it will bounce right back to full stance after a spray of water.  It came into my life, uninvited, unplanned, and unknown to me.  Yet, here it grows with kind intention right before me everyday. It's rather like the kind intention I have experienced recently.  Thr...

The evening breeze and sunset invited me to sit back on my patio lounge chair.  As I did, here came Goldyn too.  He invited himself onto my lap, all 85 lbs. of himself.  He has never thought his size a limitation for my lap. After a few turns and readjustments, there we sat, serene and squeezed.  For a moment, I was reminded of when my son, a toddler, did the same.  I'd be sitting on the couch, writing, and up he'd come to squeeze between the corner of the couch and me.  There in his spot, he contentedly sat with me.  Now, after all these years, I have my Goldy mimicking the same. . .  The quiet gave me time to think about my day.  I often find myself wondering what is God up to in my life?  I really don't understand His ways or thoughts. The turn of events in our life was something I never dreamed possible.  But that was being totally naive.  I don't know why we think we have earned immunity from hardship.  So when that...