Mary's Heartbeats

My yoga teachers reminded me this week of mindfulness and awareness. Yoga emphasizes the practice of living in the present. In modern society with its distractions and demands, it's easy to forfeit the present moment. We cram our mind and day with exhausting activity that leaves us feeling numb. Numbness dulls our senses and defends us from the now. But why do we live like that? Why are we willing to live like mindless puppets? Hollyhocks bear large bright blossoms, but being so tall and spindly their stalks often topple to the side. I was trying to adjust my pink one, but unfortunately, I broke off the stem. So I decided to cut off the flowers and float them in one of my cut glass bowls. The blossoms looked even prettier in my dish and made my kitchen table cheery. A few minutes later, I noticed a couple of ants scrambling around the blossoms. I picked them off; but when I turned around again, I noticed that there were more. Hmm . . . where were they coming from? I loo...

She hurried. She had definitely seen him before. Peering from the fringe of the crowds that constantly surrounded him, she had heard his words that brought hope and love to her empty heart. How did she end up like this? It never was her plan to become a woman of the streets. Life had become so desperate. She didn't fit in with society; she was poor; she was a just a woman alone, and her reputation branded her immoral. Clutching the vial of perfume to her chest, she hurried. Up and down the winding streets, she pressed on looking for the house of Simon, the Pharisee. She knew that she was not invited, but also knew that she could slip in unnoticed, especially if she played the part of servant. Coming up to the doorway, her heart was pounding. Pulling her veil around her head, she stepped inside and viewed the guests; her eyes straining for him in the dimly lit room. There he was! Already reclining at the table, he was attentively talking with those around him. ...

Mmm . . . . Breathing deeply the morning air, I pushed back the sliding glass door. The sun was just beginning to wake up as it stretched out between the clouds. Gentle trade winds blew the pink puffs across the horizon in an orderly procession from east to west. The clouds lingered for a few moments, before they were pushed off the scene. It was a repetitious pattern, and I felt as if I was watching history march across the sky. . . . I thought of what it must be like to be the Creator and watch your creation appear on the scene of time. The clouds seemed like kingdoms and civilizations that once made their debut but now were past. Their moments were very short when you put them in the line of life. In that instant, I became acutely aware of my mortality, and realized whatever good I do will be for such a wisp of time. Just like the clouds with the trade winds, I will be blown off this earthly scene, and easily forgotten. . . No wonder God had eternity in mind when he created u...

"Be pointed. Be persistent. Be patient. But pray." (Ruth Bell Graham) Good advice for starting out this year. In spite of how things are or aren't, I need to trust that God is in control. He knows where I'm at and where I'm going. Nothing that happens today or tomorrow catches Him off guard. I should approach my days, with the confidence of the Roman centurion, who sought for Jesus to heal his favored servant. He sent his message to the Galilean Rabbi, "just say the word." He really did not mean to trouble the Master in coming to his home, and being a man of authority himself, he knew that the word of Jesus would be enough. And so it was, for when the centurion's messengers returned they found the servant restored to good health. Jesus marveled at the soldier's faith to trust His word alone, even those from a religious background seemed to lack that simple hope. As I live by faith, never having seen Jesus, nor hearing His voice, touching ...

Sadness filled the scene. A mournful crowd walked with the grief stricken widow. She had already done this funeral thing before, she remembered the pain of losing her husband all too quickly. Today felt like a double insult, her broken heart was pierced again. How could it be that now she was preparing to lay her only son to rest? Her tears were endless, she was moving with the crowd but felt herself as numb. She probably paid no attention to the One who saw and felt her grief. She may have continued to walk right by, but He could not have her go unnoticed. He felt compassion for her and gently said, "Don't cry." Next, the Lord came and touched the coffin of her son. The whole procession stopped. Then He said, "Young man, get up, I say to you, arise!" The dead man sat straight up and began to speak. Jesus gave him back to his precious mom. The mourning of the crowd now turned to one of fear and wonder; with many glorifying God, some thinking that a ...

What a great day to start out my fifth year of golf! I wish my Dad could see me now. He was so tickled when my husband took up the task of teaching me the game and swing of golf. The first two years were spent mainly on driving ranges, hitting over and over with my short clubs. I truly wondered if my swing would ever become ingrained muscle memory. I remember well the first time my husband took me on a course. I was petrified, totally unnerved by other golfers who had to watch as they waited for me to get off the tee. My husband was such a saint, just trying to get me used to the greens, but I quickly plunged into self misery and defeat. I was so embarrassed with my lack of skill, that I made him take me home after barely completing nine holes. I thought I would be doomed to the practice range forever. . . But not . . . I have kept on playing, even in spite of myself. Golf plays for me like life, and I identify closely with all of its ups and downs. Our dry cleaning lady...

Some things never seem to change, even in spite of the fact that the new year is almost one month old. I wonder why I find myself stuck in circumstances or work that can easily frustrate me. When that happens, I am not a happy person to live with . . . The other night I had the pleasure of eating out with my sister-in-law, and along with tasty food, the conversation was delectable as well. We got on the topic of gifts and circumstances, i.e. where we are with life. She told me a story about a certain gift she had received years ago that she initially had found no use for. It was a very nice pizza stone for baking given to her by her Mom. Thinking it odd and not knowing how to use it, she put it away for several years, until one day she took it out and decided to try it. She has since discovered how wonderful it is to bake with, not just for pizza, but cookies, and rolls. Now that she knows how to use it, she appreciates so much more the value of the gift she originally ...

Traditions bring meaning to our lives. They serve as reminders of various passages of time or as memories of meaningful celebrations of the past. They usually have a story connected with them that can be shared for generations. One tradition that I bring to my family is serving oyster stew and fried egg sandwiches on Christmas Eve. My family background is one of farmers. Oyster stew was an easy, hearty meal for the women to prepare before the grand preparation the next day for Christmas dinner. Besides, oysters were cheap and plentiful by the bucket. My husband brings the tradition of chitterlings on New Years Day. That brought the need of everyone to pitch in and clean their share. Ol' Dad Rufus would say,"If you don't clean 'em, you don't eat 'em!" There was always a certain bonding that took place around the kitchen sink as you cleaned and held your nose! But lately, my husband has opted to replace that tradition with a more pleasing and less pu...

Lonely places are these quiet mornings when I am the only one awake. It is still dark and only twinkling stars greet me. As the sun begins to slowly arouse, I too begin my ascent on my upward walk and run. It is the habit that I have come to cherish, the ability to be in God's creation, while quieting my heart, my mind, my thoughts before him. There is something comforting in that lonesome space of time . . . Jesus loved the solitude of the morning lonely place, as he communed with his Father for his strength and peace. There was nothing magical about the tremendous power he exhibited while he was here on earth. His power, just like my power and strength, came through time spent alone with God. As a person of 2011, I don't think we really get that. We busy ourselves 24/7. We view quiet time as wasteful and are always looking for the magic trick, the miracle cure, without taking time to think and pray alone . . . God isn't about tricks and cures. He is relation...

It's been a gray and unseasonably cold day. It makes our hometown feel like a mountain retreat. I enjoyed my walk and run earlier this morning; cool air always seems to empower my strides. But now I have been enjoying the labor intensive task of making homemade tortilla soup. There's something that I just enjoy when cutting up carrots, onions, celery, cilantro stems, and a garlic head, then tossing all of that with one whole chicken and enough water to completely fill up the pot. The pot is the same cast iron that my Granny cooked from and perhaps that's the special connection I savor. The aroma has steamed up my kitchen windows all afternoon. I've boned the chicken and blended the spices with the onions into a hot smooth puree. It's in the final stages now, I'm just waiting for the potatoes to soften, and the rice to get done. It will end with the addition of black beans and hot blue corn tortilla strips to top it off. Then we'll all sit aro...