Mary's Heartbeats

I busied myself wi th the weekly task of housecleaning.  I kne w it was the day of the big game.  For years, it had ended in disappointment with UCLA being trounced by USC.  But this year, the football season was going surp risingly well for the Bruins.  So maybe in an attempt to "n ot mess it up for them," I scrubbed and vacuumed.  I read my son's te xt with the news "We did it! !! Go Bruins!"  Wow, that was awesome news, but it came at the same time I got the call about Mom Ruth being hospitalized that morning with aspiration p neumonia, now on a ventilator . . .  It's weird to go from ecstatic elation to sudden sadness in the pit of your stomach.  I seem to be a harbor for bad news.  In fact I find that my mood seems to match the dark days of Fall.  I have momentary episodes of crying over "sp i lled milk episodes" of life.  But history allows no "do-overs," you must keep moving on.  In the morning during my yoga clas...

I stepped up onto the first tee , unusually calm and confident.  Maybe it was because I had had a good practice session last Friday.  Maybe it was that I was once again on a beautiful course, on a warm Fall day, and just happy to be able to have one more chance at playing golf.  I  always find hope with each new round: h ope that I will do better than the last round of golf; and h ope that I have f inally developed a bit more consistency with my shots.  Hope that to day, I will redeem myself . . . Of course, with all my confidence came the reality that our two-some would also have another single golf player with us.  But even that did not unnerve me like it had done so many times before.  Maybe, I was finally able to put out of my head the anxiety that came with other golfers watching me .  I have realized that when I am out practicing, I am not bother ed by having other golfers right next to me.  I still go through my own routine and s...

My heart sunk . . . again.  It seems to be the course of my life.  It's one thing to have your hopes and dreams dashed, but to have them boldly slaughtered in front of you takes your breath away.  Words, thoughts, images are powerful.  What is said is a reflection of the heart.  Nurturing a heart to grow favorably and in step with God is a responsibility I was eager to embrace.  But it's that heart that spurns me now and all I stand for. Maybe I'm just too sensitive, maybe not.  Just when I seem to be getting over disappointments here comes another.  I have given up the struggle of trying to make things work out, I realize I do not control outcomes. If I didn't have relationships then I wouldn't have to deal with this pain.  Life is certainly a two edged sword, to engage in it means to open yourself to pain and sorrow.  I even wonder why would God Himself ever take on human skin to experience such agony?  I do not want to be pes...

Sitting in church, I listened intently.  My ears were hearing words from the pulpit, but I was pondering the ones in my head.  The passage spoken about came from the writing of the Apostle Paul as he was encouraging the church in town of Philippi.  He closes his letter by reminding the people to focus on things that matter: being true, virtuous, and honorable in word and deed.  In practicing these things, "the God of peace shall be with you."  Yet even more importantly, Paul said that he had learned to be content in whatever circumstances he had faced (Philippians 4: 8-11).  No matter what, contentment ruled his heart . . .  So I wondered, where was all this fear and projected negativity coming from? Words formed as a plea to make a point of voting "Biblical Values" this year.  Yet, to me it was ironic to preach on the Biblical value of contentment and still voice such discontentment with our present circumstances.  To me it seems that wa...

"I know, O Lord, that Thy judgments are righteous, and that in faithfulness Thou hast afflicted me."   (Psalm 119: 75) "Man, this dirt is hard!"  I spoke out loud to myself.  I was trying to dig in the fresh compost into my front flowerbed.  The sun's rays were adding to my frustration of dealing with the constipated soil.  I was only able to get the shovel in half way, because of hitting old roots or rocks.  I hadn't planned on all of this extra effort, for I had thought that it was a job that I would finish in an hour, and yet the reality turned into 3 hours.  I realized that probably by the end of next Spring, I would have the bigger task of actually pulling everything up from that bed, separating all the bulbs, redoing the compost, and replanting it entirely.  At least by the time I got to my vegetable beds, that soil turned much easier, and I breathed a sigh of relief. . .  I was covered with dirt, despite my gloves and j...