Mary's Heartbeats

I don't think we realize that the stuff we think we own isn't really ours.  From the time of being born into this world and cosmos, all that we have has been given to us.  We didn't even arrive  with the ability to provide ourselves with food or clothing.  We were dependent from the start. All  has been given, even our ability to take that very first breath of life outside of the comfort of our mother's womb.  All is really God's stuff. Watching my winter garden thrive, as broccoli and brussel sprouts are developing, I am mindful that although I have been the one to water the garden, to shoo away pesty insects, the actual growth and ultimate vegetable to eat is beyond me.  It's a transformation process I see outwardly, but a mystery as to how each day it is changed.  I see that this early morning, as the eastern sky has painted a magnificent spray of color before me.  Each day, each morning there has never been a sunrise like that one before....

  I did an unusual thing yesterday.  I typically have limited my music to a particular genre.  I don't think I have ever made a point to listen to an entire symphony.  But yesterday, I was encouraged to listen to Beethoven's 4th symphony.  There are actually several options to do so on Spotify, so I picked one and began to listen.  I began to marvel at the music, especially when I realized he didn't really start writing symphonies until he had become more deaf.  I wondered, how can one who is growing deaf make music so incredibly beautiful, especially when you are unable to fully hear the notes?  It's almost ironic, that one who cannot hear leaves this world with a soundtrack that still stands as some of the all time greatest music. Music makes mood, it quiets and stirs the heart, it brings joy and lightness.  Music is fun and makes you want to move, and yet it can also bring you to tears.  These could be tears of joy or sadness, as well...

  Too often we gloss over minor characters when we read a story.  Our tendency is to identify with the main character or more precisely the hero or heroine.  We bring that prejudice into our reading of Bible stories too.  I have just started reading the history books of the Old Testament, starting with 1 Samuel.  I had forgotten that it started out with the story of Hannah and her issue of infertility.  Usually, the focus of the story is on Hannah, her desperate prayer, her vow to God, and ultimately her answer to prayer by the birth of her son, Samuel.  Even her prayer of thanksgiving is utilized in Mary's prayer of thanks when her pregnancy of Jesus is confirmed with her cousin Elizabeth.  But this time, I noticed Peninnah.  She is wife #2 of Elkanah.  Reading the account, of only a few verses, I couldn't help but be reminded of two other sisters who shared a husband, Leah and Rachel.  There was infertility in that family as well,...

Welcome 2022!  Gypsy Rose wakens me with two piercing barks.  It's still dark throughout the house at 6 AM; it's cold too, as I grab my slippers and heavy robe.  It's nice to have quietness and a sense of calm, as I lay back on the bed in the guest room waiting for the coffee to finish.  Gypsy immediately plops down by my side, nuzzling her face determinedly into my side.  The New Year is here, barely a few hours old.  2021 has left or perhaps I have left 2021.  I feel like I'm shedding old skin.  It will never fit again, nor should it, and I really don't have any use for it either.  I won't be the same person that I was in former days or years, because time has already forced me to change.  My face evidences that fact with my smile lines permanently embedded well into my cheeks.  2022.  Weird to think that just about a hundred years ago, my parents were around the ages of 10 or 12.  I still can't believe they aren't here ...

Aftermath After the rain has stopped, After the snow has fallen, After the leaves have dropped face down, After the colored lights have dimmed, After the carols have all been sung, After the bows untied, the packages unwrapped, After all the Christmas cookies are gone,  After it's all over, What remains?    Aftermath, The pause between now and then, The break between past and future,  The mystery of the known and unknown, The New Year unfamiliar, the Old Year much too recognizable, What now? Where do I go from here?   Aftermath, Picking up the pieces of the undone, the unfinished, Put simply, living in the same manner, Pursuing peace and goodness, Practicing love for God, myself and others. Praying for greater faith to believe that even in my aftermath, Emmanuel is with me, Even if I don't recognize his Faithful Presence.   Aftermath,    An interrupted night,   A flock of sheep left unattended,   A chorus of angelic beings proclaiming th...

Christmas Eve awakens me at my usual 5 AM, but without the clock radio going off.  It's actually the sound of heavy rain drops that have persisted throughout the night that nudge me out of bed.  How wonderful to be blessed with rain, real rain, not just a light dusting of water.  The trees, the grasses, the mountains all seem to be rejoicing with each drop.  And the promise of snow for our mountains and foothills is on its way this coming week.  I always think that God graces this time of year with the best decorations, the golden crimson leaves, that dance in the windy breeze, the spotless crystal skies, and the orange harvest moon wrapped in silky clouds at night.    As I drive home each night from my new job, I weave in and out of side streets in small local towns that make up the suburbs of our Inland Empire.  I have enjoyed the festive Christmas lights that fill the main streets of each one and of their shopping centers, as well as the houses...

Sweat seems to appear with even the slightest exertion.  California is no longer the place for dry heat.  This summer with the monsoon weather backing up to the mountains, has brought a Midwest humidity.  The kind of humidity that requires at least 2 showers a day to get a bit of comfort.  Yes, times have definitely changed since I first came to live here 40 some years ago.   Just another reminder, that time moves on,  with all of the changes it brings.  New homes and shopping centers are built in former quarry pits, dry fields, and old golf courses.  I feel myself mimicking my Father's words when we would drive through his old hometown, and he'd remark on "the baseball field that used to be there before that new building."  Time never stops, just like our earth never stops its spinning. . .  I think the Apostle Paul felt that kind of sentimental yearning, especially when he had to bid farewell to his dear friends from the city of Ephesu...