Joy is; joy remembers

As I drove to church yesterday, the first ping hit. I was tooling up the highway, listening to some of those verboten Christmas carols on the radio.

It was as if I felt a hand on me, and heard a voice with my spirit, not with my ears.

"Trust in me," God/Holy Spirit said.

It was not a question, but more of a statement of fact, as in "You do trust in me." It was a request for affirmation. There was delight, satisfaction in it.

I have put my trust more fully in God, after a time of depression and defensiveness, when I felt I had to leap in and do. I've been learning to relax more, to let go and let God -- as corny as that sounds.

I said, "I trust you, Lord," and felt something lift off me.

My eyelids fluttered; I got goosebumps and shivered. It's a good thing there was no traffic around me. I think I barely stayed in my traffic lane.

Joy flooded me; it was joy meeting joy -- my joy meeting God's delight. I was overwhelmed with the Spirit.

Profound contentment stayed with me through the service. Toward the end of the service came portions of one of my favorite spirit songs, by Martha Butler. The second ping:

I looked up and I saw my lord a coming
I looked up and I saw my lord a coming down the road

Alleluia, he is coming
Alleluia, he is here

I looked and I saw my lord a coming
Mary's son, Mary's son.

Alleluia, he is coming
Alleluia, he is here


Tears began to stream from eyes as I sang this song, so full of longing, so full of joy. It acknowledges the now and not yet: past present and future, all wrapped into one. And pain. It is a song most often heard around Easter.

Jesus is coming (again? for the first time ?); he will shed tears for us; he will die for love of us (we know this, even as we see him walking down the road toward us for the very first time), but he will rise. This little baby, Mary's son.

This song has special meaning to me, I think, because it's one I heard frequently as I was first coming into Christ's love, which was as the season of Lent turned to Easter.

Yesterday, I sang with joy, with true joy that acknowledges pain, past and future. Joy remembers; joy takes its moments and lives, in the best and worst of circumstances.

Alleluia, he is coming.

I love you Lord, and I put my trust in you.

Alleluia, he is here. Mary's son.

Drunken cats and other signs of Christmas

Faugh on all you Advent-music Puritans! I've been humming Christmas songs since Thanksgiving, and I'm not about to stop! In fact, I may rifle through my music and put on a Christmas CD.

If most Advent music wasn't so dreary, it would be easier to take. I can be reflective and thoughtful without it.

You see, I'm all in the Christmas mood this year, for the first time in a few years. I've worked my way out of the despondency I was in, and zest for life has been creeping back.

I had a little bump -- a mini-panic attack -- the night before I went on the cruise last month, wondering what on Earth might go wrong while I was away. The last time (on a mission trip, summer 2005) I was gone on a Saturday the 11th of the month and returning on the 13th of the month, my brother died on the 11th.

Last year, I finally got in the Christmas mood and started humming Christmas songs right around Epiphany. This year, I'm going all out. I'm climbing into the attic and pulling out the Christmas decorations that have been sitting there for four years.
I haven't had the heart to do much decorating the last few years.

Oh, I know, the grimy-gullies are still out there, and **stuff** is just waiting for its chance, but life happens, anyway. God has gotten me through the bad stuff past, and will be there for bad stuff future.

I went to the Evil Empire tonight (America's largest discount-retail chain) and bought presents for needy families, humming along with the canned Christmas music the whole time.

I got the cats a catnip toy for Christmas, but gave it to them as soon as I got home. In fact, Elvis smelled the catnip as soon as I laid the plastic bags down on the table, and started rooting through them, looking for the catnip.

Catnip! I smell it! Where is it?"













Oh, baby, that's some tripping 'nip.





He rolled around, hugging it for a while, then dropped the toy on the floor. He didn't notice. Jack took over, holding the little mousie close and nipping and biting at it in passion.





Jack: Yeah, mouse. You're all mine, now.



Betsy got a squeaky-Santa pull toy. I had to throw it endlessly for her, after she chewed on it and softened/slobbered it up for me a bit. She would pick it up, run back to me, play tug of war until I wrested it away and threw it across the room, starting the loop again.






A good time was had by all.

More good times to come.


From the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 6:25-27, 34 (NIV)

Do Not Worry

2"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? ... Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I'm giving up worrying so much. Not enjoying the good things God gives us is a sin.

Thank you for this new morning

I woke up early this morning, around 5:30, before the alarm sounded. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and put on a pot of coffee.

Coffee cup in hand, I watched the sleeping earth wake to the rays of the sun.

Thank you, God, for this beautiful, frail island Earth. Thank you for its incredible beauty. Thank you for its incredible variety of life.

From my windows, I can watch some of that incredible variety of life, especially the birds native to Central Florida. Great and small herons, egrets (probably my favorites), sandhill cranes on occasion. Redheaded woodpeckers. Cardinals. Doves. Anhingas. Hawks. Some are just passing by; some have made homes in the little hammocks of trees on either side of my house, along with squirrels, moles, armadillos (hated by my neighbor, but I don't mind them), black snakes and garter snakes. Lots of lizards.

As I get older and realize more the frailty of life, stewardship of the Earth becomes a more and more important concern to me. This beauty, this life, must be protected. We must be the stewards -- the defenders -- of the Earth God intended us to be.

Thank you Lord, for appointing those defenders of your realm who lead us in conservation.



Most everyone knows the lyrics to "Morning Has Broken," (Bunessan), but some don't know the second half of Eleanor Farjeon's poem. It fit the morning perfectly, except there are no mountains in Central Florida. The clouds roll in and peak the tall-sand pines, instead.

This poem fits my mood exactly. The sun has risen and cut me loose from the shadows; it fills me with joy; it fills me with praise.

Cool the gray clouds roll
peaking the mountains,
Gull in her free flight
swooping the skies:
Praise for the mystery
misting the morning
Behind the shadow
waiting to shine.
I am the sunrise
warming the heavens,
Spilling my warm glow
over the earth:
Praise for the brightness
of this new morning
Filling my spirit
with Your great love.
Mine is a turning,
mine is a new life;
Mine is a journey
closer to You:
Praise for the sweet glimpse
caught in a moment,
Joy breathing deeply
dancing in flight.

***

Praise the mystery of each morning. Praise the mystery of God's love.

Thank you Lord, for the gift of life itself. Thank you for the special people around me. Thank you for renewing my zest for life.

Thank you for everything.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!