Home too long, Thanks Covid!

 It is nine AM. I sit at my computer, thinking about what I  should write. In the background, I can hear an advertisement for a charity called Tunnels to Towers.  This commercial is followed by the news. I listen to reporters as they report on the politics of the day. 
I am saddened by the condition of the world today. I realize that I am old, and I am rapidly heading to my final days. But before I go, I pray that I will see the world and its people return to values such as respect for each other, kindness for those who are less fortunate, generosity towards others, and respect for different cultures, customs, and races. I dream of a world where we see the beauty in others regardless of their skin color.  

On the sill outside my window, I spot I see a blue-tailed lizard resting. As I look out again, I can see a red cardinal enjoying sunflower seeds at the birdfeeder. A green hummingbird flies from feeder to flower lapping up nectar. Purple finches watch from the trees. I am witness to the beauty in the diversity in nature. I can not help to wonder why people have difficulty seeing this same beauty in the diversity of the human race.
I stop writing long enough to listen to a friend being interviewed on a podcast. My friend is talking about the epidemic of loneliness in the world today. He contends that our technology and now the COVID virus has contributed to this epidemic. I can not disagree with him, and as I Sit alone in my office, I feel pervasive loneliness invading my space. I turn back to my computer.  By this time, I am feeling completely frustrated with the words that I have written. I press on. I was determined that I would write a well-crafted post. 
My original thought was that I would write about Tunnels to Towers and how the organization helps first responders with disabilities received in the line of duty. The organization supplies adaptive equipment and even smart homes for some if needed. The help provided makes the delicate adjustment of to a life of disability easier. I understand these difficulties well because of my own personal struggles with disabilities over the past eleven years. I find that today I can not write about this. The subject hits close to home. So I move on.
My next idea for a post was About the time Tom, my husband, was sent out to pick up beverages for break time at work. Again this feels like another story for another day.  Now it is almost 5 PM. I have typed on this computer all day and have not written anything that makes sense. I suppose that is because the world doesn't make sense to me right now. 
I see a card on my desk. It reads, "Ask, and it shall be given to you. Seek, and ye shall find, Knock and it shall be opened unto you."(Matthew 7:7 On the back, the card read, "Just for you"  It is time to cook dinner, but before I do I pause and pray. Thanks, card for the reminder. No matter how bad things might appear God is in control. 

Summer mornings in June

My husband and I stood side-by-side on our deck enjoying the peacefulness of a summer morning. After a  few quiet minutes, I remarked to my husband, "it is peaceful listening to the birds.” 

Our yard is surrounded by many trees and because of that, we have a large amount of wildlife that visits our yard regularly. We have seen wild turkeys, deer, woodchucks, hawks, foxes, and coyote. and an assortment of songbirds birds. Oh, and don’t forget the many squirrels that come to eat the birdseed that I leave out for the birds. (grrr) On this morning the songbirds were singing their choruses in a multitude of joyous voices.

My husband responded saying, “ it is nice to have some peace amid all the chaos that's going on in the world right now.”  His comment caused me to stop and think. He was right!

There is an extraordinary amount of chaos in the world today. There are political arguments that have been erupting on the different news media.  The COVID pandemic has stirred heated discussions, over questions about the possible transmission of the virus. We debate with our friends, coworkers, and others. Should I wear a mask, or is it ok not to wear a mask? How far away is enough social distance? Should the governor open the state or not?  In addition, there are questions of racism, should statues that have stood for a century be removed or even destroyed? To many the are symbols of racism but to others, the statues represent timeless works of art to others, and yes too many the statues are symbols of a terrible time in history.

Will Uncle Ben, aunt Jamima, and Gone with the wind, blown away and forgotten? Will they be archived in a dusty vault never to be seen again?

last night I read about a realtor in another state that is choosing to no longer use the term “master bedroom” This is because the word is related to the slave industry.   As a realtor for many years, I wonder then what will the room where the adults of the home sleep? 

Life feels troublesome, confusing, and downright heartbreaking to many people, We are all struggling with these same issues. Are marchers in the streets peaceful protests, or rioters?  Who matters more? Do Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All lives matter.are not we all created equal in the eyes of God? What if we were to follow God's teachings as the rule of law? I believe Many things could change.

Each question is a new fence that is being erected between people. Friends become enemies as we are being asked to declare what side of the fence we will live on.

With all of this happening it is understandable that anxiety and stress in people are increasing. depression is up and suicide rates are rising spousal abuse is on the rise.  People are becoming more argumentative, judgemental, opinionated, and angry towards each other.

As I sat lingering this morning with my now very cold cup of coffee unfinished in my hand. I asked myself, what are the lessons was I taught? How can I use my faith as I look for answers?

Lesson one,

Do not be a clanging cymbal! Always speak the truth with love.

 Is that the clanging of cymbals that I hear? if I speak in the tongues of men and of angels but have not love, I am only a ringing gong or a clanging cymbal. 1 Corinthians 13:1 NIV

The controversies are causing us, yes even Jesus loving God-loving Christians to lose ourselves amid the clatter and noise.  We are drowning in the loud voices all claiming that they are speaking the truth. I am not claiming I have the answers.  I might find out that I am wrong about everything except this one thing. God will guide me with his word, his son Jesus and if I am willing to listen to His Holy Spirit.

Lesson two,

God is the source of our peace.

The world did not give me the peace of this morning. Only God in his wondrous creation could orchestrate the combination of sound, sunlight, and a summer morning breeze that would calm a heart that was anxious and concerned with the state of the world in which we. The trees and all the birds that live in them were. given to us by God our creator. God gives us these things so that we may experience the beauty of His world.

Lesson three,  remember

God is in control!

 Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27 NIV 

Lesson four

I should keep my thoughts, mind, and heart pointed in the right direction.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable— if anything is excellent or praiseworthy— think on these things. Philippians 4:8 NIV translation

Yes, I had to look each verse up to recall exactly what they were. But that is not the point of why I am telling you this. 

Be Blessed my friends. With God, all things are possible.

Take all things to God in prayer!

Father's day, summer and stories told to a daughter

The most memorable images that I have of my father include summer days, good food, and hearty laughter. Yet, not all my memories of my Dad are happy. There are always unpleasant memories that want to mix themselves up with the good ones. That is just the way minds work. You are enjoying a great memory, and the next thing you know, an unpleasant memory comes slithering in the backdoor, trying to take over your mind. Just like the serpent does in the Adam and Eve story in the bible.  In the garden, everything was rolling along great. Then suddenly in slithered the serpent, and with him, chaos and evil.  Like the best memories that recycle back through your mind,  
God recycled His goodness, love, and triumph over evil again into this world. 

Like all of us, my Dad was human. 

Dad lost his temper. Dad was the one who passed out the whippings with his belt when he thought we deserved it. Although there was always a lot of discussion between us on whether I really deserved the whooping and I would desperately try to convince Dad that one of my two brothers committed the belt worthy infraction. 
In the end, love and goodness always recycled back in. Truth prevailed, and justice was served with the compassionate heart of a loving father.

 In the summer, when we returned home from a full day at the beach, we would have an outside dinner. Most people would call this a cookout. Our meal would consist of corn on the cob, California hamburgers, and my mother's famous potato salad. There are two things that I didn't understand at these meals. The first thing was that I didn't know if my mother's Potato salad was genuinely famous, but my father talked about it as if it was the best, world-renowned potato salad and why did we eat California Hamburgers if we lived in New Jersey? Those were my mysteries of life at that time.

My father talked about a lot of things. Dad talked about his family, his work, the Vietnam War, and lots of other things that didn't mean much to me because I was young. I would sit at the table with my two brothers and my mother as we listened to my father tell stories about a magical dog named Longfellow.  In my mind, I pictured Longfellow as a little black and brown dachshund with a wagging tail.  That pup that sprung up from my father's imagination loved to eat the cobs from the corn that was left over after my family had nibbled all of the kernels of sweet Jersey corn off of the cobs.      Even at the age of 18, I was still fascinated with my father's silly stories.   Finally, in the last story, my father told me about sweet Longfellow, the long brown and black dog that ate corn cobs died.  The little dog tragically Choked on a corncob.  At some point, my father's stories ended, and so did the laughter at the table. Maybe my father thought that at eighteen years old, I had outgrown his stories about Longfellow.  Sitting at my desk this father's day, I wish I could hear just one more Longfellow story. So love could recycle back. I would listen carefully to everything my father talked about if I could. Miss you, Dad.