Choosing life

I believe that life is more than existing. It is breathing in something beside just air. It's looking, really looking and choosing to see. Look at the sky! It is huge and ever changing, always beautiful and sometimes frightening. Look at the sea, it is never the same color twice is it? Look, listen, taste, touch. Live

The next phase

We are doing the conceptional editing of the book, "Wings of Angels". That means that the title might change any day. Hmmm, does that mean that I change the name of the blog too? Maybe not.

I have had many discussions about grief since I started this publishing process. It's becoming a passion of mine, not the pain of grief but I am trying to raise a flag of warning. We as a society are not allowing for grief in our lives. We are pushing through pain without giving it place. This will cost us in the end, more than we have to give.

I think that God is always a God of opposites. If you want to be first, then be last. If you want to be a leader, then serve. If you want to be happy, give away everything you cling to for happiness. If you want comfort... mourn. Happy people cry. That's the truth! Miserable people seldom do.

Jolly Angels

I am waiting for my editor to discuss the "Wings of Angels" book. I am trying to explain that the angels are supposed to look strong and Jolly. It's funny but I have never seen an angel depicted as jolly before. I wonder why not.

In the story I'm writing they are full of fun and joy and a little bit of mischief. Could anyone point me to an artist's rendition of a "jolly" angel?

Rest, passion and curiosity

As I contemplate the rapid onslaught of change I am spending more time thinking of God's mandate to rest. Rest.... who has time for it? I struggle with health issues. I need more rest than most. I have found though that life gets mundane quickly when I am tired. If I'm tired I don't have the energy to think! I used to question everything. Exhaustion kills curiosity and passion. What else is there anyway. What is life without passion and curiosity? Perhaps there is a different kind of dying going on.

Hmmm perhaps rest is more vital than we know?

change

Our world is changing faster and faster. Change, even good change causes grief. But when it changes so rapidly there isn't time to mourn that grief. I see unprocessed grief as a huge cause of anger and confusion in people today.

Did you know that over 82,000 people are homeless in Los Angeles County California alone? Did you know that 32 percent of those people have college degrees? Did you know that only 25 percent are mentally ill... which means the majority are "normal" people who haven't been able to "fit" with the program. 82,000 people, they would make a not-so-small city. 82,000 people that somehow aren't coping with the demands of change.

Sometimes I want to scream.... "Listen up!!!" We are missing what's happening. Too many people are expected to cope with too much. Burn out, nervous breakdowns, homelessness, depression and rage. They are all symptoms of unresolved grief... rapid change without resolve.

Taking time

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, " To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:" Makes you wonder. Sometimes I don't feel like I have time. Maybe it feels like time has me? There is this thing that keeps moving in front of me... like the rabbit that racing dogs chase. They can never catch it and all they are doing is running around in circles. grrr!

I guess the clincher is there is time... a time for every purpose under heaven. I find when I take the time early in the day to ask God what He has in mind for me that day, things change. My agenda gets tweeked. Appointments get canceled, lots of very unplanned things happen. Even so, my days are way less chaotic or full.

A passing

I have a friend whose mother is slipping away. I remember what it was like to lose my Father-in-law. Time was ticking by so slowly and yet there was no stopping life from being irreconcilably changed.

In this country we separate the process of dying from everyday life. Few are witnesses of the holy event. Few are the ones that bath and feed and nurture. But those that chose to witness have tasted a different dimension where all things carnal pass away and all things eternal blossom.

How are we different?

I know,
I know that Osama Bin Laden was brutal and ruthless. I know that we couldn't have done any different... "Those that live by the sword will die by the sword." But I don't think this is a time to rejoice.

I work with women who have been hurt. Sometimes I help them walk through a divorce. Many times they are divorcing a tyrant, a boar of a man who is brutal to them and divorce is their very best choice. But a divorce is never a thing to celebrate. It is a time to grieve. It is a loss of huge proportions even if it is the loss of a dream. A marriage has crumbled at the hands of the enemy and he is giddy with the holy thing he has destroyed. This is no place to celebrate. Many heave a sign of relief, like Jesus on the cross they can finally say, "It is finished" but that is all.

The shooting of Bin Laden is time to grieve. Time to grieve the loss of what could have been. One human being chose a life of brutality and hate. He could have used his influence for so much good! I grieve his choice. And the loss of what could have been if he had made a different one.

I know many are heaving a sigh of relief. Many have lost husbands, children, wives and friends at Osoma Bin Laden's hand. I get that. I grieved too at the twin tower catastrophe and at the cruel celebration of those who thought it a victory in the name of "god". I too hope the loss of their leader will scatter the members of this terrorist group. But I can still grieve the loss. One more death, one more bloody coo.

editing yikes!

I got an email from the editor of the book Wings of Angels. All the formalities seem very strange to me. This is a very small children's story and yet it is given the same respect as a full blown novel. Respect is a huge gift. Writing is hard. It's not putting words on a page that is hard for me but allowing someone else to read it... that's the hard part. I don't mind people who tell it like it is. Some will say, "geeze, your too real for me." I'm good with that but it's the hidden contempt that still hooks me. How can tell, really, what people are thinking? Why do I care? That's a good question. Why does hidden contempt have so much power? I have no real clue, but as this story I wrote morphs into a book on library shelves, I find myself in need of deeper connection with Jesus. He is my only hope of getting through the fear of what people will think of the author after they read it. I hope that they won't think of me at all... only life and death and Jesus most of all.

Pondering spring... and hope

I'm thinking about spring... and hope. Finally here in the north it is getting warmer. The sun is shining and the grass is greening up. It reminds me of Psalms 30:5b Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning. In the darkness of loss, it doesn't feel like you will ever laugh, or sing again. Psalms 40:3 says "But He has put a new song in my mouth—Praise to our God;"But verse 2 says why: "He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, Out of the miry clay, And set my feet upon a rock, And established my steps. The pit is horrible... but there is an end, there is spring at the end of winter and hope at the end of loss.