Here's a song I can't get out of my head

Enjoy and have a Magnificent Weekend - T

Magnificent
Magnificent

I was born
I was born to be with you
In this space and time
After that and ever after I haven’t had a clue
Only to break rhyme
This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue

Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar

I was born
I was born to sing for you
I didn’t have a choice but to lift you up
And sing whatever song you wanted me to
I give you back my voice
From the womb my first cry, it was a joyful noise…

Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar

Justified till we die, you and I will magnify
The Magnificent
Magnificent

Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love unites our hearts

Justified till we die, you and I will magnify
The Magnificent
Magnificent
Magnificent

Friday flu by

Friday was:
Cleaning a freshly painted office.
Deciding where to put my new color coordinated lamp, decorator table, and trinkets in my office.
Filling up my bookshelves with art supplies in clear plastic shoe boxes, so I see all my toys!
Filling up (almost) my other book case with work folders and lovely, lovey books. :)
Emptying my office of clutter, boxes and stuff that just won't go anymore.
Making a St. Patty's day craft with 4 adorable elementary children.
We got glitter everywhere!
Coming home with a hot dizzy head and a weird tummy.
Taking NyQuil.
Then off to dreamland.
To sleep, to dream, to rest and kick this virus out of my body, for good!

Image from Random Weirdness.com

A sandwhich meme: What's in your bag?

Bird by bird is a great book on the ups and down of the process of writing, by Anne Lamott. Early on in the book is her description of the sandwich in her lunch bag as an elementary student. It is her suggestion that when stumped on what to write find something limited and from your own experience to write about. So a brown bag childhood sandwich may be a good place to start or just might be fun to write about. You may learn something about yourself and your family as well. Here's the meme if you'd like to give it a shot:
The sandwich I took to lunch as a child was...
and go from there. Here's my own sandwich meme for good measure.

Circle seats of varying colors lined the lunch table as I carried my metal lunch box in hand after buying milk in the milk line. Too bad it wasn't Friday. Friday is chocolate milk day.

I choose a red circle seat to sit on in the the lunch room, blaring with noise and food trading. Looking around I see kids eating bologna, mustard, yellow American cheese, and white bread sandwiches with cheese doodles or Twinkies on the side. Capri Sun juice boxes were the in thing to be drinking, but for the most part ended up being squirted on the table because the straw was hard to poke into the metallic pouch.

My Mom never bought white bread for my lunch. The only time I remember Wonder white bread passing my lips was when my Grandpap would buy it for me when I visited him. My sandwich was carefully wrapped in wax paper, so carefully it was wrapped I often thought it looked like an edible milky Christmas package. I'd pull away the corners of the paper to find whole grain wheat bread looking seriously back at me. It's funny, I didn't dislike the wheat bread as a rule I still eat it by choice today. It was good for me then, and it's good for me now. So I eat it, but the squishy white bread remained to be a unrequited love.



Upon the thick slices of wheat bread would be butter spread to keep the bread from getting soggy from the contents, next came the Miracle Whip salad dressing, orange and smooth Velveeta Cheese, and sweet butter pickles. I a pickle and cheese sandwich kid in a bologna and wonder bread world. Occasionally I'd have a grape jelly and peanut butter sandwich on wheat, and would have a friend who'd trade me half of their bologna and wonder bread concoction. I would be perplexed how the wonder bread would strangely melt in my mouth without really chewing the sandwich. Most days, I'd look at my different sandwich and smile, knowing it was unique. My sandwich had substance, texture and character; so much more character than that wonder bag tried to imply. In truth, wonder white's intrigue was only bag deep; unlike my wax paper wrapped sandwich.

My sandwich was unique, like me - and I was satisfied with that.

I challenge readers to take this meme and make it their own - write about your elementary school sandwich! You can do it.

More Nutter Butter

Just because.

Two Summer Vactions, a Winnebago and Nutter Butter Cookies

Nutter Butter Cookies remind me of summers camping with my Mother and Father in law in a 1975 Winnebago. The cookies are in red plastic wrapping, in a plastic tray and the cookies are shaped like Mr. Peanut and filled with peanut butter. These cookies travel well. My daughter was a little over one the first trip and the summer after that a little over two. It was always an adventure.



One summer we drove up to Maine in the Winnebago. I read the book Certain Women by Madeline L'Engle on the fourteen hour drive. I remember it being the first long book I'd read since my daughter had been born. I could read because she sat content being co-pilot in her car seat, sipping bunny apple juice boxes, and smiling at her Grandfather as he smiled back at her.



I remember at the time wondering how I could pack up my baby for a week each summer and simply take off for a Winnebago adventure with no clock and no control of the plans. When I looked at the Nutter Butter Cookies yesterday, I was reminded of what fun and free spirited times those weeks were. Even as little as Heather was then, she still has memories of those trips: the ocean, swimming in the camp ground swimming pool, looking for winnie the pooh in the woods and Nutter butter cookies. I'm glad I took those trips, sleeping in the overhead compartment of that old Winnebago, and dealing with the close quarters of lots of family for a long week away. Those trips make Nutter Butter cookies taste all the sweeter, even today.

Page 5! Thank you Chautauqa Region Word!

Last week I mentioned that something I'd written was going to be printed in a local publication. Yesterday while waiting for my son to take his guitar lesson I looked and saw that the Chautauqua Region Word was already printed for the week and was titled, "Local Fiction Spotlight".

There it was, on page 5, right in the middle of two other pieces by local writers. Mr. Squirrel and me.

It may not be War and Peace, (it's a short essay, non-fiction to be exact.) but I was proud to have some of my writing in the local arts paper. Below is the segment that I submitted, and if you go to the link I provided by clicking on Chautauqua Region Word, you can find it and the others segments as well. Happy reading and writing! Also, thanks to the editors and supporters of the Word for including my work in this weeks issue.

Peace.



Photo found at Photo.net


Mr. Squirrel lives in the maple tree at the back of my yard. He really lives in multiple trees as the branches are so far reaching that they touch the branches of the neighbor's maple across the street. Mr. Squirrel spends most of his time leaping from limb to limb and scurrying away whenever he hears a noise that frightens him. Mr. Squirrel rarely looks beneath him to see what is going on at ground level. I think he's to easily frightened to ever look down and take everything in.

This morning as I was brushing off the cars to prepare for taking the kids to school and heading off to work, it was early enough to be able to hear the stillness of morning. There was a blanket of fresh snowy sparkling everywhere. The wind was blowing glittering waves of swirling snow across the yard and down the street. There seemed to be a fresh, beautiful stillness everywhere I looked. There was so much to see that I even looked above me to look at the snow covered trees only to see Mr. Squirrel sitting quietly and looking calmly back at me. After a moment, Mr. Squirrel chirped at me as if to say, "Hey did you see all this?" and then scampered away across the glistening branches.

There was something in the morning air this morning that caused me and Mr. Squirrel to pause and really see and hear all the beauty that surrounded us. So often, it's easier to look and see the ugly, needful or wanting things of life, but this morning Mr.Squirrel and I enjoyed a few minutes of frosty beauty as far as our eyes could see and our ears could hear.

Maybe today is one that is filled with uncertainty, loss or struggle for you. For me it is a day of sadness as a late call last night let me know that my Aunt Carol passed away after her battle with cancer. Somehow though, even in the struggle and the sadness - there is beauty all around. We only need to have the eyes to see and the ears to hear the calming call to simply be still long enough to experience it.

The muse amused him

It seems that my son has caught the blogging bug. After some discussion about the guidelines of blogging, I agreed to partner with him in his new blog Media Watch. He's new to the blogosphere, although he's been an active Youtube contributor for over a year now. When you get an chance stop by and say hello and if you are inclined, challenge his insights on what he's reading and listening too.

He's a clever young man with some interesting perspective. Not that I'm biased or anything.:)

Sleeping with bread: Sort of Sabbath

I started re-reading the little book Mudhouse Sabbath by Lauren Winner last evening and was reminded of her explanation of the two kinds of commandments in Judaism.

" Commandments (mitzvot): the mitzvot asei or the "Thou shalts", and the mitzvot lo ta'aseh. or the "Thou shalt nots." Sabbath observance comprises both... its easy to look at the Jewish Sabbath as a long list of thou shalt nots... but what it all boils down to is do not create. Do not create anything at all, for one of the things the Sabbath reprises is God's rest after He finished creating.

"What happens when we stop working and controlling nature?... "When we don't operate machines, or pick flowers or pluck fish from the sea?...When we cease interfering in the world we acknowledging that it is God's world." (pgs 6, 7, 8; Mudhouse Sabbath)"

Sleeping with bread is somewhat of a Sabbath ritual for me. Yes it is creative as it involves the playing and tinkering with words, but it helps me to trace God's presence with me throughout the past seven days. So here are the falling, rising and tracing moments of my last week.

I fell hard last Monday with the continued repairing of my car. Last Monday as the tow truck pulled away from my curb and took it to the shop, I surrendered all hope of it being fixed into a well of tears. I literally cried all day. I even went to work on Monday (my day off as I work Sundays), because I thought it better than sobbing all day. It sort of worked.

I was held up by my co-workers who taxied me here and there, loaned me their cars to cart my kids around to music lessons and school, and were kind to me in my miserable state. You lifted me up, thank you for that.

By Tuesday at noon I got the call from my mechanic. It was better than I thought, in fact it was good news. My heart felt a little lighter that afternoon as I picked up my car, no longer lurching down the street and starting when it was supposed to start. Simple things like this make me smile.

Wednesday was a day off. I had lunch with a friend, went to the library, drove around in the sunshine, did you read that... drove around! I went to my first worship practice for church since I started working there. The people were welcoming and we had a great night of music and fun. It was and is good.

Thursday felt good as I made some plans for the months ahead at work and seemed to begin making some needed connections and involving others in some upcoming projects. The sun was shining again on Thursday. I made it to dance class. Spring finally arrived!

Friday was challenging as I fought to stay above water of a migraine that settled in over my right eye over night. I managed to get my work done and have a fun evening activity with the parents, children and youth to celebrate spring and St. Patrick's Day. My son was off to a camp retreat for the weekend, his first at LCLC. He was giddy when my husband dropped him off with his friends.

Saturday morning I still had a migraine, but headed to dance class to try and exercise it away. The afternoon was a movie and grocery shopping with a friend. The afternoon was easy dinner of pizza from the store, taking my migraine meds and relaxing on the sofa before retiring early on Saturday night. Spring forward was here!

Sunday was good. I was feeling better and enjoyed helping with the worship at the contemporary service. There were sincere moments of emotional waves washing over me as we all sang together, hearing Ian do the message and seeing tears welling in the eyes of those around me. They were the good kind of tears.
We picked up Nigel from camp (he had a great time) had lunch at home (thanks to Ian cooking!) and I spent the afternoon surfing the net, preparing Butter Curry Chicken and Basmati Rice for dinner and catching up on Lost via the Internet.

As I skim over my week, it's a mix of work and sabbath, but I notice the off balance. It seems the sabbath or bread is always greater than the sorrow and pain. For that I'm grateful. For my family who care for me on migraine days, I'm thankful. For the doctor that discovered that medicine that actually works, I owe him my gratitude. To my mechanic who is my friend, thank you for the gifts of repair and persistence you have. To my friends who listen, have lunch and go to the movies with me, thank you. To my fellow bloggers who leave me comments, thanks - you have no idea how encouraging your words were this week. Thank you for reading and caring.

There is struggle and pain, but there is bread and Sabbath.
I'm carrying on, on four wheels even. Hold on to hope.

You bet your life, sharing works!

You bet you life DVD

The other day my husband Ian and I were watching old episodes of "You bet your life!" with Groucho Marx. The show really held up in humor over all the years since it originally piloted on television in 1949.



The premise of the show is rather simple. Groucho interviews his contestants and eventually asks them quiz questions where they can win varied amounts of prize money. When a couple wins the greatest amount of prize money, they have the choice to spin a wheel for a chance to greatly increase their winnings. In most cases, the couples that win the quiz part decide to keep what they have already won, instead of trying for the big money.

In contrast to the game shows of current day, if a contestant won $500.00, they would eagerly go after any opportunity to win more money. Today, the $500.00 dollars simply wouldn't be enough.

One other thing I noticed was the willingness to share that was displayed by the contestants on "You bet your life". Groucho asked a couple of contestants what they were going to do with their winnings, and one woman was going to forward her winnings to an orphanage in Korea and the gentleman was going to give a percentage to a family in need and some to a missionary cause of the day. I looked at my husband after hearing that and said, "Man, that would not be what people would do today!"

All this got me thinking on the idea of sharing, and how powerful it can be. In a day were individuality is so important, how could the act of sharing affect the world around us? If I were to go on a game show today and win the big money, what would I be inclined to do with it?

Last summer my daughter and I had a great opportunity to go to Pittsburgh and see Shane Claiborne and the traveling music/nomadic/community group Psalters. I'm greatly challenged by their words in regard to their call to end poverty by simply sharing what we already have. I suppose some of this challenge comes to me in light of the weariness of our economy in the US, as well as the underlying panic over financial and employment issues that are present in the hearts and lives of so many people nationwide and in my own community as well.



Some may say that the Psalters approach to life is too simplistic for our complex world, or maybe a little strange or counter cultural. I don't think that the Psalters philosophy would have seemed so counter cultural in the 1950's, when people could go on a game show with the intention of giving the money away. Today, we'd be more likely to buy something for ourselves. Just when did this switch from sharing to consumption occur in the world?



I don't have this all figured out, but the contrast over time in society's willingness to share is shocking. Contentment is a characteristic that is too seldom seen in the world today. If only we'd realize that contentment is never something that can be bought or won. Contentment is a gift, and one I better learn how to live with as well.

The group Psalters challenge me. The people who went on that game show in the 1950's and gave their winnings away challenge me too. Both groups of people had the gracious ability to be content in all circumstances, as I should. Yes, we need to be present and supportive for each other in all times, but in addition to this how could life's purposes shift in the perspective of contentment and sharing?

Phillipians 4:10-14
10I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. 11I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

14Yet it was good of you to share in my troubles.

“Share everything. Don't take things that aren't yours. Put things back where you found them.” -Robert Fulghum

“The "art of tea" is a spiritual force for us to share” -Alexandra Stoddard

I had a dream

Painting by Simon Dewey
I had a dream about playing follow the leader last night.
Then as I listened to the gospel reading in worship this morning the words hit me in the most profound way.

Mark 8:31-38 Jesus Predicts His Death
31He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. 32He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.

33But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter. "Get behind me, Satan!" he said. "You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men."

34Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35For whoever wants to save his life[c] will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? 37Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? 38If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels."

Earlier in the week I'd read the gospel reading for the upcoming Sunday in preparation for the children's message I do each week. I'd read so much about the promises of God, that I'd decided to go in that direction for my short message. I'd looked at the Gospel reading, but I'd missed the part about Jesus asking everyone to simply follow after him. Take up what who you are and what you have (cross) and follow me.

The night before I'd had a dream about playing follow the leader. I was walking through a neighborhood full of families and children, inviting them to join me for a youth event at the church. When we arrived at the building, I was amazed to see how many people had come along. In fact, in my dream I remembering being worried that I did not have enough snacks and activities for everyone to participate.

A person pulled me aside and gushed of the the number of people who were there and immediately began thinking of ways they could start working and doing different things. I refused, and told the person that these people were our guests and we needed to serve them. They tried to argue, but I stood my ground and the people were treated well and enjoyed the time there. Funny too, there were enough snacks and crafts for everyone to participate. At this point in the dream, I woke up and got ready for my own morning of worship.

I'd hesitated to write about this dream and the timeliness of it arrival, because I thought some might think its strange. However, I felt compelled to write about it this afternoon as I continue to try and sort its meaning out. Getting me to ask questions might be part of this dream's purpose.

As I sat in the choir loft this morning listening to the words,
"Take up your cross and follow me."
I heard them in a new way.
I started asking questions:
"God, was this just a dream?",
"God who do you want me to go to?"
"God, how will I lead?".

A long time ago, my friend and mentor Grace talked to me about leading. She said, "The leader just has to lead."

Her words seemed too simple and somehow complex at the same time. Today, in remembering her words, they still seem that way. I'm thankful for her encouragement to help me stand up and simply put one foot in front of the other. Some days that is all you need to do. But, honestly when I really consider leading I know I can't be the one very first in line. I need to better follow one step, one moment, and one dream at a time.

I'm still pondering all the meaning in my last dream and that is OK. I'll continue following my leader, Jesus.


Gene Rocha Photography


Have you ever had a dream that seemed more than just a dream? What did you do with it? How did it effect you? How did it effect others when they heard it?