Knowing When to Ask for Help

My pondering has taken on a new level of exag- geration these past weeks as I tap into the thoughts, feelings, and emotions surrounding the promotional aspects of being a self-published author. As I’ve perused books, websites, and media expert information, I’ve felt like a seasick sailor in the midst of a typhoon. Green at the gills and seeking solid land, I’ve deciphered enough to know that it’s definitely not a positive sign when thinking about marketing your beloved product results in a tightened chest, violently churning insides, and a strong impulse to throw up.

Walla Walla Book Event

While I can candidly declare that I am competent in a number of arenas, there is never-the-less a voice in my head (and stomach) that says, “Leave the marketing to someone else.” There is naught like the mechanics of unsolicited self-promotion to turn my insides out and make me flee for shelter or cower under the covers. Please don’t get me wrong... I absolutely adore sharing stories, connecting with people, speaking on a welcoming stage, or engaging in an intimate one-on-one conversation. But the thought of walking into one more independent bookstore and having a clerk stroll away with a sneer on her face and As I Lay Pondering held between two fingers as if it were a dirty diaper turns my skin cold. Seriously... diving into Puget Sound midwinter without a wetsuit feels more inviting to me.

Now, anyone who has known me for even a brief period of time understands I have little aversion to taking risks. In fact, it joyously tops my ongoing to do list...

Take A Risk Every Day

...but I have also come to learn there is a laudable difference between taking risks that propel me forward and  those that push my heart begrudgingly into areas that leave my essential self feeling disturbingly icky. Even though I am a rockin’ coach, it is rarely wise to practice my skills on my loved ones. I am typically too invested in the outcome to be objective. Likewise, I’ve determined that exclusively promoting my own book is akin to being the sole counselor for my family. I am entirely too close to the subject. Misunderstandings are inevitable, feelings will get hurt, and unflattering barfing may ensue.

Further down on my list-to-live-by is another premise that I have a tendency to overlook.

Know When to Ask for Help!

I was raised to be an independent woman and asking for help can be a challenge. It is both blessing and curse to know myself as competent in my own right. Navigating this new marketing territory is clearly possible, but leaves me with a daunting feeling and the declaration, I don’t wanna! That’s clearly how I feel about taking the next promotional step(s) alone... I don’t wanna!! Therefore...

It’s time for me to take a risk, put my independent ego aside, and ask for help! Today I’m turning this plea over to the Universe. Call it prayer, intention setting, dream making, wish casting, whatever you like, but I’m releasing it out into the Great Unknown. And since I’m choosing not to go it alone, let me ask you this...

·      What projects make you turn ‘green at the gills’?

·      Are you compelled to disregard the potential warning signs and push on through?

·      If yes, consider why.

·      What does risk taking entail for you?

·      Do you know when (or how) to ask for help?

·      Feel free to practice alongside me by putting your needs and desires out into the world.

    Together we can see what happens!

·      Ready. Set. Go!!!

Wanted: Ideal advocate for As I Lay Pondering: daily invitations to live a transformed life. Must be articulate, energetic, and marketing knowledgeable (or excited and willing to learn). A promoter of passions with excellent tools and the skills to implement them.

Excited to work together and find perfect ways to extend our mutual energy and efforts. Reasonably priced and ready to make things happen. Passionate about my book, work, and what I have to offer the world. We connect seamlessly and complement each other well. Loves marketing and promotional work, is a self-starter, and not overbearing. Compassionate, generous, an excellent listener, and a well-connected connector.

When she/he arrives the weight drops from my shoulders and the gnawing in my stomach releases. Life moves forward with ease and satisfaction. It feels effortless... yes, effortless.

Companioning and marketing with ease... that’s what I want!! Okay, Universe. Ready. Set. Go!!!

Two Seals and a Gift

Bandon, OR Beach

Nature offers an amazing gift of bringing us back to center when life feels out of balance. One of my favorite ways to explore just about anything is through the use of metaphor. How is this like that? While visiting the Oregon coast, my questions emerged something like this: How is the baby seal who strives to climb atop a slippery rock like my current situation? How is the beach covered in fog similar to my brain that refuses to clear? What of the sun that remains concealed from sight? Are my dreams hiding in plain view or are they just over the horizon?

One evening while beach combing, I paused to watch a group of sea lions gathered in the swelling tide. Eyes trained on the youngest pup, I was mesmerized by his struggle to climb atop the slippery embankment where his mother perched precariously. My maternal instincts were tugged by his unfruitful tenacity, and part of me wanted to wade into the icy surf and boost him onto the oblong pillar. Fortunately my sanity prevailed. After all, if he, an able-bodied water creature, couldn’t do it on his own, what benefit would I, a moderate swimmer at best, be to him? Nonetheless, our natural instincts are often to reach toward those we momentarily consider less capable—children, clients, co-workers, strangers—while setting aside our own care and safety in the midst.

Baby Reaches Mama (momentarily)

As I continued to observe the scene before me, I focused on the mother who lay upon the craggy peak—her pose precarious, like a crescent moon tilted on its side and loosely balanced on a rocking pebble. She appeared neither concerned about her shaky state or that of her offspring diligently attempting to reach her. Occasionally, she raised her head to look around, but then lay back to rest. She wisely knew the rhythm of the tide would ultimately ease her off the rock and into the water, reuniting her and her babe.

Recalling this scene later, I asked the questions: How is this like my calling today? Will I clear my head enough to look around and inquire: What do I need? What next? What will bring me life, rest, joy, peace, and love? Even though my initial response was to rescue the striving pup, my deep resonance was not with him... I have done enough striving for a lifetime. Today I choose to wonder how I can rise up like the wizened matriarch, peer around, and allow the flow of life to gently carry me into the sea and off my own precarious perch.

My assessment is not that the mother sea lion is resigned to her existence, but rather she has learned the rhythms of her life and chooses to go with them rather than struggle against the raging tides. Her young pup expends his energy in his own natural (and necessary) process of maturation. Each are appropriate for their time and stage in life.

Curious!

Today I invite you to consider this: Where do you struggle and strain when letting go might serve you better? What energy needs to be expended to bring your life (mind, spirit, body) into balance or maturation? How is this like that? Where might nature guide you today?

Angels in our Midst - Do you believe?

“A Warrior of the Light is never predictable.

She might dance down the street on her way to work, gaze into the eyes of a complete stranger and speak of love at first sight, or defend an apparently absurd idea. Warriors of the Light allow themselves days like these.” – Paulo Coelho

Are you a Warrior of the Light? Someone who’s willing to dream of angels and step into absurd ideas? Well, I am. This morning I awoke thinking of angels and other things that some might call “woo woo.” I opened As I Lay Pondering, saw today’s title, “To Be Known,” and asked myself what it would mean for me to be known right now in this moment. Hmmm.... 

Norah & the Watchers

Do you believe in angels? I do. They come in all shapes and forms—furry, human, dreamlike. Arriving in streams of light, laughing children, and a gentle touch. A stranger who appears and mysteriously vanishes. A fleeting thought, prickly neck or tingly skin. One of my favorite “angels” that shows up in both image and imagination is a curly-headed impish girl named Norah (translated as Compassion). My old golden retriever, Curry, emerges on occasion. And, of course, my purring companion, Aslan, is an everyday reminder of otherworldliness in present form. My long-deceased father has appeared on several occasions through music and nature; meeting me when I most need to hear him. Real or imagined? Truth or fantasy? What do you believe?

Recently a man perusing my ponderings mentioned to his wife that he thought I might be a little crazy. So be it. A warrior of the light dances through the street and people either join in the dance, run the other way, criticize, or pause and ponder. Which do you choose to do?

Curry Dog

There is a place of stillness where everything connects, disappears and comes into absolute clarity all at the same moment. I think of the Bible story of Jacob wrestling with God and his dreams of the ladder going up to heaven while angels ascended and descended. These kinds of stories have been with us since the beginning of time. The question is... Are we willing to believe? What happens when we slow down, step into stillness, and listen... deeply listen? Will God speak? Do angels show up? Is it the result of an overactive imagination or a mind running wild with thoughts and fantasy? Does it matter? Will it be any less real if I can’t hold it in my hand or capture it in a digital photo? Perhaps I am a touch mad, but today my mind returned to a very real experience I had during a meditative time in Arizona this spring.

When I closed my eyes and the meditation began, our moderator simply mentioned the word “stage” and I felt the spotlight shine upon me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had these longings since I was a little girl. Do we all dream of being on the stage? Yes. No. Perhaps. I believe our “stages” simply take on different forms. [Pause and ponder: what your stage might be? You know, the one you see when you close your eyes.]

Check out that Boa!

Moving down the pathway of my mind, golden-haired Norah greets me with her playfulness and compassion—her is-ness. In her unique way, she invites me to simply be. Before me on the ground lay an apple that I witnessed just before the moderator invited us to look up rather than down. There to my right were grand marble steps leading upward to the stage. A brilliant curtain crafted of magnificent red—the color and texture of my feather boa—reminds me there is nothing insignificant about my essential self. She is meant to shine! (I know this and yet I doubt it in my current mind... not the meditation). Returning to the dream state, I am invited to leave Norah, my guide, at the bottom of the staircase. I don’t want to take my journey without Compassion, but Norah reminds me that she is always with me. All I need do is ask.

Moving up the stairway, I see a being with shoulder-length hair. He glows with strength and light emanating from within. Before I can ask his name, I know it is the Archangel Michael whose card lay “randomly” on my chair before our session began. The Angel turns and points to the audience spread before the stage. It is filled with adoring fans—people asking for my gifts... my gifts... MY gifts. The people do not clamor. They simply stand before Michael’s outstretched hands—before me—and wait. They snake around my viewpoint—like the final scene in “Pay It Forward”—holding lights and waiting. They are honoring me and know I have the gift to share with them. I am awed and honored myself. Michael is brilliant before me and he is part of me. Strength and courage. Like Norah, he will always be with me, but especially during this time of the journey he is very near.

I sense him over my left shoulder now. His golden wings gently wrapping around me as I write with my golden muse, Aslan, purring in my lap. “Be you, my child. The world is waiting.” I feel it now and I heard it then as he turned back to me and said, “The gift is you.” And in his hands lay my gift to the world.

In that brief moment, I smelled the apples I had seen earlier. The fruit of life. Tempting and forbidden. Hmmm. Fear creeps in. I was always forbidden to shine. Forbidden to taste the fruit of my own knowledge. But here, the sweet fruit has been broken open before me. I need only inhale—stop, pause, breathe—and it will find me, surround me, and fill me with its fragrant aroma. May this fragrance move me into the world with strength and tenderness; compassion and love; Michael and Norah. There is no room for fear when all is love.

Truth or fantasy? Real or imagined? Sane or inept? What do you choose to believe? Where does your mind go when you turn to that deep place of stillness where everything connects, disappears, and becomes clear in the same moment?

Is God a Giant Ouija Board?

What are the questions I'm most curious about these days? Well, they're probably the things I'm curious about a significant portion of the time. Career. Time. Money. Relationship. God. Not always in that order. Is this for me? Am I on the right path? Was that a good decision? Did I do a caring thing? Am I ok? Oh my, it feels like I'm 10 years old again and playing with a Ouija board.

Ouija boards and Magic 8-Balls - maybe they do hold all the answers. Will I be rich? Absolutely. Will I be famous? You bet. Does God exist? Ask again. Oh boy, do we ever get past that fascination with wanting the answers? By asking questions do we treat the Universe/Higher Power/God like a giant Ouija board? Asking for an answer and anticipating the answer we want to hear. Manipulating the planchette and acting like we're not. Pretending we've let go of control when, in fact, there is no way we'll take our last finger out of the game.

What might it take to release and let go? What is our role in the grand plan? I remember a friend telling me a story I'll never forget. She had a college roommate who had a big exam coming up and didn't even study, then wondered why she failed the exam even though she'd prayed really hard. Is God our Magic 8-Ball? Are the answers right in front of us? Again, what's our role? I know if I sit around and eat chocolate all day I'm going to get fat. Do I know if I work really hard it will pay off? It depends on how I define "pay off". If I already have the answer planned then I may be disappointed, but if I let go of the Ouija board then I might be delightfully surprised by what happens.

What are your burning questions today? Do you need a speedy answer or are you willing to wait for the surprise? Will you study for your exam, sit back and eat chocolates or jump in the game?

Life coach Martha Beck says, "Listening to that mystical frequency, while staying safely grounded in logical and pragmatic action, is the key to planning the path of your best destiny."

I invite you to ponder that today. Me? I'm off to plan my destiny :-)

photos from St. Catherine's Monastery ©2010

The Journey Has Already Begun

I am the one who sits and waits. Waiting for what? The pilgrimage? Today? Tomorrow? The Holy? The Sacred is already here. I sit in the shadows - in the space of waiting. The already and the not yet. My heart has turned to the desert. The journey has begun. The Sacred text written on every branch before me... still, I am curious about the shadows and what I do not and cannot already know.

I awakened today (& yesterday, too) wondering - What is wrong with me? Is something the matter? I leave for Egypt in two days and all I want to do is immerse myself in Instant Netflix offerings of Veronica Mars. It's almost a compulsion and I ponder - Am I avoiding or am I waiting or something entirely different?

I can't make myself read the history of St. Anthony (whose footsteps I will be following.) Instead I read the current Vanity Fair and the sad adventures of Lindsey Lohan. My heart breaks for the world around me AND I feel wrapped inside my own little cocoon. The journey has already begun.

"In each of us dwells a pilgrim. It is the part of us that longs to have direct contact with the sacred." - Phil Cousineau

How do you respond for the pilgrimage of life each day? Do you wait? Avoid? Jump in? What is your longing for contact with the sacred? Please, do tell!

Who knows whether I will return to this space before I depart for the desert? In case I don't, please know I will carry those I love with me (that includes you) and would cherish knowing a space is being held for me in your heart as I travel into the unknown. Peace and blessings, friends. Namaste.

Norah and the Watchers

"It is here in the unwatched space that peace begins." --Mark Nepo

Have you ever experienced the paranoia of “the watchers” – the fear that everyone is watching you or worse still that no one is? I spent years shedding the notion that people were observing me and expecting me to fail or not live up to their standards. I learned that often people really don't care what you're up to as long as you don't get in their way. However, being raised under a highly critical eye helped me become finely attuned to those times when the watchers do show up. It’s a blessing and a curse.

I can’t always name it, but I know when something's amiss. I begin to feel it in my gut. Sometimes it starts elsewhere – a prickle of the skin – a twinge of the heart. I know something is going on, but I can’t exactly put it in words. I want to shrug it off – to deny the watchers are there - to hope for the goodness of others and deny the potential overreaction of myself.

For Buffy fans, you know that Giles is her watcher. He is there for Buffy’s safety, mentoring and training. In many traditions, God is known as watcher and protector. It is comforting to know others are watching on our behalf. But what about the other watchers – those who watch through fear-clouded orbs instead of eyes of the heart? At times, I am guilty of this clouded vision. If an issue is someone else’s fault, then I am absolved. It is much easier to blame our problems on others than to take personal responsibility. It seems that those watching for evil in others will find what they are looking for. My hope is that by opening our eyes to goodness it will also be found.

From time to time, my fine attunement tells me the watchers are present. Will they seek goodness or evil? Responsibility or absolution? My hope is that each of us will seek and find the unwatched space where peace begins - beginning with ourselves and then sharing it with others.

serendipity? synchronicity? spirituality?

So, this is kind of how my life goes. Following yesterday's post, this showed up in my inbox this morning. Hmmmm.

Today's thought from Hazelden is:

Saying No

For many of us, the most difficult word to say is one of the shortest and easiest in the vocabulary: No. Go ahead, say it aloud: No.

No - simple to pronounce, hard to say. We’re afraid people won’t like us, or we feel guilty. We may believe that a “good” employee, child, parent, spouse, or Christian never says no.

The problem is, if we don’t learn to say no, we stop liking ourselves and the people we always try to please. We may even punish others out of resentment.

When do we say no? When no is what we really mean.

When we learn to say no, we stop lying. People can trust us, and we can trust ourselves. All sorts of good things happen when we start saying what we mean.

If we’re scared to say no, we can buy some time. We can take a break, rehearse the word, and go back and say no. We don’t have to offer long explanations for our decisions.

When we can say no, we can say yes to the good. Our no’s and our yes’s begin to be taken seriously. We gain control of ourselves. And we learn a secret: “No” isn’t really that hard to say.

Today, I will say no if that is what I mean.

You are reading from the book:

The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie

Listening to the Two-year-old

Have you ever witnessed the power of a two-year-old, or do you remember being that age yourself? Can you recall having the audacity to say NO or MINE without apology? Are you able to call on that energy today (perhaps in a slightly more adult fashion)?

Recently the voice of a two-year-old introduced itself into my journaling. I was considering how and why in some situations it takes me a very long time to say, “No. I don’t wanna.” Saying no has been a very odd thing for me to consider since I really don’t view myself as a “yes-girl” especially in terms of always doing what others want without regard to my personal well-being or preference. Still, I have recently discovered through reading Transitions that there are certain places where I naturally revert to my childhood patterns of hanging on. (Patterns that most likely developed sometime AFTER the age of two).

A few days ago I was writing in my journal and this two-year-old showed up and said "NO" and "MINE" with great authority. I wasn’t totally clear on what she meant, but I decided to try and give her a little more voice through collage. She seemed to be pointing me in a direction of letting go of others' expectations and firmly taking hold of priorities that seem better suited to me at this point in my journey.

As I have explained before in regard to collage, it is usually helpful to place boundaries on this process in the way of time, space or number of images selected, magazines used, etc. This time I chose about an inch high stack of gathered images and sorted through it – holding in mind the image of a two-year-old girl.

This is the point where process shows it is often much more important than product. (I could learn as much from the images selected and not used in the collage as I can from the collage itself.) In my stack, there were no images of girls (or few anyway). Most of the photos that captured the essence of what I was feeling were boys. Yes, boys! I found it a bit irritating since my heart was set on this little girl, but I kept after it until I had about a dozen photos in front of me. Pondering them, the words 'Sacred No' entered my thoughts. The ‘Sacred No’ is most often associated with masculine energy and boundary setting. Was it any wonder then that the images popping into my hand were male as I pondered NO and personal boundaries? There was little question in my mind that in my current discernment I need to take the hand of the 'Sacred No' and welcome it in. It is not a bad thing to say no. In fact, it may be a great gift. Hmmmm.

I apparently transition slowly when it comes to letting go of things I hold dear and consider an integral part of my growth and development. Right now however, it feels like it’s time for me to do something that is MINE and approach it with the tenacity of a two-year-old. So, what do you think? Is there an inner two-year-old inside you begging to come out and scream No! or No more! Or Not yet! Or any other version of that? Where do you need to be empowered to follow your dreams - to say MINE? I seem to be finding my power through the voice of a little person who lives inside me. How about you?

"And Jesus said, Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

collage by lucy 8.08.09

still transitioning?

As I continue to sit in a very transitional place in my life - I wonder are we always in transition? William Bridges in his book, Transitions, says: "Every transition begins with an ending. We have to let go of the old thing before we can pick up the new one - not just outwardly, but inwardly." It feels like I am always letting go of something. Something ending. Something beginning. Some times it is joyful. Other times heartbreaking. Letting go of even the hard stuff is not easy. Welcoming in the good can be terrifying.


Mark Nepo offers a quote that has stayed with me for several days. I am offering it here so my transitional brain might hold onto these thoughts.

I have been broken and have failed so many times that my sense of identity has sprouted and peeled like an onion. But because of this, I have lived more than my share of lives and feel both young and old at once, with a sudden heart that cries just to meet the air. Now, on the other side of all I've suffered so far, everything, from the quick song of birds to the peace trapped inside a fresh brook's gurgle, is rare and uncertain. Now I want to stand naked before every wind; and though I'm still frightened I will break, I somehow know it's all a part - even the fright - of the rhythm of being alive.

Fire needs air to breathe.

Any thoughts from you on transition? Sprouting & peeling? Breath? Shadow & light?

the photo is a treasure from a dear friend in honor of my recent post on shadow & light. thank you!

the place in between

During this week leading up to Palm Sunday, I find myself surrounded by “the place in between.” Not dead, but not resurrected. Knowing, but encircled by mystery. Springtime – no longer winter, but the warmth of summer has not arrived. Hints of blossoming yet death still lies in my flowerbeds. Mourning a leaving and excited for new possibilities. Ending time with students – done, but not done. Living with a teenager – no longer a child and the adult has not yet emerged. Mid-life. Need I say more?

“I try to take on one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me all at once.” Jennifer Unlimited – Hazelden

and my daily dose of Merton:

“O tongue of flame
Under the heart
Speak softly:
For love is black
Says the season.

Midnight!
Kissed with flame!
See! See!
My love is darkness!”

Would love to hear your thoughts on the place in between!

gracious tenders of fire

Oh, I have a fire in my belly and sometimes it doesn’t burn so pure. It threatens to hop out of its grate and scorch those that get in the way. I am so grateful for the responses to judgment or observation and how it helped me to see for myself where and how I want people to join me in my “righteous” flame. My reader responses were so thoughtful that I wanted to respond here in post rather than have it buried in the comment section. (The following, in most instances, contains my paraphrasing rather than direct quotations.)

Difference a Year Makes spoke of bringing our own eyes and filters to each situation. What a great little reminder of something that I often preach, but sometimes forget to practice ☺. In this case, my filter comes from someone who grew up quite familiar with judgments in general and Christian fundamentalism in particular. I have also been a mother who wonders when she might get the call that something has happened to her “not model” child. So, I get a little sensitive when all of those things collide together as they did in the referred to recent e-mail.

Gabrielle reminded me that we have the power to choose what we do with our observations and judgments. I can choose to hold onto thoughts and let them fester or I can let it go and transform into something else. Tess and Sunrise Sister let me know that my interpretation could be subject to another point of view. (Ouch! That one hurt a little and I really wanted to fight it.)

While the wording in the e-mail did indicate that prayer for the deceased (or perhaps one who takes one’s own life) might not be appropriate, I was reminded by Sorrow that the author was indeed seeking comfort for the family and not attempting to exclude anyone. She was trying to be respectful of other’s faiths. Furthermore, Barbara and my husband reminded me, there are wonderful, faith-filled people who do not believe in praying for the dead. While I still get caught on that one, I can let it go as a difference of opinion and not something I am called to judge. It is here I realized I wanted others to join with me and say, “That Faith is wrong!” Gabriella M. reminded me that I can accept someone without liking what they do.

The gracious words of those who love and tolerate my fiery nature led me gently back to the place I long to be. It is a place where I am not attached to my thoughts and thus they do not turn into judgments and I am at peace with the world and myself. It is a place where I recognize myself as fallible, broken and wondrous and I can see others that way too.

This time the fire briefly threatened to be one that could consume. Instead, my friends came around like gentle tenders of the flame, nurturing with word, musing and metaphor to keep the fire a place of warmth and safety rather than danger and destruction. Peace to each of you, fire tenders.

For those of you who did not read the responses to this post, I highly recommend you visit there for beautiful words of wisdom and grace.

judgment or observation?

Recently I find myself wondering about the difference between judgment and observation. Can the two be separated? It is something that I find myself considering both in terms of how I behave and how I respond when someone comments on my personal behavior.

I have a friend who begins many statements with “I’m just making an observation. There is no judgment involved.” Most of the time I feel this to be quite true, however, occasionally it seems to cross over into the judgment category particularly when she declares “I just don’t understand why you do that” without following it up with curiosity as to what might be my motivation. Isn’t that where we often get ourselves into trouble and move toward being judgmental – when we don’t understand the motivations of another and do not bother to even be curious about them?

This morning I watched a woman give another person the finger while driving and I thought to myself, “How rude!” Judgment or observation? The gesture, I believe, was indeed rude. The woman? I have no idea what was her motivation, therefore, I could not judge her character. Perhaps that is the difference, when we make a character assessment rather than an observation about behavior.

I have found myself recently (& not so recently) quite disturbed as I have heard people bash George W. Bush not just for his policies but for his “thin lips, smug smile, big ears…whatever.” While I am not a fan of GWB, I still recognize him as a person and not an Other. Why do we feel the need to make people “less than”? Do we need to assassinate their humanity? Are we not all – uh – human?

One last incident which really bugged me today was when I received a very sad announcement that a sorority sister’s child had recently died of a drug overdose. It is heartbreaking and I wept tears for this child and family I have never even met. The letter gave a few details of the death and in it this young woman was compared to her two siblings who had “always been happy, model children and a joy to their parents.” It left me wondering, had the deceased daughter NOT been a “model” child and “joy” to her parents? Again, I wonder – observation or judgment?

The part of the e-mail, however, that really irked me was when we were asked to pray for the family and also the deceased “if our faith allows.” IF OUR FAITH ALLOWS?!?!? So, here I am going to make a judgment. What kind of “faith” would not allow a person to pray for a tortured young woman’s soul? Yikes! What else can be said? I will proudly stand up for my judgment that leaving anyone out of God’s grace is wrong! (And it takes an awful lot to push me to use the terms "right and wrong"!)

So, what do you think? Is there a difference between judgment and observation? Do you hide your judgments behind words of observation? Or can one be distinguished from the other? I’d love to know what you think and I promise not to judge your response even if my observation is different ☺.

Four Calling Birds

There is much bubbling and brewing going on here at “Diamonds”. It has been (and continues to be) a glorious Christmas season. The blanket of snow that covered our city the week leading up to Christmas Day proved to be a beautiful and wonderful gift to me. It allowed for much slowing down and a peacefulness to settle over my soul.

I say it ‘continues to be’ a glorious season, because even though the snow has melted, I am allowing the quiet to continue to envelop me as I luxuriate in the blessings of God with Us which has readings through January 6 or Epiphany. Not coming from a tradition that celebrates The Twelve Days of Christmas, this is a new experience for me to not sit down on December 26, collapse with exhaustion and say, “Phew! I am so glad Christmas is over!!!” I still feel in the thick of it, so to speak, and have truly relished the whole season while keeping it incredibly simple.

Today, this Fourth day of Christmas, my mind goes to the traditional song and I think of the four calling birds that were gifted on this day. (Is the song running through your head now?) During my quiet time today, I began to synthesize some of the bubblings of the last days, weeks and months in anticipation of what I see ahead in the New Year. The “calling birds” seem to be speaking somewhere along these lines:

1) Making my own way
2) Taking my professional expertise to the next level
3) Working on relationships
4) Sharing my voice (more) with the world.

As far as I can tell, “making my own way” means developing my own unique practices out of the gifts I have been gathering along the way. And in that regard, dear readers, I call upon you for input ☺. I would love to know what keeps you coming back here to read. What are the gifts that you receive or notice here? (I hope there are some ☺!!!) I, naturally, have a few ideas, but your help in my discernment would mean a great deal to me!

It is my strong sense that the topic of these calling birds will continue throughout the coming weeks. I hope you will join me in sharing the adventure. I sign off today with these two questions: What keeps you coming back to visit here? What are the “birds” that may be calling to you as we enter a new year?

Peace and blessings on this 4th day of Christmas!!!

p.s. You can visit the three french hens here.