Morning Watch

"O Lord, in the morning, You hear my voice;
in the morning I direct my prayer to You,
and watch."

Psalm 5:3 (translation from the notes) ESV

Resilient-in-Training

Resilience. What is it? I have been called brave at different points in my life. I never felt brave. I felt tired or weary or overwhelmed, but not brave. Yet, the comment would come again, from another source. "You are so brave."

A morning glory vine poked up and spread its leaves and tendrils on the edge of my walkway to the garden. It was in a bad spot - on the ground, underfoot, no place to climb, but I left it because I loved its perky purple-blue blossoms each morning which glow from within. And, I knew it would be short lived, coming up a few weeks before frost arrived.

The frost came last week. Two nights of twenty-seven and twenty-eight degrees. I moved some of the flower pots in to the garage for protection, and resigned myself to losing the sensitive plants. Sure enough, many of the plants, including the morning glory, were a shriveled, black mushy mess.

I didn't pull up the morning glory vine, mostly because I am really bad about weeding. That is one of my big-time procrastination issues. The days warmed up again, with nights back in the forties. Within two days tiny green shoots came up, and in another day the stems were a foot long. With a new bloom each morning.


 This, to me, is a picture of resilience. Courage. Bravery in adverse circumstances. The quote is perhaps a bit trite, but, it is true. "Bloom where you are planted." Even if frost threatens or the situation is less than ideal for your growth. Grow and bloom.

frost damage, new growth

I am reading my way through The Gifts of Imperfection, by Brene Brown. She writes and studies shame resilience and vulnerability. Not an easy, fun book to read. But good. It is a needed message in our culture of stress.

She describes resilience as "the ability to overcome adversity...the ability to bounce back." How do we cultivate a resilient spirit? Well, I can't explain it - yet. Working on that. I love watching the morning glory each day, looking out the window to see if it is blooming. If the sun isn't up yet, there is no blossom. It waits until the sun shines on it, then unfurls its colors. One bloom, not much, but for me, it is a smile, a gift. A reminder to be resilient, and maybe even brave.

Morning glories have another unique characteristic. They bloom in the morning, wilt by afternoon (hmmm, me too), and each bloom lasts only one day. They display their glory, one day only, in the morning sunlight. Each day, I want to build the ability to bounce back, to move forward, to cultivate a resilient spirit. Resilient-in-training.

Change the World

We don't think about it. As we slide our feet over the edge of the bed, touch the floor and lean our weight on them to stand up, we don't think about changing the world. Maybe not even thinking at that point. I'm not. By the time we pick up the day's clothes and walk toward the bathroom, thoughts begin to surface. The day begins: all that has to be done, should be done, or we want to do, clamoring for our attention. But, is Change the World on our list? Probably not.

Lee Silber, the author of a book that changed the way I function in my little world, Time Management for the Creative Person, writes a newsletter. Last month, he tossed out an invitation to write and submit a short story. I like to write short-short stories at 500 words. He asked the short stories to be 200 words. A challenge. How to convey the idea that if we get ourselves out of bed and do the work that is that day's gift, we will have an impact? How to convey the idea that even the smallest effort, the smallest steps do create an impact, your imprint on the world? I am grateful he included my story in his newsletter this month.

When you feel like you are just a drop in a bucket, remember, even small drops create ripples that can  change the world.

www.leesilber.com

I can't figure out how to link to the email which is his newsletter. So, here is my story.

CHANGE THE WORLD

“Jimmy, get up now, you are late.”

“So what?”

“So, the team is counting on you to make that perfect play. So, in two weeks when the sport scouts are at the finals, you won’t be chosen.”

Jim sat up, yawned and scratched his head. “What?”

“Because you aren’t in position, the other team will break through the line and your team won’t score.”

“Mom, you are making this up.” He swung his feet over the bed and dug through the mess on the floor for his shirt.

Mom set the clean, folded laundry she carried on his dresser. “Your shirt is here. What you do affects everyone around you, one way or another.”

“Isn’t that a bit far-fetched? You are exaggerating. Just because I run a bit late this morning, the world is not going to change. You could never prove what might have happened.”

“No, but be sure irresponsibility has negative effects.”

Jimmy shrugged, “Like ripples in a pond.” He grabbed his shirt and walked to the bathroom.

“Hey Jim.”

“What now?”

“We just had a serious conversation and it is five minutes before seven. It’s going to be a good day.”

He Knows It All

"He knows it all - the winding path,
The sky o'ercast and gray.
The steepness of the mountanside,
The roughness of the way.


He knows it all - the haunting fear,
The doubtings that distress,
The wond'rings and perplexities,
And all the strain and stress.


He knows it all - each troubled thought,
Each anxious wave of care,
And every burden, every grief,
Or cross that thou dost bear.


He knows it all - thy weight of woe,
Thine often tear-dimmed eye,
The stabbing pain, the slow, dull ache,
And sorrow's broken cry.


He knows it all - you are His child,
Thy wounds He takes by choice.
He gave Himself to bring you home,
So trust Him, and rejoice!"

                                                                               -E. Margaret Clarkson

quoted on www.elisabethelliot.org, September 3, 2013

Choose to Trust

Do you have ten minutes and twenty-seven seconds to watch this? Well worth the time.

Scott Hamilton, an olympic and world champion ice skater shares his heart, his health struggles, his trust in the Lord, his laugh, his tears.

"...I choose to look at the brain tumor as the greatest gift...because it made everything else possible..."

Eagles' Wings

"...how I bore you up on eagles' wings and brought you to myself."

Exodus 19:4

drawing by our daughter, littlebitzoart, white pencil on black canvas

Random Rambles, Part Two

I planted zinnias from seed last spring in the basement. The seeds were saved from our son's yard, collected in the fall. Finally, they are blooming like crazy in pots and in the garden. Bright colors, scattered around the yard, or cut and stuck in a jar in the kitchen, they make a long-lasting arrangement (I stick the flowers in a jar - calling them an arrangement is a very loose term). I remember reading somewhere that zinnias were a favorite for the pioneer women. They would carry the seeds with them, grow the flowers outside their door, nurturing them for their cheerful colors and memories of home, creating a new home where they were.

We are having a blast reading aloud two books I found at the library. The End of the Beginning, and A Beginning, a Muddle, and an End, by Avi. He plays with words, creatively twisting them while he weaves a story about two unlikely characters, "a small snail and an even smaller ant." I love to hear our son giggle when he gets the plays on words. We laugh together, enjoying the light-hearted story.

The ant, Edward, teaches Avon, the snail, a song to sing while they are on their adventure.

 " "One of the better things about it," Edward pointed out, "is the fact that it can be sung from either end. I sing it from the beginning, and my father sings it from the end."
     "Can it be sung from the middle?"
     "Absolutely," said Edward. "That's how my mother always does it. As you can see, we are a family of individuals."
     "Ah, but at least you're all singing the same song," said Avon."
from The End of the Beginning

And, from the end of A Beginning, a Muddle, and an End,
"Avon found a new piece of paper and was about to start writing again when he sighed and said, "I have to admit my thoughts are still in a muddle."
     "Avon!" cried Edward. "That's exactly where a writer should be. After all, creatures generally have nothing to do with their beginnings. And it's not often they consider their ends. But in between there's all that muddle. The writer's job is to write about the muddle."
     "Are you saying," said Avon, "that since I'm always in a muddle..."
     "It proves you are a writer.""

Orange Glazed Carrots
adapted from Fix It and Forget It Lightly, by Phyllis Pelman Good

32 oz. pkg baby carrots (or thickly sliced)
1/4 c brown sugar
1/2 c orange juice
1 tbsp butter
3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
2 tbsp cornstarch
1/4 cup water

Combine all ingredients except cornstarch and water in slow cooker.
Cook on low 4 - 6 hours, or until carrots are done to your liking. For my slow-cooker, I have to turn it to high for a couple of the hours.
In small bowl, stir together cornstarch and water until smooth. Add to carrots, cook a few minutes until sauce thickens.





Here's to our in-the-muddle days!