Serenity does not run in my family. My brother has a t-shirt that says this: “I’m not yelling. I’m Greek. This is how we talk!” So from the womb, I became used to loud, animated talk, and quite a bit of yelling.
Becoming serene did not come naturally for me. It happened as a result of a serious illness in 2014 that has left me quiet. My family now often says that I am very quiet, a big change from the way I used to be.
This I know . . . End Stage Kidney Disease forced me to calm myself down, to become more peaceful, to open my personality up to a new serenity. It has been so good for my emotional, spiritual and physical health. How did I do it? I became alive in the present moment. I learned to pay little attention to the past, and I learned not to be anxious about the future. That change in perspective brought me serenity and peace. I like this quote about mindfulness:
Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in everything we do and see. Every breath we take, every step we take, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. The question is whether or not we are in touch with it. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.
( ThĂch Nhất Hạnh, Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life)
I am grateful for the things that have helped bring me peace – reading the Bible, prayer and meditation, being aware of the beauty of nature. I needed to get there.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:27 NIV)
I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. (From Romans 8 NLT)
Our lives are full of things that try to separate us from God’s love. Violence, terrorism, racial strife, volatile relationships, things that threaten our faith in God. Sometimes we begin to ask, “Where is God in all this?” And that can be a beginning of losing trust in the God who walks with us in spite of any circumstance, in spite of our questioning.
It’s okay to ask why when children suffer from the ravages of an illness, when villages are destroyed by violent terrorists, when families are attacked and children left orphaned. But we must answer our own questions: Nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God! Nothing! The comforting scripture bears repeating:
Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life,and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (John 1:1-5 NRSV)
When serious illness devastates a family, they find themselves in a dark place . . . for a time. When relationships end badly with violence or harsh words, victims are in darkness. When a person loses a loved one to death, there is nothing but darkness.
The Eiffel Tower stood in darkness last night, a testament to the horror of lost lives at the hands of terrorists. A nation stands in the darkness of grief. But it will not always be so. “In the beginning was The Word we know as the Christ. What came into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in darkness . . .”
So what is the treasure here? It is precisely this: a message to those who find themselves in the darkness. The light shines in darkness, and most importantly, “the darkness did not overcome it.”
So for those who find themselves in darkness on this day, for whatever reason, the darkness will not overcome you. Christ, who is with you and in you, is the light that never extinguishes.
Though terrorism has once again darkened our world, the bridges connecting the cities of Little Rock and North Little Rock are illuminated in the French flag colors of blue, white and red in honor of the victims of the Paris terror attacks. The lights are simply a gesture. Yet the gesture is symbolic of solidarity with and concern for our brothers and sisters of France. Hearts around the world are broken for the people of France, and that is as it should be. Our loving concern does not change the horror that happened in Paris, but it does help create a world of more love and compassion.
The Paris area reeled Friday night from a shooting rampage, explosions and mass hostage-taking that President François Hollande called an unprecedented terrorist attack on France. French news services quoted the police as saying that around 100 people had been killed at a concert site where hostages had been held during a two-hour standoff with the police, and that perhaps dozens of others had been killed in coordinated attacks outside the country’s main sports stadium and four other popular locations in the city.
President Obama came to the White House briefing room to express solidarity and offer aid and condolences. “Once again, we’ve seen an outrageous attempt to terrorize innocent civilians,” he said. “This is an attack not just on Paris, it’s an attack not just on the people of France, but this is an attack on all of humanity and the universal values that we share.”
What happened in Paris is yet another tragedy in a world full of tragedies. Our response is to pray for the people of France, to seek God’s peace for them and for others around the world that are experiencing the horrors of war and terrorism, and to hold one another in the light of hope. Only that will dispel the darkness of terrorism.
I woke up this morning with the best of intentions: to do 15 minutes of my daily 30 minute exercise regimen. But what to do? Walking can bore me. Cycling is even worse, and I don’t have a stationary bicycle anyway. No pool for water aerobics. Definitely no jogging. The prescription is low impact exercise.
A brilliant idea hits me! I’ll dance, Greek dancing in particular. No other eyes are awake to laugh at me, and if I keep the volume down, Fred won’t hear the music. So I go to my iPad to search for Greek dance music. There is no shortage, so I quickly settle on three songs that will take a little over 15 minutes. Three different dances made my repertoire interesting.
The outcome is that I danced until my hip told me to stop, and I had a blast. Greek dancing will now be at least half of my daily exercise routine. I think I’m on to something. Getting tired and a bit winded can’t be more fun!
And while I exercise, I’ll celebrate my heritage and its music. I’ll celebrate my life. I’ll celebrate being alive another day and having the ability to dance. I’ll celebrate my body’s movement to the music of my ancestors.
Miriam the prophetess, Aaron’s sister, took the timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dancing. (Exodus 15:20)
In just a few hours, my path takes me toward the unknown. Today is the day I have been anxious about for weeks. I will be evaluated today to determine if I am a good candidate for a kidney transplant. My doctor insists that I will have a longer life, and a better quality of life, with a transplant as opposed to daily dialysis.
I am comfortable with dialysis now. After more than a year, I have accepted dialysis as my lifeline, and change is frightening. Surgery is frightening. Being weak again during recovery is frightening. But today a friend called my attention to these words:
I intend to hang on to that wise thought. I intend to summon my tucked away courage and move forward one step at a time. I intend to meet with my medical team today and to trust God for whatever comes of it. I intend to be brave enough to travel the unknown path before me.
I am grateful to have a God who holds my future in loving hands. And though I cannot see the path ahead, I have a traveling companion I trust completely. Thanks be to God.
Vietnam Veterans Memorial at Sunrise (Photo by Angela B. Pan)
GOD OF OUR FATHERS, whose Almighty hand hath made and preserved our Nation, grant that our people may understand what it is they celebrate today.
May they remember how bitterly our freedom was won, the down payment that was made for it, the installments that have been made since this Republic was born, and the price that must yet be paid for our liberty.
May freedom be seen, not as the right to do as we please, but as the opportunity to please to do what is right.
May it ever be understood that our liberty is under God and can be found nowhere else.
May our faith be something that is not merely stamped upon our coins, but expressed in our lives.
Let us, as a nation, not be afraid of standing alone for the rights of men, since we were born that way, as the only nation on earth that came into being “for the glory of God and the advancement of the Christian faith.”
We know that we shall be true to the Pilgrim dream when we are true to the God they worshiped.
To the extent that America honors Thee, wilt Thou bless America, and keep her true as Thou has kept her free, and make her good as Thou has made her rich. Amen.
Prayed July 3, 1947, at the opening of the daily session of the Senate of the United States by Rev. Peter Marshall, D.D., Chaplain of the Senate.
Sunset over the Arkansas River at Cadron Settlement Park (photo by Jerry Boyer)
I had a lovely time last night corresponding with a good friend about the past. We enjoyed some memories we have not thought about for a long time. And we lamented a bit about things that are no more. We realized that there are some good times we cannot go back to. It was, at times, a poignant conversation, poignant enough that I questioned myself, just for a moment or two, on our move to Georgia.
Heraclitus of Ephesus said that a person “can never step into the same river; for new waters are always flowing on to you.” The river is ever-changing, the waters constantly flowing. And we are constantly changing as well. So the past is but memories that can not be precisely recreated. The present is for making new memories and doing new things with the wonderful life we have.
Isaiah 43:18-19 makes sense of it all:
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.
The past is in the past. Take its fond memories with you into this present day, but live today! This day is all we have. Do a new thing. God will make a way.
Sunset on the Clark Fork, Mike Williams Photography
I see sunrises almost every morning. Their beauty takes me to all kinds of places for inspiration, awe and sheer beauty. But enjoying a sunset is rare for me. It seems I am always busy cooking dinner, and the sun slips down without a sound to alert me.
It’s a shame to miss the stunning event. So I plan to figure out a way to be present when the sun sets. There’s just something about a sunset that touches the spirit, and I am on a quest to enjoy at least one spirit-touching happening each day. Until I meet up with a sunset, I will contemplate the words of Olivia Howard Dunbar written in “The Shell of Sense.”
The pale stars were sliding into their places. The whispering of the leaves was almost hushed. All about them it was still and shadowy and sweet. It was that wonderful moment when, for lack of a visible horizon, the not yet darkened world seems infinitely greater—a moment when anything can happen, anything be believed in.   ― Olivia Howard Dunbar, The Shell of Sense
It may well be true that a sunset is a “wonderful moment when anything can happen, anything be believed in.”
Today ends my glorious mountain vacation. I’m a bit melancholy about that, of course. And I know that I am going home to an appointment that makes me feel anxious.
Thursday, I have an appointment with the team at Piedmont Medical Center who will begin the process of evaluating me for a possible kidney transplant. The idea of having a transplant is a big life change, and change is difficult for me. For over a year, I have been doing dialysis. It has become a predictable part of my life now. It is therapeutic, and it makes me feel healthy, healthier than I really am.
So I will go on Thursday, taking my anxiety with me, and I will meet up with a potentially significant life change. As I do, I will be hanging on to the scripture in Philippians. And although I may be feeling anxiety, I know that the peace of God will guard my heart.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Have you ever felt so deep-down tired that you just wanted to sleep? It happened for me yesterday. Ironically enough, most of the family felt the same way. And so we lounged around a lot and most of us fell asleep now and again.
It’s a phenomenon that happens on your vacation as soon as you are able to put your daily responsibilities aside. Then your body finally lets itself do what it most needs to do . . . rest and re-create itself.
In the midst of our jobs or other daily responsibilities, sometimes we scarcely notice the level of fatigue we’re carrying. When we finally take that much-needed vacation, we feel the burnout and the work stress.
As I write this blog, I am again feeling the fatigue take over. But I am also reminded of one of the most beloved scripture passages:
They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31)
Today I cherish whatever level of strength God gives me. I may not fly with the eagles. I may not be running a foot race. But I know that God will keep me on my feet. I know that God will renew my strength. And sometimes just walking without fainting is enough.
It is a good thing to be able to leave the world behind, to relax with loved ones, and to just have a little fun. We have done that for the past two nights, sitting around an outdoor fireplace, telling stories of fond and funny memories, singing along with dozens of old Motown hits.
Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, Smokey Robinson, and dozens of artists helped us get our life back into rhythm as we robustly sang along . . . and even broke into a dance or two as the night progressed. We lived for just a few moments with reckless abandon.
Along with my cousins and sister-in-law, we forgot about our work, our responsibilities, our illnesses, our aches and pains. We remembered only our good memories from the past, and we told one another about the past life experiences that brought us to this day.
It was fun. It was relaxing. It was cleansing. It was therapeutic. It was a good thing for us to do. As we serenaded the bears, the coyotes, and the tenants in the next cabin, we became real to one another. It must be the beauty of the mountains, the crackling of the fire, and the freedom of the brilliantly colored  trees that encouraged us to hilarity.
On the next day we took in some local shops, and we found the perfect t-shirt. It said “Who let the girls out?” It was yet one more reminder that we do need to let ourselves out of the daily grind often. It’s emotionally, spiritually and physically good for us. Cheers to the North Georgia mountains!
Sitting in a lovely cabin nestled in the North Georgia mountains near Blue Ridge reminds me of one of my favorite bible passages: “I will lift up my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.”
I look out across the mountain and see higher ones in the distance, snuggled in the mist of morning, colors performing a rainbow of brilliance, soft rain falling from the sky, and the occasional music of birdsong. The light wind whistles through the trees creating a flurry of falling leaves. The breeze is brisk enough to blow raindrops on my face and on my iPad, so I head back into the cozy cabin.
The setting is breathtaking. The company is my closest family. And all is well. I am grateful for it all. Mostly I am grateful that God is near me and is forever my help.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.
The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.
The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. (Psalm 121 KJV)
Kim Chernin says: It moves forward fitfully, through moments of clear seeing, dramatic episodes of feeling, subtle intuitions, vague contemplative states. Dreams arrive, bringing guidance we frequently cannot accept. Years pass, during which we know that we are involved in something that cannot be easily named. We wake to a sense of confusion, know that we are in dangerous conflict, cannot define the nature of what troubles us. All change is like this. It circles around, snakes back on itself, finds detours, leads us on a merry chase, starts us out it seems all over again from where we were in the first place. And then suddenly, when we least expect it, something opens a door, discovers a threshold, shoves us across.
(Kim Chernin, Source: Reinventing Eve)
We always hope that when the door opens, we will be shoved across a pleasant threshold, that all will be well for us, that the journey has led us to a peaceful place. That’s what God is for, to fill us with good hope and to lead us to pleasant places. I don’t know about you, but I am so glad that God is in charge of my life journey. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
No journeys really are not predictable. And sometimes we can’t see where we’re going. But we follow a God who does know where we’re going.
“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
What we all long for is a future and a hope. We strive on our own strength to build a future, sometimes succeeding in getting ourselves to where we want to go, and sometimes hitting a roadblock. It almost never occurs to us to simply rest on the promise we find in the book of Jeremiah.
But it’s comforting to know that God’s thoughts of us are thoughts of peace and that God’s intention is to give us a future and a hope. I want to learn to rest on that, to place my faith in that, and to stop struggling to build my own future.
I will be spending a few days with my family this week in the mountains of north Georgia. I plan to spend some quiet time there thinking about my future and the hope that I so need. I know that God will meet me there. Thanks be to the God of promises fulfilled.
Art by Jennifer LommersI love this poem by Terry Tempest Williams that speaks of healing the world through joy.
Once upon a time,
When women were birds,
There was the simple understanding
That to sing at dawn
And to sing at dusk
Was to heal the world through joy.
The birds still remember what we have forgotten,
That the world is meant to be celebrated.
Through the years, women have celebrated, sometimes through their tears. Many women have learned to face adversity with song. We still hear their melodic voices.
Born Eleanora Fagan in 1915, Billie Holiday spent much of her young life in Baltimore, Maryland. Living in extreme poverty, Holiday dropped out of school in the fifth grade and found a job running errands in a brothel. When she was twelve, Holiday moved with her mother to Harlem, where she was eventually arrested for prostitution. Considered by many to be the greatest jazz vocalist of all time, Billie Holiday lived a tempestuous life. Her singing expressed an incredible depth of emotion that spoke of hard times and injustice as well as triumph. Though her career was relatively short and often erratic, she left behind a body of work as great as any vocalist before or since.
Miriam, the sister of Moses, became the leader of the Hebrew women when they escaped from Egypt. On one occasion she and the women sang the Song of Miriam; it is one of the few songs that survive from the ancient world. She led the song of victory after the Red Sea parted, and God gave abundant water to the people, in the form of a spring,
Country singer, Kellie Pickler’s mother left when Kellie was two years old, then returned and took custody of her for two years. After this, the court returned Kellie to her grandparents when she was 12 and they raised her to adulthood because her father was in and out of jail. But in March 1995, with Kellie’s father in prison for armed robbery, her mother was granted custody. She was in the fourth grade. “She got custody of me for two years,” Pickler said in a February 2006 interview. “During that time, she was physically and mentally abusive of me.” In a 1997 court filing, Pickler’s grandparents said that her mother had moved to Union County with the girl and treated the child harshly. The court restored custody to the grandparents. Her mother vanished again, and Pickler has not heard from her since.
When Pickler’s debut album, Small Town Girl, was released in October 2006, it contained “I Wonder,” a song she co-wrote with Chris Lindsey, Aimee Mayo and Karyn Rochelle. The heart-wrenching tune, which addresses the singer’s feelings about her non-existent relationship with her mother, was released as the second single from Small Town Girl. These are the poignant lyrics:
Sometimes I think about you,
Wonder if you’re out there somewhere thinking bout me;
And would you even recognize the woman that your little girl has grown up to be;
Cause I look in the mirror and all I see are your brown eyes looking back at me;
They’re the only thing you ever gave to me at all.
Oh, I hear the weather’s nice in California;
There’s sunny skies as far I can see.
If you ever come back home to Carolina,
I wonder what you’d say to me.
I think about how it ain’t fair that you weren’t there to braid my hair
Like mothers do
You weren’t around to cheer me on,
Help me dress for my high school prom Like mothers do
Did you think I didn’t need you here?
To hold my hand?
To dry my tears?
Did you even miss me through the years at all?
Forgiveness is such a simple word,
But it’s so hard to do when you’ve been hurt.
Oh, I hear the weather’s nice in California;
And just in case you’re wondering about me;
From now on I won’t be in Carolina;
Your little girl is off,
Your little girl is off,
Your little girl is off to Tennessee.
Many women have known adversity. They have also learned to sing in the midst of it.
Joshua S. Carlson Photography captures this fall shot in the Arkansas Ozarks.
In order to draw near to God, we must still our souls and extract ourselves from all the busyness of life. A few minutes of stilling our souls each day will do wonders for our spiritual and emotional life. This beloved hymn always strengthens me when I feel far from God.
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
With an act of the will, I often have to tell my soul to be still. It does not come naturally for a person who is compelled to be busy with art, writing, cooking, and all manner of life activity. All that busyness makes for the spiritual problem of not spending still time alone with God.
God admonishes us to “be still and know that I am God.” So the stillness is critically important. The words of the hymn shows us many promises that can help us still our souls:
“Leave to thy God to order and provide.”
“In every change, He faithful will remain.”
“Thy God doth undertake to guide the future as He has the past.”
“Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake.”
“The waves and winds still know His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.”
“When change and tears are past, all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.”
My soul can be still when I truly rest on these promises. And when my soul is still, I can draw ever near to God.
I just call it my tree. We have a daily appointment in which I take photos of my tree to watch it change seasons. I have learned that a watched autumn never changes, at least not quickly. It is a process of patient waiting and wondering what color the leaves will become. There are some signs, but no change yet. I will share a few pictures of my tree, and then I’ll keep you posted as it changes.
Oh, and by the way, my tree has given me many hours of re-creation in its shade.
On a trip in the Great Smoky Mountains when our son was about three years old, he became troubled as we drove the winding mountain roads. Finally, he cried, “I don’t know where my home is!” He was a very sad and concerned little fellow.
It is quite disconcerting to not know where we are. I experience that every day now that we have moved to Georgia. I am blessed with a very travel worthy driver, but as for me, I haven’t known where I am since we’ve been here.
Emotionally and spiritually, it is even more troubling to wonder where you are, to recall all the places you could have been, to long for the places you wished to be. I am comforted by these words written by Margaret Silf:
God comes to us not where we should have been if we had made all the right choices in life; not where we could have been if we had taken every opportunity that God has offered us; not where we wish we were if we didn’t have to be in the place where we find ourselves; not where we think we are because our minds are out of sync with our hearts; not where other people think we are or think we ought to be when they are attending to their own agendas. God meets us where we really are.
Margaret Silf
Source: Inner Compass Add Your Thoughts
I am very glad that, in spite of the many places IÂ wandered in life or hoped to be, God meets me where I really am.
God of the Sparrow 🌱 By Kathy Manis Findley 