Be Still

I am a natural born fidgeter.  I can’t help it.  I just can’t be still.  When standing up, I find myself mindlessly swaying from side to side.  When sitting down, I am tapping my foot or swinging my legs back and forth.  I can’t even sit still at the dinner table.  Even when I am out for meals with friends, I continue to slide the water glasses and salad plates around the table.  I twist plastic straws into impossible knots.  I spin the butter knives around in fast circles and build towers with the condiment bottles.  One night, as a friend and I were waiting for our food at PF Chang’s, I spun my chopsticks nimbly around my fingers before beating the wooden utensils against the table as if I was the drummer in a rock and roll band.  I only stopped my performance when our server offered me a wrapped set of chopsticks while saying, “You were having so much fun with those chopsticks I thought you would like to take some home with you.”

I have an extremely hard time relaxing my mind as well.  Anxiety, stress, and depression have been constant companions for years.  I wake up in the middle of the night with my mind spinning from events of the day.  I can’t even fall asleep most nights because my constant mind chatter refuses to quiet down.

My endless need to fidget is the main reason I started learning yoga poses and Tai Chi movements.  I couldn’t sit still in meditation, which was something I have wanted to do for years.  I yearned to meditate just so I could experience a sense of calmness, of peacefulness, that I always heard was a benefit of the practice.  I wanted to feel a connection to the universe that I believed meditation could provide.  I wanted to let my mind roam free.  I could feel moments of peace when I was in the mountains or by the ocean.  But I don’t always have the opportunity to be out in nature, so I truly wanted to train myself to sit in stillness and experience peace no matter where I might be.

About two weeks ago, I finally decided that if I truly wanted to practice meditation, I would just have to force myself into silence.  I had read several books on meditation, but reading doesn’t help if there’s no follow through.  I didn’t want to play at this anymore.  It was time to get serious or let it go.  I had developed more spiritually and I was slowly developing a new perspective on life over the last few years.  For some reason, I felt that this was my time.  I was ready to trust in the universe.

So, on June 25, I turned off my computer, put away my books, and set my timer.  I told myself to just remain as still as I possibly could for just ten minutes, which really isn’t a long time.  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and began counting backwards from 100.  I was surprised how easily I suddenly felt my spirit slip away from my body and from all of the things of this world that had been holding me down.  I didn’t dwell on any thoughts that drifted through my mind.  I just let all emotions and thoughts pass right through me.  And I felt my spirit lifting, rising higher as my body surprisingly began to vibrate with energy.  I was surprised when I finally opened my eyes to find that I had drifted away from this world for over eight minutes!  Because this first session was such a positive experience, I decided to try again the next night.  Once more, I emerged from my meditation with the same sense of peace and bliss that I had experienced that first night.

I don’t want to  fall out of practice, so every night, at around 9 pm, I set my alarm for 10 minutes and let my spirit slip away.  The meditation becomes easier each time I practice.  To my surprise, I am able to block out all the mental chatter and clear my mind as I force my body to relax and sit still.

My biggest challenge to this new ritual, however, occurred on Independence Day, July 4^th.  Once more, I set my timer for 10 minutes, took a deep breath…and suddenly popped my eyes back open when a loud firework exploded outside my window.  The noise caused our three dogs to bark and whine hysterically.  I opened my eyes to find that our little Shih Tzu, Starburst, had wandered into my room and was now jumping up on my legs as she whimpered pitifully.  I got up from my chair, shut my bedroom door, and then picked up the dog and placed her on my lap.  I reset my timer and took another deep breath, counting backwards on the exhale.

100….99…98…97…96…

Suddenly, another loud pop and crackle came from somewhere in the neighborhood.  The two dogs in the living room where jumping between the couches as they growled and barked.  Starburst shuddered and jerked as she dug her claws deeper into my right leg.  Oh, my gosh, this was just crazy.  I was trying to leave this world behind and float away into the universe while fireworks sizzled and popped outside, and three dogs whined, barked, and howled inside the house.

And there I was…in the middle of all of this chaos…laughing!

Instead of letting myself get annoyed and upset by all of the noise like I normally would, I couldn’t stop laughing over the situation.  And suddenly the feeling of peace and bliss that I had been experiencing the last few nights started to vibrate through my body.  And instead of getting distracted, I had the best meditation that night because I didn’t let myself get aggravated.  I just enjoyed the craziness of the moment and kept myself calm in the midst of all the commotion.

And suddenly, that’s when I understood the true importance of meditation!  I realized that I needed to keep meditating because it was teaching me that I didn’t have to give in to panic and stress.  I didn’t have to allow myself to become anxious or afraid or frustrated anymore.  I could remain calm even when everything around me was spinning in turmoil.  I can hold on to my inner strength, my inner focus.  After six minutes of meditation on July 4^th, I opened my eyes and cuddled Starburst closer to me and kissed her on the head.  I felt love and gratefulness for everything I had and wanted to keep the feeling of happiness and peace going in my life.  I’ve continued to meditate every night and can already see a change after just two weeks.  I am learning to live in peace now without stress, anxiety, or depression.  Life will always be chaotic, difficult, and messy at times; that’s just what life is.  But meditation will always help me find my inner strength, my inner guidance, and will lead me back to God and his plan for my life.  God wants me to live in peace.  He wants me to be happy.  And I have discovered a way to honor God’s plan for me.

Be still and know that I am God.

Dear God, I am learning to be still….

 

Thunderstorms and Fridays

Today, I was wide awake and feeling happy and peaceful as I drove to work.  It didn’t matter that it was 3:00 am.  I could feel my heart beating rhythmically and energy was buzzing through my body making me feel very alive and aware.  Though I always enjoy driving in the early morning darkness, I’m normally not this awake and alert. But today…today was very different.

I drove down Highway 435 with a smile on my face as I sang along to the songs that were streaming out of my stereo.  About twenty minutes later, I turned into the lot and parked the car.  I didn’t get out of my car immediately.  I sat in silence for a few minutes as I contemplated the day ahead of me.  Suddenly, I heard a beating and pounding cadence against my car.  Rain!  I sighed excitedly.  I love rain, especially when it is accompanied by thunder and lightning.  Now, I was happy to just sit still and listen to the rain beating against the roof and windshield of the car as a thunderstorm began to brew all around me.  I have never been afraid of thunderstorms.  I love hearing the thunder clattering around me.  The sizzle of lightning crackling across the sky always electrifies me.  Thunderstorms always make me feel that there is something more, that there is something bigger than what we are in this world.  I like to be reminded that there is a powerful universe all around us that supercharges our very beings and creates our destinies.  Thunderstorms also remind us that we are stronger and more powerful than we have ever imagined.  It’s empowering to know that we can weather the storms.

This morning, while I sat in quiet contemplation listening to the rain, I remember something that my mother had told me when I was about five-years-old.  When I was a child, my mother told me that whenever a storm occurred on Good Friday, it was God crying out and raging over the death of his son, Jesus Christ, who had been crucified on that day.  And it seems, ever since my mother told me this, there has been a storm on every Good Friday I have spent in my hometown of Kansas City, Kansas.  I used to love lying on the floor of our family home, staring out the large picture window in the front room as a powerful storm brewed outside on Good Friday.   I love feeling, with every slap of thunder and crack of lightning, that God is all around me.  I love to think that I can witness the complex emotions of an almighty God in every thunderstorm on a Good Friday.    I am fascinated that God can be so hurt and so angry over a moment that held such great meaning for him.  If God could rage over the memory of his son’s death, I surmise, then how incredibly great his passion must be.  I love knowing a God that is emotional and impassioned.  I love knowing a God that can care so deeply about his people that he can display all levels of emotion.

So ever since my childhood, I anxiously look forward to thunderstorms on Good Friday.  And so, today, Good Friday, April 14, 2017, I was sitting in my car in the middle of a thunderous downpour.  As the storm raged all around me, I said several words of gratitude to God and Jesus Christ for their many sacrifices to save their people.

Finally, my prayer completed, I opened my car door.  It was going to be a long run to the building because I had to park at the back of the lot.  I took a deep breath and got out of the car.  I took my first  few steps forward and suddenly  I felt overwhelmed.  The rain bouncing onto the earth released an amazing aroma that made my heart swell.  For me, the smell of rain on earth is completely intoxicating.

I didn’t want to run now.  I wanted to walk slowly in the rain and breathe in the earth.  I wanted to glory in the feel of the rain against my skin and enjoy the wonders of the universe and the dramatic emotions of a passionate God.

Finally, I walked into building and was relieved to realize that I could still hear the rain against the roof as I went about my work.  I worked hard throughout the day, but I did stop every few minutes to listen to the rain and pray as I tried to stay in a state of grace during a workday that can be usually be frustrating.  To keep myself in a sacred space, every now and then, I would wonder over to the back doors and stare outside to watch the rain fall over the ground.  On this holy day, the day of Christ’s crucifixion, the thunder, lightning, and rain kept me in a pure state of being.  Eventually, I got caught up in my work and had to stop wandering off.  But I still remained at peace

Finally, my workday ended.  I walked outside…and immediately smiled.  The afternoon was flooded with bright glorious sunshine.  Brilliant golden rays sparked out between the clouds and warmed my skin.  The rays shined down on me as if I had been kissed by angels.  And I knew that God loved the world so immensely he had given his only son, Jesus Christ, to die for our sins.  And now, the glorious sunshine let me know that he had forgiven his people.  God above all knows unconditional love.  No matter what we do he will never forsake us.  The occasion reminded me of God’s great passion and love for his people.  God rages and then forgives…and always, above all, he forever loves.  This is what the entire season of Easter is all about.   Sacrifice, rain, fear, storms, guilt, lightning, sunshine, love, warmth, peace…forgiveness.  God’s emotions are on display.  He is one of us—dramatic and emotional and passionate.  But so far above us with his kindness, forgiveness, and compassion.  And above all, God’s storms continually demonstrate his immense love for his people even though we are far from perfect.  We are forever in his grace.

This is why I love thunderstorms…especially on Good Friday.

 

 

All Lives Matter…Even Furry Ones!

Last Friday, I decided to read through a few recent articles before I started to work on my writing assignments.  Unfortunately, once more nothing but bad news appeared on my computer screen.  I read about cop-involved shootings, protests, natural disasters, and other sad events.  After a while, I finally pushed myself away from the computer with a sigh.  I stood up, stretched, and walked into the bathroom as I thought about…

“OH, DOGS!”  I cried out as I saw the mess that was left on the cool, tiled floor.  We have a huge, fenced-in, lush backyard and puppy training pads laid out in the front room, and yet the dogs still choose to make their messes right in front of the bathtub.  With a groan, I quickly cleaned up the bathroom and then thoroughly scrubbed my hands.

After drying off and hanging the towel back on the rack, I left the bathroom and walked into the living room where two of our three dogs, Friskie and Cowboy, were comfortably snuggled down into the big, soft, cushiony pillows that make up the back of the sofa.  They like to climb up on top of the couch and then plunge their little bodies down into the pillows as if they are falling into quicksand.  Only their sweet, round, dark eyes and cold, wet noses are visible.  The third dog, Starburst, was cuddled up in a little, round, furry ball on the big, brown puppy pillow by the television.

“Alright, dogs,” I call out to them as I clapped my hands together to get their interest.  Starburst lazily raised up her head and scootched her furry, white and brown body forward.  Friskie and Cowboy slowly and clumsily pulled their bodies up from the cushions like lazy, little swamp monsters.  Once I had their full attention, I pointedly asked, “Who made the mess in the bathroom?”

Of course, none of the dogs would confess, even though Starburst and Cowboy looked directly at Friskie, who had lowered her head back down into the pillows.  Otherwise, Friskie refused to admit any wrongdoing.  “Alright, fine,” I answered, surprising myself by how much I sounded like my own mother.  “None of you did it.  The mess just made itself.  No, no, don’t get up.  I got it all cleaned up.  Just go back to sleep…”

And that’s when I suddenly noticed a large, nasty, runny, orangey, thick fluid on the carpet just a mere two inches away from the puppy pads.  I stared at this new mess in shock for a few seconds wondering which dog had been sick.  I was suddenly spurred into action, however, when little Starburst suddenly moved forward from her comfortable position on the puppy pillow and prepared to clean up the chunky fluid by licking at it.  (I know that’s really disgusting—but that’s the way it happened!)  Once again, feeling absolutely revolted, I quickly cleaned up this new mess as the dogs once more settled back down to sleep.  I was sincerely and totally grossed out.  I never had children, so I never had to deal with projectile vomit, gross diapers, and disgusting messes.  Fate sure was catching up with me now.

Finally, after the orange mess was cleaned up, I walked around the room and checked on all three dogs to make sure they were not sick.  When they seemed to be all right, I walked back to the bathroom to thoroughly scrub my hands clean once more.

A few minutes later, I decided to go to the kitchen to get some iced tea.  I walked through the living room…

…and that’s when I heard it…

I stopped for a moment and looked around the room.  What was that noise?

And then I heard it again…

UUUUHHHHH!

What was that?

UUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!

Oh, my gosh.  The noise was a very loud, low, deep sound with a scratchy-throated screech at the end.  It sounded just like a person gagging for breath as he or she was choking.  Choking?

I looked around and that’s when I noticed little Starburst.  She had now moved off of the puppy pillow and was lying on the hardwood floor of the dining room.  The deep, guttural noise she was making continued to get louder.

UUUUUUUHHHHHHH!  UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!

Oh, my gosh, Starburst was choking!  The dog was choking!

“Star?” I called out as I ran over and knelt down beside her.  I reached out my hand and gently touched her side.  But before I could say or do anything more, she yanked away from me as if my touch had hurt her.  She moved away and crawled underneath the table.  Even though she was further away from me, her gags had gotten louder.  I crawled underneath the table after her.  Now, when she saw me, Starburst suddenly lifted her right paw out as if she was reaching for a lifeline.  But her paw quivered twice before the rest of her body began to shiver violently.  Oh, my gosh, the little dog was starting to convulse!  Her whole tiny body was now shaking as she continued to gasp for air!

In a panic, I got up and grabbed my phone off the table.  I quickly pushed the touch-screen buttons to call my sister-in-law, Mary, who is the actual owner of the dogs.

“Hello,” Mary answered her phone sweetly and I felt horrible to have to give her such bad news.

“Mary, it’s Jamie,” I screeched.  I didn’t wait for her to respond.  “Starburst…”  I stuttered, “Starburst is sick.  She’s choking.  She can’t breathe and she started convulsing now.  What should I do?  Where are you?”

“Oh, my God,” Mary gasped.  “I’m nowhere near home right now.  I’m babysitting the grandkids.  I can’t leave them.  But I’m going to call someone to come help you, okay?  I’ll get someone over to the house really fast.”

“Okay, okay,” I answered as we hung up.  God, I had studied and taught abdominal thrust, CPR, and first aid for years, but would those techniques work on a little dog?  Could I possibly call 911?  I crawled back under the table.  Starburst now let me touch her, but I think it was just because she didn’t have the strength to pull away.  “Starburst,” I whispered to her.  “Little Starry…Baby…it’s going to be okay.”

UUUUUUHHHHH, Starburst replied to me.  She was still gagging and her little body was convulsing terribly.  I reached out and pulled her gently towards me.  I raised her head and stared down into her little face.  Oh, my God…Starry’s beautiful, soulful, brown eyes were completely unfocused now!

Oh, my God…  Her left eye stared lifelessly ahead while her right eye had rolled off to the far side.  Then both eyes suddenly began to roll to the back of her head.

That was it!  I pulled the dog out from under the table and held her tightly.  I got up from the floor with little Starburst in my arms and grabbed my keys off the table.  I was going to take the dog up to the vet’s office that was just a few blocks away on State Avenue and 78^th street.  It was after 5 o’clock already, though.  I didn’t know if the office was still open but I hoped they would have some kind of emergency information posted somewhere by the front door.  I had to do something to help this tiny dog.  I love this dog so much.  “God, please,” I prayed as I ran into the living room.  “Please, God, please let this little dog be okay.  Please, God, don’t take this dog.”

UUUUUUUUHHHHHH!

I squeezed little Starry close to m y chest as I ran and prayed.  “Please, God…please, I love this dog.”

Just as I yanked open the front door, Starburst’s body suddenly stopped shaking.  There was one more hard UUUUUUUUHHHHHHH…

….and then silence.

No more movement…no more noise…

…just stillness… and silence…

And then the dog coughed.  She coughed.

“Starry?” I called to her as I held her away from me to look at her face.  I stared down at the little dog and suddenly saw her small mouth move.  She suddenly worked her furry jaw up and down in a chewing motion

…. and then she swallowed.

She swallowed…

And then Starburst opened up her eyes and looked directly up at me.  I stood very still and stared down into Star’s sweet, funny face.  We just stared at each other for a moment.

And then Starry took a deep breath and whimpered.  “Ummmmmm  ummmmm”

It was so different from the loud choking sounds of a few seconds before.  This sound was soft and tender and heartbreaking.  Starburst now feel limply against my chest as she started to whimper uncontrollably now that her horrible, scary ordeal was finally over.  I held her tight to me and cried right along with her as I gave thanks that she was now miraculously okay.  I sat down slowly on the couch and tried to sit Starburst on the floor but the little dog wouldn’t leave my arms.  We cuddled together for a while until her cries finally calmed down.  I placed Starburst carefully down on the floor.  “Oh, Star!”  I sighed as she ran over to the dog dish and began to eat.  “Seriously?”

After her near fatal choking crisis, she was now snacking on dry dog food.  I don’t know if the whole ordeal had just made her hungry or maybe she just wanted to show me that she wasn’t afraid to eat again.  Yes, she had been through a bad choking experience but she showed no lingering fear as she chomped on the food.  I just shook my head at her and laughed.  Then, once she was satisfied, she crawled back up into my lap.  For the rest of the evening, little Starry  followed me around the house and wouldn’t leave my side until we both exhaustively fell into our own beds and went to sleep.

The next day, I came home from work and checked on the dogs to make sure they were okay and there were no messes to take me by surprise.  I went into my room and turned on the computer to catch up on the news.  More deaths, more disasters…

And suddenly there was a knock on my door.  I got up and opened my door to find Starburst waiting patiently in the hallway.  Now as she saw me, she jumped up and down, daintily dancing on her tiny, white, hairy paws.  Starry would run towards me and as I stepped forward she would joyfully jump up and back and spin around before prancing back towards me once more.  I laughed as I playfully chased her back into the living room where Mary was cuddling with Friskie and Cowboy on the couch.

“Starburst wanted you to come out and play with her,” Mary informed me.  “You don’t’ have to if she’s bothering you.”

“She’s not bothering me at all,” I told Mary.  “I’m just so relieved she’s all right.”

“Yeah, I am, too,” Mary sighed.  “I think you are her best friend now.”

“Yes,” I agreed.  “We are very bonded.  We’re best buds now.”  I got down on the floor as Starburst rolled over onto her back so that I could rub her pale belly.

I had told Mary the details of what had happened the day before.  Now my sister-in-law stated, “I think when you picked her up yesterday from under the table and held her tight, you probably dislodged whatever was in her throat so she could start breathing again.”

“Probably,” I answered, “but I don’t really know what happened.  I just remember holding her and praying…”

I stopped talking and Mary and I just smiled at each other.  Mary got up from the couch then and called, “Come on, dogs.  Time for dinner.”  I think all three dogs understand the word “dinner.”  They all trotted after Mary into the kitchen as I walked back into my room and sat down at my computer once more.  After a few minutes, there was a knock at my door again.

I got up and opened the door.  Starburst walked into the room and over to my chair.  I knew what she wanted.  I picked her up and placed her on my lap after I sat back down in my chair.  I rocked her back and forth as I looked at the articles appearing on my computer screen.  Nothing but bad news.  I clicked off the computer and pulled Starburst close to me as I realized that it really doesn’t matter how much money we have or what job we do or what kind of cars we drive.  When it’s all over, the only thing God will want to know is how much compassion we displayed and I how much love we gave.  Because all life, no matter how small and furry, is precious in the eyes of God.  In God’s glory, all lives matter, I thought as I cuddled tiny furry Starburst close to me and once more gave thanks for God’s sweet mercy.

 

 

 

 

Alaska

Yugen

1. Important concept in traditional Japanese aesthetics. “Dim,” “Deep,” or “Mysterious”
2. Awareness of the universe that triggers emotional responses too deep and mysterious for words.

In 1996, Jon Krakauer, the author of Into Thin Air, published an amazing, thoughtful book entitled Into the Wild.  This book tells the true story of Christopher Johnson McCandless who, after graduating from college, spurned his former affluent life and the bright, comfortable future ahead of him.  Motivated by books he read by Jack London and John Muir, McCandless dedicated himself to a personal vision quest that began in the western and southwestern regions of America.  Changing his name to Alexander Supertramp, McCandless gave his savings of  $25,000 to charity, abandoned all his possessions, left his car in the Mojave Desert, and burned all of his cash to ensure that nothing would hold him back from his journey.  Looking for his own personal paradise on this earth, McCandless even threw away all of his maps and traveled only by his intuition.  In April 1992, McCandless hitchhiked into Alaska and walked into the vast cold wilderness north of Mount McKinley.  For a while, McCandless found shelter in an abandoned old school bus.  Four months later, however, his body was found by a moose hunter.

No one knows what ultimately motivated McCandless’s careless journey.  Questions still remain about a young man’s need to walk away from a rich and promising future to live homeless and starving  in the barren wildness of Alaska.  Some people claim that McCandless had a death wish and a need for self-destruction.    Others just dismiss McCandless’s actions as foolish and innocently reckless.

Well, I guess I am foolish and reckless too….

I don’t claim to know what was in McCandless’s head or why he choose his particular lifestyle, but there is a core element inside of me that feels so connected to his story.  In response to Krakauer’s consistent questions in the book about McCandless’s journey, I think I understand.

There are so many of us on this earth who don’t always feel that we belong in a world that overwhelms us with violent, materialistic, opportunistic situations.  Some of us who struggle to cope, do not medicate ourselves from the stress with alcohol, food, cigarettes, sex, gambling, or prescription drugs, but we do experience a deep and compelling lust all the same.  Wanderlust and the need to move, to travel, to create a universe of our own existence is a hunger that is rarely satisfied.

Restless, never able to settle down, I constantly look for opportunities to escape my existence.  I have no intention of doing this through self-harm.  I just have a relentless need to be lost.  When I travel, I rarely call or text anyone.  I love driving alone down deserted highways  without a single person knowing where I am in that exact moment.  I enjoy the solitude, the drifting away from my reality.  This has been my lifestyle for the last thirty years.

In July, 2016, I finally had the opportunity to realize a lifelong dream.  I spent time this summer exploring Alaska.  This was an amazing turning point for me.  I had made a vow to myself that I would drive through every state in America.  Alaska was the last state I needed to visit in order to satisfy this goal.  However, I refused to celebrate this accomplishment.  I didn’t post notices about it on Facebook.  I didn’t write blogs about my experience.  I just didn’t feel the need.

While I was in Alaska, I felt inspired to go completely off the grid.  I wanted desperately to be lost.  I wanted to cut off all communication to my former life.  I didn’t call or text anyone.  I only posted a few pictures on Facebook when I felt overwhelmed by the incredible scenery of glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, and animals.  But I only posted about 20 of the 350 photos I took.  I haven’t posted any more pictures or information about Alaska since I returned to Kansas.  There is a deep part of me that just needs to keep it quiet and hidden.  To experience so much of God’s amazing wilderness was so profound and awe-inspiring there was no way of putting it into words.  Even the beautiful pictures I have seem bleak when compared to the Alaskan landscape itself.  To this day, two months later, I have no desire to tell people about all of the amazing things that happened to me in Alaska.

However…

I think constantly of running away again to the “last frontier.”  I want to hide in her vast beauty and get lost in her majestic environment.  I want to run with her wilderness and dissolve into her endless splendor.

My life’s purpose was  redefined in Alaska.  I came into contact with who God intended me to be.  I was never meant to have the things of an ordinary life.  I was not meant to have a great job, or a wonderful marriage, or an incredible home.  My only life’s purpose is to grow closer to God.  To know him by his world, by the beauty that surrounds me.  I don’t have to be anything…in Alaska, I can just be…

I don’t care about success, or a home, or money.  Just knowing in my heart and soul that I can move and explore and witness God’s glory is enough for me in this lifetime.

I don’t know Christopher McCandless’s motivation for his journey.

I didn’t travel from this life as far as Christopher did.

But there are times I really wish I had followed him.

 

 

Christmas in July!

A few years ago when I was living in California, a friend invited me over to her house.  “I should let you know,” Mary whispered to me after she extended the invitation, “I love Christmas music.  It’s my favorite.  I don’t really listen to anything else.  I play it constantly.  And I really like the classic, traditional renditions.  I just love the melodies and the lyrics, and, I don’t know, it just makes me feel all happy and excited every time I hear it.”

I told Mary that wasn’t a problem.  I didn’t mind at all if she wanted to play Christmas music while we were together.

The following afternoon, I went to Mary’s home.  We shared a wonderful afternoon of stories, laughter, iced tea, cookies, and Christmas classics on a hot July day.  Christmas was still five months away.

Well, I had to admit, Mary was right.  Listening to Andy Williams, Elvis, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Johnny Mathias singing joyous Christmas classics put me in a relaxed and happy mood.  On that hot summer day, my spirit felt all jolly and joyous.  I left my friend’s house later that evening with a happy heart.  But isn’t that the way Christmas is supposed to be…even in July.

Christmas, however, isn’t really fun or joyous anymore.  Too many people are complaining way too much about this precious holiday and ruining it for everyone.  Christmas has become a debate, a battlefield, a confrontation.  For example, people are fighting over the right to say Merry Christmas rather than the politically correct Happy Holidays.  People who enjoy Black Friday are continually criticized for being too materialistic for Christmas.  Department stores are condemned for putting out Christmas decorations even before Halloween is over.  This year, even Starbucks is under attack for the lack of design on their red and white Christmas cups!

I’m sure Jesus never meant Christmas to be a time of hate and anger.  I think he wanted us to be happy about the season.  I think he wants us to spread joy and cheer to all people instead of arguing over petty, little, inconsequential situations.

I remember how excited I used to get when I was a child and the Christmas catalogues would arrive at the beginning of November.  I remember crawling up in bed with Momma and my siblings late in the evenings.  All of us were dressed in our pajamas and cuddling beneath the blankets on cold Kansas nights.  Momma would slowly turn the pages of the JCPennys or Montgomery Wards catalogue as her children screamed out with glee at all of the different toys displayed on the pages.  We would point excitedly to the gift we wanted and Momma would write our name on that item with her red pen.  All of us would spend the rest of the evening, laughing and talking in joyous anticipation of the holidays to come.

Another tradition was to drive around the Kansas City Plaza and stare at all of the glorious Christmas lights and decorations.  We would drive around for an hour before stopping at the local Dairy Queen on the way home.  The night held Christmas magic and prepared us for a joyous holiday.

Even now, I love to see Christmas all around me regardless of the month and season.  I love driving through neighborhoods that glitter with Christmas decorations.  I smile when I see Christmas candy lining the grocery store shelves.  I love going to Black Friday at midnight.  I never buy anything.  I go out around 11 pm, get a cup of coffee, and then head to the nearest Wal-mart.  I sit and drink my coffee as I watch everyone go crazy.  I love observing all of the crazy, half-assed, silly things people do and Black Friday is absolutely the championship night of people watching.

And for me, that is Christmas.  It is magic.  It is the silliness.  It is anticipation.  It is about sharing, giving, kindness, and love.  It’s about laughter, excitement, joyfulness, and listening to Christmas music in the middle of the summer.

And it is all about Jesus.  I think Jesus loves our happy craziness over Christmas.  About a year ago, I went to Branson, Missouri, for Thanksgiving.  At the Kris Kringle shop in the Grand Village outdoor mall, I found an amazing nativity scene.  Crudely carved wooden figures of Mary, Joseph, shepherds, and angels were gathered around the tiny baby Jesus resting in a manager.  I stood there looking at the little baby Jesus and laughing hysterically.  It was so cute.  This wooden baby Jesus had the biggest grin on his small round face.  I had never seen a nativity scene before that displayed a laughing baby Jesus.  In other nativity scenes, Jesus is always so solemn, so peaceful, so silent, so calm.  I loved that tiny joyful carving of our savior.  Yes, Jesus sacrificed himself to save our souls.  But he was also a child who laughed and played and learned and loved and grew.  I could be wrong, but I think Jesus had a wonderful sense of humor, just simply because he was so in tune with the human spirit.  So I think Jesus loves us best when we are silly, and joyful, and loving because he was, too.   Jesus embraced life and all human spirits…and so should we.

So, here’s my point…

If you want to go out and shop on Black Friday, you go and have a great time and be kind to other people as Jesus has been kind to you!  If you want Starbucks, go get yourself a red and white cup of coffee and drink it in praise of God!  If you want to pick out gifts for people including yourself, enjoy it with thanks for all the blessings God has given you!  If you want to listen to Christmas music in the middle of summer, listen with your whole heart and let your voice sing out in loving praise of Christ!  Do everything every day without judgment, disapproval, or negativity.  Don’t listen to other people’s hatefulness and sarcasm and criticism.  Whenever or however you celebrate Christmas, do it with pleasure and love towards other people.  Don’t let others’ criticism and hate take away your joy.

Be that voice that sings out with song and laughter.  Be a child at Christmas again.  Be the love and glory of Christ.  Be the magic of Christmas all year round.  Celebrate in January, February, July, and September because every day should be Christmas!  Remember, Christ is with you every day!  Celebrate!

Possessed

Nothing is yours.  It is to use.  It is to share.  If you will not share it, you cannot use it.” –Ursula K. LeGuin, The Dispossessed

Unnecessary possessions are unnecessary burdens.  If you have them, you have to take care of them!  There is great freedom in simplicity of living.  It is those who have enough but not too much who are the happiest.  –Peace Pilgrim
Over the last few years, my brother, Tony, has been asking me to move back to our hometown of Kansas City, Kansas.  I grew up in Kansas and, to this day, my immediate family still resides there.  My brother and sisters are settled, happy, at peace.  They’ve raised their families, worked hard, and created nice homes.

I have always been the wanderer, flitting from place to place, living periodically in apartments, hotels, and cars. I owned nothing but a few books, some CDs, TV, computer, and a change of clothes.  I don’t own a home.  I won’t buy furniture.  I don’t hang pictures on the walls of rented spaces.  I hate clutter because it makes me feel like the walls are closing in on me.  Funny, but when I am “settled” in an apartment, I tend to have frequent panic attacks.  To remain calm, I usually don’t keep many things around me.

Many of my friends didn’t seem to mind my lack of furniture when they came to visit me.  They always happily sat on the pillows I would toss around on the floor.  We would sip hot tea or coffee.  We would talk and laugh without distractions. We would look into each other’s eyes instead of glancing around the room.  Many friends originally thought my lack of furniture would feel awkward.  To their surprise, they usually discovered that my home was warm and inviting.  Friends were always welcomed and honored in my home even if they didn’t have a comfortable place to sit.

My last apartment was in Palm Springs, California.  To say I had a simple decorating style would be an overstatement.  I had decorated the apartment in the “Early Wal-mart tub” style.  Seriously…I had just purchased plastic tubs from Wal-mart to hold my CDs, books, papers, and underwear.    I slept on an old army cot.  I explained my decorating style to my friends this way.  “When I have to leave again, I don’t want anything holding me down or holding me back.  I just want to be able to throw my things in my car and drive away.  I want to be able to leave at a moment’s notice and not have to worry about things.”

Possessions have always been a problem for me.  In the distant past, with my first apartments, I did try to create a sense of home by purchasing appliances and furniture.   But when the urge and opportunity came upon me to move, I didn’t know what to do with everything I owned.  I didn’t want to pack it and move it.  I didn’t want to deal with it even if I was just moving ten miles away.   I would just give my things away.  That was a very strange situation.  I would call my friend, Julie, and tell her I had a vacuum, microwave, TV to give away.  She would answer, “I really would love those things, but I’m too busy with the kids right now.  Can you bring them over?”  So I would load up my car and drive the things over to Julie’s home.  Then my friend, Sara, asked for some of my things.  I would load up my car and drive the items to her house.  Next thing I knew, I was delivering random stuff to all of my friends’ homes.  Why didn’t I just move everything to my new apartment!?  I was moving the things all over town anyway!  I don’t know.  I honestly don’t know.  I just kept given my things away without even considering taking them with me.  For some reason, this odd ritual just made me feel free and unburden and I would repeat it with each move.

Until recently…

A few years ago, things changed a little for me.  I thought I would finally settle down in Southern California.  I had a good job and was making extra money.  I still wouldn’t buy furniture; that was too big of a commitment.  But I did indulge in buying additional books and CD, which really make me happy.  But a strange thing happened.  Staying in one place caused me to accumulate more things.  And the worst part…I got attached!  Seriously, I became very attached to my books, my CDs, my DVDs, my clothes.  I became selfish.  I didn’t want to give anything away.  I wanted my things…the things I had worked so hard to acquire.

So, a few months ago, when Tony again asked me to move back to Kansas, I responded honestly.  “I don’t want to give up my things again.  I always give things away every time I move.  And Kansas is a thousand miles away from California.  I don’t want to give everything away.”

“You don’t have to give your things away,” Tony laughed at me.  “Why would you do that? Bring it with you.  Hire a U-Haul, get a van, hire a moving company.  You don’t have to leave it behind.”

But still, I resisted the move for a while until I finally decided last month that it was time to return to the Midwest.  I decided that Tony was right.  I didn’t have to give away anything I wanted to keep.  I would just pack it all up, put it into storage, and then hire a company to move it to Kansas when I was ready to return to the Midwest.  I soon notified my leasing company that I was leaving my apartment and began to pack my “things.”  Now, as many times as I have moved, I still don’t know how to pack.  That’s because I never took the items with me before.  Now, I just went to Home Depot and purchased a stack of boxes and some tape.  I just started throwing random pieces of my life haphazardly into the boxes and taping them up.  I placed the boxes into a small 5 X 5 storage unit.  For some odd reason, I was pleased that my whole life could fit into the smallest space available.  I think it was reassurance to me that my life wasn’t cluttered.  I wasn’t hoarding anything.  i really wasn’t attached.  I began to breathe a little easier as I closed and locked the door of the storage unit and drove away.  For several weeks again, I traveled unburdened through Northern California, Oregon, Washington, and Canada.  I was totally unencumbered.  I was able to breath and feel free once more.

And then…

I was ready to return to the Midwest.  Before making the journey, I first had to meet the movers at the storage unit.  I apologized a few times when the movers complained that the boxes loaded with books were so heavy, but I didn’t really worry about it.  I just watched with relief as the two large moving men placed my 24 boxes, the sum of everything I currently owned, onto the truck and took it all away.  I had my freedom and I would have my things.  Tony was right.  I didn’t have to give anything away.  I was able to keep my possessions….and I was able to drive back to Kansas without feeling the weight and heaviness of my possessions.

But then…

Once I was in Kansas, anxiety began to build up in me.  Twelve days later and my possessions had still not arrived.  All kinds of thoughts and worries hammered away at my brain.  What if the moving company had been a scam?  What if the movers were going to hold my things for ransom?  What if my items had gotten lost, damaged, or stolen along the way?  What if the only time the moving company could deliver I was scheduled to work at my new job?  The “what if’s” built up with endless anxiety.  “Stop it,” I tried to tell myself.  “It doesn’t matter.  It’s just ‘stuff’.  Let it go.”  But the stress kept me awake at night.  Yes, stress…over ‘stuff.’

Finally, I received a call from the movers letting me know that they could deliver the items the next day…well, night.  They would not be arriving in Kansas City, Kansas, until 9 pm.  I told them that was fine.  I didn’t care if they didn’t arrive until midnight.  I just wanted my items delivered and the whole thing over with.  The movers didn’t show up the next evening until around 10:30 pm.

Tony had just gotten home from work when the moving van arrived.  I was fortunate to have him there.  The delivery was a little rough.  The truck driver actually passed up Tony’s house and was halfway down the street before realizing his mistake.  He suddenly brought the truck to a loud screeching stop and then backed up with lights blazing and the annoyingly loud reverse “ding” sound echoing around the neighborhood.  The noise brought several neighbors to their front doors.  Tony’s next door neighbor, an elderly woman dressed in a purple bathrobe, fuzzy slippers, and pin curlers, stepped out onto her front porch.  I couldn’t quite hear what she was shouting at Tony, but my brother answered, “It’s okay.  It’s fine.  It’s just a moving van. They are delivering to my house. “

The elderly woman shouted to Tony again.  After he reassured her that the van was there make a delivery, not to rob the neighbors’ houses, the woman went back into her home and quickly shut and locked her door.  Tony and I stared at each other and then turned our attention back to the delivery truck.

“Oh, my God,” Tony suddenly declared. “What is that driver doing?  He doesn’t know what he’s doing! He doesn’t know how to drive that truck!”  Tony went running out into the street as he watched the driver steer the truck right up into another neighbor’s yard.  Tony tried to flag down the driver and get him to turn in the other direction.  Tony walked up to the side window of the truck and after some discussion, the driver finally stopped the truck in the middle of the street.  Tony walked back to me shaking his head.  “Oh, man,” he sighed, “the neighbors are not going to be happy when they see their yard tomorrow morning.”

I just stared at my brother in surprise, completely incapable of responding.

The large, red-haired driver now climbed out of his seat and walked to the back of the truck.  He pulled up the door and I was suddenly staring at all of my boxes…all of my crumbling, smashed, opened, mauled, tattered boxes.

“Did you pack this stuff?” the driver asked me.  I just shook my head yes.  “Man, way too heavy.  Those boxes weren’t strong enough for everything you packed.  And the tape you used…absolutely useless.”

“It was books,” I answered meekly.  “I packed books…”

I didn’t know what else to say as the man now began to gather together the ripped boxes and throw them down off the truck.  Several of my books fell out and scattered across the driveway.  I was so thankful to have Tony there.  As the mover threw the boxes off of the truck, Tony and I gathered together the pieces.  Tony placed the boxes on his dolly and rolled them into the garage.  Many of the boxes were so heavy, the two men had to lift them together just to get them onto the dolly.

“Way too heavy,” Tony shook his head at me.  “Why did you pack everything this way?”

I could just shrug my shoulders helplessly.  I wanted my things this time, I just remember thinking.  I just really wanted my things.  I didn’t want to give them away again.

Finally, the 24 ripped and tattered boxes were inside the garage.  I paid the mover and thanked him for his help, even though Tony did the majority of the heavy lifting and hauling into the garage.  When the mover drove away and the neighborhood was once again quiet, Tony and I stood in the garage together staring at the boxes that were open and/or fallen over.  I was shocked, surprised, and speechless.

Though I truly appreciated Tony’s help, as I stared at all of my possessions, I didn’t feel happy or relieved.  I didn’t feel excited or elated.  No.  Instead, I felt humiliated.  I felt embarrassed.  I was absolutely horrified.  All of that fuss. All of that upset and worry and stress.  All of the annoyance to the neighbors and all the work Tony suddenly had to do…for this! For this dilapidated, falling over, crushed, and scrambled pile of boxes.  All of that work and worry for all of my absolutely worthless material things!

I felt myself burn with shame.  I was so angry that I had let material things own me, control me, and load me down.

Tony was incredibly gracious about the whole mess.  It was as if he knew that this was the total sum of my net worth.  He had more respect for the remnants of my life than I did.  He smiled.  He said he would find stronger boxes for me.  He said he would help me repack everything and make sure it was all there and all safe.

I just wanted to throw everything in the trash now and forget about it.   I wanted to sell it all on EBay.  I wanted to place all of the boxes in the front yard and let someone just walk off with them…if he or she could even lift the boxes!  I wanted to have a garage sale and sale everything at discounted prices.  I wanted to pack everything up into my car and deliver to the homes of my friends.  After all of the struggle and all of the fight over all of my junk, it just didn’t seem like it mattered anymore.

Two weeks later, and all of the boxes are still sitting in the garage.  I haven’t unpacked them.  I hadn’t even looked at them.   I haven’t gone through any of the boxes or rearranged them in any way.  I have an aversion to looking at them or touching them.  The boxes make me cringe.  They remind me of my once horrible attachment to things that didn’t even really matter in the first place…I just want to get into my car now and drive away from the whole, God awful mess.

I want to live out of my car again.  I want to sleep in the backseat and keep battered paperback books on the passenger seat beside me.  I want to listen to music on the car stereo and cruise through small ghost towns throughout America…alone and free.

But for now, I’m buried under a mountain of junk that keeps me trapped and weighed down in a quasi-normal life.  Why did I insist or believe that I couldn’t move without my things this time?  Was I just using my things as an excuse not to move again?  And now that I am in Kansas, will I ever run free again?  Maybe I just want to feel love…love of life, love of thought, love of spirit…Maybe I just want to feel love instead of taking cold comfort in material things.

I remember reading in a Buddhist book about the theory of attachment.  I paraphrase the thought, but it basically said that it was okay to have things but don’t become attached.  You must know that all things are impermanent.  Have things but don’t allow yourself to become sad or disappointed if they are lost, stolen, or broken.  They are not the sum of your life, of your existence.

I don’t know why I let myself, for a period of time become so attached to my things. Maybe I just needed it for a time to feel like I was accomplishing something.

But now, I think I could just walk away and leave everything behind…and I would be okay.  Yeah, I would certainly be okay.

How a Little Critter Taught Me About Life

“I just moved into my new house last month and I’ve already found one mouse, three rattlesnakes and two scorpions,” my friend Debra told me as she casually took another sip of her raspberry iced tea.  Her voice was calm and smooth as if she was just discussing her last meal or her usual sleep patterns.

I stared at her in silent shock for a moment before finally asking, “You found snakes…in your house?”

Debra gave me more specific details then.  “Two rattlesnakes were in the yard about a foot away from my front door.  The third one was in the garage.  The mouse was just inside the back door and the two scorpions were in the fire place.”  Debra sat back with a sigh and then laughed at the look of utter horror that must have been gracing my face at that moment.

I’m not a prissy person.  My hair is usually unkempt and flying out in all directions even when I’m standing still.  My make-up is minimal and though I buy fingernail polish I have yet to turn my natural pink and white nails into shimmering shades of green, blue, or gold.  As far as my shoes and clothes are concerned….well, I’d rather buy books.  I haven’t even bought a new pair of jeans in three years.  But there is one thing that makes me a complete and total girly-girl: I have a complete aversion to anything that crawls, slithers, creeps, scratches, or scuttles.

Now, I do love animals, and I certainly would not hurt another living creature, but bugs and I just don’t mesh. I also have an extremely low tolerance for snakes and mice. I think my repugnance is because I don’t like surprises.  I don’t like anything sneaking up on me.  Bugs, mice, and snakes can be sneaky.  I mean I’m going to know if there is an elephant in the room.  But I don’t always see bugs until they suddenly come scuttling right up beside me.  Bugs and mice have that surprise factor that completely unnerves and terrifies me.  For this reason, I always try to keep my home clean and organized.  There will never be dirty clothes on the floor or last night’s dishes left in the sink.  I’m not a clean freak; I am bug scared.

I didn’t explain this to Debra.  I think I was too embarrassed to tell her that critters frighten me while she appeared cool and confident about the creatures invading her home.  I tried to keep myself from shivering as Debra went on to tell me about all of the miniscule beasts that have wandered into her various homes in the high desert of Southern California over the years.  Debra took a momentary break in her horrific tales of leading the reptiles away from her home like St. Patrick leading the snakes out of Ireland.  She had to have noticed my complete shutdown.  Debra laughed and now confronted me directly, “Well, Jamie, you do know that since we live in the desert we have to expect these things.  My goodness, it’s only June and we already have had 110 degree temperatures.  When was the last time we had rain?”  Her question was actually rhetoric. Southern California is experiencing one of the worst droughts in over 5 years.  Not a single raindrop has fallen in a good six months.

Debra laughed and said, “That’s what I mean.  Because of this horrible drought and extremely high temperatures, everything is dying.  There’s no food or water for the animals anywhere.  They all are coming down from the mountains and up from the sand to try to find nourishment.  It’s the price we pay for living in paradise.”  Debra laughed again while I fought off another shudder.

That night, I went home to my apartment in Palm Desert, California, and saw a notice on my front gate.  An exterminator was coming in to all of the apartments in my building to do a screening.  Oh, good, I thought, I began to relax a little.  I was pleased that the apartment management was being proactive.  I was even more relieved when I found another notice on my gate the following day.  This notice informed me that the exterminator was coming back tomorrow to patch up any holes in the walls.  Again, I sighed deeply.  I was again pleased that the management team was thinking ahead.

The following week, I began to relax a little more in my apartment.  I felt safe and secure since the exterminator had come to my home.  I thought I was safe.  I thought wrong.

The next Saturday afternoon, I was seated at my computer putting in some extra work on my novel.  I was getting a little stuck here and there but was determined that I was going to complete at least 5 pages before I stopped.  Maybe I needed to get rid of distractions.  Turn off the television and the phone…

What was that?!

I stopped typing for a moment and glanced around my apartment.  I didn’t see anything unusual and everything was silent for a moment.  I turned back to my keyboard and started typing again.

Wait a minute….What was that noise?

I stopped working and pushed back away from my computer.  I sat silently for a minute or two…

Oh.  My.  Gosh…I stood up slowly and walked over the wall that separated the kitchen from the bathroom.  I jumped back as soon as I heard a loud scratching noise coming from within the wall!  Oh, my gosh, some critter was in my wall!  In a panic, I ran to my cell phone and punched the numbers for the management office phone line.  It took me a while to get connected.  I couldn’t get my hand to stop shaking.  I listened to the office phone ring over the sounds of the scratching that was coming from inside my wall.  Dang!  I just got the answering machine.  I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the time.  5:15 pm.  The office closed at 5 on Saturday afternoons.  I hung up the phone and quickly dialed the emergency phone number.  The phone rang once, twice, three times…and finally someone answered with a gruff, “Hello.”

“Um, yes,” I said, “is this the emergency number for the apartment complex in Palm Desert?”

“Yeah,” the deep voice replied.

“Um,” I hesitated, not sure what to say, “um, there is a scratching sound coming from inside my wall.  I think there is something crawling around…”

“Oh, yeah,” the man said. “That’s the rat.”

The phone suddenly began to slide out of my hand and for a moment I had to juggle my cell phone quickly from hand to hand to keep from dropping it to the floor.   All I could stammer when I brought the phone back up to my ear was…”Wh…wh…what?!”

“Yeah, the rat,” the man said. “That’s why we had the exterminator do the screening and patching.”

I didn’t know there was a rat in the building!  Nobody told me!  I thought the management team was just being very proactive! I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, but the r-r-rat,” I swallowed deeply, “is in my walls and someone needs to get it…”

“Nope, sorry, nobody’s here who can help ya,” the man said casually.  “Everyone’s already gone home.”

“But this is the emergency number, right?” I countered.

The man answered, “A rat ain’t an emergency.  Well, see, with the drought, the animals are coming inside.  We’ll probably get a few more before the summer is over.  Nothing we can do about it until the exterminator can be contacted again.  Thanks for calling, huh,” the man said politely before hanging up the phone.  I was left in dead silence…except for the scratching in the wall.

Oh, Nooooooo!  I quickly ran around the apartment scooping up my backpack filled with novels and notebooks.  I turned off my computer and the air conditioner.  No way was I staying here for the night.  I opened the door and stepped quickly outside shutting the door firmly behind me.  I ran to my car and climbed inside.  I stared the engine and then began to drift listlessly down the street.  I had no idea where I was going but I was not staying in that apartment.  I ended up at the local McDonald’s, sipping on an iced tea and furiously writing in my journals.  I was there until the restaurant closed and I was forced out into the warm night air.   I slowly drove back to the apartment.  Was I brave enough to go back inside?  No, I slept in my car.

The next day, I went to the office to talk to the apartment manager.  “Gee,” she answered after listening to my rant, “I’m sorry that happened.  But we are in the desert during a drought so it is very common for animals to come…”

“I know, I know,” I cut her off.  I understood that animals were coming inside now but I really didn’t want my apartment to become Wild Kingdom.  “I can’t go back in that apartment,” I told her.  “Is there anything you can do for me?”

The office manager handed me the key to the model apartment and said, “I can let you stay in the model for tonight, but that’s all.”

I was grateful for that much.  I thanked her and walked over to the apartment that was set up to entice potential renters into the complex.  That space should certainly be rodent free!

I went into the model apartment, sat down on the couch, and flicked the remote to turn on the TV.  The television wouldn’t come on.  I don’t know what was wrong with it.  The screen would just light up gray for a moment and then turn off.  There was no stereo either.  With nothing to distract me, I got out my notebook and began to write.  Before I knew it, I had written 15 pages non-stop.  Oh, my gosh…it was exhilarating!  I was able to finish a short story I had started a few weeks ago but couldn’t figure out the ending.  Now, I had it completed and my heart and spirit were completely renewed.  I laid down on the couch in the living room of the model apartment and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

And then something strange began to happen…because of the critter living in my wall, I didn’t want to go home.  I was completely thrown off of my usual routine of work, gym, writing, and home.  Now, I looked for excuses to stay out for most of the night.  I accepted invitations from friends I hadn’t seen in a while because I was “too busy.”  I would stay up late hours at a café or diner, drinking iced tea, as I hand wrote my novel and short stories.  On evenings when I was bored, I would wander into casinos and just people watch.  One night at the Spotlight 29 casino in Indio, California, I saw a notice that Charlie Daniels was performing in concert.  Oh….The Devil Went Down to Georgia…that guy… I didn’t want to go home.  I bought a ticket.  Charlie Daniels was amazing and I spent the evening laughing, dancing, and enjoying myself.  I hadn’t been that incredibly happy in a long time.  That was fun…I wanted to go again.

The following weekend, I drove up to Laughlin, Nevada, to see Lorrie Morgan in concert.  The trip was fun and it got me away from my problem at the apartment and……

Wait a minute…

Oh, my gosh….

Why wasn’t I living like this every weekend?!  Why wasn’t I out seeing people and dancing and laughing and traveling?  Why wasn’t I sipping tea in cafés and writing good short stories every night?

My life had become incredibly routine and it took a rat to show me what I had been missing!  The rat actually drove me out of my apartment and into a happier, more exciting life!  I kind of wish God had found a different way to pull me out of my routine…but I couldn’t miss the significance of the moment…

Then I had even better news.  My apartment complex was graciously letting me out of my lease four months early!  I had been planning to take a road trip and then move back to Kansas as soon as my lease was over was up in November.  Now I was able to move on with my life 16 weeks earlier thanks to a little creature living inside of my walls.

Last week, I went into the apartment management office to turn in my required 30 day notice which was really just a formality due to the situation.  “We’re really sorry this happened,” the apartment manager stated.  “But in the desert during a drought, the animals come inside.  We even had a possum in the laundry room last night.”

I laughed with the manager over this situation.  Though I don’t want to live with critters, I could certainly respect them.  It took one of God’s tiny creatures to show me the beauty of life and help me move along my path.  I will be forever grateful to the California desert critters…

I just really don’t want them moving in with me….

The Source

I am still struggling to understand a strange occurrence that happened to me two weeks ago.  I was working a new schedule at the community college where I have been employed for almost seven years.  Due to offering 5-week terms to our students, my work schedule changes every 35 days.  A few weeks ago, I was assigned to an early night schedule.  I was only teaching one night class and could leave campus at 8 pm instead of the usual 10:30 pm.  The college was in the third week of the new schedule when this strange event happened.

It started after I dismissed my evening class at 7:50 pm.  I cleaned up my classroom and organized my file before leaving the school around 8:15 pm.  I walked across the parking lot, got in my car, and started the engine.  I drove away from the campus and was soon on the I 10 east heading towards Palm Desert.  I have driven this route thousands of times before, but tonight something felt different.

At first, I couldn’t understand it.  I just had a feeling that something had changed.  It wasn’t a bad or uncomfortable feeling.  In fact, it was a rather pleasant experience.  I actually felt happy, peaceful, and comfortable.  I had a feeling of renewal, of rejuvenation…and then suddenly I realized what was different.

Unlike the previous evenings, tonight at 8:30 pm, the sky still seemed incredibly bright.  Yes, this was the very end of May.  I know summer always offers long, sun-filled days.  But this was the first night that I noticed how light the world still was after 8 pm. The world was still light like the quiet dusk of an early evening.  It was an amazing, bright, and beautiful night.

Oh, my gosh, I suddenly thought, what if I had made a horrible mistake with the time and had dismissed my class early by accident!  I was horrified for a moment and then laughed out loud.  That was a stupid thought.  I remembered every moment of the 2-hour history class that started at 5:45 pm.  A quick glance at the dashboard clock confirmed the time of 8:45 pm.  It was just a beautiful, shiny evening that made me feel deeply grateful…

…And then suddenly, the world went dark all at once as if it had been covered by a heavy, wool blanket.  I watched in amazement as twinkly sparks of light suddenly began to peek through the darkness.  I continued driving down the highway as the forthcoming stars and full round moon now guided my way home.

Then, to my surprise, I suddenly felt the presence of other beings though I was alone in the car.  I smiled as I suddenly thought of angels pressing in the cramped space all around me.  I felt my mind and spirit begin to float away, completely transcending the current moment.  My breath became soft and steady as I drifted away with the angels….

…Oh, my gosh…no, wait….i was still driving down the highway!

I shook myself to pull back from this out-of-body moment and focused my attention back on the traffic.  I asked the angels to guide and protect me and not to distract me as I drove up the Washington Street exit ramp.  Luckily, I was able to stay connected with my driving until I had finally stopped the car in my apartment complex parking lot.  I turned off the engine, grabbed my bag, and climbed out of the car.  I walked up to the door of my apartment and opened it up.  I stepped inside the inky blackness of my living room.  I don’t leave a light on in my home.  With my morning and night classes, I am usually away from home from 7 am to 10:30 pm.  I don’t want to leave a light turned on from over 13 hours.  I shuffled carefully over to my kitchen to turn on the ceiling light.  I don’t have any lamps in my living room.  I actually don’t have any furniture.  Honestly, I sleep on an old army cot, but that’s okay.  I feel blessed anyway and tonight proved it.

As I shuffled in the dark towards my kitchen, I suddenly screamed and jumped back!  My dark studio apartment suddenly lit up like a fireworks display!  Whit golden brilliant light began shooting all around the room as I looked on in wonder.  After a minute or so, the display stopped as quickly as it had begun.  I quickly ran to the kitchen but before I could reach the light switch a small but bright beam of light started glowing in the far corner of the living room.  I stood in stunned silence as the light suddenly sailed over my head and into the opposite corner of the room where it suddenly disappeared and I was standing in darkness again.

Oh, my gosh…a shooting star! I suddenly thought.  I love shooting stars…I have seen several of them over the last few years…

…Wait a minute…I suddenly realized I wasn’t outside.

I just saw a shooting star against the ceiling of my apartment.  Now I flipped on the kitchen light and glanced around the apartment.  Nothing was out of place and nothing could have created that amazing light image.  Maybe it was just a passing car, I wondered.  But my apartment sits back further from the road and is surrounded by a 62-inch brick wall.  I’ve been in this apartment for 18 months and have never seen car headlights shine through my big front picture window.  Also, the light was a brilliant golden white and not the dull haze of car lights shining through the windows of a house.

Though I felt a bit nervous because I could not identify the light source, I could only come to the conclusion that it was light from the Source, from the One, from the Universe, from God.  As I got ready for bed that night, I thought about everything that had happened that night—the lightness of the night as I was driving home, watching the stars and the moon arrive, the transcendence of the moment, feeling the presence of angels, the light display in my apartment, and my very special shooting star.  I knew than that life is blessed and that God and the angels are always surrounding us.

Memorable Moments

When I started writing my blog last year, I had actually planned to write a travel journal.  I thought I would be writing about my expeditions around America, my travels overseas, and my day trip excursions.  However, over the past year, my blog had morphed into something entirely different.  I am writing instead about out-of-the-blue experiences that happened to me throughout my ordinary days.  Instead of writing about traveling, I am writing about everyday life lessons.  I am recording the sudden insights and moments of joy that occurred during the quiet moments of my life.  So instead of writing about my recent trip to Vegas, here again is a surprising moment that occurred in my life last week.

I had just finished instructing my morning class at 11:30 am on Thursday, May 28, 2015.  I was happy it was Thursday.  This week was the first week of a new term and it had been exhausting.  I decided that I needed to get off campus for a while and decompress before my next class began.

I just went across the street to a small restaurant.  It wasn’t until I had received my glass of unsweetened iced tea and immersed myself in the pages of the latest novel I was reading that I finally began to breathe and relax.  I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath until this moment.  Yes, the week had been very stressful and I’m afraid my appearance had put my exhaustion on display.  I was dressed in a pair of old black slacks, a red sleeveless shirt, and a pair of blue flip-flops.  I wore very light makeup and my large purple plastic framed glasses tilted sideways across the bridge of my nose.  I had been too exhausted all week to put contact lenses into my eyes.  I knew my hair had been tossed around by the wind when I left campus just a few minutes earlier but I didn’t stop to brush it again.  The sad thing was that I just felt too exhausted to care.  (Hey, I’m not writing a fashion blog for good reason!)

It felt good to relax especially since I would not be heading back home until 10:30 pm when my night classes were over.  I decided to take full advantage of this moment.  I was just going to sip my tea, read my book, and not worry about anything.

A few moments later, however, a movement at the front of the restaurant caught my attention and I glanced up over the top of my book.  I watched as a very small, adorable, elderly woman entered the restaurant.  The woman was dressed as eccentrically as I was.  She wore a pair of old jeans, a purple long-sleeved knit shirt, and a pink puffy vest even though the end of May temperature outside was approaching 100 degrees.  A little, beige, knit cap covered her short, dark, curly hair.

I know it’s not polite to stare but I watched as she shuffled slowly up to the front register and placed her lunch order.  Then the woman slowly turned around and ambled over to a table in the back right hand corner of the room.  I was a little concerned about the elderly woman.  She had a small hump at the top of her back that caused her head to hang a little lower than her shoulders.  Her neck was slightly bent in order to keep her eyes up.  Her legs seemed to be a little wobbly as she moved slowly between the tables to the booth.

I watched her for a moment as she settled into her seat.  When the clerks called out the number of her food order, I started to stand up, but relaxed back down in my seat when one of the workers left the counter and carried the tray of food over to the woman’s table.  The elderly woman, however, refused to be helpless.  As the clerk placed the tray on the table and walked away, the elderly woman stood up and shuffled over to the condiment counter.  I know that I shouldn’t have been staring, but the gentle rocking motions of her gait was like an intriguing dance, a shamble of endurance and grace.  As the woman picked up some napkins and hot sauce and started walking back to her table, I turned my attention back to my book.  I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable because I had been watching her.

I read just a few words before I was distracted.  A slight movement caught my attention.  I looked up to find the elderly woman now standing beside my table.  I smiled up at her…and then nearly fell out of my chair!

The woman looked at me and said, “You are so pretty!”

I stared at her with my mouth hanging open in surprise.  “Th-th-thank you,” I stuttered.  I was shocked.  I didn’t know what to say.  I took a breath and stated, “So are you,” for I was stunned by the woman’s incredibly deep blue eyes and smooth shiny skin.

The woman waved her hand at me before saying, “No, not me.  But you are really pretty.  Your skin is so smooth…”

Again, I could only stammer a “th-th-thank you” before the woman continued.  “I am 91-years-old,” she stated.  Ninety-one?!?  This woman with the bright blue eyes, treating herself out to lunch all alone, was 91-years-old?!  Before I could make any comment, the woman continued, “I am 91.  At my age, I have seen many beautiful things.  I know beauty…and you, my dear, are beautiful!”

And with that finally pronouncement, the woman turned away from me and ambled back to her table again.  Her head seemed to be held up a little higher and her gait suddenly seemed to be a lot lighter as she moved away from me with an amazing amount of dignity and elegance.

I tried to turn my attention back to my book after this encounter but I couldn’t concentrate.  I suddenly felt myself changed by this moment and I was too excited to sit still.  I got up from my table and refilled my tea cup.  Then, as I walked towards the exit, I detoured over to the woman’s table.  I thanked her again for her compliments and wished her a great day.

“Oh, you, too, my dear,” she answered as her right hand waved joyfully.

I left the restaurant and walked over to my car.  I sat for a few minutes and contemplated what had just happened and the connection I felt to this elderly woman.  I glanced around the parking lot for a moment wondering where the woman came from.  Did she drive herself to the restaurant at 91 years of age? How amazing! I knew then that God had once again sent another person into my life to bless me.

I know that this moment may not mean anything to anyone else.  I know it’s not adventurous or overly interesting.  However, I know that these out-of-the-blue moments, these sudden connections with kind strangers are the elements that gives meaning to my life.  I know that I will always remember the times I’ve driven cross-country or traveled overseas.  But will I always remember random acts of kindness?  I write about these events because random these are the moments I really hope to remember.  I know that random acts of kindness are the moments that make my life extraordinary!

Human Chain

Last Monday, during a two-hour break between my classes, I decided to drive over to Clark’s, the local health food store and grab some healthy snacks.  I really enjoy shopping through all of the bulk bins that are at the front of the store.  I grabbed several plastic bags and began to fill them up with sesame sticks, blueberry granola, and unsalted peanuts.  Once I had chosen my snacks, I walked over to the registers and got in line.  A few minutes later, the clerk was scanning my purchases while I searched in my wallet for my credit card.  Suddenly, I heard a voice loudly saying to me, “What are you going to do with all of these peanuts?”

I glanced over to see my bag of peanuts suddenly dangling in front of my face as I heard a deep rumble of laughter.  At first, I was a little aggravated.  I don’t like to have my grocery selections questioned or my food touched.  I don’t always like strangers shouting at me, mocking me, or teasing me.  I never know how to respond.  So, yes, I could feel myself becoming irritated.  I looked up from my wallet and suddenly found myself looking into the face of a young man with the most dazzling, happy smile I had ever seen.  The smile was so kind and endearing, I couldn’t be upset.  I stared at the man whose eyes behind his thick glasses were slightly crossed and the look of Down’s syndrome graced his face.  The young man was wearing a green Clark’s apron.  The nametag on the apron had the word “Volunteer” stamped on it.  How cool!

Suddenly, I heard the female clerk’s voice laugh as she said, “Well, she is going to eat them.  What did you think she was going to do with all those peanuts?”

I started to laugh now.  “Do you like peanuts?” I asked the volunteer.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I like them.”

“I do, too,” I answered.   “I think they’re really good.”

“Yeah,” the volunteer answered, “that’s why you have a whole bag of them.”

“Yeah,” I laughed at his observation, “you’re right.  I guess that’s why.”

The clerk interrupted us then as she ran my credit card and asked if I wanted paper or plastic.  I told her I didn’t need a bag at all.  The clerk turned to the volunteer then and smiled, “She doesn’t want a bag, Mike.  Just hand her the items.”

But the volunteer still seemed fascinated with the bag of peanuts.  Suddenly, his face lit up.  “Hey,” he said then, “I know what you can do with all these peanuts!”

“What?”  I asked him as the clerk listened in on his suggestion.  “What should I do with all these peanuts?”

“You can make peanut butter!” he said triumphantly.

The clerk and I laughed then, “Yes,” I told him.  “That’s a great idea!  I just might do that!”

The volunteer handed me the plastic bags of peanuts and sesame sticks as I told him thank you and have a good day.  He smiled at me and wished me the same.  I walked out of the store and started walking over to my vehicle.

As I reached my car, I suddenly noticed a middle aged, blond woman in a silky short black dress and high black heels walking across the parking lot.  The woman was taking very small tentative steps as she pulled at her dress.  She continued to fret with the skirt of her dress, awkwardly pulling it down her legs to her knees as her fingers slipped and tangled in the loose flowing material.  I watched her for just a moment.  The woman walked a little sideways on the balls of her feet as if she was afraid she was going to fall.

As the woman approached me, I smiled and called out to her.  “You look really nice.”

The woman stopped and stared at me for a moment.  Then she smiled as she blinked several times as if to block tears.  “Oh, thank you so much,” she said.  “You look so nice, too.”

I smiled and blushed a little at her words.  I was wearing what I normally wear when I teach my classes.  I want to be comfortable so I wear a long skirt, simple shirt, and flat sandals.  And though I do think the woman was only trying to be nice to me, there was a hint of sincerity and kindness in her words that I don’t usually hear from a lot of people.

I smiled at the woman and said “Thank you.”  I was grateful for her kindness.  The woman stopped walking for a moment as I stood by my car door.  She hesitated as if she was going to say something more to me.  I waited, but she just stood awkwardly still, looking at me with a shy smile as her fingers tugged at the hem of her skirt.  We smiled at each other for a moment more before I said, “You have a great day!”

“Oh, thank you so much,” the woman said as she began to take awkward steps again.  “You, too.  You have a great day.”

I got into my car then and watched as the woman shuffled her way across the parking lot and then stepped inside of the sliding front doors of Clark’s.  As I watched the doors close behind her, I smiled as I thought of all the unusual, amazing people God had brought into my life that day.  I had the greatest feeling that the people I had encountered were in my life for a reason.  Just these brief encounters made me feel incredibly blessed.  I hoped that I had been an inspiration and blessing to other people as well, too.

I drove back to the campus feeling incredibly connected to the Oneness that bonds all souls.  I thanked God for allowing me, in some brief way, to be a link in His amazing human chain.  I don’t want to be the weak link in this chain!  I want to love and be kind to people.  It is always return to me. It comes back around.  For I love myself the most when I love other people.