A FRIDAY MEDITATION – Counting Dewdrops

Moving isn’t for sissies, either.  It’s very hard work.  Not only the packing but the unpacking, and since I hadn’t seen anything for three months, filled with wondering what I’m going to do with that piece of furniture (or whatever) that I forgot I had.  Then there are the little things that I still haven’t found like my summer shoes and, still, the kitchen knives. I also found out that I’m much older than I was the last time I did this moving thing and I don’t have another move left in me. I have a hard time sleeping and quieting myself in prayer.  All manner of things to do crowd in on me. I didn’t write A Friday Meditation for two weeks because I was so overwhelmed and without words.

For some strange reason today, I remembered a story about our grandson, Zac, who along with his two sisters lived with us for 10 months.  I’ve written about this before. Zac was in the second grade, had ADHD, and would hardly ever walk to school by himself or even with his sisters.  On one particular morning, he refused to go, so I walked with him but I was not happy.  He only had to go three blocks.  As we walked along—Zac happy as a little clam and me fuming inside—he stopped and asked, “Grandma, did you ever notice how sparkly the grass is in the morning after it rains at night?”

I was brought up short and had to admit that I hadn’t noticed anything, at least on this particular day.  I was busy being irritated which distracted me from what I might see. So we talked about sparkly grass and walked on. When Zac came home, we talked about why he would not walk by himself to school but had absolutely no trouble getting home.  He told me that he was afraid that he would get busy looking at things and he would be late or not get to school and be in trouble.  It didn’t matter so much on the way home, because he knew he would get home.  But going, he was afraid that he would lose his focus and not complete his mission.

My focus has been on the difficult areas in my life, recently, and not that of paying attention to the dew on the grass—the gratitude things—gifts from God things that I walk past without noticing because I’ve been focused on what I have to do that I think is important.  It is then that I, maybe not you, lose gratitude and the awareness of Jesus in my life.

So, a few dew drops on the grass time:

Once during prayer recently, I kept feeling that I was being rocked in a swing!

Before we moved in, we brought breakfast to our new house and ate it on our patio.  I added a white table cloth (left by the previous owner) to our table that was a bit dirty and I didn’t have a rag.

A new neighbor who took a delivery left on our porch to her house so it wouldn’t get wet in the rain. Or the neighbor who picked up our trash bags, left at the curb, and put them in extra cans he had – then told us to keep them until we got our own.

A note, with a smiley face, that was packed with our dishes that said they loved us and signed “Your Dishes” maybe helped by loving friends who packed our stuff (and I do mean stuff) to prepare for moving.

And flowers – those given while we were in transition, those brought to the new house in pots from friends, and those already planted around the house that I didn’t know about but are now blooming.  I love those God surprises.

A meeting and lunch today with soul friends. Little dew drops of the awareness of God’s love and presence. Just remembering raises my spirit and brings my focus back to gratitude.

Thank you, Lord. And thank God for all of you.

Blessings, Donna


A FRIDAY MEDITATION – Pondering Basements

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.
—von Schlegel

This morning I’ve had a bit of Solitude and silence. I needed it because…..well, because. I’ve lost focus. My mind has been so scattered in the past month that I can’t even find my focus. Today I gave my house plants a haircut to get them ready for their new home. They really needed one. I promised they would like it in their new place and we move next week.

I started to think about basements. We’ve been living in a friend’s for the last three months. It is a lovely basement with lots of light, big windows and comfy chairs. It has been a great place for transition and it has been a place of refuge. Little did I know that I would need it so much. I’m so grateful for the time here and for our lovely hostess who seems to love taking care of us. Little did I know that I would need that either. But God knew. It’s been a bit of a rough journey, lately.

Thinking back about 35 years ago, for a period of about 10 years, basements were another kind of refuge for me. Maybe they are more alike than I know as I ponder. During that past time, starting with a period of what would been labeled post-partum depression, I lived most often in the basement (the old dark kind with small windows and very little light. I went there whenever the wind blew because it was then that I would have great fear and panic attacks. The thought of a tornado terrified me. It was mostly that, I think. One period of time my depression was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. I was afraid of God. I didn’t know that he loved me. I was afraid that he was chasing me, which he was by the way, but not for punishment because I was so weak. I was later diagnosed with a chemical imbalance, with low serotonin that kicks in after long periods of stress like the last two years has been. Although, I’ve learned to manage this fairly well, I can feel it around my edges. No telling what might have happened without this refuge. And without God.

When I started to get better, I eventually learned that God loved me so very much, that a community is vital, and for me that meant Christian community because the power of the Holy Spirit has been so present in those in which I have been involved. I know that God is always present with us whether we know it or not and that he always means good for us and not harm. In my mother-in-law’s last years, she lived with us for awhile. One day she said to me, “Doesn’t it seem that when the Holy Spirit gets ahold of you, it’s like a tornado has slammed into you?” Suddenly, I knew why wind and tornadoes had been my fixation when I was running from God.

So what’s with all this reminiscing since we’ve heard it all before? You may ask. It’s because that’s where my pondering of basements took me. And because it’s one of my stories of God. We need to be reminded of them from time to time and we need to tell them. And because my edges are a little ragged and I wanted you to know. Also, because I need to tell you, at least one more time, that Jesus loves you (and me) and there is nothing that we can do about it at all, ever.

Lord, you are far more than we can ever comprehend, yet you still reach down and give us things like sunrises and coffee and friendships. Thank you for your grace towards us that is so evidently poured over every aspect of our lives! Amen. ~ Renovaré