Kinda like Heaven

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My brother and I with Thunder, circa 1965 or so……

There used to be a row of houses on the next block over from where I lived. We knew every family that lived there very well. The houses were owned by the adjacent hospital but I never knew that.  About 10 or 15 years ago now, one by one all the current occupants moved out and the houses themselves were physically moved to a neighboring town.

Growing up, I spent hours inside every one of those houses. Some of them many, many hours. Starting from left to right, there were the Meier’s, then the Matsumoto’s, (whose kids were almost part of the family since my Mom watched Rhonda and Jeff when their Mom went to work.) Next to them were the Merry’s, then the Dillon’s. It was quite a spectacle to watch those houses be readied for a move.

I was reminded of all this yesterday when I took Mom to the store and saw Harriet and Sam Matsumoto. Sam has cancer now, on chemo. I can remember when he used to drive Rhonda and I to school sometimes, he would turn on the vents and stuff would fly out.

I was thinking of those houses, those people, this morning at 3:00 AM when I couldn’t sleep. In my memory I see every house, every family. I remember the night our dog got hit by a car and we mourned the loss sitting in Rhonda’s room. I remember the day I was swimming in the back yard of the Meier’s when the Dollinger boy came with a boa wrapped around his neck. I remember Todd Dillon running home when he cracked his chin in our driveway. So many memories.

I was thinking that in those days I could have knocked on any one of those doors and would have been welcomed. Offered a cooky or ice-cream bar. I would have listened and respected those parents like my own.

It struck me that must be a little of what Heaven is like. Being able to knock on any door and be welcomed. Now it seems few neighbors know each other. My folks just about have to flag the younger people down to talk to them before the garage swallows them up in the evenings. It’s sad.

I am not in John Lennon’s camp, even though I loved the Beatles back in the day.  I love to imagine Heaven because for me it’s just as real as this world, more real in fact. The Bible says in Heaven we will be fully known.

No worries about money, no mortgage, no war, no death, no homelessness, no crime, no pain or sadness. No loneliness or heartache for what might have been. No disease or any kind.

And God will wipe every tear. That sounds pretty darn good to me right now. Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of good still left in this world, and much to celebrate. But I don’t think anyone would argue that it needs some redeeming right about now.

What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him…….1 Corinthians 2:9

When even the ocean is not big enough……..

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Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.”

I stood at the shore and waited for that feeling……..that eraser, elixir that would make all the present circumstances melt away. But it occurred to me that sometimes even the ocean is not big enough to do that. Even if it were fresh water and we were dying of thirst, it could save us but we would still thirst again, just as Jesus explained to the Samaritan woman at the well:

………but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.

But nature has always had a way of making God close for me, and I relaxed and let it do that. I looked hard at everything, and we ate good food and had some wine too. I foraged for shells and saw some magnificent patterns in some sand dollars and drew them in my book. For me, the ocean is God’s way of saying, “Here you go……explain this one.” And all I can say is that He is bigger than everything, even anyone’s problems including my own.

Even when it feels like the small things you do are like dumping a cup of water into an ocean of grief, God is the multiplier. When it’s all you can do, He makes it more than enough.

I am finished with my one year commitment to LOEL center and this weekend is the start of a little break before I begin the next phase of retirement. I am still a little ways off from Social Security and so I work for at least three and a half (counting) more years.

Sometimes I close my eyes and remember how my room looked from the right, and from the left. When I felt like everything in my life was secure and I had the umbrella of a big company over me. But maybe that was an illusion. I still have God over me, over us.

And this place by the river is truly a tremendous blessing. It is feeling like home  I am learning here to take one day at a time and receive it with a grateful heart. Maybe that’s what God is trying to tell me, that I don’t have to have everything mapped out and planned. How many people can walk down to a river in the morning after all?

The four days at the beach did its magic. I will remember the boat ride through the slough and our walks and so many birds this year, more than we’ve ever seen.

For a little time we were suspended:

It’s easy to think that at 3:19 AM it’s just us here alone in this place and I want to remember the peace of this moment. The staccato seal barking on the pier, the seagull I just heard. Even though it’s chilly I always crack the window to stay in touch with the ocean so big and still out there like God. Each drop of time is precious. An engine starts nearby, a night fisherman going out or coming in. You fighting off a cold nearby, fighting for breath and Briggs purring in my ear with his paw on my shoulder. Just is just us down here God, don’t forget us. Just beyond, over the bridge is where we left some of E’s parents ashes. The ocean breathe in and out, until God says “No more.”

And when we pulled back into town we put everything back on like a heavy pack and I have to remember Jesus other words, just before He went to the cross:

I am leaving you with a gift–peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.

And I think of Him on that terrible cross taking on my sin and the sin of the whole world and I know I can trust Him.

 

Rediscovering an old friend

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Elaine, my BFF bought me this Raleigh (I think maybe for my Birthday) around 27 years ago and its served me well. I remember the day I wheeled it off the lot shiny new and sparkling, gears clicking promise of miles to come. I loved it then and I love it still. The bike shop where it was purchased is still there, in fact. I’ve had offers to sell it, but I wouldn’t dream of it. We’ve been through too much together.

When I lived up in Payson, Arizona I put some fatter mountain-bikey tires on it for the decomposed granite that was everywhere there. That was years ago now. I think of all the ground that was covered since, and I can hardly believe it.

Just about a year ago, we wrestled the bikes onto the back of the Motorhome when we moved back here. How well I remember that day. It was beastly hot and we were physically and emotionally exhausted. E was in a boot for her plantar fasciitis.

Leaving home and people and things we loved and then a terrible moving experience all fed into it. But as the last cable was lashed on and they were secure we breathed a sigh of relief. After we got here they each received a tune-up and were rested in their new temporary home in my Aunt’s garage. To me they looked relieved if such a thing is possible.

And my bike and I, we have gotten reacquainted this year. Now I can bike places again and I am loving it. I am recovering ground I went over years ago as a kid, then as a teen, and later a twenty-something. Then, I rode my bike everywhere.  I still remember the time my friend and I were riding to school and she dropped her purse  in the middle of the street and a car ran over it. She had a jar of Vaseline which broke all over everything.

I still get a little thrill when I ride across the railroad tracks, like I am crossing over another side of the world. I rode downtown yesterday morning. I felt the kind of freedom biking gives that you just can’t get in a car. Perfect weather………a perfect slice of a cool early fall day and the trees are just thinking of maybe dropping a few leaves here and there. I made a dog friend and saw my baby kitties in the pet grooming place. And I saw my co-worker and his girlfriend at the coffee shop.

Later I rode to the lake to meet family for a picnic. The only thing I had to worry about was not hitting the telephone poles spaced just so on the sidewalk between the yards. Funny how you know you have room but tuck your elbows in and wobble a bit just the same. I only had to touch down once or twice. Afterwards I rode home and parked her in her spot.

I added a new accessory this year, a white basket which I can carry stuff in. Not too big, just enough room for my phone and a book or lunch. Bikes are a little bit magic I think. Each time I get on and ride, I think of Christmas long ago when I was ten and my big present that year was a blue Schwinn. Somewhere there is a picture of me in my faux fur white coat with the silver buttons and my teeth sticking out (before braces) smiling big with the wind in my hair.

Magic then, and a little bit of magic still.

Hard Stop

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Funny how things can come into focus when you’re still. When you’re quiet enough to let that stillness wrap itself around you and you start to believe that it really will be okay. There are those today reeling from loss, whose homes are no longer a reality, but only a reflection. I identify a little bit. I miss my home and the security that went with it every day. And yet I know that my true security lies in God and nothing else. Homes will come and go but He stays forever.

Last Friday I sat by the river and thought great and wondrous things. At least five of them. Later when I tried to capture them I couldn’t remember one, but the feeling of peace stayed behind. I was so grateful for that because there have been times this year when scenes of great beauty bounced off my soul like teflon and that troubled me. For I’ve always been able to find my way back to God through His beauty in creation.

We slip and fall headlong into our worries and problems and then He wakes our soul once again and I think it’s because He wants us to feel the gift of Gratefulness again.

All around us, nature is enfolded in a great drama and it never stops. She invites us to partake and be more than a bit player, and the rules are simple. We have to do a “hard stop”

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A hard stop is when we allow our worries and cares drift away like this leaf who fell twisting in the wind. It didn’t think of falling, it didn’t even try to fall, it just fell. And in that simple act it had a power it didn’t even know it had. Its little presence announced that a change is coming, the first of many reds and golds and browns that will rain down in the coming months.

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Psalm 55:6 says: “Oh that I had wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.”

I have a friend who used to say that when he flew, his problems seemed smaller. They weren’t really, but from the air his perspective changed. My flying usually involves driving to the beach. We all need a place where we can see clearer, feel calmer. But we can do that from anywhere with prayer.  Jesus has the peace we so deeply crave. It’s His free gift…….though it cost Him plenty He was happy to do it.

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And when we accept it by stopping our striving and wrestling and open our hearts to His love He is honored. When we do that, It makes Him feel like it was all worth it. Like a parent who has had to sacrifice so many times they feel their battered ripped to shreds heart may just give way this time. Then the child realises he or she is not the only one in the world, that someone loved until it hurt for them. When that love is released, hearts can start to mend.

Do you see a heart here, or just a dead tree?

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Accept the invitation that God sends through His nature friends. I can assure you of a reward. A wise man named John Muir said this:

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.

Resting on one leg……

Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” So we may boldly say:
“The Lord is my helper;
I will not fear.
What can man do to me?”
I took a photo of this little duck as we were walking past the marina in San Diego. It struck me as precious…..here she was, seemingly unconcerned about all the people walking by……all the noise that may have caused her to be frightened or uneasy. But no…..she was perfectly at peace. Napping with her little head tucked under her wing…….and on one leg, no less.
If only I could be like that little duck. Perfectly calm and at peace, knowing my Father has me in His sights and that anything that happens to me will have to go through Him first. Sometimes it seems like God comes back to us, but really, it’s us who leave. Never Him. He is always there standing in the wings like a concerned parent just off stage at their child’s first performance….first play…..all the way to the final scene of our lives.
This life is hard, no mistake. Things happen that are just not fair at all. At times like that it’s easy to think God has His eyes closed, but He never does. We look around and see evil prospering right and left. Like the Israelites of old, we say…..”How long Oh Lord?”
And all summer it seems there were disasters everywhere we turned. The terrible forest fires, and the Texas flooding and now Irma bearing down on the poor folks in its path. It seems we can’t catch a breath before the next thing hits. Every day I have prayed for everyone affected, thanked God that I am warm and dry.
I complain from time to time that all the stuff that used to be so tastefully arranged between the walls of the home I loved are now sitting in storage collecting dust, nevertheless I am safe, we are all safe.
And what about those Hurricanes of life? In any situation we have a choice to evacuate the scene, get the heck out of dodge or hunker down and ride it out. Whatever your disaster today, there is only One choice that will make a difference.
Pray to the One who commands the wind and the waves for peace. The One who can calm your turbulent mind, body and soul. He may not remove the situation, but I can attest to the fact that He will come and meet your need.
And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19
He said, “I cried out to the Lord in my great trouble, and he answered me. I called to you from the land of the dead, and Lord, you heard me. Jonah 2:2
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. Psalm 40:2
Today, my prayer is that he will rest like that little duck in God’s promises that will never be broken. May we all rest in Him and have true peace…….Thankful today for peace…..the kind that passes all understanding, guards our hearts, keeps our minds and hearts on Jesus.
Thankful for a day in the future when true justice will be done…….the calm assurances in Scripture, that book that has the power….to mend hearts…..lives……thankful for God giving me that little duck, I will try to think of her my brain runs rampant with worry.
May it be well with your soul today, friends.

Check this out…….

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I have been biking past this old house on one of my favorites streets in Lodi. I noticed the dumpsters out from for many months now. It looked like a crack house, or a spook house. For awhile the door stood open to reveal the old-time wallpaper inside. Many times my curiously almost got the better of me and I wanted to sneak in when all the workers were gone. Good thing I didn’t (check out the website and you’ll see why)

Anyway, I told my folks about it and they said they knew the people who lived there years back. I can’t imagine what must have happened to let it get so bad. At least now the mystery is solved. I finally got close enough to see what was on the door.

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Later we went for a short Kayak ride. The air quality was poor due to the smoke from all fires in the state. (It’s literally burning up). The forests and the people need to be managed better, but that’s another topic. It was one of the hottest days so far on record, so it wasn’t along ride, but it was nice to get out on the water. If I’d a had my trimmers, I could have brought some serious blackberries home.

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I snapped a picture of one of my favorite boats on the river…….I just think it’s adorable. There is another one, Pete’s Bar and Grill that we like too. It was a peaceful day, just as a Saturday should be.

Later on, I took Mom and Dad some dinner so they wouldn’t have to shop in the heat and they could have some leftover for today.

Today we get to worship, everyday we get to worship. I was meditating on the fact that God has adopted us folks. Isn’t that an unbelievable thing? For those of us who have ever felt displaced by their earthly families, you can know that the God of the universe took desperate measures to make you part of His family. To have and to hold forever and ever.

I also contributed a little on a fellow bloggers website to help a little church in Texas. You can read about it here. It’s a drop in the bucket, but every drop counts as the people of Texas so keenly feel right now.

Hope you have a peaceful and blessed Labor Day all…….

Sacred Moments

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In the light of all that is happening in Texas, I sit here in the quiet; I realize again that the Sacred comes many times in the ordinariness of the start of the day.

I see the flooded homes, see the panicked people and animals clinging to each other and it doesn’t seem real. Too terrible to watch and yet I owe it to them to not turn away.

It’s the first communion-like pour of the steaming cup.  The old faithful senior cat who has been through so much with us, resting on his post after his breakfast. If I lost everything in this Motorhome and had him safe in a carrier I could be okay.

I see the two dogs in the row-boat, and them trying to save the horses, and I see 5 cats shivering in a basket with 4 strong heroes carrying them to safety.

David Nevue’s peace floats through this little space we call home this morning and I am praying for the flooded people, and thankful that someone I care about is safe in the other little room playing with her phone, I hear a video and it’s comforting. And that my family is too across town. This is the sacred part:

It’s in these little moments before the day starts to crash through my brain and everything starts all over again that I feel that just maybe everything really will be okay because He said it will. 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

Be with them all Father. Bring your comfort to the shelters and the roads and the rooftops where people are hunkered down, waiting for rescue, for the next step. I pray for all the organizations going over to help, all the individuals and groups taking boats and supplies and love. May your grace wrap itself around them all. Amen

And be with us too, Father, because some of us have disasters right here.

A new day has dawned, and as long as we have Him, we have hope.