Stranger in a Strange Land

2011-03-01T07:43:00.000-08:00

reflections of a renovator....in the middle of my bathroom reno, tired of trying to get my 40 yr. old bathroom walls restored to perfection...too cheap to redrywall, i decide to cover with layers of joint compound, a technique proffered online and made reasonable sense to me at the time. armed with limited body strength and even less idea of how to hang drywall, i decided this would be my course. it has been 10 days of spackling. if i had just myself to please, i would have called it 5 days ago, i am easy that way. but there was the significant other to consider. he is not easy at all. in fact, he is the most detail oriented person i know..and to a fault. so, we are as they say, at opposite ends of this reno in how its going so far. i have continued toward perfection for his sake...and the frustration of trying to gage anothers criteria is beyond measure. tomorrow, i am done. tomorrow i prime the wall, and the next day i paint walls and ceiling. perfect or not, it is over.
my frustrations pushed me godward...how is he faring in all this? what could be learned from the place i have willingly put myself ? meditation ensued.....
well, my thought is, the creator-god has made us in his image. if we were to take the time and seek the root of our gifts, talents, ambitions, striving, goals etc. we would find pure motives. most of us would anyway. if we do a thing, god had the idea first, if we think a thought, it was his before time, if we create or strive to make over anything, it is just an attribute of our fathers, given to only humans. and the idea of perfection, imbedded in our hearts because there is such a thing, we just cant reach it. but its there, else why the urge to attain it?
god is in the reno business. i have only 40 yr old damaged, rutted torn drywall to contend with. he has us. sure, we could come to him when we're 7, like i did, and maintain some semblence of purity, but most of us don't go there. most of us arrive in his presence rutted, torn and damaged, wanting to be fixed, healed and made new. this, his process, will take the rest of our lives. he strives not for perfection, because where he lives, we already are, so give yourselves a break...hes ok that your not. he strives not to recreate, that will happen when our feet touch shore. he does however, call us to head in that direction, his direction....a new direction and a different one than the rest of the world is heading. as we look with eyes that have a new line of vision, we must decide how we will get there. some choices are ours and he can use them to his glory. there are many paths ahead, steer me, change me, reno me...and ill try to be ok with it. i wont always be you know, i am a stubborn sort. every petulation must be laid down, every tantrum, easing in rage and energy over time. i am a reno, under construction, not perfect...(here), but in his sight. not done yet here, but in his eyes. giving up on perfection, i strive for it, it is how i am made. how we are all made.

1-6 THE WORLD IN CONFLICT - Marv Rosenthal

2010-08-20T14:30:00.000-07:00

2010-07-03T19:55:00.000-07:00

Because i am a christian, a follower of the teachings of Christ, my mind travels on different tracks. unusual topics of interest occupy the empty spaces of gray matter in my head. Lately, that means the past 24 hours or so, i have been contemplating the color of the pre-flood. Most people would'nt go as far as the flood with me, much less what color the sky was. But taking what the Bible says literally seems fair and reasonable, after all, i know the author personally.
so, if I start out with the premise that indeed, there was a flood, as the bible tells me, and that yes, there was a water canopy above, just as the bible tells me....then it would be reasonable to assume things under those remarkable conditions would not resemble our world today.
In reading articles from others who are as interested in these things as i am, i find a plethera of interesting scientific theories about how those conditions would effect the atmosphere.
i am exceedingly interested in the color of the sky though, due to the one thing god left noah as "a sign" something tangible to remember it all by. For as long as Noah and his family lived, they would be the only ones to remember how it had been, the lovely earth, the colors, the sounds...the songs of stars and trees.
When Noah had opened the door for the first time, he looked out on a world of water and sky, both now harsh and unfamilar. Noah must have sucked in his breath as he beheld water, churning, dirty full of floating death and destruction. it was nothing like the calm pools of paradise, crystal clear and cool. No, indeed, this water was terrifying and full of opposing powers, able to kill with it's dreadful waves and frantic turbulance. And then there was the sky...
From all readings on the subject by a host of brilliant folks of science certain deductions can be and have been made. Most of it is way over my head, i want so much to stay inside noah, feel his fear and heartsickness when faced with the decimation of beauty that once he called home.
The sky of Noah's boyhood was more than just barren atmosphere...it was created as a living biosphere, functioning as air, moisture and megaphone. Serving to gather all the vibrations and electrical impulses from every created thing and amplify, coreograph and conduct the choirs of heaven and earth. In its day of birth, it was sandwiched between the waters, above and below. the waters above were combined with gasious metals which crystalized the water into a firm and fixed inpenetratable fabric that held the atmosphere in place as a balloon holds air. Scientists say that in those conditions, the sky Noah was born under would have been various shades of pink, not blue. Perhaps Noah coined the phrase "rose-colored glasses", for truely, in paradise, the sky above was the color of a beautiful rose. How amazing is that to think about? We love the blue sky above, Gods second choice for beauty. Something tells me if we'd have seen the first one, we'd have felt as Noah did on that first day...bereft.
Noah was given a different world, one that he and his children would take with them until they died. One that if they had a thousand years, could not have adequately described to thier children. A would lost. But God, who is rich in mercy, understood he had taken much away. Through no fault of thier own, they were given the task of rebuilding it all. And so He gave them a gift, a token, something to remember it all by...a rainbow. His gift spread across the blue sky after a rain...when conditions smelled and felt like Noahs lost world. For a few moments he and his family would stop, as we all continue to do today, to stand in awe of the sign of the old world, colors of pink, lavender, and yellow. I believe every time they stood to watch, they cried, they remembered, they mourned. The mercy and kindness of God still pours out on each of us, if only we would look for it.

Among the old bones

2009-11-09T21:17:00.000-08:00

I love stone walls. While in Tn. recently, I came across this old one, bordering a graveyard of equally extreme age. Set on an ever-increasingly busy highway, this plot of ancient land seemed a haven for me. Enchanted, a place where hobbits dwell. It was raining and therefore, misty, which added to the ambience of the place. My sister was with me and not sensing the moment as i did, hurried back to the car. She was busy texting and retexting those at home, trying to keep current with whatever drama was happening, and adding her own to the mix. On our way to a mall, we were....to spend the day plodding down aisles and aisles of merchendise, hoping to find "the thing" we could not leave behind. Shopping is as much fun for me as anyone. Shopping for me is a pleasant diversion, not a life ambition. Anyways...the graveyard did it for me. Gave me the one moment in the entire week of jocularity and festivity when my soul found rest and my heart took wing. Finding things at the mall is hard work, finding things amongst the old bones, that was easy...and so memorable.

The old road

2009-10-23T10:04:00.001-07:00

Yeah, that's me, an old road. That's how I percieve myself anyway. Sometimes as I pass a mirror, just for a second I grimace. "Who is that old woman?", I say to myself. Time is not our friend...nor is it our enemy. I have lost "the pretty", that's for sure. What have i gained over the years? I have found me. The true me, not always pleasant, clever or smart, but the finding of one's self, also means the acceptance of such as it is.
Years ago, whoever "I" was, was lost to me, somebody else's something. Somebody's wife, daughter, mother, friend but now, with much of all that behind me, I relish in the "ME" of it all. I figure, if I live into old age, I may yet have 25 adequate years of growth ahead. What shall i do with it? Well, for starters, I will be nobody's nothing.
I still have a husband, and i guess the best part of me wants to always be his companion. He's a great friend and has gone through the stages & the ages with me, since we were in school together and I was mush in his hands. Now though, he loves me, the real me, still, and I find that most touching. We are both old roads, nearly the same old road. We both go the same direction most times, if you walk on one, you will walk on the other. No stones unfamilar to either of us. They have all been turned. It's good to be the old road. Well trod, packed down, interesting to be on. Those who take me as such are in for an easy walk, to a dependably fine destination. Comfortable, safe, enjoyable scenic....that's me.