Coincidence

 

While it is difficult to explain, and sounds as though I live haphazardly with no plan, (as we have been carefully indoctrinated to believe we must have to be successful), I've lived long enough to know, for sure, there is no such thing as coincidence. Not in my life, anyway. I chose, when I surrendered to Christ's will, giving up my will to His, that I would move about as an empty vessel, willing to do (or not do) as prompted. In this dynamic, while I give up self will, I gain so much more in not just good or better outcomes, but best.

Yesterday, December 29, 2020, once again, I got to reap the benefits of listening, obeying and trusting. 

My prayer life has altered in recent years. I do a lot of praise and gratitude and less asking for specifics. I guess, after awhile, you finally learn that His way, no matter how dauntingly tough it might look, will always conclude with something added to us that we will need. So, mostly all I ask for nowadays is to be delivered from evil (He gave us that option in The Lord's Prayer) and to spare us from tragedy, which is not the same as praying to be spared trouble or crisis. God created this world with basic universal mechanics put in place - action/reaction/consequence.

Looking back I realize my prayers to be spared tragedy have prevented quite a few unnecessary reactions/consequences in this strange year of 2020.

A few weeks ago we went to our old houseboat for the weekend. As we entered we noticed a faint burnt electrical smell. We didn't dismiss it because anyone who owns a houseboat knows the first rule is to never ignore strange sounds or smells. But we couldn't find anything specific to isolate the cause. 

Fast forward to yesterday. Hubs monitors the temperature remotely (oh modern technology) and noticed the heat was not holding steady. Because he is a man who gets things done, he called our Air Con tech who just happened to be available (coincidence?) to meet him there. He discovered that the condensation pump had, at some point, caught fire. He noted there were signs that the flames had licked the floor joists before it miraculously went out (coincidence?)

So, the lesson for me, yet again, is that God does work in mysterious ways. He allows us to suffer consequences of bad choices, just as any good parent should. He puts us in the middle of character building troubles and tests us over and over again, which refines us.

And then, if we are listening, He lays on our hearts to pray in ways we can't understand why. All we have to do is be tuned in and trust that, as strange as it might seem - there is a plan. He wants us to depend on Him.

As this crazy year ends with so many unanswered questions, be of good cheer, God knows what we should do. All we have to do is PAY ATTENTION! 

May your New Year be delivered from evil and spared from tragedy.

For Him,

Meema

The Concept of Divine Control

By Oswald Chambers

…how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him! —Matthew 7:11

Jesus is laying down the rules of conduct in this passage for those people who have His Spirit. He urges us to keep our minds filled with the concept of God’s control over everything, which means that a disciple must maintain an attitude of perfect trust and an eagerness to ask and to seek.

Fill your mind with the thought that God is there. And once your mind is truly filled with that thought, when you experience difficulties it will be as easy as breathing for you to remember, “My heavenly Father knows all about this!” This will be no effort at all, but will be a natural thing for you when difficulties and uncertainties arise. Before you formed this concept of divine control so powerfully in your mind, you used to go from person to person seeking help, but now you go to God about it. Jesus is laying down the rules of conduct for those people who have His Spirit, and it works on the following principle: God is my Father, He loves me, and I will never think of anything that He will forget, so why should I worry?

Jesus said there are times when God cannot lift the darkness from you, but you should trust Him. At times God will appear like an unkind friend, but He is not; He will appear like an unnatural father, but He is not; He will appear like an unjust judge, but He is not. Keep the thought that the mind of God is behind all things strong and growing. Not even the smallest detail of life happens unless God’s will is behind it. Therefore, you can rest in perfect confidence in Him. Prayer is not only asking, but is an attitude of the mind which produces the atmosphere in which asking is perfectly natural. “Ask, and it will be given to you…” (Matthew 7:7).

Dear Beneficiary

 

Warren Buffet has attempted multiple times to get me to respond to his email and accept his magnanimous bestowment of $1,500,000 USD. I, cynic that I am, tend to be a tad bit suspicious of these kinds of offers that come daily to "Dear Beneficiary" so, naturally, I have hesitated to respond. 

This morning he reached out to me again because he just does not understand why I won't get back with him. He might have to find another lucky email to make the offer to. 

What to do, what to do.

Keeping a running total, adding up the Postal Service notices that claim I have a certified letter waiting for me that will give me the code to claim millions of dollars, the dying wishes of untold wealthy Africans (I am shocked about how many there are and who are dying of cancer, what-are-the-odds), the aid offered by the US State Department and FBI to reimburse me for past scams I surely must have fallen for, the notification of a large box of gold still sitting in customs, waiting for me to come claim (I just have to give them my name and personal info, because they don't know that), the various and not so creative offers to include me in amazing business ventures, charitable donations, assorted lottery wins from large corporations, I think my current financial status is now in the billionaire range. 

I know we live in the Matrix and untruth is the new truth, but I am so tired of liars and their lies. I am discouraged to consider how many non-thinkers there are who believe these emails are legit and thereby keep the scams going.

Even more discouraging, though, is the realization of how easy it is to fool the masses into believing what they want to believe because, you know, illusion is better than truth. 

Until it isn't anymore and then it's too late to see. 

Unfortunately, satan uses this human flaw to great advantage.

Are we sufficiently dumbed down now? And, if so, are we at point of no return?

Luke 12:54-56.

54 And he said to the multitudes also, When ye see a cloud rising in the west, straightway ye say, There cometh a shower; and so it cometh to pass. 55 And when ye see a south wind blowing, ye say, There will be a scorching heat; and it cometh to pass. 56 Ye hypocrites, ye know how to interpret the face of the earth and the heaven; but how is it that ye know not how to interpret this time?

For Him,

Meema

May All Your Christmases Be Bright

 

This morning, Christmas Eve-Eve, 2020,  I'm sitting in front of the fire, waxing sentimental. Please bear with me. 

I received an email from my niece who was shocked to find out I had left fakebook. She asked if I could let her have the video I did a couple years ago of her dad, my brother. Apparently when you leave fb all your vids and pics disappear.

My brother, George, now 80, is the funniest man I have ever known. When he was a teenager, he teamed up with a friend and started doing gigs in and around Houston calling themselves The Jokers. They did comedy pantomime routines using the Stan Freberg parodies popular in the 50s. He has quite a funny memoire of those days. He met and worked with some pretty big up and comer names, though, of course, he had no idea at the time. He had no plans for a career as a performer. He was just having fun and making a bit of extra money.

I, the younger sister, was appointed to sit and watch as he and his friend practiced their new routines in our tiny family living room. I, of course, always laughed and applauded.

Several years ago George asked if I could help him put together something for his kids and grands to remember him by. He had his wife video him and I did the final cut. 

He would be the first to admit he isn't near as polished as he was 60+ years ago but he still has enough clown left in him to make anyone (especially me) laugh.

The funniest part is at the very end. It is soooo George. Since I can't share it on fb anymore, I'm gonna put it here.

Merry Christmas to all, may all your Christmases be bright.

Love, Meema

https://faithfulpublishing.vids.io/videos/489fdcb3191de6c4c0/george-and-the-sockettes-mp4

One More Christmas

 

Thirteen years ago I took on the self-appointed position of "Family Archive Custodian".  I made little videos of family events then posted them on a private website. I view this as the modern version of my mother carefully sticking printed photos in albums that now sit gathering dust in the lowest level of my bookshelves. 

What mattered most is that she got pleasure out of the activity, just as I have enjoyed putting the videos together. The difference, I suppose, is that her physical creations will long out last mine because mine can go away with the pulling of an internet plug. 

And so it goes. Things are until they aren't anymore. A statement some will say is tinged with negativity but I don't mean it to be. I am just practical and a student of history. Nothing lasts forever, but I have to note that some things do last longer than others.

I've always leaned toward being a creative sort and some might say I am prone to seeing things through a looking glass darkly. No one actually steps up and complains that my creations are often slightly melodramatic or, at the least, not exactly chirpy in content. But, outlier that I am, I have always fought to be true to myself and my own vision, regardless and even if the rest of the world does not get me. I am used to it.

To be clear, I am a positive, happy person. I love to laugh, I love to make others laugh. But I also have always had an ability, if that's what it is, to see slightly ahead, if not with my eyes but with my spirit.  In other words I have an instinct to create for more than just the moment. There is always a bigger picture to be seen even if it doesn't come into focus for awhile.

I spent some time going through some of my videos of past Christmases. We have been so blessed as a family to be able to gather together in our traditions of celebration, whether holidays or birthdays or just pot luck dinners. I marvel at how the moving images in the videos capture these moments together as though they happened last week.

The point of this rambling is:

Because something in me sees a huge change coming, I'm going to share one  video in particular because, though it seemed a bit melancholy at the time I put it together, it spoke of another time, nine years in the future from 2011, that we had no expectations of back then. 

We have had many altruistic events built into our family celebrations. For several years our big family Christmas party was graced with Santa and Mrs. Claus who came to enchant us with stories and gather up toys to donate to Toys For Tots.

Anyway, I can now fully defend my choice of music for this video and I'm sure Amy Grant would be understanding.

Even though looking at photos or videos of people you don't know might not be time you see as well spent, I share this anyway. It has another message, embedded nine years ago, that I did not recognize in the moment. 

Merry Christmas. May you be blessed with a comfort that transcends all understanding that all things work together for good for those who love the Lord.

And that the things that really matter do last forever. 

For Him,

Meema

LInk to view video

It Is What It Was

Full disclosure, I have struggled this week, watching in real time as my country is falling to those who have sold us to the highest bidder. I've always maintained that attitude is the only thing we own or have any control over but sometimes staying positive in a world gone mad, is a challenge. 

In all the years I've been writing/publishing (since 1990) I have never been at a loss for words. In recent weeks, however, I have wrestled with a different kind of writer's block - I have too many words, but fail to see the point in saying them. 

Today, I decided I needed to try to pull it out because, in the end, while speaking out might net zero results, is there any point gained in remaining silent?

What is the worst thing that can happen if I choose to stand up and speak out in these final days of what used to be the Constitutionally guaranteed right of free speech? That no one hears? That nothing is changed? A likely outcome. But even if the only result is my own attitude adjusted then that must be good enough.

I have admitted before that I only write to find out what I think so my process includes forming the 'working' title first as a way to launch and then, as the words come, I often change the title to better fit the narrative I didn't know, at the outset, that would finally take shape.

So, in order to get off of square one, I picked one title tormenting me to be considered and promised myself that I then could let the remaining titles/topics out one at a time. 

------------------------------------------

I have a very specific opinion on the topic of rewriting history to appease a modern delusion. 

In a perfect world we should be able to learn from history, from raw experience and the dire consequences of believing the lies that so easily shape our circumstances. But this has never been a perfect world, at least not after Eve chose wrongly and munched on the forbidden fruit. And no ideology or religion, regardless how egalitarian, how seemingly devoted to fairness and love and equality, will ever make it so. The inherent inadequacies of human nature won’t allow it.

In the Matrix, where everything is founded in illusion, even the noble quest for truth and justice is not what it appears to be. And that is because we cannot make this world perfect ourselves. No grand rhetoric, heartfelt lyrics, well-crafted and applauded speeches, high-minded movements, protests, chants bellowed out by collective voices, systems, drives, group efforts or votes, can change what is not real to begin with. Glitter can never be gold.

We float precariously in the vast ocean of history on the flotsam of human shortcomings. Those who believe they can reorder how we think and feel, challenging the mistakes of the past by replacing them with better mistakes, have no concept or even a desire to know how God works. 

The biggest mistake, of course, promoted by satan, is believing that we can be a god, that humans can evolve into our own goodness and therefore make Heaven on earth - often referred to as Utopia by those minions who do satan's bidding. 

First of all, though we are able to rewrite history books, we can't change history. It simply is what it was. There has never been a ‘good’ period in the recorded past of civilization when mankind made righteous choices. Even so, God’s hand has been in it all. What He chooses to intervene on and what He chooses to allow is all according to His plan - one we cannot understand. So, yes, God knows and works all things, both good and bad (as we lamely define good and bad), to His best purpose. 

Knowing the true history of the unimaginable obstacles the Pilgrims encountered it is clear for me that God had a specific purpose/plan and helped them come here and establish this land. And, yes, there were already a people here, as has been the case in most every land claimed, fought for and reclaimed by other people throughout human history.

And, as always happens, good things as well as bad things happen in periods of enormous change because good people do good things and very bad people do bad things and cause great harm to other people. This is the ongoing battle here - between good striving to do God’s will and evil trying to thwart it. 

Note: How it works out for the Remnant is usually based on how strong faith is and dependence on God and His will, not our own.

When I lived in Oklahoma I had great sympathy for the history of the Trail of Tears because the story is large there, being the end of the trail where the survivors began again. One of my best friends was half Cherokee and she was born and lived among family that only spoke Cherokee until she was seven. She went to college with Native American funding assistance and moved on to live a successful standard American life. 

Though not enough to land on the Cherokee Register, I also have Cherokee DNA coming from both my parents. I also have Irish and English and Scottish blood as well. But what I am is a Christian first, and American second. Those who wish to guilt me because I am also largely white will not succeed because I don’t care what they think. They are not God.

More importantly, I know that God doesn’t care about our ethnicity. He doesn’t care what happened to our ancestors or what our ancestors did or didn't do. He doesn’t even care who we were before we accepted Christ. What matters to God is who we are now. What do we have to show for ourselves now? Those who continue to use past atrocities to cultural groups as a rationale for their own agendas are not as interested in the truth as they are in feeding and puffing up their own self-righteousness - shoring up their belief they can be earth-based gods dictating to the rest of us how we should be. 

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for you are all one in Christ Jesus. [Gal 3:28]

For Him,

Meema

That Which Doesn't Kill Us

 

After you have been hanging out here on earth more than seven decades you likely have a fairly impressive collection of experiences. Some you might be willing and/or eager to share, others you might wish to forget ever happened. Regardless, we come to the final chapters of our story as the sum total of who and what we are because of what we have done, or not done, opportunities seized or missed, best and worst paths taken.  The good, the bad and the ugly.

Ultimately, we all have our moments we are proud of and just as many that we regret. We can not go back and relive or change any of them though. We can only remember.  And learn.

In this strange time, as we ease into the holiday season that is an intrinsic part of our culture, many more than usual, this year, are faced with having to make do or do without. Many are forced to be separated from loved ones. Many can’t even afford to buy normal food, let alone the special ingredients that make up our traditional feasts. 

Who can argue that 2020 has been tough from beginning to end?

In my life, because I’ve been around the block a few times, I can say that I’ve had my share of both good and bad holidays. Times when the best of the best happened and times when things were not so happy, when either loved ones were far away or I had next to nothing extra to buy even basic supplies. Thinking back, I truly cannot recall any specific ‘perfect’ holiday, the good ones seem to all fade together into one lovely warm blurry memory like a video collage of laughing faces, controlled chaos and delicious unfettered joy.

I can, however, distinctly recall, in full detail, the tough ones. Maybe it’s because I’ve been blessed to have more good ones than bad ones, or maybe it’s because it was the tough ones, the sad, painful ones that added more onto me than the happy ones did. This, naturally, is not something one can parse except in hindsight. 

But since we are indeed the sum total of all that we experience, within the strange condition known as being human, surprisingly it is the challenges and tests of endurance that grow us up, strengthen and fortify us, and prepare us for the rigors of real life. It is a harsh truth that real life happens more than the special times we carve out and set aside. The joyful times are certainly important in a balanced life but it is those times that try us that beef up our meddle, that we are likely to remember more, especially if we gave it our best and endured to meet the day after. 

In retrospect, when we look back at having held up, withstood and endured instead of succumbing to the emotions of the moment, we find we will likely have an experience worth sharing. A time to be proud of. Something with which to inspire someone else. 

… a moment in time we can say added well to the sum total of how brave, forward-thinking and purposeful we are. 

You are not alone. May this give you peace.

For Him,

Meema

Time To Choose

A few days ago Dave Rubin asked his community in rubinreport.locals.com how everyone was feeling.

I took a few days to get quiet and think about this. In recent months I have chosen to be more outspoken in this blog, rather than remain in the more gentle middle ground. The day does come when you must not only choose Who you will worship and follow but declare it out loud. 

So, how am I feeling? 

Well…

I’m working my way through the five stages of grief. Anger was short lived because I don’t like being angry. Denial was even shorter because I’m too practical. I lingered in Bargaining because, well, what’s the downside to offering up promises to be more proactive instead of complacent? To promise to stand up for Christ instead of turning a blind eye to go along to get along in exchange for a little more time?

I think I spent most of the last few days in a reflective Depression, but because I am one who not only doesn’t fret over the glass being half full, I am grateful for having a glass at all, and since gratitude is the best cure for depression, it’s difficult for me to justify being depressed. 

So, here I am on the edges of Acceptance but I step in conditionally. 

I do not accept that the 2020 Presidential election was honest. It seems evil is being allowed to have its way as I type this. 

I do not accept that the hypocritical, self-righteous crowds celebrating Biden are now not able to be super spreaders of Covid as they claimed Trump rallies were just weeks ago. Covid just isn’t that smart.

I do not accept that we can now love each other, unify and ‘get along’ even as there are many who, just a couple weeks ago, called Trump supporters every foul name in the book and who are now compiling a ‘get even’ blacklist calling for Trump supporters to be fired from their jobs. There have been many examples in human history that called for standing up and fighting or being overcome. Even as Christians are admonished to love one another, we are also given the right to discern who to trust and who to resist. Think Corrie Ten Boom and dozens of others who took a stand thereby saving many lives in WW2.

I do not accept that this country can stand, as it was founded, against the evil that has taken power, without a great life altering upheaval. We are truly at war with dark principalities and the goals are to reshape America to deny and reject ‘In God We Trust’. 

I do not accept that the Presidential election of 2020 was a choice between two men. Rather it was a choice between two Americas, a Democratic Republic or a socialist banana republic.

I do not accept that evil has won the war even though it might have claimed victory in recent battles. 

Most importantly, 

I do not accept that God has abandoned us. His will is always accomplished even if we don’t understand it or why what is happening is allowed to be. There are many Scriptures that warn us that being Believers is not always easy, but it is the very best choice in the long run.

I am comforted to know that God has this even if things do not unfold as we wish. Imagine the confusion and despair of the Disciples as they watched Christ die on the cross. 

We know how that worked out. 

For Him, 

Meema

Storm Before the Calm

 

Thursday morning, October 29, 2020, my eyes flew open at 4:15 a.m. to what sounded like buckets of water being violently tossed against the window. 

Hurricane Zeta had arrived in Georgia. 

During the four plus hours of cringing at every roaring noise, at each blow that assaulted our house, we sat tense, lights flickering now and again, expecting we would lose internet as well as electricity. We gratefully acknowledged being able to have our hot coffee, knowing some would not have the luxury. 

Unlike thousands of others, we didn’t lose our connection to the rest of the world. Here it is Friday afternoon and there are still many who have not yet had their power restored. The ramifications will be ongoing.

Yesterday, when the worst had passed, I ventured out onto the property and was not shocked to see huge limbs, leaves and debris everywhere. One tree down, fortunately, not in a critical place. Our neighbor’s barn lost some tin roof. We had an old clock up on the wall on the upper deck that had blown off and left glass shards everywhere. All in all we were spared. We are grateful. 

We seem to have been conditioned in the last ten months to take catastrophe in stride.

Perhaps because, here in 2020, as we all have had to deal with what has been recognized as the most bizarre, challenging year in modern history, and as we head toward the presidential election, we are practiced at taking stock. We calmly assess the damage, we count our blessings, even as we brace for the great unknown as this year leaves behind many things that will need repair. 

This morning, as I pondered all that has happened this year, now punctuated with a huge storm, like a swift kick to one who is already down, I had a sobering thought. If Trump wins, everyone wins. We get a shot at trying to keep our nation free for at least 4 more years. Even those who are determined to destroy it with their woke self-righteous agendas will be able to do and say as they please, freely. If Biden wins, only those who are determined to dismantle this country will win. And even they will lose eventually because that is the history of socialism. It never works. Only the few in power get to benefit. 

I have read comments elsewhere from those who feel that 'church' should not get involved in politics and I don't disagree. But this time, the issue is not about politics. It's about standing up to the dark principalities that are seeking to destroy us. If we do not recognize that satan is using politics to finally overpower everything that a free, moral, God-fearing nation stands for, then we don't understand what is actually happening. God have mercy.

For Him,

Meema

I close with a link to a sermon/speech that anyone who is not afraid to know the truth will be willing to spend 32 minutes watching. 

Do It Anyway

 

Right now, here in this trying year of 2020,  I think this is an extremely important topic for the sake of mental health.

FWIW, I’ve never considered myself to be a professional anything. Back in my not-yet-retired years I had to have four different resumes. Who cares? What I am and always have been, at my core,  is a doer, a try-er, a get-er-doner. Over my lifetime I’ve come to see a new project as a challenge, a call to attempt to make something from nothing and usually with the most primitive tools possible. 

Rascal that I am, at this stage, it’s my way of thumbing my 73 year old nose at the critics who say it cannot be done to those who are, in fact, doing it. 

The point:  I started a project in August. The lyrics came easy and then I had to put the words to music with my ukulele, a bit more difficult. Uncharacteristically, by September, I had allowed myself be discouraged by all the bad news coming out 24/7 and I stopped trying. I gave up. I told myself it didn’t matter anymore. What was the point? 

Then I read someone’s post in the Dave Rubins’ forum. She said, take a break. That wake up call hit my heart and I started working on my song again and then I made a video. I know it isn’t perfect by any/every acceptable standard but the truth is, what really matters can’t be heard or seen by anyone else anyway. The doing of it, the finishing, using my low tech tools, my less than professional skills, restored my ‘do it anyway’ attitude. For now.

How significant is that, in the big picture?

If nothing else, maybe this will encourage someone else to dive in, to seek to create something from nothing, fearlessly. 

That something having being held off because  _____ fill in the blank.

Note: I am not a professional singer/songwriter/videographer, (though I did stay at a Holiday Inn once). I’m just Meema and if I can make something from nothing, anyone can. :-)

For Him,

Meema

The Project: A Little More Time

Click on the image for the video

The Art of Being Acceptable

She confided that she struggled most of her younger life with self-doubt and low self-esteem. She couldn’t explain it other than she was simply constructed that way. She had no blame shift to point to her upbringing or any particular traumatic experience in her childhood. It was simply who and what she was - not quite good enough.

I understood this but it was an interesting revelation because she always seemed to be so well put together, knowledgable and confident. Shows to go you that we can’t always know what’s going on inside someone else.

She said her life long coping skill, that she created for herself, was to stop wondering if she had any worth or whether anyone else thought she had value and just simply be true to herself and God. She quoted Shakespeare “To thine own self be true… .”

She chose to be what she was to the best of her ability and if she did not meet someone else’s expectations of her, she chose to accept that there was nothing she could do about it so she never allowed that condition to stop her or make her want to quit. 

She seemed warmed up to the possibility she could speak freely at last and cited multiple incidents in her life where she had given her all to something only to either get no response or a passing criticism. Over and over, regardless the disappointments, she pulled herself up and kept moving, never feeling as though there was anywhere she could ever fit or be accepted. It was her normal to feel as though she was a non-person, invisible. 

But not irrelevant.

One day, in her early mid-life, she discovered a backdoor, a way into the inter-sanctum state of being ‘acceptable’. From then on it was her great big secret that she shared with God. Every time she applied her new technique, she experienced an unexpected kind of satisfaction that was far better than getting recognized by the mindless mob. Plus she admitted it gave her a one up better view of how fickle and hypocritical the mindless mob can be. Popularity and recognition is not always as advertised.

I asked if she was willing to share her secret. She smiled, then looked to the side as though she was weighing the risks. Finally she responded somewhat conspiratorially, “I live under the radar. I create with no limits or boundaries and then let someone else have the credit then I sit back and see how others respond. If there are cheers I can secretly bask in the glow. If there are crickets or complaints, I look for ways to improve.” 

Then she added, “I finally figured out that pleasing God is way more important than seeking approval from humans anyway. I believe, with much gratitude, that He chose to hide me so I could move about freely and unseen to be and do His will. I don’t need to be acceptable to the world to get His work done. It has always been an amazing experience for me to see the ongoing positive impact of the smallest act of obedience. Like a stone tossed in a still pond that sends ripples to the other side. In fact, at this point, if I was ever to be noticed by the world I’d wonder what I was doing wrong.”

Duly noted.

For Him,

Meema

First Frost

End of summer always stirs up a touch of melancholy in me. This goes all the way back fifty years to when my first batch of kids were little. I’ve never fully understood it unless it meant back to school, back to routine, goodbye to long lazy days, sunshine, swimming, crafts and no schedule. Even having grown grandkids has not put this recurring annual emotional sag to rest. 

Thankfully it never lasts too long, though, because I’m too pragmatic to allow myself to wallow in any vague, unproductive interlude. I get over it as soon as I realize I can have a fire in the fireplace and replace my summer decor with autumn colors and fragrances. And, certainly,  there’s always next summer to look forward to.

This chilly morning, the last day of September, I looked out and was surprised to see smoke on the pond and an unexpected white dusting on the grass and was forced to acknowledge that summer is actually over and winter is coming.  But I also noticed that I don’t care whether or not I change my decor or create something new that did not exist before and concluded that, whatever, the seasons come and go anyway. I asked myself,  “If I skip this year and do not pull out my pumpkins and fall decorations, what difference will it make?” 

This year has been such a challenge on every level that I find myself stagnant in the pause. I’m not motivated. My creative energy, that spark of making do that has always been the engine beneath my positive attitude seems to be stuck. This is way not normal for me. I’ve always been one to embrace life fully day to day. 

Strangely, this felt less pragmatic and more like giving up. 

And then a familiar still small voice that has always challenged me to ignore crisis, naysaying, depression, criticism, or rejection, said the words that have kept me moving forward in the worst of years, those times of pending great unknowns, when it seemed relief and closures were unreachable, that suffering might be the new norm, and nothing I did was right or mattered. 

“Do it for Me.” 

To be clear, I don’t believe for a minute that God cares whether or not my seasonal decor is up to date. The inspiration, or shove into releasing the pause button, is not about worldly things or actions.  Those four words are about standing in the face of adversity, maintaining equilibrium when the ship is listing and might even seem to be sinking, and trusting the One who is the Captain. The effort to keep believing that He is in control is what prevents me from shrinking under the weight of fear of defeat. 

How can we effectively serve Him if we allow ourselves to be neutralized?

We can’t always know what our purpose in the greater scheme of things is, or how our own determination and grit might possibly inspire others to not give up, to not allow the adversary to win the battle. But, we can know, by the example of so many others, who having done all, stood. Those who refused to submit to being silenced or chose to defy the threat of the moment. Those who declared, “Which is worse, quitting or dying while trying?” 

I looked out after the sun was fully up and the frost was melted away. I’m thinking about pulling out my autumn adornments as a confirmation that I got the message. 

For Him,

Meema