Grow

 

The earliest memories are of a garden at my parents' home in Medford, Wisconsin, in the backyard, between the house and the huge pine tree-- circa 1967. I don't remember what vegetables my mother planted in her tidy rows. Nor was I old enough to reliably weed and water. My most vivid memory is of the rhubarb, tucked in the far corner of the garden, and the bees that chased me into the house one summer morning, after I'd pulled a stalk of rhubarb from the plant that shaded their underground nest. Ouch!

I got stung several times. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

While the incident left me less-than-fond of proximity to bees, my heart remains true to rhubarb. I planted some yesterday, on the southeast corner of the foundation that will become my she-shed. This is my second year gardening in this place-- in the rich loamy soil of Renville County, Minnesota.

My partner, who's lived in this place for most of his life, expanded the garden to a third raised bed this year, and we're attempting to grow red potatoes. Earlier this week, I selected the two Big Beef tomato plants he'd requested ($2.29 each) and left Babe's Blossoms with an additional $89.44 in plants including the aforementioned rhubarb.

The morning glories from 2023 left behind enough seeds to propagate 8 tiny green butterfly-shaped plants, more than enough to fill the trellis beneath the picture window. What was a dirt pile covered by weeds on the north side of the deck barely a year ago, is nearly weed free with a 3' volunteer lilac and several clusters of violets-- an interesting combination as lilacs prefer sun and violets grow best in shade.

The containers that in 2023 held the colorful blossoms of annuals, are repurposed to nurture tiny trees, both maples and pines-- an Earth Day gift from a friend.

On social media are photos of my friend's garden harvest in Victoria, Texas, and photos of blossoming honeysuckle in another friend's yard in Oakville, Missouri. Meanwhile, back in the raised beds, the onions sets are thriving. Sprouts of radishes, peas, and green beans are breaking through. 

God also told them, "Look! I have given you every seed-bearing plant that grows

throughout the earth, along with every tree that grows seed-bearing fruit..." 

Genesis 1:29 ISV

Photo by imso gabriel on Unsplash

Lament and Celebration

Pour out your heart like water.

The phrase brings tears even now, four years later. Can it really be four years? Yes. This is my fifth Independence Day weekend without my husband. The loss is still heavy. I've grown stronger through the years. I've grown weaker these past four months.

At sunset last night I went for a drive to QT to buy snacks---a weakness. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I found myself, car windows open, singing God Bless America, a patriotic song I'd been taught in elementary school... then stopping my voice abruptly when a couple of neighbors out on the sidewalk raised their heads to glance at me.

I rolled up my window, looked straight ahead, and kept driving.

Along the way my comfortable, established, middle-class-to-affluent neighbors celebrated our independence---the American Revolution and our growing freedom from COVID-19 (or at least an easing of its restrictions).

The sky over our neighborhood lit up with exploding fireworks; the night echoed with rhythmic, spontaneous bursts of pop-pop-pop; and the air beneath the streetlights clouded with fog-like smoke.

I wept... for the battles, for the victories, for the people.

Rw

Arise, cry out in the night

as the watches of the night begin;

pour our your heart like water

in the presence of the Lord.

Lamentations 2:19

Photo by Chris Nemeth on Unsplash

My Happy Place

Castle by Milaney

In the past couple of weeks a handful of women began meeting... women I consider mentors and friends. Our purpose is to discuss the emotions we are experiencing in this time of COVID-19. Grief is what brings us together.

We began by introducing ourselves, answering the question: Who are you?

This simple question is difficult to answer.

Often in American culture we are asked at introduction: What do you do?

Which seems to mean: What do you do for money?

Very few people want to begin by hearing about volunteerism, missions, passions, triumphs, dreams and struggles. Perhaps as the conversation progresses we might get to some of that, but mostly we are seeking a simple box of containment: What do you do for money?

My heart wants to go deeper. Perhaps that is why the question is: Who are you?

My answer on that first day of our new group: Despite the fact that my book earned $6 in royalties this past year, I am a writer.

I am a writer.

I am an editor.

I am pretty good at real estate transaction coordination... the paperwork.

If the question is: What do you do? then my ranking is reversed because we are speaking about what we do to earn money.

I am a real estate transaction coordinator.

I am an editor.

I am a writer.

I am also a grandmother, a mother, a mother-in-law, a fifty-something caucasian woman with a partial college education, a friend, a companion, a roommate, a leader, a follower, a sister, a daughter, a niece, an aunt, a widow and oddly a wife... still wearing his ring.

The follow up question now seems to be: Where is your happy place?

In being a grandmother, in seeing my husband's legacy live, love, learn and grow. 

The castle has lots of rooms.

R

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going. -- Jesus, in John 14:1-4 [more]

Hub Caps and Sparrows

I’d been ignoring the sound for weeks, while simultaneously monitoring it just enough to know it was metal scraping against something and it originated in the rear end the well-worn Mistsubishi that is my car. In this season of economic challenges, oil changes are the extent of the maintenance, and the scraping of metal doesn’t typically indicate a need for oil. I am convinced it is an exhaust clamp, or pipe, or muffler rusted and ready to go skidding down the freeway at the most inopportune moment and that the funds in my checking account will not be enough to cover repairs. 

On this particular morning, windows open because it was such a beautiful day, I drove across the parking lot and the sound grew loud enough that it could no longer be ignored. As I monitored the problem, I realized the sound occurred more frequently when I accelerated and slowed down when I put on the breaks. Tired of the low-voltage anxiety of ignoring the sound, I found a parking place in an empty row, got out of the car, and put my ear to the asphalt—fully expecting to see an epic failure somewhere in the exhaust system. Surprise and delight rushed to greet me when my mind confirmed my optical observation—all is well. 

I got up from the pavement and brushed some pebbles from my knees. Standing beside the car for a moment I am baffled, not quite knowing what to do next. Then I looked down and discovered that the plastic hub cab on the rear tire was hanging loose. I kicked it a couple of times, gently, to force it back into place before taking a closer look. The overwhelming majority of clips designed to attach the hub cap to the rim were broken. Only one intact clip remained. Breaking the final clip, I removed the hub cap and tossed it into the back seat. As I pulled out of the parking lot the noise of metal scraping no longer accompanied me. The 2003 Mitsubishi seems to run just fine without the hub cab.

All this to say that ignoring the noise didn’t ease my anxiety, it just camouflaged my worry. This misadventure clearly reveals my wavering ability to trust in God’s provision. In sharing this story with friends recently, I found myself saying—and hopefully more faithfully believing—that God cares for me and for you more deeply and fully than He cares for the sparrows, that our Creator is a generous God, and with faith we can rest in the assurance that the worrisome economic challenges we face are hub caps in God’s economy. 

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. – Matthew 10:29-31 NIV

inspire

i am up early this morning.

the dogs follow me down the stairs and into the kitchen, each taking his turn outside. treats are given and bowls are filled with measured food for my well-fed dogs: 1/4 cup for harley who eats immediately, 2 cups for dozer who sniffs then walks away seeking a comfy corner suitable for an old dog's nap.

a few minutes later i look up from 2014 monthly planner i am filling with workdays and birthdays, commitments, opportunities and obligations. i catch harley back in the kitchen eating out of dozer's bowl and find myself wanting to ask him "why do you risk serious harm for something so plentiful as dog food?"

as i look at the full calendar in front of me i realize the same question applies to me "why do i risk serious harm for something so plentiful as God's provision?"

why am i driven to doing? even as i find myself tired and often uninspired?

am i the fish waiting and watching for someone else to inspire me?

or am i the fish risking, the one seeking freedom from her fish bowl?

a woman confidently trusting in God's ability?

God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. - Ephesians 3:20-21 MSG excerpt

Rjw

living in less

thursday is a good day

a later start to my work at the food pantry leaves time for reading and listening at the computer ... time with Harley on my lap ... quiet reflection ... working on whispered hopes and touched twice, breakfast with a friend ...

time for arranging sprigs of fresh eucalyptus harvested from my garden ... preparing two rooms for a guest ...

our old house ... two empty bedrooms

prayerfully and hopefully ...

a sanctuary?


the living room quiet ... the television silenced perhaps permanently ... the memory of submitting my life to God, agreeing to bloom where planted ...

believing that 'downsizing' our lives is not only about living on less, but living in less ... making room for more ... community

believing in abundance ...

enough eucalyptus for two bouquets ...

"... for every animal of the forest is mine,
    and the cattle on a thousand hills.
I know every bird in the mountains,
    and the insects in the fields are mine."
Psalm 50:10-11 NIV excerpt

Rjw

daisies in the ditch

A few weeks ago Morning Glory stopped by and we sat in the shade on the east side of the house, not far from the garden where the rusty vintage fencing supports clematis -- a garden of day lily, iris, violets, eucalyptus, rhubarb and chives.

Yesterday, Kathryn Victoria and I walked around the house, looking at the flowers that grace the foundation, contemplating which might eventually be included in her gardens, taking measure of the black walnut trees the squirrels unintentionally planted -- trees that are now ready to be relocated to more spacious places.

In the days in between, the ditches on our country roads and four-lane highways filled with daisies -- without mulch or fertilizer, irrigation or weeding, planting or planning. Gracefully growing as God intended?

Even in laughter the heart may ache,

and rejoicing may end in grief. 

Proverbs 14:13 

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Wrestling with God

Oct 5: With food costs spiraling out of control, my friend Kimberly, asks for $150,000 to feed orphans in Sudan. more

Oct 10: Kimberly boldly and transparently writes about the "businessmen" offering to SELL an entire year's worth of "USAID NOT FOR SALE" food. more

Oct 20: Kimberly is back at her keyboard: "All morning long I wrestled with God, or maybe whined to Him. 'I don’t get it. Even when Betsie Ten Boom was dying in a concentration camp with her sister Corrie she only recalled your Word, Our God owns the cattle on a thousand hills.' ... Why can’t I just call on You and let it go?
I really don’t want to write about children going hungry one more time.” more

Asking for help is difficult.

One day Jesus was teaching ... and the power of the Lord was with

Jesus to heal the sick. Some men came carrying a paralyzed man

on a mat and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus.

When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd,

they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the

tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus.

Luke 5:17-26 NIV excerpt

Jesus knew exactly what the onlookers were thinking.

Jesus ... said, "Why all this gossipy whispering? Which is simpler: to say

 'I forgive your sins,' or to say 'Get up and start walking'? Well, just so it's clear

 that I'm the Son of Man and authorized to do either, or both ..."

 Luke 5:22-24 MSG

Asking for help is trusting others to hold the corners of my mat, submitting to being lowered through the roof and placed at the feet of Jesus.

Asking for help is risking that the crowd may doubt and scoff and gossip, that people will hear "I forgive your sins" as an exposure of my brokenness rather than an affirmation of Jesus' Divinity.

I need your help.

I need your help with provision for Whispered Hopes.

Please consider donating gifts, joining us in prayer, volunteering to visit the clubs, or asking friends to be ambassadors in their own faith communities. more

Like my friend Kimberly, I am wrestling not with God's abundance, but with my own unwillingness to risk asking for your help.

Rw

The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom book
Passport Through Darkness by Kimberly L. Smith book

I will not accept another young bull from your household 

or a single male goat from your pens. 

Every creature in the forest, 

the cattle on a thousand hills, is mine. 

I know every bird in the mountains.

Everything that moves in the fields is mine.

Psalm 50:9-11 GW

Concatenation

"The question came as quietly as soft bird twill on a cool spring wind. Alluring,
easy, seductive. Thankfully we have no money. Thankfully there is no time.
We are exhausted and there is so much that needs to be done..."
—Dan Allender, Count the Concatenation

Mother's Day cards provide
birthing kits for women in Liberia
Teamwork Africa

It seems like just yesterday that Peggy and I were sitting on the steps, the carpeted stairway that curves upward to the bedrooms in the home of closest friends. We'd moved away from the people congregating in the kitchen, were talking one to one. She was planning her first trip to Liberia, sharing the concept of sacrificial giving.

Thinking back to the moment – the fear in my heart – I am sure I looked stunned, like a deer in the headlights. I couldn't imagine making that kind of commitment.

As I read Dan Allender's blog this morning – the one he posted March 13th – I am no longer a deer caught in the headlights. His words, Thankfully we have no money, speak to my heart.

Recently, during the planning of a Not For Sale event, I awoke one night startled, my nightmare: that the venue was too small, that the crowd overflowed the auditorium, people stood in the back and filled tables in the adjoining commons ... 1400 people?

I remember the emails in response to this choice of venue: Since this is God's event – I say we go large! followed by I agree, go big or go home! 

I remember the disappointment felt within my broken humanity: an auditorium with lots of empty seats.

I'd do another project with these risk takers for Christ in a heartbeat, no hesitation!

Sacrificial giving is more than choosing to give 10% and live on 90%. Sacrificial giving is striving to invert those numbers, risking wildly, living in a way that says THIS matters.

God connects Dan to Cherry in Africa. God links Peggy to Peter in Liberia. When we show up and open the door, God decides who will fill the seats. Do we really want it any other way?

Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, 

and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. 

Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, 

not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 

And God is able to bless you abundantly, 

so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, 

you will abound in every good work.  

—2 Corinthians 9:6-8 more

Rw

yup! i had to look it up: concatenation dictionary.com
photo credit: Teamwork Africa website

Parable of the Shrewd Manager

satan's biggest lie is that we are capable — capable of earning God's love. Each time we fall short of our illusive goal, each time we are disappointed by the outcomes achieved by our inputs, satan whispers: "Try harder."

I am reading through the New Testament online: listening with my ears and following the text with my eyes. On screen. On a computer screen. There is no bookmark neatly awarding my progress. No neat checklist tracking Scriptures read. There is only a familiarity when chapters are repeated, a sense that somehow I've been here before. In my imperfection this morning, I could not remember exactly where I was in Luke.

"Now here's a surprise: The master praised the crooked manager! And why? 

Because he knew how to look after himself. Streetwise people are smarter 

in this regard than law-abiding citizens. They are on constant alert, looking for 

angles, surviving by their wits. I want you to be smart in the same way— 

but for what is right—using every adversity to stimulate you to 

creative survival, to concentrate your attention on the bare essentials, 

so you'll live, really live, and not complacently just get by 

on good behavior." —Luke 16:1-9 MSG

The first time I read this parable I struggled to understand its meaning.

As I hear it again, I wonder if being an American — a citizen of the United States — is a curse. We grow up in the tidiness of ten commandments with God neatly partitioned in Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. Our concentration is not on bare essentials, but dream houses, nicer cars, bigger churches.

In our focus on the 'must haves' of the American Dream and securing 'nest eggs' for our children's children — making our own plans for their lives — are we modeling complacency? Getting by on good behavior? Are we cheating ourselves and our loved ones, swindling from them God's greatest gift: Eternal Life?

In this parable is Jesus asking all of us to open our tight-fisted grasp on the letter of the law and actually listen to what God is teaching within our hearts? To believe that God will care for our children's children, that we can share our abundance wildly with others, live fully in today?

satan's lies are boldly evident in my Wounded Heart story. I grew up believing that if we talk about how we are hurting, bring our pain out into the open, we will some how diminish our chances of getting into that better college, being awarded that good job, getting ahead, an earthly success.

The Parable of the Shrewd Manager declares the opposite to my broken heart: keeping secrets, focusing on earthly success works against us, diminishes our capacity to focus on our greatest opportunity: Life earthly AND eternal with God.

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

... What if a thousand sleepless nights 
Are what it takes to know You're near?

—Laura Story, Blessings

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Morning Glory once pointed out that even the self-label "American" is arrogant, intended to signify membership in the exclusive country club of "United States" when in fact, the letters A-m-e-r-i-c-a-n encompass the much broader geography of South America, Central America and North America. Smart woman, that Morning Glory!

3 Boxes of Joy

[Jesus] looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. —Mark 3:5 NIV

As I make my way through the New Testament, I continue to be amazed. Yes.
I am new at this. Perhaps I am easily amazed? Perhaps, when I've been truly studying for a significant length of time, the amazement will cease and I will find more 'serious' messages. Today, though, I am joyously amazed.

Closing my eyes and returning to the church of my youth, I remember offering baskets lined with softly faded green velvet on long poles held by the ushers, men dressed in fashionable leisure suits. Our hands never touching - our eyes never meeting - as we placed our offerings in the baskets, cash and checks hidden within neat preprinted and numbered envelopes, from the boxes of envelopes provided each year to adults and to children. A tidy organized system. A familiar and effective routine.

Fast forward to the decade I was without a church, the Sunday I found myself visiting a community called Valleybrook. As baskets were passed hand-to-hand through the congregation, the pastor welcomed guests and encouraged us to simply be guests, gave us permission to abstain from giving. It was unexpected, odd enough to make me rethink giving and the collection of offerings. Suddenly,
I saw things differently, witnessed a leader's faith that provision will come; discovered the abundant God, our God who is able, in the eyes of the person passing a basket to me. NASB

In 2007, at the end of my years without a place to worship - my decade of solitary confinement, my personal and self-inflicted exile - God deposits me at Fellowship. When I first arrive, I am perplexed.
Where are the velvet-lined baskets on poles? Earthy cane baskets passed hand-to-hand?

The 'bulletin' in my hand expresses appreciation for giving, "Offerings are not collected, but placed in the Joy Box! as we enter and leave worship." Just as Jesus healed the man with the shriveled arm, Christ opens my gnarled heart like an outstretched hand. Mark 3

God loves it when the giver delights in the giving. MSG

Fellowship is a place where delight is embraced.

A few weeks ago, our pastor at Fellowship re-christened it Hilarious Giving.

ἱλαρός
hilaros
blueletterbible.org

Tomorrow we're adding a third box, not at worship but at the place where Man Club and Freestyle and Prayer-n-Coffee Ladies gather, where married couples meet with engaged couples preparing for marriage, where we all are welcome to share meals and sorrows and dreams and prayers, in the place where Fellowship really happens.

As my precious friend and son-of-my-heart Patrick Writz once said in our Sunday afternoon small group, "If you're only at Fellowship on Sunday mornings, you're missing the best part."

Amen!

Rw
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Cookie Bake

Leading up to the sugar-infused holiday called Christmas, the women in my family gather together to bake cookies, each woman bringing favorite doughs and ingredients.

Oreo cookies

cream cheese

almond bark

mixed together in my kitchen

join a sisterhood of sweetness multiplied

mothers

grandmothers

nieces

cousins

aunts

daughters

sisters

Mary didn't waste a minute. She got up and traveled 
to a town in Judah in the hill country, straight 
to Zachariah's house, and greeted Elizabeth. 
When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, 
the baby in her womb leaped. Luke 1 MSG


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Spumoni

Preferring tidy boundaries, I hesitate to mix things up. Faced with the multifarious offerings of Baskin Robbins, I choose two scoops, one flavor: maple nut. My husband lives more deliciously.

One favorite, Spumoni, is a 3-layer creation infused with pistachio pieces, chocolate chunks and bits of cherries. We first discover Spumoni at an Italian restaurant, after he is promoted from
the on-site construction team into the corporate office. His new job includes weekly travel, airports and suits-n-ties. Our Tuesday-morning routine is dropping Dad at the airport; our Thursday night his homecoming.

The taste of Spumoni takes me back to 1988, a rented 2-bedroom apartment, sharing one car, decorating sugar cookies Wednesday night, serving potato soup with grated and sliced cheese, and a crusty bread, for our dinner on Christmas Eve.

Our meal blends robust cheeses nestled inside gifted boxes with simple ingredients: whole milk, potatoes, parsley, butter, salt, bread. A poinsettia on our table, one just like it gifted to other couples existing the company holiday party, an upscale hotel.
A paper plate angel on our tree.
Sugar cookies as dessert.

Tearing off the outer wrappings, the crisp suits-n-ties corporate culture of this shiny American holiday, reveals a quiet simplicity
... a young family working and making ends meet at Christmas.

Sharing potato soup with grated and sliced cheese, and a crusty bread for dinner on Christmas Eve. We continue our tradition.

After all these years, I am learning how to live more deliciously.

"What I'm interested in seeing you do is:

sharing your food with the hungry,

inviting the homeless poor into your homes,

putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,

being available to your own families."

Isaiah 58:7 MSG

"Then the light of my blessing

will shine on you like the rising sun."

Isaiah 58:8 NIRV

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I am grateful

My sister's house celebrates a family tradition, designing costumes and dressing up for trick-or-treating, turning the garage into a haunted house then inviting 'unsuspecting' guests to explore, celebrating the abundance of autumn, sharing yummy fall snacks or a warm meal, campfires at night in the yard outside her kitchen door. Boxes of decorations and
props are pulled from the garage. Pumpkins grown in her husband's garden are carved and painted. Halloween becomes a celebration for all ages, a bringing together of friends and family. An warm and inviting open house. A season of generosity. Generations of family within a community of friends.

I change the cover on my dog treat jar from school bus to ghost, buy candy for the trick-or-treaters, turn on the porch light.

Sometimes it feels as though I do too little. Others might argue that we both do too much, negative people choosing to pick at us like ravens. Criticism lays bare my sister's abundant joy and my simple pleasures. Cruel words hold the potential to unleash the worst critic, the enemy masquerading, the cruelty that seems to come from within – within her, within me, within us all.

And, I am grateful?

Yes. I am grateful for comfort and protection in God's Word – available to the critics, to the joyous, to everyone.

"...You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors 

in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. 

We're going public with this ... Keep open house; 

be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, 

you'll prompt people to open up with God, 

this generous Father in heaven."

Matthew 5:14-16

In Christ we find the power to banish the darkest enemy and take back the night.

Rw

 

Abundance

"Seldom do the average buyers of religious literature venture into a soup kitchen, let alone suffer true poverty and uncertainty about whether there will be food today." —Dan Allender,
Sabbath: The Ancient Practices

He goes on to describe middle class destitution as "the emptiness of an uncertain future and ... an unrealized present."

I am not missing meals, yet my emptiness is palpable. I am like a teenager opening the refrigerator door and gazing upon $200 worth of groceries, while muttering there is nothing to eat.
I overlook God's provision in each day, each meal, each breath.

This morning, as I emptied the water from our dehumidifier into the functioning and abandoned toilet in the corner of our basement, I came face to face with abundance. I was reminded of Pastor Peter's teaching on his first Sunday in the States, the disease spread by going into the jungle "to attend nature" when rain will wash the feces down into the pond, the source of drinking water for the village. Mothers sick with cholera. Children dieing.

The blessing clean drinking water is today in Kpeletayama.

We do not go into the jungle to attend nature. There are 3 working toilets within our home, each flushed with drinking water.

We are blessed with abundance.

Rw

"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Luke 6:38

Simple Inclines

My Call to Arms is not a summons to undertake a particular course of action defined by someone else, but the realization that every breath is shaping me.

In the rivulose journey of these past five years, I remember a personal passageway revealed, a path through a dense forest at night, sure footing often absent in the agitated shadows cast by tree branches above me, steps quietly revealed in moonlight and patience. As I gaze into the next year and beyond, the path of my time here on earth becomes something more. I step out of a wooded valley, a place of searching. The simple inclines challenge me. Blackness behind me, I am toddling into the light.

My Manifesto—

I want to live on less
an older car
a small wardrobe
simpler meals
gardening
conserving
recycling
repurposing

I want to give more
groceries for neighbors who sometimes go hungry
transportation for companions who do not own cars

sharing abundance
living on less

I will say no
to lukewarm opportunities
to pointless tasks
to being a bully

I will say yes
to exploring my faith
to hearing the heartbreak of strangers
to nurturing my husband, my family, my friends
to respecting myself

I will say no
to hiding my heart
behind mammoth stone walls
with guillotine-gates

I will say yes
to harboring my heart
within sturdy fences
and locked gates
on well-oiled hinges
keys in my hand

I will build up, encourage and celebrate a noble humanity

I will refuse to wield any book as a weapon of mass destruction

I will affirm what Christ affirms, accept my Creator's lavish love

I will live a life worthy




Call to Arms by Sasha Dichter
The secret of fortune is joy in our hands. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
What if today, right now, no jokes at all, you were actually in charge, the boss, the Head Honcho. Write the “call to arms” note you’re sending to everyone (staff, customers, suppliers, Board) charting the path ahead for the next 12 months and the next 5 years. Now take this manifesto, print it out somewhere you can see, preferably in big letters you can read from your chair. You’re just written your own job description. You know what you have to do. Go! (bonus: send it to the CEO with the title “The things we absolutely have to get right – nothing else matters.”) SD

I Want This

While our kids were in elementary school, my husband and I purchased our first old house. Built in the 1920s Destiny House stood on a generous corner lot in a neighborhood filled with vintage houses.

A quick Google search reveals that in the old neighborhood, property owners get ten hours to clear sidewalks… or be charged around $150 for services. Each time it snowed, we shoveled our sidewalks. Early. Really early. Not because the city demanded it, but because shoveling early made shoveling easier.

If we were delayed, the man who owned the adjoining properties would clear his sidewalk north of us, then shut off the ‘blower’ part of his snow blower at our property line. Tilting the machine slightly upward with engine running, he’d travel across the entire expanse of our sidewalks, crushing the snow under his self-propelled tires until he reached the next property line, where he’d dutifully clear his sidewalk west of us – then turn around and travel across our sidewalks, crushing the snow under his self-propelled tires, again. His method-most-convenient made it much more difficult for us.

Today, my husband and I live in another old house, on another corner, in another neighborhood filled with vintage houses. When it snows our neighbor clears his sidewalk, then travels along our western sidewalk – snow blower blowing – on his way to clear the sidewalks of a neighbor on the next block. We start up our snow blower and clear our northern sidewalk – not stopping at the property line but going beyond – snow blower blowing. Helping our neighbors. Trusting our neighbors to help us.

I want this: a world where people help each other.

I want a world where abundance simply flows, where people with a little something extra put $ in a bucket, and those who need a bit of help take $ out. Helping our neighbors. Trusting our neighbors to help us. http://marshill.org/the-white-bucket-project/

I want a world where clean water flows, so that our neighbors whose drinking water looks like this

will celebrate like this

– a world where we dare to embark on a journey of love http://journeytolove-peggy.blogspot.com/2010/07/bittersweet.html




Invent the Future by Cindy Gallop
A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. – Ralph Waldo Emerson My favorite quote of all time is Alan Kay: ‘In order to predict the future, you have to invent it.’ I am all about inventing the future. Decide what you want the future to be and make it happen. Because you can. Write about your future now.