Author: Genevieve A. Howard

http://genevievehoward.com

Johnny Cash is a friend of mine

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Johnny Cash is a friend of mine
Johnny Cash is a friend of mine

After a visit to the Johnny Cash museum in Nashville this week, I’ve been thinking about his legacy. He could have been destroyed early by the glaring love of the public and drug addiction issues. Through the healing grace of God, he lived a full life.

Grace is for everyone. But we have to be willing to accept it.

Was God’s healing a one-time thing for him? No, he sought healing again and again through praying and returning to his bible. He said, “Thank God for redemption, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Every day we can go astray. Every day we need to renew our tight bond to the Lord. Johnny Cash is an inspiring example of that.

What remains

After you’re gone, what will people know about you based on what you leave behind?

This is what I learned about Johnny Cash from my hours in the museum with his letters and things, including:

His name of fame, Johnny Cash, wasn’t the name he was born with or the name he was called by friends. He was born J.R. Cash and added John when he joined the military because they wouldn’t accept initials.

He loved his wife June with his everything.

He had a great sense of humor, as evidenced from his handwritten letters. During one letter to a friend, he announces the birth of his daughter and wrote, “I like her so much that we’re gonna keep her.”

He was faithful, shown by his bibles, gospel songs and Holy Land projects.

He has real compassion for people in prison and the downtrodden. He worked for prison reform.

He credited his fans with his success, revealed through his personal letters to them. He became a star because he worked hard, maybe too hard, doing hundreds of shows in a single year.

He was a good friend and collaborator. Beside the ongoing collaboration with his wife June, he was interested in working with other musicians throughout his career.

He struggled with telling his own story. In the museum, it mentioned that his early memoir Man in Black was considered sanitized, but the later Cash: the Autobiography was more honest.

Enjoy these photos about Johnny Cash from my time in the museum. Be sure to listen to some Johnny Cash today!

 

 

 

U.S. Air Force New Testament
A young musician listens to Johnny Cash
Johnny Cash appreciated new technology. His career went from vinyl to cassette to digital. He said new technology made recording easier than ever.
He was an artist and writer as well as a performer and songwriter.
Throughout his career, he influenced other musicians and sought to join his talents with others.
His wall of albums.
June: his love, his life.
At the Johnny Cash museum.

 

Blessing

 

 

Tell me your thoughts!

Who is a hero for you? What does Personal Jesus mean to you?

 

4 free lessons from the Little Drummer Boy

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daisiesAs I begin my new book project, I struggle with that voice that says, “You’re not good enough.” While I can’t quiet the voice, I can remind myself that this book is my offering to God. I’ve been thinking of the Little Drummer Boy.

My mother was one to listen to Christmas songs year-round, or at least starting in August. She would break out the Mannheim Steamroller vinyl and turn the stereo up to at least 7.

She loved the classics as well as electronic music. One of her favorite songs was the Little Drummer Boy. This song tells the story of a young boy with nothing to give the baby Jesus. With Mary’s blessing, he plays his drum.

Without fail, my mother cried every time it came on.

I seem to have inherited her Little Drummer Boy crying syndrome. Now when I hear the song, I remember her feeling so touched. It brings tears to my own eyes.

The simplicity of the story means each generation can learn from the little drummer boy.

Give now. Don’t wait to be an expert to give your best to God.

The little boy didn’t say, “Wait, I need to take some drum lessons and get better before I offer my song. I will come back in a few years.”

As I was talking to my husband about the song, he said he imagines the little drummer boy played the drum the way young children play drums, in a clumsy, charming way. The song doesn’t say, “Then the very best child drummer—a kid so good that had he been on YouTube 2,014 years in the future, he would have had 1 million views—played for Jesus.” It only says that he played.

Be a proud beginner.

As adults, we get caught up in looking like we know what we’re doing. How we look seems to matter more than what we feel and experience. How many new things do we avoid because of fear and the idea of “I don’t want to look stupid”?

Children are beginners at everything, even self-consciousness. They haven’t learned to be self-conscious.

What if we approached something new with an attitude of openness without worrying about how we look?

Remember it’s OK to look like a beginner. It means you are beginning something new!

Offer what you have with your heart.

The boy was motivated by his love for the Lord in this song. He could have gotten caught up in self-pity that he had no frankincense.

Whether you are offering a prayer, a smile, a glass of water or a devotional—do it with spirit and goodwill. Let your love for the Lord motivate you. Whatever you have to give, if you give it with love, it will be enough.

Be present to the moment of giving.

The boy wasn’t half-drumming, distracted by the score of a game. He focused on what he was giving.

How often are you present? All the time? Most of the time? Or like me, sometimes, here and there, when I am not distracted by ponies and to-do lists?

Think of a Japanese tea ceremony with its deliberate patience. Instead of tossing your offering in an off-hand way, present it with intention.

Center yourself and give part of yourself. The recipient of your generosity will feel your presence. You will gain more from the giving.

Give well.

Blessing

Lord, let us give what we can now:

Smiles to the lonely,
Peace to the troubled,
Food to the hungry,
A hand to the stumbling,
An ear to those not heard.

If we don’t have big tithes
or fancy prayers,
time for overseas missions
or prayerful retreats,
let us give what we can now:

A kind word,
A welcome,
A thank you.

Let us be the people who turn around
someone’s day.

Guide us to become people who give
as you give:
extravagantly, excessively,
endlessly.

Tell me your thoughts!

How have you been blessed this week? What will you give out of love for God? What would you like to learn?

How to stay motivated mid-project

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lightLast week, I mentioned my process for starting new projects.

Beginnings have their own momentum. The middle of a project can bring the doldrums. During my two and a half years in grad school, my first year was skateboard ride down a hill. So exciting! New faculty! New friends! New projects! It was all exclamations points!!! Then came the third semester, the middle of five semesters total for me before graduation.

Due dates seemed too soon. The workload seemed too heavy. The glamour of the beginning had worn off. The syllabus seemed like a hard boss with no mercy. The exclamation points were gone. It was one | wall | after | another |.

Do you know that feeling? The initial thrill is gone, but you’re still far from completion.

Here are 7 ways I used to keep myself motivated.

Accept that you’re not in control

Sometimes you can’t pick the work that needs to be done. The syllabus or your job demand what they need, not what you want to do. As the serenity prayer suggests, accept what is out of your control with as much grace as you can. With any meaningful project, you will have to slog through some unpleasant parts. I love having a pony. Do I love mucking? But pony poop is part of pony having, so every weekend, I grab my rake.

Accept that you’re in control

This is like the second part of the serenity prayer. What can you own about the project you’re doing? Even in tight deadline situations, you can choose little things to make your work easier. Is there a photo you can post next to the computer that cheers you up? Do you have a favorite color rake?

Bribe yourself to get through short tasks

I broke my project into tiny tasks that could be completed in 10 or 20 minutes, and thought up prizes for myself as rewards. It might be having a cup of tea, making toast with extra butter and jam, painting my nails, calling a friend, watching TV or taking a bath.

Pick prizes that will bolster you, but not take too much work or money.

Get silly

It helps to bring back a sense of play to your work. Put on energizing music and dance around. When I was building my web portfolio for grad school, I also built a spoof website in parallel.

Get competitive

Find someone who is doing the same thing that you are, and make a friendly competition of it. Who will do it first?

Realize the desire to quit will not last

I once read that hunger pains only last 20 minutes. If someone was dieting and could wait the 20 minutes, the discomfort would go away.

I think this is true of many of our desires. Our desire to quit is a short-term discomfort. If you can remind yourself that you will feel better about the project soon, it helps propel you past the sticking point.

Ask for help

Tell your loved ones that you are glum and need motivation. They will remind you what a good job you’re doing, and shower you with attention. You can ask them with help staying on track.

Remember, you can always tell God you’re struggling and ask for guidance.

Keep praying, keep working and keep looking to the day when you accomplish your goal!

But, Gen, what about the memoir?

Speaking of being in the middle of projects, thank you for those who have stopped me to ask how the memoir is going. I love you for asking. It means the world to me that I will have supportive readers when I have it finished.

As I looked over my memoir this summer, and prayed about it, I recognized a hard truth. My memoir in its current written form isn’t honest enough, funny enough or well written enough for my liking. I left my childhood with chronic emotional pain that took me years to heal. I don’t want to impose my story on others so the end result is depressing. For the moment, I’m letting the memoir rest until I decide whether I want to try writing it a third time from a completely fresh start, or rewrite the draft I have with more honesty and humor.

Update on the newest writing project

Meanwhile, my new project continues, and I would love your feedback as I flesh it out!!! (Still in the exclamation phase!)

Here’s my pitch.

My book, the Creative Women’s Devotional, helps women who are doing crafts to transform their hobby into a spiritual practice. An uplifting gift for moms and grandmas who are Christian crafters, it offers stories, blessings and suggestions all looped together with God’s love.

This will be a book that I build through blogging. The final book will have additional content not found on the blog, and offer the convenience of one place for 40 devotionals.

How does this sound to you as a book idea?

Do you think I should open it up for more types of craft? Originally I was thinking knitting and crochet, plus quilting and possibly scrapbooking. I am most familiar with knitting and crochet. I would need to use others’ expertise to speak about quilting and scrap booking.

What do you think would make it more interesting, more entertaining, stronger or more inspiring?

Blessing

Lord, thank you for staying with us when
we lose our way.

You are the tree giving us shade when
we need to rest.

You are the mountain calling us higher when
we need to stand back up and keep climbing.

May our work be done for your glory.
Energize us, focus us and guide us
on your way.

Tell me your thoughts!

What projects have you had that started strong but lagged in the middle?

My process for starting new projects

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Family car rideThis week, I was riding in the car with my family and bouncing ideas off them. It’s a great thing to live in the country, because we always have plenty of time in the car, upwards of an hour and a half a day. Conversations happen in the car that wouldn’t happen anywhere else.

I recently received a CAFNR staff enrichment award to start an online class this week, How to Blog a Book (seats still open if you want to be my classmate) with Nina Amir. (Thank you, CAFNR!) I wanted to find a book project idea to use in the class which is where my family came in. During the impromptu road trip brainstorm, they helped me narrow my focus from 99 ideas to one.

This is my process for growing a tiny, wild idea into something more substantial. If you have a little seed of a dream, follow these steps to water it into fruition!

Breathe, pray and bring yourself back to your body

When I’m spending time in the mental world of ideas and possibilities, it helps to take a deep breath, settle into myself and spend some time in prayer. Not every idea is a good one! Checking in is the first step to see if I should weed the idea out, or move on.

Talk about it with my trusted people

The next step is to visit with the people I love and find out what they think. They know me and what I’m capable of. Again, some ideas are better left as ideas only (like, giving our pony free rein to run our household). When they get excited about something I’m thinking about, then I know it’s a green light. Having support at the early stage of a project keeps me steady and accountable.

Avoid the smashers

You know the ones who say no, call things stupid and come up with a list of 100 reasons why your project is bad? Stay away from them. They will poison an idea before it’s strong enough to take any negativity.

Get on the internet

Whatever I might consider, I can find something similar online. It pays to do some research and see what others are doing. My project might be different, but I can still find comparisons. For example, is there a market for crocheted chicken hats? How about crocheted hats for chickens?

Get educated

If I don’t already know what I need to for my project to be successful, it’s time to hit the books. The library, the internet, people you know and local educational centers can help fill in the gaps.

Get clear on my purpose

Why am I pursuing the project? Is it a calling—or a pastime? Is it worthy? Am I doing it for my self-growth? For the good of the world? For entertainment? For making money to put bananas on the table? To create a happy home for ponies?? A clear purpose is the cornerstone for all the later work that needs to be done.

Control my doubts

When doubts start to drizzle on my enthusiasm for a new project, it helps to go back to my earlier steps: praying, talking to my trusted people and getting clear on my purpose. This area—controlling my doubts—is my biggest challenge!

Go for it!

Now is the time for action. Our ideas only become real through us!

(PS—It was a fun and productive car ride. I am looking forward to telling you more about my blog-to-book project as it unfolds this summer!)

Blessing

Lord, thank for the generous people who support
our ideas and believe in us when we are unsure.

Open our eyes to encourage those who are scared
to take the first step.

Tell me your thoughts!

What is a new project that you’re thinking about? Or that you’ve already started? How do you go from idea to reality?

Tell the truth…to yourself

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The practice of compassionate honesty with yourself and God will give you peace and wholeness. Like confession in the Catholic faith, or taking an inventory in the fourth step of 12-step groups, the act of looking at yourself with a kind and neutral eye will free you.

Think of something important that happened to you. When you tell a story about it, do you leave out the complications and dead ends, the hurt feelings and the confusion, and focus only on the success? Do you portray yourself as friendly, knowledgeable, calm and in charge?

Clean version, messy version

Tim, Gen and JennySaturday I had the good fortune to go to dinner at the Claysville Store with some people I hold dear, Tim Carson, Jenny McGee and her husband Dave, my husband and my son. Over fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans with bacon, coleslaw and the best applesauce I’ve had in a long time, we traded stories about life before we knew one another. Did I mention the biscuits—and the chocolate banana cream pie?

Before I started in on how my husband and I met, my son asked, “What version are you going to tell, the cleaned-up one or the messy one?”

I laughed and said he would just have to wait and see.

When we tell our own stories, it’s easy to embellish who we were. We can make ourselves smarter, cleaner and stronger in the retelling. The cleaned-up version often makes us feel better. Why wouldn’t we slant our own stories in our favor?

Accept yourself, accept grace

Telling the truth about yourself and your experiences strengthens your well-being. How can God reach me if I’m caught up in myself?

Only in letting go of the good and the bad can I make space for grace, instead of grandiosity.

Honesty brings us closer.

You made a mistake? Accept yourself as human.

You had feelings of jealousy, anger, pettiness, lust, shame or fear that you wish you could deny? Accept yourself. Give your burden to God.

The truth is many times in my life I’ve seemed like a mess, a hairball looking for a drain to clog. The drain I clogged was the flow of love and positivity.

Through honesty to myself, to my journal and to God, I’m able to embrace all the parts of myself: the mess, the conflicting feelings and the memories.

I don’t always tell the messy stories. I have to choose my audience. But I tell the messy stories to the people I love.

So far, they haven’t rejected me. They might even love me more for it.

Blessing

Lord, give us courage to be real with you.
Give us strength to admit our weakness.

The real stories might be painful;
you can heal us.

The real stories might be messy;
you can clean us.

You make in us a new life.
Let’s rejoice and live it!

 

Tell me your thoughts!

What story do you have in your life that has two or more versions? (If you appreciate messy stories, keep an eye out on this blog for news about my upcoming poetry book, Turn. It’s in the final stages of editing and design right now!)

Where judges aren’t welcome

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An early love for judges

One of my favorite judges, Judy Sheindlin. Photo courtesy of Susan Roberts.
One of my favorite judges, Judy Sheindlin. Photo courtesy of Susan Roberts.

I started watching judge shows in high school. While my parents divorced during the summer between my junior and senior year, I watched the Newlywed Game and Divorce Court—back to back—religiously.

In the game show, raunchy newlyweds flirted to win washing machines. In the court show, couples described messy failed relationships, pleading to the cool sophisticated judge who gave them clean outcomes that didn’t always make sense: he gets the washing machine, she gets the dryer. I took comfort in seeing someone in control above the brutal fighting; I myself was living in the fray.

My internal judge and me today

Today chaos or insecurity triggers my internal judge who gives opinions on all aspects of my existence, including the way I pray and my creative process. It can get overwhelming. Instead of fortifying my self-image, the judge can become so destructive that nothing seems good enough.

This internal judge is almost certainly the voice that silences many people from writing at all. Before a song, story or prayer can be fully fleshed out, the judge squelches it.

A courtroom—not a mind or a private journal—is the perfect time and place for a judge. Judges make great editors, or list-makers for pros and cons, or researchers for the best washing machine. Much as I love them, judges don’t have a place in the early creative process.

Writing to deepen the spiritual experience

Spiritual writing is all about process. Results don’t matter. You only need to show up, put pen to paper and let the judge know you’ll call her later, if you need her. You won’t miss her. The divine presence will show love through ink and fiber, if you let it.

The practice of spiritual writing is a balm to heal and nourish my creative self. I face the water, put my hand in like a boat and let my work set sail. The spirit supplies the wind.

Upcoming Sunday School Class

As part of our church’s Christian Education hour, my friend, Resa Kerns, and I will offer a spiritual writing class 10 a.m. this Sunday, June 1, in the resource room (lower level) of Broadway Christian Church. It’s an 8-week class, and everyone is invited. Internal judges might tag along, but they won’t be listened to. In the space of spiritual writing, we will listen for God.

While I teach the class this summer, I will include some of my topics on this blog so you can follow along and try some writing on your own. No experience needed!

The pen is the path. As we write, we might be surprised by who travels with us.

Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” —Luke 24:31-32

Blessing

Lord, when there seems no escape
from our fumbling, our fears,
our frantic chasing of the next goal,
our harsh self-judgements,
bless us with acceptance.

Let’s practice devotion.

May we accept what is real
and rest in your kingdom.

Tell me your thoughts!

How much rule does the judge have in your mind? How much rule does God have?

Take me out to the art show

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Thank you to my visitors at the MU Staff Arts and Crafts Show this week! Hugs to you all! ❤

1970s candy
Bowl of candy from my table: all available in the 70s!

I was thrilled to be included in the show and visit with everyone about the 1970s, crochet and candy. What a success! I don’t think I will have to bring home too many packages of Pop Rocks or Laffy Taffy.

My favorite? Each time someone smiled at the colors in one of my crochet pieces, or told me about a memory of a family member who crocheted. I heard, “My grandma used to crochet,” or “My aunt taught me to crochet.”

Enjoy a few pictures from the art show. And if you’ll be in the Columbia area, the show runs until 3 p.m. Thursday, May 22.

My 1970s retro crochet booth! Photo by Kyle Spradley.
Crochet demo. Photo by Kyle Spradley.
Close-up of my crochet demo. Photo by Kyle Spradley.
Classic granny square in iconic 1970s colors.
Me with Rebecca Bergfield, organizer of the MU Staff Arts and Crafts Showcase–and supportive friend!
Enjoying a visit from talented crocheter and sweet friend Belinda
My 70s rainbow vest! Photo by Kyle Spradley.

Blessing

Lord, thank you for nurturing
our desire to create connections.
We splash our world with color!
We tell stories of work done before:
My grandmother made me a baby blanket.
My mother made me a sweater.
We realize it is hardly the craft that matters;
it’s always the people.

Stories and scarves,
photos and paintings,
are only ways to say thank you
for this time on earth,
where it can be so bright and
full of goodwill
when we make it so.
Help us make it so.

Tell me your thoughts!

What is an experience you’ve had with an art show? Or yarn?

Celebrate the 70s with me and yarn!

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You’re invited!
You’re invited!

I adore the design of the 70s because I am a child of the 70s.

For most of that decade, I grew up in a fabulous house in southern California with shag carpet and an avocado-colored fridge. It had an intercom that you could press a button to talk to other rooms of the house. The 70s has a reputation for delighting in color. Inheriting the psychedelic palette of the 60s, it embraced a new sensibility of on how to work with brown, rust and mustard at the same time. In short: combine them excessively. In a poncho. With fringe. Wear that poncho proudly.

This is the 70s aesthetic…and I love it.

Relish the tasteless?

Design is continual. Everything that catches our eye today will soon enough look “of a certain time period”. Instead of resenting the old and calling it names like “dated” and “tasteless”, I relish it. I salute the colors that speak with the familiarity of childhood. Devote yourself to thinking back on the world as it was when you were young. By comparing and contrasting how things were with how things are, we can notice the passage of time. This act of noticing stops our lives from becoming a blur.

Finding the familiar is a gift you give yourself. Do you enjoy the hunt of a gas station sign, seeking out roadside antique shops for just the right one? Are you a collector of delicate porcelain figurines, as Laura Ingalls Wilder’s mother was? Our souls thrive on the occasional comfort of nostalgia.

For the MU Staff Arts and Crafts Show (flyer PDF), I’ll be displaying the 1970s retro crochet pieces I’ve worked on all year. I focused on the colors that come from my personal history: creative ways to say I celebrate the way the world was when I arrived.

I await the show eagerly. I look forward to having fun laughing with people about the outrageous hues and vibrant combinations. I will even be wearing a special outfit during the grand opening reception on May 20 at noon…hope to see you there!

Blessing

Lord, thank you for our life in full color!
We thrive in celebrating and expressing
ourselves in how we create our clothes
and decorate our homes.
Thank you for change.
Thank you for longing.
Thank you for remembering how it was so
we can even better appreciate
how it is now.

Tell me your thoughts!

What brings you happiness to think back on?

If Mother’s Day hurts

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Beasley girlsI’ve looked, but I’ve never found a greeting card that says, “Mom, thanks for not killing me during one of your hallucinations.”

Complicated, striking, unforgettable: my mother. She suffered from schizophrenia and obesity, both conditions that made her a constant target for our society’s criticism. I was her shy, mortified child who trailed behind. With her loud breathing, she could have supplied the soundtrack to a horror film. She dressed in clothes that were too bright and shiny even for the 1970s. The volume of her voice dominated a room.

There was hell to pay if she didn’t receive a card for Mother’s Day. While she was alive, I browsed through hundreds of cards to seek the one I could honestly give. Most were sappy, and included sentiments like “Best Mom” and “Thankful I grew up to be like you”. I sought only the vague wishes that seemed truthful. Most years, I got something floral and noncommittal; “Thinking of you; happy Mother’s Day.”

I’ve been a mother myself for a decade and a half, but I don’t feel like I own the day. Mother’s Day belongs to my mother.

Gone for five years, she is still with me

I think of her most days. She would be so proud. She would delight in knowing that I spoke at the conference in Jeff City. She would put up this photo of my son with his state champion medal. She would love these artificially dyed fresh flowers in the grocery store.

Sunday is a day to celebrate motherhood for what it really is: snotty, competitive, clingy, exhausting, drippy, strengthening, messy, aggravating, holy and more fulfilling than anything else. All at the same time. It starts with babies who both smell like heaven and have a tendency to projectile vomit. It only gets more demanding from there. Motherhood isn’t neat enough to fit on a card.

You might miss the mom you had, or the mom you wish you had, or the mom you wish you could be, or the mom who remembered you before Alzheimer’s took her from you. Give yourself permission to make the day as comfortable as possible. You’ll reminisce. Indulge in what eases your mind. Do puzzles. Binge watch TV. Take a hot bath. Give extra smiles to everyone you see.

To the single moms out there whose kids won’t get it together to bring you breakfast in bed…

To the women who wanted to become mothers, but couldn’t…

To the stepmoms doing their best…

To the women who have lost a child…

To the ones who have lost their mothers…

To those of you who have a difficult relationship with your mom…

To all of you, I wish you an OK Mother’s Day.

If Mother’s Day hurts, remember you’re not alone.

 

Blessing

Lord, bring your mercy and forgiveness
to our relationships.
Ease the ones who struggle.
Bless all of us, your children.

Tell me your thoughts!

How is Mother’s Day for you? Do you have plans? Do you have a favorite memory?

Prayers the color of code blue

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dandelionsHealth is the great equalizer. Whatever we strive for and however many material goods we amass, it all pales in the face of health problems.

Friday, I woke up with plans to clean the house and put in quarter round. After making myself hot coffee with eggs and toast, the sparkling dew on the spring grass distracted me. I left the kitchen table and took the dogs, Mercy and Cookie, outside. The dogs were content with my change of plans. They accept going outside anytime for any reason. God bless dogs with their moment-to-moment happiness.

I was in a mood of gratitude, feeling thankful for my family, my job and my animals. I marveled at the dandelions, yellow against the new grass. They didn’t seem like weeds, just little flowers hoping to become puffs and renew their kind. Do dandelions dream of their time on the wind? God bless the dandelions.

Inside, I started laundry and began to saw the quarter round. I do not see myself getting hired as a quarter round installer anytime soon, or, if I’m honest, ever. My miters left gaps large enough to stick dandelion stems in. I would call my hammering ability inclusive, as in, I included my thumb as well as the nails. God bless home improvement amateurs.

While I cheerfully bumbled about with hammers and saws, the phone rang. It was the high school. My son had some mild chest pain and due to his history, would need to get checked. I explained that I didn’t have a car, because he had one with him at school and my husband the other. I tried to reach my husband. No luck. The school called back and said my son was being driven home to me so I could take him to the ER, one school member driving my son in his own car while someone else followed to drive the administrator back. God bless small schools and caring school staff.

In the ER, everyone treated us with kindness and expertise. From the desk clerks to the nurses and doctors, we felt our son was in good hands. I texted five friends to pray for my son, and their immediate prayers eased the tightness of my bones. I felt them close to me. My ribs loosened to let me breathe again.

We waited for the cardiac test results and listened to the ER stories through the curtain, stories heard but not seen, heard but not completely understood. Ambulances brought in broken people, overdosed and injured. We heard a code blue and knew someone’s life was on the line.

We listened to a conversation about a child who used to come in the ER often but had died. He wouldn’t ever be back in. Through the curtain, we felt the collective missing of a boy we would never know, and somehow we missed him too.

A volunteer came by and offered us something to drink. The clear soda he brought cleared our minds. It grounded us in the simple act of being alive, swallowing something sweet.

The cardiac tests came back negative. My son was OK.

God bless us to always taste the sweetness of life, whether surrounded by weeds, sloppily sawn quarter round or a curtain in the ER.

Blessing

Lord, bless our eyes to see beauty
in both hospital waiting rooms and
spring mornings.
Seven days of the week our lives belong
to you.

Don’t let us turn our backs to what
you offer:
experiences to know you,
chances to pray and
chances to ask for prayers.

The end of our days belongs to you.
Before we return, remind us to relish
the sweetness of now.

Oh! The sweetness of now when
we taste it.

 

Tell me your thoughts!

Have you had a day that turned out differently than you expected? Who can you ask for prayers when you’re worried?