Gmail

I have recently switched to using a gmail account for all of my email needs. I love it--have you looked at it? It's completely intuitve, the help is great for the things you cannot intuit and so very user friendly. It does the things you've always wished an email client to do.

I have been ranting to my friends the last couple of days about the shooting stars I've been seeing.

I spoke in another post, Beautiful Fall Day, about praying in the backyard. I've kept it up for 6 weeks now. I am amazed at the power of praying just a few minutes at a go but with complete focus and praise and gratitude. My heart has opened up.

Night before last I was out there and I began asking God if he could see me, right then, standing in my backyard. I know he "sees" me and I know he "listens" to me--I just never really personalized it. With my question, that's what I was doing--did he look and see me standing there in my flannel PJs barefoot and tired praying my prayer. As I opened my eyes in finishing, I saw a shooting star. My only response was, "I love you too, God. Good night."

Then comes last night. I had just come from having dinner with a dear friend and was feeling just a little lonely at having left good company. So, I began by asking God to please connect to me, to really be there with me--and what did I see as soon as those words were out of my mouth? Another shooting star--this time I giggled in absolute delight and said, "Thank you, I love you too."

God is so good to me. I am so riddled with un-love and selfishness and still he shows himself to me--he caresses my cheek with his breath on a wind and looks right at me from a shooting star. I am precious to him--in all of my messy-ness. Praise God and thank you, Jesus.

Paths

Paths
Off we go down divergent paths
Walking ever further apart
I hang on to an image of you
Neither timely nor accurate
My connection to you is gone
Though I pretend it's just getting
Thinner like a rubberband stretched
Dreams & hopes of togetherness
Get more distant with each step
Soon I must turn from you
And find my own Heart's way

I wrote this today. I've got a poem I wrote the other day but it needs a lot of work. This one just came tumbling out, fully formed.

I read through this and my eyes cry. I am not good at the ebb and flow of life. I try to "sit" as still as I can, take up a little room, not be a bother in hopes that nothing will change. Amazingly enough, everything changes pretty constantly.

I have been writing my life story for some friends of mine. I'm up to my Junior year in high school. Even back then, my relationships (particularly, romantic) did not last very long. There was always someone more interesting than me. And, so it is now.

I have kept myself hidden for so very long--in defense of the leaving and in seeking to stop time. I wrestle with how to be attracted to those people/person who are interested in me. I seek out like a homing pigeon unavailable and avoidant people--surely, if I'm still enough, they will not leave this time--a big fantasy laid to waste every time.

Christian Pumpkins

This is a note from my friend Leslie here at work. I think it's very appropriate and timely--for me anyway.


Okay...I know it is not Halloween and the title of my email, Christian Pumpkins, is way wierd...but it is what came to mind when I read this morning's bible verse passage...I am reading in Galatians..I am reading a chapter each morning. Today was Chapter 2.

Gal. 2:20 "I have been crucified with Christ. I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me."

That made me think that we are pumpkins. We are living....the world scoops us out and carves us up and leaves us feeling pretty hopeless, misused and abused, and worthless. But that dying, carved, empty pumpkin lives again. A candle is placed inside..filling all of the pumpkin with light...and showering it's light to all the world through the holes in the pumpkin....the pumpkin lives again...for a greater purpose..not just living for and by itself...but living because of the light inside and for the purpose of shining that light on all the world.

So it is with us....all the scars and holes left in our hearts...and bodies....that doesn't matter...those are not what makes us broken...but little windows God uses to shine His light through us. We die to what we were....God loves us and takes us for His purpose and plants himself inside us like a glowing candle....He fills us up and shines through all of our holes. Isn't that cool?

And how comforting is it to think that all of my holes are not holes at all...but windows :-) beautiful carvings to be used by God. There may be something to this word we use Holy....it is possible at least that those with holes...holes that God uses to shine through....those are Holy ones...and those without any breaks at all..who've never had anything carve a chunk out of them and do not allow light to shine through...are Unholy....the very word Holy would suggest one with holes...the adjective describing one having holes, right? :-)

A little food for thought this morning.

Hope you each have a wonderful day. Thanks for letting me ramble on and share :-)

Leslie
****
My friend Leslie is a wise woman.

Beautiful Fall Day

The last 3 nights I've gone out in the backyard with Maxine before bed. The first night I stood there and raised my hands high and wide up to God. I sang Him the first verse of "Revive us Again." Then, last night I went out and did the same thing only I prayed. Tonight, I went out and prayed--with my hands held high.

(Some of you may or may not understand the significance of this. I belong to the church of Christ. We are uncomfortable "raising holy hands" to God. We are black and white thinkers and we like nice solid facts. I do love the church of Christ, bless our hearts.)

My heart has found a place to rest right here in my backyard. For those moments that I'm out there with God, I am OK. I am talking to Him. I even just listened tonight. He didn't say anything but I know He was there with me.

I've not spent much time doing this--it's been a little chilly and I started out a little unsure. Tonight, I was looking forward to my time outside with God.

I think this is a good way to meditate. I have been longing for God to fill up this empty spot I feel right in the middle of me. I think this is one way for me to get filled.

I'm including a poem today that I wrote a couple of years ago. A friend of mine was doing something that included making up your own words to that song from Sound of Music "A few of my Favorite Things." She told me about it and I thought I'd write a list of my favorite things.

I found myself going through my day picking out the best things that I liked. Pretty much these are my absolute favorite things about my life. God is good all the time.

My Very Own Personal Most Favorite Things
A wiggly dog in the morning ready to get up
Two kitty cats lazing on the patio waiting to come in
Happy emails bold in my mailbox
Hot water out of the tap
A job to go to; a house to come home to
Books in the mail, books on the shelf, books anywhere they happen to be
A big ole glass of tea with lots and lots of ice
Or a steamy cup of English breakfast with cream and sugar
Foot-tapping music and the songs of the birds
Good, good friends to learn to love
A niece and some nephews on the other end of the line
Giggles at bedtime and guffaws on surprise
Little blank books and mechanical pencils
Thoughts and ideas to witness and write
Prayers to send to Heaven and miracles coming back

Finally a new post

Mostly, my days have been rolling along. My nephew was here last week. Above is a picture of Everett and my dog, Maxine on his last day here. We had a great time.

We went to the fair, we went to Austin, he went to San Antonio. He was duly impressed with Texas.

We had to fix up a box for all the stuff he bought while he was here. He bought all kinds of souvenirs. That's the fun, though, of being a kid on vacation.

My Wednesday night Bible study group has started up again. I am absolutely ecstatic about that. We haven't been meeting--for almost a year--and that small study group really is church for me. You get really close to each other when it's a small group.

I guess Mega-Churches are fine for a lot of people. I like a small church--actually, I prefer a small group within a large congregation.

I saw a great video clip the other day of this dog named Skidboot. He lives in Quinlan, TX with David & Barbar Hartwig. Take a look at the videos they have posted. Skidboot is incredible.

I guess that's it for today.

My Story - Installment 1

I think everyone struggles with purpose--hence the popularity of The Purpose Driven Life. Some years ago I came to the same epiphany; we are here to be. Out of that being comes everything. If we are not Being then all we do is wrought from pain and anguish and compulsion.

I really saw that when I was laid off. Tom had me read John 10 everyday for a month. That is the chapter Jesus talks about being the Good Shepherd. I knew roughly what a shepherd does but I decided to do a little research. I came to the conclusion that shepherds pretty much do everything for the sheep but chew their food. Which for me, translates to my job is to be, to show up. It's Jesus's job to make everything right.

I know some people think Jesus is talking spiritually. I think he's talking spiritually, physically, and emotionally. His and God's job is to take care of me as much as I let them. Mostly, I don't trust them to do what they say they're going to do.

Now, about story. My story is pretty much blank to me. I remember pieces parts and that's about it. I have recently written a poem picturing how I experience my life. I will include here.

Torrential anger floods my heart
Pain has taken up residence
I wander through my life
Like walking in a blacked-out
Cave with a flashlight
A few moments of illumination
Then all is forgotten
But the pain . . .and the anger
Love has no firm foothold
I want what I want
And I won't let go
I strangle my future with
Darkness from my past

So, bear with me, and I will write as I see my story in my head.

I was born July 17, 1966; just less than a year after Mama and Daddy married. Really, I think, that's not the start of my story. My story began with Mama and Daddy. And really, I think I know their story better than my own--which doesn't surprise me.

Mama's daddy died when she was 5. Mama was the middle sister of 3 girls. Grandma had married young (16) so was not allowed to finish highschool. When her husband died, she went to a business/typing school to learn to make a living.

They lived in Pensacola, FL where Grandma was raised. Mama and her sisters were kept by their cousin Ralph and any other available relative while Grandma went to school and worked. Grandma eventually remarried.

Both of Grandma's husband were of the military. Her second husband was very straightlaced--or so he seems to me in his pictures.

So, Mama had a lot of leaving in her life. She didn't really know her real dad and her mother was gone a lot and I'm sure was very strong, indeed. When Grandma remarried, they moved all over the country as any air force family would. I have her highschool annuals--they are from 3 different schools.

Daddy's parents had 7 children and then his dad died. He worked for the electric company and fell into the lines and was electrocuted. Daddy was very young when this happened. My aunt Debbie, the youngest, doesn't really remember their dad--she was still in diapers.

Their mother, having 7 children remarried. I'm not exactly sure when. I know she worked at the Vallen Paint Company in Garland (I don't know if it's still there or not.)

The man she remarried, Joe, was a drunk and he beat her in front of the kids. He didn't work. He went to the Terrell State Hospital a couple of times. They had a son so there were 8 kids in all. They lived down in the name streets in Garland in one of those little bitty 2 bedroom houses.

One morning, the kids got up and found their mother on the floor. She had died from ovarian cancer. The chief of police in Garland drove Joe out of town and told him never to darken the city limits of Garland again. An interesting side note to this is, Daddy's real daddy was building a house along side of his two brothers who both turned out to be alcoholics.

When their mother died, their family didn't have anything to do with them. My aunt Jeannie was near 18 at the time and she pretty much took care of them all for awhile. Their mother's mother was a mean drunk and did not help. A man from the church (Saturn Rd I think) named Mr. Odom found out about the family and arranged care for the kids.

So, Daddy had nothing but leaving--dad dying, mother dying, family abandoning, siblings seperated, abusive and alcoholic step-dad, grandmother and uncles.

So, we have set the stage for Summer's twinkle in her Daddy's eye. And, I had better leave it there until later this evening.

Hard Weekend

This past weekend I had a hard time getting through. I know part of my struggle was I got tired and was hormonal--which always intensifies whatever is sneaking around in my heart. I've been working a lot and I must say that here in Texas we are actually living in a precursor to hell--you know that song that says "hot, hot, hot!"

Weekends are always hard for me. I spent most of my time during the weekends with my best friend. So, having to do it differently is hard. Sometimes I feel like my heart is being ripped to shreds and left inside be to try and limp along.

Personally, I am struggling with loneliness. I pray that God will comfort me. I am craving a place of comfort for my heart.

Here are some verses of comfort that I found:

Isaiah 61
1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners,
2 to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.

And

2 Corinthians 1:3-5
3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,
4who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
5For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.

And


Psalm 56 (English Standard Version)
1Be gracious to me, O God, for man tramples on me;all day long an attacker oppresses me;
2my enemies trample on me all day long,for many attack me proudly.
3When I am afraid,I put my trust in you.
4In God, whose word I praise,in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.What can flesh do to me?
5All day long they injure my cause;all their thoughts are against me for evil.
6They stir up strife, they lurk;they watch my steps,as they have waited for my life.
7For their crime will they escape?In wrath cast down the peoples, O God!
8You have kept count of my tossings;put my tears in your bottle.Are they not in your book?
9Then my enemies will turn backin the day when I call.This I know, that God is for me.
10In God, whose word I praise,in the LORD, whose word I praise,
11in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.What can man do to me?
12I must perform my vows to you, O God;I will render thank offerings to you.
13For you have delivered my soul from death,yes, my feet from falling,that I may walk before God in the light of life.

I love these verses--I comfort myself with them. My most favorite is Psalms 56:8 (I bolded it) where David talks about God saving my tears in a bottle.

I was just talking to a friend yesterday after church about this verse. I can see when I get to Heaven and my turn comes to talk to God about my life and everything and He comes to me with this bottle. He spills the bottle out at my feet and says to me, "Oh my precious Summer, I am so sorry for the hurt you had to feel, please, come and rest from your journey, all is well, all is healed." And I run through that puddle with my arms opened wide, and He leans down and scoops me up and hugs me tight, and kisses me on my check and we laugh and cry together for the joy of reunion and the tears are forgotten.

I do miss my friend.

I have to trust that God will take care of me even if I don't feel it or believe it. I do have hope of resolution, at least in Heaven if not here and now.

He will heal my loneliness when I let Him. He will heal my pain, when I let Him. He will heal my anger, when I let Him. And, I think the letting Him is where He holds my hand and strengthens me while I do the work of healing, and He sends His people to put their arms around me to give me a place to rest when I am tired from the work.

I see all of this as a two way street. Two people can be in the same emotional spot. They will both be hurting at the same time but have hope and comfort to give the other that we do not feel for ourselves.

I want to encourage and strengthen myself and anyone who may be reading this. I want God to enter in and move in our hearts. We are the children of God--if we were not we would not struggle.

God is good, God is good.

August

OK. So, I haven't written much this summer. I haven't really felt like writing much at all. I have been wallowing around in depression for most of the time.

In June, my best friend and I had a falling out and our friendship has ended. I had thought that wouldn't happen but lo it did.

Needless to say, I have been anti-motivated for almost everything. I am amazed how these seemingly small changes effect the grand scheme of your life--at least of my life. I do not "roll with the flow" very easily. It's like I try to stand as still and quiet as I can so that nothing will move--nothing will change. Amazingly, things move and change whether I am the impetus or not.

Well, there's not a lot going on in my life right now. I get up and go to work. Sweat like a pig getting back in the car to drive home. I have determined that, at least this year, North Texas is actually Hell. I think that the heat and drought here should be enough to drive every person in the DFW metroplex to their knees seeking forgiveness just to avoid living in eternal Texas summer with Satan.

Last night I was looking through a catalog from Hancock's of Paducah. It's a fabric store that is out of this world. I started getting the itch to learn to quilt. So, I guess I'm going to have to get a few things together and start some place mats or something to get started.

What else? What else? I can't think of anything else fun and exciting going on--I can't even think of anything not fun and boring--so this is the end of today's post.

My Trip

I am home from my trip to see my sister, Amy and her family. I had a great time visiting with her and the kids.

I worked out at their place where they are building a house. I went to church with them on Wednesday night and met a bunch of their friends. Amy, the kids and I went to this place called Bunnies by the Bay and had tea, which was a lot of fun. I got to love on the kids, read stories and help with chores. I really enjoyed my time there.

Coming home, now that is a story! I was flying on a buddy pass from Amy's mother-in-law, and that should tell you everything. Amy dropped me at the airport on Saturday at 12:30 P.M. I was there until about 12:30 A.M. trying to get out. Amy came and got me and took me two hours north where they said I'd for sure get on a flight to Salt Lake City then on to Dallas Sunday morning.

I got to Salt Lake City just fine. It's the getting to Dallas part that didn't happen. I found out it was Mary Kay convention here this week. So, I spent all the live long day in the airport at Salt Lake City without the faintest chance of leaving that day.

Happily, I met a girl, LaRae, who was trying to get here for the conference. She was from Salt Lake and said, "If we don't catch this last flight, you should come home and stay the night with me." And me, in my bleary eyed and foggy headed state said, "OK." So I stayed with a stranger I met in the airport.

We went back to the airport Monday morning. I didn't get on the first two flights and it was really looking like I would be there another day. Miraculously, I got on the 1:00 PM flight to Dallas. I got in at 4:30 P.M. our time and I was never in my life so happy to see Terminal E at DFW Airport.

I am still exhausted from my trip. I am planning to sleep as much as possible this weekend.

That's the news of my big vacation. I hope I won't be seeing the inside of an airport in a long time.

Another poem

Little Girl
A two year old girl
Fussing with her purse
Where has she gone?
Is she lost to the world
Floundering in her Family Song?
Be strong, be strong
Put your feelings away
Little girls shouldn't be
She hides way away in the
Middle of her heart
Waiting and watching
Squnching herself down
She wants and she hopes
For a safe place to be
Where her heart can take a rest

I am starting to write. I got this poem today. That's two days in a row I've had a poem. I love writing poetry.

Waiting

The weight of waiting
Unbearably heavy
A suffocating blanket
A dark ocean of pain
Misplaced gift of life
Leading down to death
Cocooning—embracing
Stretching and becoming
Making a bigger space
Scraping out decay
Giving up life
Getting it back again
The lightness of being

A friend of mine sent me an excerpt from the book When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd. She had lent me the book sometime ago but I never could get into it. I guess it just wasn't the right time.

The excerpt was talking about waiting tied to spiritual overcoming; our walk being a process rather than a Hallmark Moment.

I really don't like that concept. Waiting to get all the way through the pain until I am ready to take back my life and give it to God. Giving my life and heart away to anyone or anything else leads to death and misery--where I am now. Giving my life and heart away to God leads to life and light and shining as the sun.

I know this. I know giving myself up to God is the answer. Wallowing in His love and healing is the answer. I persist like a stubborn two-year-old to hold onto my fantasy that this world will make me happy--will fix all of my woundedness.

Hang on, Summer, hang on! Wait a little longer. All will be well.

Friday again

This has just been the worst couple of months--actually, it's been the worst year.

Have you ever had a time when you would just rather fall off the face of the earth than face another day? I am there now.

I comfort myself with Psalms 56:8 which goes: Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll -- are they not in your record?

The New American Standard version reads it "Put my tears in your bottle." Wow! God keeps track of my tears.

I think maybe it's a bit like when I was younger and I would tell my mama that some one of my friends was being mean to me. She would never like that kid again--whether I made up with them or not.

I don't mean to say that I think God keeps grudges. I do mean I think God knows our hurts and pains and He records them and keeps track so that when we get to Heaven He can kiss each tear away. He will "make up" for all of our pain.

Going through this time is really bringing me to my knees. I am having to re-assess my relationship with God and Jesus. I think I have been "stiff-arming" them for most of my life. I thought I had resolved those issues but apparently, I only put them on hold.

Now, I have no where to turn for comfort or hope. God is ever faithful. He keeps His promises so I know He is right here beside me holding my hand--whether I feel Him or not.

Sometimes, in the midst of my struggle--when I can turn my eyes from my hurting heart and look towards Heaven--I feel God soothing my heart. Just a little balm for my weary soul. Only as much as I will stand until I turn my eyes back to me.

My mantra is: one foot in front of the other, breathe in, breathe out, keep my eyes on Jesus. Doesn't sound all that difficult. It's the hardest thing I've ever done in all of my life.

Dying

I am dying; if only it were true
Instead I bear a hurt too great
For any girl to shoulder
Still I keep breathing
In-out; In-out
How can it be my heart so dead
But my eyes keep on crying?

The Race

Hebrews 12:1
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

The race marked out for me.

Is all this struggle and pain that I go through part of my race? Or is it incorporated into my race as I go along? And for that matter, how am I supposed to tell where the markers are?

Right this minute, I stew and obsess. Where is God and what is He doing? Does He know my heart is crushed and does He care? When will He save me from my hell?

God has a plan for me--I know, I know. Won't He let me in on at least a little of the plan? Though, I'm not sure it'd do me much good to know. What on earth would I do with that knowledge? Already, I project my future and mourn over what I see. If I knew the reality of it I think I could not bear it.

I have a difficult time--OK, I get downright--angry to think that my weaknesses and temptations and pain and struggles are part of my "marked out race." I mean, really, what is God thinking?

And that is the question--What is God thinking? I will never know this side of Heaven. My story is greater than I know and my small little life has great cosmic consequences that I cannot see.

When I can remember my life, with all of its ills, matters and it matters how I run my race I am more comforted knowing that someone knows what my course is. It's like the little inkling of confidence you feel when you're in the bad part of town but you know your friends know where you are.

God knows where I am. He is holding my hand and catching my tears. When I cry so hard that I'm coming out of my skin, He knows and He holds me. In some kind of way my heart is comforted when I remember.

Another Update Posting

Again, not ready to write but want to keep blogger happy.

A Short Update

I haven't much to write today but began worrying that not having written anything in a couple of weeks blogger would delete me.

This weekend was good--beautiful weather. I got my yard mowed but not weed-eated. I did plant a few flowers and I have a few yet to plant. I also need to get a few more seeds in the ground.

That's about it for the moment. I'm not too inspired right now.

The Gardening Has Begun

I am amazed at how old I feel after two evenings in the garden!

Monday, I had planned to mow at least my backyard as it is now a hay field but it was 100 degrees out when I got home from work. So, I ate some dinner and went out to work in my garden beds instead.

My brand new Texas Tomato Cages had arrived with the mail so I wanted to get them stuck in the ground protecting my week old tomato plants. (Week old meaning they've been in the ground for a week.) My friend Kim had given me two bags, 40 lbs each, of expanded shale. I needed to dig that in before fixing the tomato cages.

By the way, these tomato cages are colossal! They're 6 feet tall and 2 feet in diameter. They have 4 legs that stick in the ground. They are in two parts and fold flat when not in use. Way cool, these tomato cages.

So, I hefted the two bags to the back. Then, hefted two bags of pecan shell mulch to the back. I spread the shale out--dividing the two bags between my four beds. Then it was just me and the hoe. I was only able to get two of the beds (the ones with the tomatoes) dug in the other two would just have to wait till Tuesday.

I spread a good thick layer of pecan shells around each tomato plant. This should help the tomatoes to not dry out and protect the leaves when either God or I water from splashing dirt, etc. I put the cages out and stood back and admired my work--Beautiful!

Yesterday (Tuesday), I stopped by the feed store for dog and chicken food before going to work. I, of course bought plants for the garden and some seeds. I got jalapenos, bell pepper, one more tomato, marigolds, verbena, and squash--those were the plants. The seeds were for green beans and okra.

When I got home last night, I dug the shale into the other two beds then set about planting plants and seeds. If everything produces the way I dream, we'll be rolling in fresh vegetables in just a few weeks--well more like a couple of months but woo hoo! Can't you just taste that fried okra with some pinto beans and cornbread, with sliced tomato and onion? That is a feast worthy of Heaven--and will probably be in Heaven when we get there!

Sunday Sunshine

What a wonderful weekend! I went to Abilene yesterday--to Abilene Christian University to be more precise. My friend Kim and I went to hear Robin Roberts, of Good Morning America fame, speak about "Putting yourself in place for good things to happen." She talked about how she got to where she is. She is very inspiring and quite funny.

I enjoyed being back on campus. I hadn't been back to my alma mater in probably 15 years. Lots has changed. There's more trees, which is a miracle in Abilene to be sure. There's also more buildings. I so want to go back to school and being there just made me want to even more so.

Friday, my tomatoes that I ordered from The Herb Cottage came in. So, today when I got home I made a trip to Rohde's Nursery to get some pecan shell mulch and a few plants. I got a bunch of herbs and a verbena and a Brandywine tomato plant. I planted them all out today. I also ordered some seeds so when they get in I'll plant those out and we should be eating like kings--or queens as the case may be.

Tomorrow it's back to the 9 to 5:30 and I guess that's a good thing--I do need the money.

Monday Reflections

I have been particularly loath to write this past week. I have sat down thinking to write something and nothing particularly interesting pops in to write. Now, the other night while I was in that falling asleep, twilighty place, I composed a poem in my head that at the time I thought was good. However, being in that twilighty place I could not force myself to open my eyes let alone pick up pen and paper to write.

Yesterday was a wonderful day. I got to hold a baby at church. His name is Austin and he's 17 months old. Babies are a wonder--especially when you can hand them back to Mama when they get upset. I visited Granny after lunch and she's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. Then, I went home and read.

Pretty much I've been reading all weekend--to the exclusion of anything else. I finished Harry Potter #5 and started and finished Harry Potter #6. I'm all ready now for #7 to come out. I've got to get them written in my book log.

I decided to keep a book log this year. I started one last year but didn't keep up with it. I'm doing better this year, at least so far. I want to get done with the year and look back and see all the books I've read.

Well, that's just about all I can think about to say right at this minute. So, more writing later.

A Few Friday Quotes

"Earth's crammed with heaven, and every bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries."
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction."
- Albert Einstein

"I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."
- Jesus Christ

I didn't have much to say today so thought I would post some quotes I have hanging on my cube at work.

Mama's Wig

Mama hated her wig. She found it to be hot and itchy and not at all the thing for her. I really should preface this with Mama’s penchant for going against popular fashion conventions.

Sometime during my pre-teen years, Mama acquired the ugliest knit winter hat you ever saw and made it her favorite.

It had stripes of colors—red, black, yellow, white—going around and leading up to a red yarn ball on the crown. It wasn’t a skull cap; the kind you pull down on your head and fold up the end. It was more like a biker-mama hat with a small brim only knit and striped. She loved that thing—we, her children, hated it.

All through my years of junior high and high school, she wore it. Every year at Christmas, we would buy her a nice, conventional hat, scarf, and glove set. Every year she thanked us and wore it at least once. Then, it was back to being biker-mama.

As much as I hated that hat and hated her to wear it, I could instantly spot her in the stands cheering me on while I performed in the marching band. I always felt a little calmer after I’d see “The Hat.” Like all was right with the world, Mama was there and she had not changed.

During my senior year in high school, Mama was diagnosed with leukemia. Her doctor’s started her on chemotherapy. She suffered all of the usual side–tiredness, depression, and of course, hair loss.

Her hair came out in little bits and clumps. Eventually, she had only a few strands left. At home she didn’t bother covering her head. When she was going to work or church, she usually wore a bandana or a scarf.

One day, one of her friends gave her a wig. It looked pretty much like her hair—kind of an auburn red, short, and wavy-curly. She started wearing it to church and to work rather than the scarves and such.

I got home from my sophomore year at college in time to attend my sister’s end-of-year band banquet. This was a dress up affair and so Mama wore her wig.

We were in the middle of our dinner when my brother looked up at Mama and said, “Mama! Your wig is sideways.” Then, Mama just swirled it around on her head until no one knew which way the front was. We all laughed and had a good time with Mama’s Sideways Wig.

The next month Mama collapsed and my sister and aunt rushed her to the hospital. She had a stroke a few days later and died.

The night she died, Daddy, Amy, Leslie and I stayed up talking about what we wanted for her funeral. Daddy asked if we wanted to bury her in her wig. He hardly got the question out before all three said “No, she hated that wig.” So, we buried her sporting her almost-bald head.

My mother was unconcerned with convention. She went her own way. I like to think I go my own way, too. I hope as I get older, I continue to "come into myself" and be the person God made me to be. When I am buried, I want to be buried sporting my true self.

Sodden Saturday

Sounds bleak--but it's not, really. It's been raining off and on all day and it is just wonderful! The grass has pretty much been crunchy since August. Besides, I took advantage and gave myself a lazy day.

I just finished a Dorothy Gilman book called Thale's Foley. Very good story. Ms. Gilman writes the Mrs. Pollifax series of mystery/spy books. Mrs. Pollifax is a retired widow who decided to do something with herself and so, went and volunteered at the CIA--something anyone would do, I'm sure. Thale's Foley is less of a mystery and more of just a story.

I found it at Half-Price Bookstore, my most favorite bookstore in the whole wide world (Amazon.com is my second favorite.) I think I might head over there this evening making this a most decadent day!

I went to visit Granny this afternoon. She's doesn't seem to be doing too good. She broke her hip for the second time a few weeks ago and is on souped up pain medication. If you pray, I would appreciate your prayers for her. Her name is Pauline Pullen.

I halfway watched (I was reading my book, mostly) this show today. It was something about Muscle Cars on Spike TV. I've about convinced myself I ought to find myself a fixer-upper. The only flaw in that plan is my lack of funds to buy one, they use an enormous amount of gas that is only getting more and more expensive--oh, and I'm not interested in learning to fix up cars. This would be a time when it would be handy to have a car-savvy boyfriend or my sister and brother-in-law (who is car-savvy) to live closer. So, given all of that, I guess I'll stick to my little Civic.

I'm going out to dinner with one or two friends and I'm going to start another book other than that, I've written about all the fun stuff for now.

The Rosary Maker

My Rosaries are not the usual Rosary—they are knotted rather than chained. I am not the usual Rosary maker—I’m a Protestant rather than a Catholic. Aside from all of that, I make beautiful Rosaries.

I began making Rosaries accidentally. I had gotten interested in making beaded jewelry—you know the kind like is in Robert Redford’s Sundance Catalog. And, actually, that catalog is why I got interested in the jewelry in the first place.

I bought beads and wires and clasps and all the accoutrements for jewelry crafting. I made necklaces and bracelets—I pretty much have stayed away from earrings, I’m not so good at the wire work. I decided that I wanted to make myself a pearl necklace but before I could do that I needed to learn to make the knots that go between the pearls.

I ran across a web page that had free jewelry patterns and one of those patterns just happened to be a hand-knotted Rosary. I thought to myself that would be a great way to learn to knot and I would have a gift for my Protestant-Catholic friend, Irene. I call Irene Protestant-Catholic because she was raised Catholic and says she will always be Catholic but she felt the need to be baptized and did so in a Protestant church.

The pattern called for 6mm and 8mm Lapis Lazuli round beads—these are lovely blue beads. To me, they look like little bitty earths as seen from space, where the clouds are all swirled over the blue of the ocean and the green/brown of the land—and 4mm clear cut-glass beads and 12 crystals. I found them on ebay.com and in a local bead shop. I got the string and a needle and some glue. I got the "bead tips", a center and a crucifix. I purchased an awl-type tool for tightening down the knots. I gathered information on the correct way to tie and tighten the knots to make them even. After all of that I was ready to start.

I measured out the length of the string I needed, strung the needle and doubled over the string to tie a knot. I got it all prepared and began stringing the beads in the pattern and order required for the Rosary. I got no more than 6 beads strung and I could tell this was going to be really pretty.

This first Rosary I made took probably four hours to complete. I was completely absorbed by the process—count the beads, string the next one on, wrap the string around two fingers, run the needle back through, use the awl to snug the knot down to the bead; string the next bead. I continued the stringing through the five decades of the Rosary.

I finished the five decade Rosary. It was truly beautiful. The blue Lapis with the clear cut-glass was stunning. The string and knots gave it fluidity and the beads heaviness not felt in a chained Rosary with wooden beads. The Rosary had a very satisfying feel.

I put the Rosary in an organza gift bag I had purchased just for it and made a lunch date with my friend Irene.
Irene and I sat down to our lunch. Before we began to eat I gave her my gift. I told her it was her early birthday present. I couldn’t wait for her actual birthday because I was so excited for her to have it.

She opened the bag and pulled out the Rosary. The Rosary slowly unfolded itself out of the confines of the bags. It hung from Irene’s hand with the crucifix gently swaying against her arm. I began to explain how I came to make it for her until I looked at her face—she had tears in her eyes and goose bumps on her arms. I knew, then, I had made and given her something very special.

A friend of mine in my Wednesday night Bible study found out that I make Rosaries and asked that I make one for her to give as a Christmas gift for a dear Catholic friend of hers. I made this one with pretty little white glass beads with little pink roses fused into the glass set off with pink crystals. This one, too, turned out lovely.
She gave the Rosary to her friend and pretty much got the same reaction I did from Irene. Since that time her relationship with her friend has blossomed.

Another one I made I used hematite beads with blue crystals. The hematite is a charcoal gray metallic looking bead said to possess healing qualities. I decided I’d give it to my hairdresser who is a lapsed-Catholic. I had hoped that perhaps she would begin to heal her relationship with God through my gift.
I gave it to her when I was in next to get my hair cut. She almost started crying and her face turned beet-red. She thanked me with a big tearful hug.

The most recent Rosary I made I used Agate and Jasper. These are two very earthy looking beads. These look like red cliffs you might see in a picture of the desert. I gave it to another lapsed-Catholic friend of mine who was finding his way back to faith. He did begin to cry.

I really didn’t understand about what I was doing when I decided to make that first Rosary. I wanted to learn to make good knots and thought it would make a nice gift for my friend. I realize now, in making this "icon" and giving it to my Catholic friends, I have been building "religious" bridges to them. I am honoring and respecting their faith and the tools of their faith and giving myself space and time to ponder prayer.

We Protestants shy away from using icons in anyway for fear of the icon becoming the "thing". We American Christians shy away from anything that looks as Eastern as meditation does. However, we are admonished in scripture to meditate on God’s word. We are shown by Jesus the importance of spending "vast" amounts of time in prayer. I have begun to think, with a little change to some of the prayers, praying the Rosary would be very helpful to my walk of faith.

Today's Update

OK, so weekly is not really going to work out for me. One of my friends has already admonished me for being a little bit behind on my updating habits. So, as I am not ready to post the article I'm "working" on, I will write a bit about the antics of my chickens.

You've read where I got the hen/rooster safely delivered to my cousin's and a new hen deposited in my little flock. A few days after I made The Switch, I noticed two of my chickens had awfully conspicuous tail feathers. Long and flowing and very pretty. Then, later I noticed how these two chickens had larger combs and wattles than any self respecting hen would sport. Shortly thereafter, I heard a crow and knew that, in fact, I had two real roosters on my hands.

One of them is mostly a Rhode Island Red--we'll go ahead and call him Red for short. He's "mostly" RIR becuase he has green tail feathers. RIR's are true to their name and are red all over, certainly they are never green. The other rooster is an Americauna--we'll call him Bob for want of any more suitable name. Bob is beautiful--he isn't really very smart, though. Of course, it is difficult to tell if he is any less smart than the average chicken. Chickens have little pea-chicken brains and those brains work about as good as a pea.

One Saturday a few weeks ago, the whole flock (two hens and Bob and Red) escaped the confines of their cozy yard and ran free in the backyard. They were quite proud of themselves having taken advantage of the gate coming open. I let my dog Maxine out to do what dogs do when they need to go out and Red took exception to her intrusion into his paradise.

Red circled the other three, packing them into a tight group and left Bob in charge of the girls while he stood guard between them and the Monster Dog. When Red felt Maxine had come too close to his flock, he charged at Maxine then did a little war dance--he stretched one wing down to the ground then circled around it, daring Maxine to come closer, I guess.

Finally, he'd had enough and decided just to chase Maxine off. There's really nothing more funny than watching a chicken run, except perhaps watching a chicken running after a dog three times its size. Maxine was unaware that Red was courageously sending her on her way until she spotted him out of the corner of her eye and turned around to face him down. Red sensed that he'd met his match cowered down and backed off, until Maxine abandoned her temporary curiousity about him and ran off. At that moment Red decided to claim the victory, and did his little war dance again. I'm sure that in their little hearts, the hens were swooning over his bravery. Bob was still there just hiding behind the girls.

Trusting God

I have been thinking to start posting articles. Practicing for writing for magazines. I want to write one at least once a week. I found this one in my files from a few years ago. It probably fall more into the personal essay realm.
Trusting God is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m still not really very good at letting Him be in control—it’s the waiting, you see.

I got the idea for publishing my articles here from a man named Keith Drury; his webpage is http://www.TuesdayColumn.com. Check it out, I really enjoyed his musings.

So anyway, here you go, my first essay/article.

I began this journey a few months ago. In October 2002 I was laid off from my job; along with five of my coworkers. Actually, this all began before even then. There had been several layoffs before I got caught and I struggled with my confidence in God through each one.

Right now, I want a job. I hate job hunting. I hate feeling like I’m running out of money. I want my problem solved. God is incredibly silent.

There is no alternative for me but to trust in God. I don’t know what to do. However, I continue to worry even though I don’t have any answers. God has the answer and still I want control. I want to know where, when, and how and I want it right now.

I interviewed—sort of—for a job today. It might be a fun job, it might not; it for sure doesn’t pay much. I may have to do it for a time until something else comes along. Sometimes, I would like for God just to say, “Here Summer, go over here to this company and talk to this person and they will give you the job that would be best for you.” He so doesn’t do that, though.

I’m scared. I’m scared of getting a hateful job not making enough money to pay my bills. I’m scared of not getting a job at all. Mostly, I’m scared that maybe God really isn’t there or that He is there but doesn’t really care.
The other day, I closed my eyes and imagined God whispering to me. I relaxed and listened. I heard Him. He said, “Summer, I love you.” And that’s my answer.

I don’t really understand how it is the answer to “Where is my job?” Somehow, though, God’s love is the answer.
Actually, I think that’s everyone’s answer to all questions. To the question, “Why do I hurt so bad?” God says, “Child, I love you.” To the question, “Why did God let this thing or that thing happen?” God says, “Child, I love you.” To the question, “Where are we going to get the money to pay the rent?” God says, “Child, I love you.”

I’ve begun to think God calls us by name and whispers over and over, “I love you.” We are particularly inept at hearing His voice—I know I am. I have a much easier time hearing the screams and yells of Satan and this world and I turn my head and close my heart to God.

A New Poem

The Ocean of Ideas

I walk into the shallow end
Thinking at first this is all there is
I take a step further in and a step further in
Ideas and images rushing my feet
Like the tide going high
Soon I know I don't have to leave the shallows
To drown in the weight of my words

Copywrite 2006 Summer Richards

Some Thoughts on Hope

'What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life.' -- Emil Brunner

'Men and women are limited not by the place of their birth, not by the color of their skin, but by the size of their hope.' -- John Johnson

'Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do.' -- Pope John XXIII

'Great ideas, it has been said, come into the world as gently as doves. Perhaps, then, if we listen attentively we shall hear amid the uproar of empires and nations a faint flutter of wings, the gentle stirring of life and hope.' -- Albert Camus

After the weekend

I did not finish the weekend at The Road. I didn't much care for it. I am disappointed that it wasn't what I was hoping for but then again, I'm glad to know that I can cross that off my list of helpful things for me. I will keep on keeping on, as the old saying goes.

This week has been a little ho-hum at work anyway. Monday night my friend Kim and I took a couple of girls from church to watch the SMU women play basketball. We had a great time. If you haven't spent any time with 10-14 year old girls in a while, I encourage you to do so. Of course, you have to "let go" a little. They are silly beyond words--what great fun to be silly for a little while.

The rest of the week doesn't look to hold as much. Though, I've got group coming up and dinner at Stephanie's on Saturday night. I am hoping to get some writing in this weekend.

I started a story about Mama while on break and waiting for The Road to begin. That is another good thing that came from the weekend. I'm not sure of the title yet.

Well, enough of this for now.

Friday Before The Road

Today I am going to start The Road Adventure. I don't have a clue what's going to happen during this seminar. Some of my friends went through it and recommended I try it out--so I am. I know I am ready for some changes in me. I want to write and I want to know what I want to say in my writing. I want to reek of happiness and joy. I want to know that I am enough, right now this very minute. And I mean know in my heart--I already know in my head.

The other day I sent off my very first magazine article to a magazine. I'm waiting to hear if they want to publish it. I'm thinking again of taking that copywriting course. I feel like I am on the brink of great things--I feel like I am in the middle of great things.

Saturday

I went up to my cousin's and dropped of the crowing hen/rooster. I'm not sure that he/she was a rooster. It still looked like a hen he/she just took to crowing last weekend. So, I swapped him/her out with another hen (hopefully) and maybe no one else will start with the crowing.

Other than that adventure my day has been pretty lazy. I got home and took a nap. When I got up I packed up my stuff for my pet sitting duties tonight and headed out. Half Price Bookstore was the first stop. I wandered around there for awhile but found nothing I couldn't live without. Then, it was off to Kim's with a side stop at Chic-Fil-A for supper. I know, not the best in nutrition but great in taste and price.

I wanted to watch Matrix Reloaded but the disc player wouldn't read the disc so now I'm in here making stuff up to write on my blog. A fantastical Saturday night.

I'm going to end now. I want to work a bit on my Rosary making article. Onwards and Sideways, as my friend Denell says.

The start of something fun...

Ah...here I am today. I keep starting these blogs, then leave them until they are erased away. Just another way for me to avoid writing. I have all sorts of opportunities--yet pass them by each and every time.

I want to write and write and write...there is so much not to say.