Westwoods

  In our saddened chaotic world, hope is a foreign word. It is rarely presented as just plain Hope. There is always someone who wants to dash reality over most of it. It's almost as if people have become afraid to hope. There is great scoffing about living in a fairy tale and making things glossier than they really are. I'm all for being real. I don't like pretty cliches and pat answers. I can usually tell when someone has actually been through the tough thing they are talking about versus parroting another's story. So I get the whole reality thing.    It's been over a month since I last wrote here. I've been painting and doing house projects and having friends over and doing Thanksgiving and Christmas.  As Bruce and I traveled today to his place of work, I recapped the past six weeks in my mind silently.  A lot of life can happen in six weeks. Some good, some not so good. Or at least it is sometimes difficult to call it good because well, it's often combine...

  We all have those things in life that won't change. No matter how hard we try. We adjust and tweak. Sometimes we pray and fast. We grapple with the wonder that God allows it, because it hurts. And its ongoing. How can a gracious God let something like "this" go on and on and on?  We want to be honest before God. He is our Maker, after all. He is Mighty to save. He is the Changer and Healer. So we cry out all the ugly, nasty, and hard stuff to Him because ultimately He is the only One who can heal our broken places. We try to believe this and directly go there. But there is a process in growing that sometimes takes time. Much too much time passes before we get joy and peace and answers. Often we talk to other broken humans for help first. Because there is the aspect of needing council and the encouragement of someone with skin on them. Someone who can touch you and give you a hug or kind words. But only our Maker can be the One who clothes us with grace and dignity when ...

  Always, I am drawn back to the water. And rocks and sticks and broken bits of glass. I live by a lake, spent last winter in Sarasota Bay in Florida, I recently traveled to the north shore of Lake Superior, and currently I am staying at a hotel in Pateros, Washington spending the week with my husband who is a night shift nurse. The view from our balcony looks out over the Columbia River. Today I sneaked out to the balcony while my husband slept. Stealthily, book and blanket in hand, I slipped behind the room darkening floor length curtain hoping I was quiet enough to not wake him while I opened the door and tip toed out. The sound of the waves lapping against the rocks was superb. That and the sunshine on my face. Words cannot express. And I read. Which always inspires me to write.  So. Lake Superior was a fulfillment of a dream. I have been longing since I entered my forties to spend a day with my big sister. She was the one who guided me through puberty and boys and relatio...

  I've just spent the morning deeply meditating on an article assignment and feeling stumped. Writing an article for my blog post or other public consumption would be so much easier if you could just name the thing you are writing about. But when I started my journey of writing I determined from the very beginning that I would never on purpose write any truth or honesty without first weighing it in the balance of another persons feelings. Especially those I love.  And what God gives me to write is often my working through a difficult time with those that I love best. Or worst. Because real love is the tested kind. Love that sticks it out alongside someones nasty and doesn't leave because it's not easy. This brings out the worst in me sometimes. I have great gulfs of not knowing how to stay in grace and kindness...because it's just too much. I am tempted to run or hide from loving well. There has got to be a way to be honest about love without being unkind. There has got...

  My desert place is probably different than yours. But I think we all go through times that could be defined as a desert. For me it is a lonely place. A great discomfort and time of listening and accepting the fire I go through as a way for God to get my attention and teach me that this huge gap of loneliness is opportunity for God's goodness to shine...He breaks apart all my props and false securities to get to the real deal in my desert times. The sand under my feet in these times is too hot to bear alone. I'm driven to my knees asking God for HELP. The occasional oasis is too far and few between my need for strength, yet I must keep focused on my Guide to get to it. I must not doubt it is there, neither must I be distracted by the mirages I see along the way. I get up and keep walking toward the goal that is unseen. I journey wisely. Pacing myself with divine strength and using trust as a propellant because I am not there yet and don't know when I will be. All I know is...

I'm like a small child whose toy was taken away. A toy I was enjoying and no one else should ever have needed or wanted. It was mine. I was appreciative. I wasn't even taking this toy/gift/blessing for granted. I had a good attitude of sharing. I held open hands to God. I was playing well, getting along with others. What happened? Where did I go wrong? These are the questions we ask God when he takes something from us. We don't get to "blessed be the name of the Lord" right away. If we are real about it we are sometimes gobsmacked and heartbroken with the taking. Broken and homeless, shattered and lonely...we hobble to a bench in the park. The same lovely, shaded, and green wooded trail that was filled with peace and serenity, grace and victory becomes a place of golden memories and emptiness. It is too glaringly still beautiful. The sky stays blue and cloudless, the flower pots keep blooming vibrant colors, but the sights fill you with dread and anger. How dare t...

  Somewhere around mid-winter I stopped trying to convince myself that life would get easier or that I would one day enjoy right where I was on the human growth chart of stability, calm in any storm, and in knowing what loving God meant. My literature over the winter was reading The Hunger Games series and watching The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I read C. S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters and lived on a sailboat in Florida while trying to manage a stressed out husband who was doing an intense nursing job at a busy hospital. I call that literature because it involved culture and education. Meanwhile, my youngest daughter was working on her high school work, some of which was far above my head and I would often have to avail the internet for information. My two eldest remained at home, kept full time jobs, and entered into the world of dating both of which have recently taken a break from that too. Watching your children grow, change, and go through painful times doesn't make for very...

  Truth: I came close to giving up. It was too hard. There was a big ball of tangled yarn that could not be unraveled. Nothing made sense. Hope for help and encouragement was being smothered like a candle with no oxygen. Then I understood. You can't give up. Only when I view this "hard" as a gift from God; my individual task...only then is when enough air enters this space in my heart to flicker hope into it. We give up when we listen to the lies of this world. More and more believers are living unbelieving. We live blaming others for our discouragement. We see hypocrisy in those closest to us and feel justified in our reactions and thought patterns and unforgiveness. We go through gut wrenching pain from family members because of wounds they refuse to get healing for and in turn we continue the chain of blame and shame. The pain becomes the idol, the reason we hurt. We wallow in self pity or self righteousness while our hope for redemption flickers out. When things don...

  Searching for home... It's what I'm constantly doing. Because home moves or is changeable; Depending on our life's decisions and plans. So it means home is with my people and furnishings... In that particular abode. Home has been my lake house, my sailboat, my parent's house. But only in moments with people I love. Because home isn't home when I'm alone in a dwelling. Or is it? Peace and security is home and being alone is... Those things by turns. Home is two recliners, warm towels and a good bed. It's where you groom, relax, and be your toe picking self. Your favorite genre of music, books, and artwork is on display In your home. There are no worries if anyone else likes your choices; They will because they live there too; they are your blood. You can laugh at odd jokes and cry at shared memories At home. Things like forgiveness and patience and forbearance Are practiced because of burps and loud chewing and other Human noises...

  I'm mad at myself for being such a thinker . Why do I have to go and study things? Why did I not get enough substance from the word 'steadfast' that I thrived on in 2020? And why did I have to go and pick another one? Also, have you ever thought about what that expression, "sweet manna from heaven!" even means?  Trust. That's my word for 2021. It's a simple word. Shouldn't be so hard to learn the concepts and ways of trust. Right? WRONG! I'm floundered really. Quite broken and lost. You think you know a thing until you start to court it. Then it becomes a mystery and illusive. Appearing in reassurance only occasionally after you had given up hope. Trust in an Almighty God is the only way. It's for real. It'll hold. But only if you keep yourself and your dreams and desires out of the mix and keep committing those to God. Continually. You have to seek the face of God continually. And be able to pray things like, "Your will, not mine be...

  * I wrote this article for a writers group I'm a part of, several weeks ago...it was written just after the inauguration. I wrote bluntly and boldly...just a warning... or disclaimer or whatever you want to call it. We are living on our 38' sailboat for the next four months. This live-aboard-marina has everything a body could want within walking distance. There's a beautiful golf course that begs to be trampled on but I'd hate to find out what would happen if I did. Beside the bathhouse, which we are allowed to use, complete with toilets, dressing room, and showers, resides a lovely heated pool which we are not allowed to use. There's a bit of snobbery around here. Club membership is needed for the on site restaurant as well. The laundry is available 24 hours a day. I went to do laundry early this morning. An old couple were finishing up their laundry. They were warm and friendly and told me my laundry bag was cute and that I had picked the best time of day to ...

  It's a Monday. Even on a sailboat. Even in Florida. Where I assume, from comments I get, that life should be full of sunshine and ease because we ARE here in this beautiful place while the majority of our friends are out shoveling snow and splitting wood. Life is good, don't get me wrong. But it's life,  and that Monday feeling lingers strong some days. We missed church again yesterday. While bemoaning the fact that I had not gone to church for three Sundays now, Bruce informed me it had been four for him. We are heathens, I guess. It's funny this should bother me. I've struggled with liking going to church every Sunday. Always. Until this last year with the pandemic and personal crisis in our family making it seem like a treasure to attend. I'd like to talk about that sometime...why I like going to church now...but this blog post was to be short, non-preachy,  and to catch you up to what we are doing with our life these days. We came to Florida to experience ...