A Heart Felt Merry Christmas from Me to You!
If you want this to be a sound card, press the play button. (never mind, I did not upgrade nor find an alternative way to send the music)
Three of my most favorite people in the world.
And, a Chapter of my newest book in print, The Pancake Cat https://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/search.aspx?q=The+Pancake+Cat&x=32&y=8
The Pancake Cat is the story of a wild cat that would not be owned, but finally chooses a family. Meet the family and learn something of contemporary American history and multi-culture in the pages. Nine year old Andrea is thoughtful and vivacious. She has always wanted a cat and aspires to own and run an orphanage when she grows up. Her little brother Philip is cute as a gifted four year old can be. Mom and Dad provide time honored nurture and upbringing, and give their best effort to squeeze fun and teaching moments out of daily life.
So, while all my friends are crowing about winning NaNoWrimo and writing 50,000 words in 30 days; I present to you my latest offering, “The Pancake Cat,” which was written and published at tortoise speed.
Thirteen years ago I received the inspiration to write about a stray cat that enjoyed pancakes. I added to the narrative and submitted the manuscript as an Institute of Children’s Literature project for which I eventually received 6 hours of college credit. In 2004, I researched and added several more chapters in my bid to win $10,000 in scholarship funds to finish my college education. I did not win the scholarship, but I did finish my education-and the book. In December of 2006, I had several copies printed and tape bound at a local photo copier establishment and these I gave as Christmas gifts. 
Those first books are sure to be valuable someday. Only 20 copies contain the “Fact or Fiction” endnotes that explain how I came up with the story.
In 2009 I discovered that my book was “out of print.” Because the information is still relevant, and because gifting with a book never goes out of style, I present to you, dear reader, The Pancake Cat. Newly released from Xlibris and available by special order at Barnes Noble or Amazon; The Pancake Cat is suitable for accomplished readers ages 8 to 10 (and it won’t bore the grownups either).
I believe that it is healthy for a person to follow his or her dreams. I am not talking here of nonsensical, unrealistic, idle daydreams. I am referring to God given desires of the heart which are inherent in the temperament one is born with. I am talking about dreams that are the substance of what I am meant to be. The deep, sometimes secret, desires that will not be squashed, will not be denied, no matter how hard I try to distract myself with other busyness and obligation.
In addition to embracing the emotional and spiritual health that comes from pursuing the person I am meant to be, via following my dreams and passions; I continue to ask the God of the universe to grant me good vision-the perception to know the good thing when I see it. It is not always easy to see the dream when you are living it. The cliché, “Can’t see the forest for the trees,” expresses it simply.
The Innovative Minister of Music
There was a time, at the tender age of 29; that I thought my life was over, washed up, truncated, and I would never get to see my dreams fulfilled no matter how long I lived. That dream, which had been instilled in me as a child, was that I was destined for full time ministry. At 29 I was recently divorced, but all the passions to serve and minister were still intact. I already knew that maverick leadership and ministry carries tough challenges. It is difficult to minister effectively without a Paraclete, a sidekick or right hand man. Imagine Batman without Robin, Roy Rogers without Dale Evans-or even Simon without Garfunkel. Nevertheless, I determined to move forward. Being alone and divorced seemed insurmountable and I spent a number of days grieving that I would never be able to fulfill my calling. Some 18 months later the realization began to dawn that I was ministering full-time; just not in the traditional way I had always envisioned it.
I was teaching piano lessons to 20 young people each week, enriching those little lives and building into their futures. I was working 20 hours per week as a radio announcer for a nonprofit station, ministering to listeners in the most lonely hours of the evening and weekend. And, I was raising a uniquely gifted son who would go on to influence a broader audience (with more confidence) than I ever had.
All the World’s a Stage
Playing piano and radio announcing make an easy morph (metamorphosis) to a passion for performance. I could not ignore the siren call of the stage, the studio, the microphone, though I was fearful and timid. Today I can say, “I have found my stage.” Of all places: in the classroom. Yes, there is a designated body of information I must teach; narrow parameters to what I can do with my creativity. But, my classroom is my stage. I have 27 minutes in which to wow my audience; to leave them laughing or pondering a new concept. I have 27 minutes to minister to 27 wiggly (or apathetic) bodies and provide them an opportunity to become better, to broaden their body of knowledge and experience, to taste performance. I am who I am meant to be. I am living my dream. I am doing all I can do to empower them to live theirs-to be all they can be.
The rose bush is still blooming.
Three new buds present, unopened on the upper stakes of the vermillion bush. Yesterday I brought a half blown rose to the little vase on my dining table to replace the wilted specimen from last week. I have had fresh roses on my table for two months.
The rose bush that someone landscaped 20 years ago and carefully tended in the small backyard of this rental townhouse is still blooming. I am grateful to that caring person for giving verve and color to the small private space. I acknowledge that no hard freeze has yet struck our neighborhood. I am also aware that the enduring beauty and survival of blooms is partly due to my careful watering, attentiveness and consistent pruning.
May I exercise that same care and stewardship over my own comings and goings so that I bloom far into the winter!
I love to walk. Walking is a habit, an addiction, something as necessary for my well being as sleep or food; music and written words.
I love to walk; but, not for transportation. I do not really enjoy destination walking. Walking for transportation or to a prearranged destination inevitably carries with it a deadline; some sort of stress or reason to arrive by a certain time, looking a certain way. Besides, destination walking often takes one parallel to traffic noise of every sort and on concrete sidewalks that jolt one’s joints.
Walking for exercise or meditation is quite flexible; and therefore, inspiring. One constantly has choices and makes benign decisions. On impulse I can change my course; live a bit on the wild side, or have a mini adventure simply by taking a path I have never been down (or up) before. If my cogitations and ruminations take a little longer than expected, I can walk around an extra block or butte until I get the niggling knots thought out. If I spy a rainbow (five times in the last three months), a superlative invoking sunset, or light reflecting through the ever changing autumn colors just so; I can take time to pause and reflect on that fleeting moment of nature’s beauty.
Walking for recreation or meditation is not the same as aimless wandering. It has purpose and a malleable goal. It simultaneously invigorates, relaxes and empowers; leaving me refreshed and energized to stand on my own two feet in other situations large and small.
At first I thought they were silly – not to mention sloppy: little sticky notes everywhere; three by five cards taped over the sink and on the refrigerator. I once made a reminder which said, “Smile,” and taped it to my bathroom mirror. The next day when I exited the shower, I looked up expectantly, waiting for encouragement, only to be disappointed. The strip of ordinary white paper was rippled from the steam and running red marker letters were fast blurring into watercolor hieroglyphics. My tentative smile felt a bit as though my spirit had been caught in the rain in non-waterproof makeup and a crinoline dress.
Never-the-less, these little reminders must be effective. Graduate language students continue to step in and out of elevators and bump into normal folks while reading little cards always in abundant supply from a vest pocket. Music teachers and Math teachers still recommend flash cards. Life coaches persist in prodding clients to meditate daily, murmur canned prayers, and, above all – Affirm yourself!
Since I am a music teacher and have experienced first hand the positive results of the flash cars mentioned above; I have come to see the logic and benefit in daily review and affirmation. Today I invite you into my inner sanctum of meditation and thought to share my current affirmations – private to me; yet publicly available to all in the widely published book known as The Bible. The thing that is most affirming to me is that I did not go in search of these particular verses and themes. I came across them during natural times of meditation and daily need.
Do not neglect your gift; which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you. I Timothy 4:14
Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. I Timothy 4:15
But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:13b
The peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things…and the God of peace will be with you. Philippians 4:7,8,9.
God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19
It is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Philippians 2:13
[Today] God fulfills his purpose for me. My heart is steadfast. I will sing and make music. Psalm 57
Dear Anonymous,
Crossing the finish line is undeniably cliché, quite general, and maybe even a bit indirect or obscure; but, my intent was to use a time worn metaphor to suggest keeping my focus on a goal. In this case the metaphor might be applied to several milestones.
Do I mean “when my life ends.”? As we take the Apostle Paul to mean when he says, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished the course?” Yes.
Do I also mean that I want to hurry up and cross the finish line (die) as soon as possible? No. (Although there is some truth, and I identify somewhat with a poem we read in high school about it being best for heroes to die young while the fame of their deeds and the laurel wreath was still fresh-before the applause dies down and they are forgotten). But, heavens! I need to do something to be lauded and wreathed for first!
Do I mean that I want to run several successful races, meet several substantial goals along the way? Yes. I am not putting all my effort, pinning all my hopes, on one gigantic race or project that concludes when life ends.
As a recovering co-dependent, recovery/emotional health is one of those substantial goals. In the past, my yearning and longing has focused on being loved and approved of. It has been my tendency to strive to make myself indispensable, to find my fulfillment or alter my mood by meeting the needs of others (and thereby claiming their praise and approval). While it is a fine thing to give of oneself; it is dangerous to live one’s life solely to meet the goals of someone else. It is the most irresponsible thing a very conscientious person can do. My goal right now (from which I must NOT be deterred by longing and yearning) is to “Be all that my creator intended for me to be” (and that’s not an Army ad). I have additional, more specific, short and longer term goals regarding my writing and my music.
In conclusion, when I wrote, “may I harness the yearning and longing and let them be a matched team that pulls my chariot victoriously across the finish line,” I was referring to short term goals, long term goals and final goals.
Perhaps Emerson expressed it more succinctly when he penned , “Sail into port grandly; or be content to sail with God the seas.”
I don’t think I really learned to walk until I was an adult. Even then, I had to learn to walk again when I was 50- after I lamed myself. It is no secret; I walk for health. Not to become a monument of sculpted beauty and strength; but for all around health: spiritual, physical, mental, emotional. When I walk I pray, meditate, think. I gain a new perspective. This spiritual well-being acquired while walking multiplies the physical benefits of circulation and aerobic fitness. Better circulation of blood and oxygen improves my mental faculties resulting in sharper, clearer perception of my emotions. Bringing emotions into clear focus can be somewhat daunting. When I acknowledge my emotions, I must acknowledge the yearning and longing that surface with high definition in sun and nature. I am wary of acknowledging the longing and yearning. To acknowledge them puts me at risk of attempting to assuage them with false fulfillment. There is so much more I want to do and experience; let me not detour to cheap fulfillment; but rather, may I harness the yearning and longing and let them be a matched team that pulls my chariot victoriously across the finish line.
In the last 8 months I have made at least five trips to Gunnison and back; to visit, travel with, or provide transportation for Andrea. Each time I tell myself, “I really must take the Black Canyon North Route to Hotchkiss and around next time.” So, today, on the way home from a quiet 21st birthday celebration with Andrea, I did just that. I was alone and the car has been making funny noises, but, it was well worth the extra travel time. The colors are starting to change in the mountains. I turned onto highway 92 about four P.M. when the sun was poised languidly on the last toehold of afternoon, a beautiful time to observe scenery. I stopped at the “Hermit’s Rest” scenic overlook, parked my car and stood at the rail. Below me the Gunnison River backed up from Morrow Point, broad and green. I was able to do a bit of traveling this summer. Always the sights that caused me to linger, be inspired and refreshed were mountains, oceans, bodies of water. “And to think,” said I to myself as I drank in the mountain grandeur and fall foliage rising steeply on the other side of the canyon, “It’s right here in my own backyard.”
You may know the struggle I had a year and a half ago when I left my beloved mountains of 8,000 feet above sea level and repaired to the high desert. I did not want to come here. I loved my rustic cabin, the conifer trees, the open space trails, clear air and perfect weather; and most of all the feisty mountain my blog banner is named for.
I did not want to come here – to the high desert. It was my plan to take a writing sabbatical in Seattle for 5 months, finish a novel, and then see what new adventures life afforded me; maybe on another mountain. But here is where I ended up. I finished my novel. I began another and another. I did not find a publisher, but I found a job. A good job. A job tailor made for me. I love what I do and who I am. The job fits so well that I feel welcome there, welcome to be me and to do what I do well. I feel welcome when I come home at night and write. I feel welcome here, in the high desert. Walking has provided great spiritual, emotional, mental, and of course, physical health for me over the years. I have walked many of the foot paths, back roads and trails in this high desert community. No one has shouted at me to get off the trail- that it is dangerous and I don’t belong there. No one has threatened to call the sheriff on me for walking on a public easement to get to a public building. I have made new friends at work, and at church. I bought lemonade from the boys next door in my new neighborhood.
I will not go so far as to say I feel at home here. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be truly at home anywhere on earth. But, I am able to make my home here, because; I feel welcome here. I am at peace.
