Given the Chance I'd___________

Three years ago, this month, a tornado tore through our yard. Two huge pine trees were laid flat along our back fence line and for a long time the yard was a mess. Lots of exposed red Georgia clay, smashed bushes and broken limbs.
Now, however, the giant pines aren't even missed. New landscaping, repaired bushes, and even a bird bath thrive now in that part of the yard. And all is shaded by two maple trees.
Those maple trees are easily 30 feet tall, but at the time of the tornado they were barely there- thin, weak saplings hardly noticed in the shadow of the giant pine.
But the tornado changed all that and the two maples were given a chance. Given a chance to grow - and they took it.
Given a chance I'd ______ - what?
What would you do if you were "given a chance"?
And what does being given a chance look like? Hard to imagine those two scrawny maples thought that horrific wind and rain on that February morning was their chance. Yet it was.
Sometimes I think my chance comes along and I'm too distracted, or lazy, or worried to even realize it. I'm given the chance to _________, but I don't take it.
So, for today I'm going to fill in my blank and be ready so when my chance comes along - I'll see it and take it.
How about you? Feel like filling in a blank or two yourself?

Take Your Place in the Backdrop

A childhood friend's father passed away last week. For several years I saw this dad often, but it's been at least 20 years since we were last together. Still he's there - part of the backdrop for my teenage years. Because, like it or not, that's the role parents play for teenagers. Even for our own teenagers we parents form the backdrop against which their lives are lived out. Then they move to college and their "real" lives, where they begin forming their own backdrops. Backdrops to which parents don't have admittance except in a re-occuring role that serves to pull things to one side or the other while we're there.
We each stand at center on our own stage - and those stages are only so big. Each of us has a backdrop full of folks we haven't dismissed from the stage and standing there behind us they help form our world. Our perceptions. Our images. Our backdrop.
When I look back to those teenage years, my friend's father stands there, slightly off stage, laughing. He was always laughing. He took joy in his son and his son's friends. Life was fun, and funny, to him. He loved his wife passionately and showed it.
A position in the backdrop may sound weak or useless but it provides the boundaries for the stage. Looking back, smiles and laughter outshine the sadness and anger of my teenage backdrops. Makes me think about the backdrops I stand in, and in front of, now.
How about you? What kind of backdrop people surround your stage?
What kind of backdrop person are you?

Old Dog - New Tricks

So, this "self-contained" thing I mentioned in my last blog - I've been thinking about it. Before I mentioned it in my blog it was just a thing. You know, like a cloud hanging around in my head. There is something about me writing a thing down that makes it real and necessary to deal with. Being "self-contained" is all about being in the present, I think.
-About not living in the past with what someone said or did or what I said or did. Hashing and rehashing conversations, events, problems - something parents of teenagers do a lot of, whether vocally or in your head.
-About not living in the future with what could happen, should happen, might happen and then when it does happen how will we handle it? Again - consuming pastime for parents of teens.
My teens are now gone - so does that mean it's time to lay down some of those coping mechanisms that served me well? I believe so.
Besides, this place called "the present" appears an interesting place to live. Cause and effect seemed wrapped up in one package. My thoughts are much clearer without all those other conversations going on. There's less space occupied with coulda, shoulda, woulda and more with actual action. This is all good and that's wonderful to discover.
So, friends, what coping mechanisms are you holding onto that do not belong in your present? Aren't they getting a little cumbersome?

Nothing to Say

Nothing to say. Can't quite figure that out. I seem to have nothing to say and I always have something to say.
On the blog page I see all those lists of blogs I've written. Looking more closely I remember writing each of them, remember the thoughts that swirled and needed, needed to be put down in black and white. Reading them I remember the delight as a clever line scrolled from my fingers or the "a-ha" when a thought came together finally on my computer screen. Looking at the comments, things others got from certain blogs sheds more light on my wonderings. So much to think. So much to say.
And then I find that I currently have nothing to say. The word that's been circling my mind for the past couple months has been "self-contained". And I'm not even sure what that means. But it seems to describe how I'm feeling. Self-contained. Very much inside myself. It's calm and restful and complete.
See? Nothing to say. If you figure it out - give me a holler~

Tryanny of All that's Possible

This moment - right now at this moment I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. I don't know where it's leading or what's next but I'm listening and following - right now. And that really is all I CAN do. Sometimes I think we try and convince ourselves that if we do this, then that will happen. So we do things anticipating a certain outcome and completely miss the moment. Because this moment's not what's important - it's the outcome that is important, right?
But what if this moment IS the outcome? I’ll say that again – What if this moment IS the outcome?
What if everything I've done in the past was all to get me to THIS moment -where I am right now - who I will impact today?
How cool is that? The potential in every decision, every thought is electric to me.
I will not let the tyranny of a possible future, a possible outcome negate or water down this moment. This day.

I will not.

Bare Limbs.

Something about home in the winter stirs me. Or rather - stills me.
There is no hiding under leafy branches or behind bounteous gardens. Flowers do not vie for attention and bright leaves are brown, fallen, gone. Like the trees, houses are stripped to the essentials. Windows reflect light back and look cold, unseeing. The only pots hold mounds of frozen pansies, huddled together in defeat waiting for a warmer day.
Inside the air is still until a rush of heat moves through, but the heater routinely kicks off and the stillness falls again. Sunlight caresses the dining room table, the kitchen floor, and my steaming coffee cup yet the caresses are chill.
The emotion, the hopes, the thrills of the holidays are gone, not even a left-over cookie remains. And yet I carry all of it forward with me. And now there is time to examine it. To sit beside a cold window and see more than the winter landscape. To see the past year. To see the coming year. To see.
Bare limbs. Bare houses. Bare soul.
Winter stills me--and I'm grateful.

Ever Feel Sorry for God?

Don't you just love that first moment at night when you lay down in bed? Especially if it's been a long or hard day? You stretch and your muscles relax into the mattress and everything rests. That is one of my favorite feelings and often as I lay there, beginning to doze, I feel sorry for God.
Well, I don't feel exactly sorry for him, but I wonder how could he have created something so good, which he never experienced. I mean, God doesn't get tired, right?
God understanding the human body would need sleep--that makes sense. Like a person designing a car understands it will need constant fillings of gas to keep it running. But for God to create this cool thing called sleep and make it so appealing--well, that's just impressive to me.
And then I start thinking about maybe Jesus was debriefed when he returned to heaven. Did God say, "Alright, so how does it feel to be tired? or hungry?" Did he press for details on going to sleep and waking up? Wonder what flavors Jesus preferred? You know, salty or sweet? And did he explain how good fresh bread tastes and how it feels in an empty stomach? Or what being clean feels like when you've been sweaty and dirty? God doesn't get dirty, does he?
I know God knows all these things - but was Jesus being in a human body a way for our God to know us even better? I like to think so.
God is just cool, isn't he?