Owl's Head Lighthouse, Owl's Head, ME

Monday, May 30, 2011


Today is about remembering the heroes.

Memorial Day, 2011.

There is so much to remember.

For you cannot remember only one generation. The story of freedom is as old as the world.

But snapshots can be taken of individual generations, and much can be learned from those pictures. In each generation, there are those who willingly give their all to fight for freedom. Those who put on a uniform and bear arms. Those who return from their battlefield, dressed, not in combat fatigues, but draped in a flag. The flag for which they fought covers them, in their final sleep.

And waiting, for that return, are the others. Those who courageously stayed behind, to carry on the thankless jobs at home.

It was women and children who stayed behind to run the factories, to farm the land, to roll the bandages, to nurse the sick and wounded and to train the next generation. During each battle, they have carried on through it all. Never knowing if they would see that soldier again, they did what they could. They did what he would have done if he had been there. Each job they did hoping that in some way it would help the one they thought of every day.

Today's wars weigh heavy. The price is high. We weep for those who will not experience the joys of freedom again on this earth. We thank every one that has been willing to strap on the boots of combat and for those who have had to watch those boots walk away.

We salute each and everyone of you.

But I also salute those, who today, continue in the jobs at home. Some wish that they might have the opportunity to fight. For whatever reason the Lord did not ask that of them, and He had another plan. For the battle is fought here too, as it has been in every generation.

Someone must plant and harvest; someone must continue to manufacture supplies; someone must continue to train the next generation. By doing these things we ensure the fight is not in vain. We must work, worship and weather the storms so that the fight for freedom continues. And continue it must.

The heroes are remembered, whether you have worn the uniform of combat, or simply the clothes of honest working people. Thank you to each one who is and has been faithful to do the job the Lord has given you.

We salute you all.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Five Minute Fridays.....Forgetting

Okay. So I have missed the Five Minute Fridays again, but I am going to do my best to participate. It will just be a 5 Minute Saturday!

I must thank my friend, Leebird for alerting me to this opportunity to grow. Visit her at http://prayergifts.blogspot.com/ Her posts always inspire and encourage. Even though we have never met in person, I know that I would love to sit down and chat with her over a cup of coffee.

The topic for this week was Forgetting.

There are many times that I find myself bemoaning my tendency to forget. As a mother, I believe I have lost far too many of my brain cells. With each child a few more disappeared into the "Great Unknown", along with everything that happened to be stored within them.

There are times when I feel great sadness as I try to remember details about my kids early years, and I just come up empty. Why can't I remember it all? Mother guilt stomps all over yet again.

But there is another forgetting that is harder to do. Paul spoke of it in Philippians 3:13, 14 "....but this one this I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus

Forgetting the things before....the hard things, the hurtful things, the things that hold me back from life today. It takes concentrated effort to let some of these go. They haunt my mind, yet, I must forget.

There is one goal, and that is the high calling from my Lord. He calls, and I hear.

I look back at failures behind, and my steps falter.

He calls again. I look forward to Him and cry for grace to let go of what is behind.

He answers, and I step forward, knowing His grace is sufficient, even for the forgetting.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

The Distance Between A Dream and A Reality

When I was young, the dreams I dreamed were big....maybe enormous. Weren't yours?

I am not sure when the dreams stopped, but little by little, the disappointments of life drained the life out of them. The things that once brought feelings of excited anticipation, now became missed opportunities and perceived failures.

Each choice along the way seemed to have broken another bridge to the dreams. The realization brings feelings of hopelessness.

Looking back I can see that the dreams I dreamed were solo dreams, and that in itself becomes a problem when two lives join as one. Frustration results as we see our early dreams pass away, and we do not learn to dream together. More and more we can begin to see each other as the reason we can never reach our anticipated potential. Questions rise in our minds about whether we may have made the biggest mistake of our life. On this course, our relationships are destined to fall apart and become yet another unrealized dream.

I don't suggest that all of our early dreams were wrong, in fact, they are what brought us to today. But as we mature, our dreams should also mature. And if we have been joined with another by God, then can we begin to dream the same dream? I don't mean sacrificially giving up everything we want to support another's dreams. What I mean is, our dreams actually changing to be more complete.

For we have not passed our time to dream. We have reached the time to realize our dreams.

And if in our current state we lack inspiration to dream, we have only to ask the Father, the giver of all gifts, for the gift of a dream. One that we can reach for in our today.

Many live in the past and dwell on dreams that have become nothing but transparent webs. While beautiful, they lack the ability to have substance. When we reach for them, they fall away.

Today, I look at a dream, and I smile, for it is not a solo dream. It is more complete, for I am dreaming along with the one I love. I don't have to mourn the lost dreams any longer. I have one who holds my hand and walks toward the dreams with me.

It is perhaps the greatest gift He could have given me in this life. With the exception of my salvation, the gift of a dream is the most vital to the heart of this dreamer.

By letting go of the gossamer threads of early dreams, I can see the bridge that had been hidden by the webs all along. The bridge from the dream to my reality. It is closer than ever before, and I am so much more ready to realize it.

"...when that which is perfect is come, then that which in in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." I Cor. 13:10-12

As we journey on, may we accept and pursue the more perfect way. What wonder we will know when we finally cross that bridge from our present imperfect dreams to an eternity of perfect reality!

"But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it." Rom. 8:25.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Five Minutes

I read a post by a friend today in which she was carrying on a blog challenge. The challenge is called Five Minute Fridays. Taking the inspiration topic and writing with abandon for five minutes and linking back to the previous blog.

I was enticed by the concept, but the problem was that I couldn't seem to find the five minutes to write. Caring for my own children as well as those I have agreed to care for for a time, as well as the job of packing up our home for a pending move, I find little uninterrupted time to know my own thoughts, say nothing of sharing them.

I abandoned the effort.

As the day winds down and quiet comes again, I go back to that idea. I need something to keep me writing. Just writing for the sheer joy of writing. Maybe I don't need to worry about making every sentence perfect all the time. Sometimes just giving voice to "mundane" thoughts is enough. It may mean nothing to anyone else, but for me it gives substance to a world of untranslated thoughts.

And so I write. Nothing dramatic or even interesting....just rambling.

The burdens of life weigh heavy, but for a few short moments I feel released. I feel connected to the person I am on the inside. The duties of motherhood sometimes drown out the soul of the mother. I must fight that, or my heart will not be connected to my children the way it should be.

Mothering must allow for soul expression or it simply becomes a list of duties.

I do not want to look back, years from now and realize that I never became connected to my children because I never connected with myself.

We are so much more than mere mortal beings with our material connections to this world. Our spirits are just as real as are our bodies, and they must be fed. He created us this way for a reason.

Passion is birthed, not in the body, but in the soul. Connecting that to my daily life can only result in a richer experience today.

My family needs that in me.

I take the five minutes.....so that I might better give them the rest.

Monday, May 9, 2011

The Little Girl

The day after Mother's Day. The twelfth Mother's Day since I held my first child in my arms. The 37th Mother's Day since I was first held in my mother's arms. If only those numbers could be the method we use to rate our motherhood. If years of experience alone could recommend us, then with each successive year we would be becoming living examples of mothering excellence.

Instead, as every living mother knows, we are simply flawed beings entrusted with the care of others. For many of us, it means constant mother guilt. Every decision we make becomes reason for second guessing. Some of it is deserved, for we know where we fail. I do not suppose that this guilt is new to the current generation. How must Eve have suffered with guilt that we can scarcely understand?

There is another guilt, however. One that comes from our own insecurities. Insecurities we have carried with us since we were the child.

And that is the world in which we live. Each of us that lays claim to the title of mother, lives somewhere between being a responsible, mature adult and being a scared little girl. Living between a rational understanding of life and an internal sense of what has been lost. Nothing is simple. Good days and bad days collide with alarming regularity.

At what point, do the good days, when we are the responsible mother figure, outnumber the bad days, when we are ruled by the insecurities of our youth? Is there an age or a number of years as a mother that will take me to a place where I claim my role whole-heartedly? When I am not surprised to look around me at children rapidly changing into young people with thoughts, ideas, talents and yes, insecurities of their own.

The two sides of me, secure and insecure, battle within. Can I really be a mother when I still feel like a little girl? My own daughter looks to me for answers to questions that I never found. How can I help her when there are days that I feel she may be the better adult, and I the child?

Fear can overwhelm a mother. The fact is, while we may not see ourselves as adequate, we have been given this mission by the One who best knows what we need. It is no accident that we are the ones in charge.

As for that little girl, the one that lives within me still, He knows her too. He has loved her and goes before her each step of the way. He created her for a purpose. I do believe that regardless of how I feel day to day, that my greatest purpose is to mother these children.

He desires that we claim our purpose and our mission.

The little girl.....is she simply a diversion; a weakness we carry with us? Certainly there are weaknesses there, but maybe....maybe..that is why He allows us to continue living with her. For if we were strong every day, if we were confident in each decision, if we were secure in ourselves, then we would never need the comfort and guiding of His mighty Hand.

It is the little girl that looks up into His face and says, "Lead me, for I am lost. Strengthen me, for I am weak. Hold me, so that I can then hold them."

Thank you, Father, for the little girl. Help me to be the woman, and the mother, you long for me to be.

"But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price." I Pet. 3:4

"...Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein." Luke 18:17