Matters of Grace

Backwards & Forwards

2011-02-12T14:37:00.000-08:00

A friend recently invited me to attend a women's Bible study at her church. The women were to use study books written by Dee Brestin, which were said to be about friendship. Since I could always use some more gal-pal time, and a study about friendship sounded good, I signed up.

A few weeks into the study, the author delved into the biblical story of Ruth. The author tried to make the point that Ruth, a Moabite, was the one in need of redemption, and that the redemption came in the form of Naomi (since, the author states, Naomi would have been the only believing woman Ruth would have encountered). IOW, Brestin got the story of Ruth backwards! The Horror!

Naomi is the one in need of redemption, redemption she did nothing to earn. And that redemption came through the most unlikely source imaginable, a woman from a culture utterly rejected by Naomi's own people. Such a humbling thing; humble and still relevant!

No matter how good we might believe ourselves to be, at some point in our lives, we will find ourselves in need of redemption. How amazing it is to be reminded that redemption often comes through those we see as "undeserving", people society tells us to shun.

We are all like Naomi, in need of a Ruth.

Meditation on Grace

2010-12-02T19:54:00.000-08:00

Starting the Advent season, I find that my spirits are more heavy than usual. I feel burdened by life's tasks and weary; more so, I've been feeling guilt over my inability to accomplish enough with my current resources. In other words, I'm knee deep in humanity.

It's in moments like this when I can use a reminder of what grace is all about. Like a breath of fresh air:

Grace is something you can never get
but only be given.
There’s no way to earn it or deserve it
or bring it about any more than you can
deserve the taste of raspberries and cream
or earn good looks or bring about your own birth.
A crucial eccentricity of the Christian faith
is the assertion that people are saved by grace.
There’s nothing you have to do.
There’s nothing you have to do.
There’s nothing you have to do.

Inhale..... exhale. Thanks be to God.

Kicking the Complaining Habit

2010-06-23T11:14:00.000-07:00

I try really hard to work 'grace' into my attitude ..... but that doesn't mean I don't complain. A lot. Truth be told, I've never really noticed how much I complained until I happened upon a fantastic blog written by a woman who made the decision to kick the habit.

You can check out the inspiring blog here: http://bit.ly/4bU2Er

Perhaps I've never noticed my complaining because, to me, it was just another part of "venting" or even *problem solving.* But it's not.

Venting is a release of something, be it air, heat or emotion. So when a person 'vents' s/he releases some sort of tension then forgets about it and moves on.

Problem solving, according to Wikipedia, is " mental process and is part of the larger problem process that includes problem finding and problem shaping. Considered the most complex of all intellectual functions, problem solving has been defined as higher-order cognitive process that requires the modulation and control of more routine or fundamental skills.[1] Problem solving occurs when an organism or an artificial intelligence system needs to move from a given state to a desired goal state"

In other words, problem solving = solution finding.

Then there's complaining. Complaining offers neither release nor a solution. It's just a fruitless, repetitive habit that is surprisingly hard to break.

But it can be broken, to the benefit of all within ear-shot. Who want's to join me in taking a 30 day fast from the Complaining Habit? Let's see what happens!

Unusually Unconventional

2010-04-08T12:27:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine, one I've known on such a deep level for more than five years, forwarded an email to me. It was a casting call put out by a reputable agency that read:

"LOOKING FOR UNUSUAL & UNCONVENTIONAL POSTMODERN FAMILIES."

Well, okay, I suppose he sent this to me because he finds my household to be unusual and/or unconventional. I suppose some might feel that way, given that I'm a single mom to three. Then again, the kids and I forget that we are a "single parent" household; on the contrary, we feel like an ordinary "normal" and "healthy" family who camps, laughs and struggles the same as any other "normal" and "healthy" family.

It has been said that single parenthood has been linked to drug abuse, poor grades and other horrible things; however I cannot verify this as my children bring home A's from school, no one abuses toxins and we do not live off of government assistance.

I love my friend and understand his intentions were good. Perhaps one day, like other people, he'll realize that being a parent is a fun-loving joyous adventure...

.... even for us 'singles'

Wednesday's Ashes

2010-02-07T15:18:00.000-08:00

Next Wednesday is "Ash Wednesday" which, as many know, is the first day of Lent. Lent is my favorite season of the Liturgical calendar not because I like to give up chocolate, or fish or whatever it is people like to do without, but because it is the time of the year when we stand closest to what is true. It is the time of the year that begins when my pastor dips his fingers into ash, marks the sign of the cross on my brow and says:

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return"

I take a good deal of comfort in those words because they strip away the facades I work so hard to build and they do it with simplicity. From the labels that stoke my ego's fire to the costumes that dictate the roles I choose to play, all removed. And the relief is almost too great to digest. Now if only I can maintain that freedom well into the year to come. Perhaps it might help to meditate upon the words of one of my favorite wordsmiths, T.S. Eliot:

Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still

Goodwill and hope to all.

Advent and Felt

2009-11-19T16:26:00.000-08:00

This year I decided to add to the holiday by making our very own Advent calendar using that most wondrous of materials: felt. (I love felt) Gracie assisted by holding my materials down

I stitched a little pocket for each day (and admit that by pocket 6, I was wondering what on earth possessed me to want to stitch an Advent calendar in the first place)

But after a few days of vigorous stitching, I finished all 24 pockets; here they are:

......now all I need are some stockings to match:

(Working on them) :)

Peace of the season!

Autumn Rambles

2009-10-03T12:42:00.000-07:00

Autumn has always been a favorite season of mine, and it's only natural for me to get out onto a trail and savor the season's offerings. Also, I hike whenever I feel confused as hiking clears the mind.

All through the Summer I've been confused about the Yoga class I was teaching at a local Dojo. Deeper than that, I was confused about how I felt about teaching Yoga at all; suffice it to say that, above most other industries, the machine of American Yoga is knee deep in empty promises and worthless ego-feeding spiel. For other areas of business, empty promises do not bother me; however, Yoga is something I care about and believe in.

Linda-Sama, from the blog Linda's Yoga Journey, said it best: "Fancy arm balances and pretzel poses no longer impress me. Show me how you live your life and what you can give up for 10 days at a retreat without complaint -- that will show me what you've learned from yoga. Show me your service and gratitude."

Though I do not believe all Yoga classes are poor quality, I am a firm believer that Americanized Yoga is killing Yoga; the desire to be the next Seane Corn seems to rank a bit higher than respecting the practice of ahimsa. To me, Americanized Yoga is not the Yoga I love and it is not the Yoga I want to live or distribute.

What I love about true Yoga is the same as what I love about hiking; it requires little more than honest awareness and persistent practice. It is unremarkable, inglorious and offers nothing to brag about.

What it should be is completely free, and what it should offer is complete freedom.

And perfect peace.

I've opted for the road less traveled.

The Pit of Despair

2009-03-26T08:31:00.001-07:00

.... don't even think about trying to escape.

Yesterday I had a really, REALLY bad day. It was the type of day where you wake up thinking life is good, then half way through realize it's nothing but a steaming pile of unpaid bills gone to collections (with interest.) The type of day that makes you want to sing old blues songs, like:

Once I built a tower to the sun,

Brick and rivet and lime,

Once I built a tower, now it's done,

Brother, can you spare a dime?

It was the type of day that makes you want to cry out things like 'why me' or 'it's not fair!'

And people try to come to you and say things like 'it's okay' or 'one day at a time' or some other pithy phrase that makes you feel like this:

And just when I wanted to crawl into a dark pit, cover myself with ashes and dwell in my misery forever, I looked up to see my three kids......

...and they were d a n c i n g.

All three of them were smiling and cutting a rug, waving arms, laughing and gyrating hips in a triangle of insanity.

"But there isn't even any music!" I said. They were not about to let that stop them, and their laughing and silliness became something of a light in my dungeon of pity. As I watched I started to feel something happen -- a twinge of hope -- and soon I felt a smile spread as I laughed with them.

Life is certainly not fair. But that doesn't necessarily keep one from dancing.

Even if there isn't even any music.

Food for Thought

2009-03-24T20:32:00.000-07:00

The Karuk Indians lived in Northern California and were known as the Upper River People. History is not fair; like countless other cultures, the Karuk are now all but forgotten by the masses.

The following is from a conversation between two Karuk elders, c: 1900. Translated by Julian Lang; I found it interesting and post it now for your edification:

The Old People were following the Ikxareeyavs,the Spirit People, all the time.

All the People did the same long ago; whatever the Ikxareeyavs did, the People did. And the things that the Spirit People ate, that was all the Old People ate. That's what they were told, "You must eat this kind of food" So the Spirit People ate salmon and they spooned up acorn soup, eating salmon along with acorn soup. And they ate deermeat. And the Old People claimed that the Spirit People ate two meals a day. And so that's the way the Old People did as well.

When the white people came, the Old People said "they are eating food poisonous to Indians. It is poison food; world-come-to-an-end food."

The working-aged people were the first to eat the white man's food. When they liked it, they really liked it. Then they told each other, "It's good tasting food." They said, "He never died. I'm going to eat it, that white man's bread."

It was a long time before the Old Men and Old Women ate the white man's food. "We are the last ones that know how the Spirit People used to do, all that they used to eat. Our mothers told us that. And even we do not eat anymore, what they told us before "You must eat this kind."

And what will they who are raised after us do?"

Are You a Localvore?

2009-03-24T16:24:00.000-07:00

One of the easiest ways to connect with the Earth and her wheel of the year is to eat local foods. There are the obvious benefits to eating locally, such as cutting down on the amount of toxins spewed into our air because the foods do not have to be transported half way around the world. Also, local produce tends to have a fuller, richer flavor having been picked fresh and ripe from the trees.

But there are subtle benefits as well.

To me, there is something heart-warming about supporting small farms; the act of buying a few apples not only helps a family to earn a living, it somehow offers a connection to my own family history, and the history of all mankind. Working the earth with one's hands and seeing those efforts come to fruition brings satisfaction on a deep, deep level.

“Burn down your cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up again as if by magic; but destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every city in the country.”

- William Jennings Bryan

Thoughts for Spring

2009-03-22T09:49:00.001-07:00

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers from within,
of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to re-teach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on the brow
of the flower,
and re-tell it in words and in touch,
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within,
of self-blessing.

-Galway Kinnell

And the Wheel Turns

2009-03-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

I decided to celebrate the Spring Equinox by riding my newly repaired beach cruiser to work and back. What a difference it made with my (usually) drab commute....

... I would have never guessed that the very fields I had zipped by, morning after morning were, in reality, ripe with wildflowers, butterflies and songbirds! As I peddled along I was surrounded by the sweet delicious aroma of life and there was no one around to share it with aside from the egrets, songbirds and fiddlenecks.

John Lennon was right; life is what happens when we're busy doing... whatever it is we think we are doing. In any case, I think I'll be taking my bike from now on.

mas rica.

Waldorf Memories

2008-12-02T07:52:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I ordered for a custom waldorf baby doll for my three year old daughter. The doll will be 18" long, have movable arms and legs and be able to wear actual baby clothes. My daughter will love it.

Way back in the 70's, when I was a little girl, I would visit my grandma and grandpa on their farm in central California. Their next door neighbor, Mrs. Wilson, would sometimes invite me over -- which I loved, because Mrs. Wilson made dolls and her entire attic was filled with every type of Waldorf-styled doll imaginable. And each one had a name and *story*. It was kid heaven. She even cut out 'kits' for me to sew my own dolls, and while mine never looked as good as hers, the memories make me smile.

Waldorf dolls are the perfect toy for any gender. What makes the Waldorf dolls so pleasing for kids is that they are soft and cuddly, and easily lovable. The face is only “suggested” to allow the child to use his/her own imagination as to whether it laughs, cries, sings, screams, is happy or sad . The child’s emotions can be projected on to the doll. Kits can be ordered as well as custom dolls on sites like www.dancingraindolls.com For the experienced sewer, free patterns are all over the web.

My daughter is only three .... when she's older, we'll try making our own dolls together.

Preparing for MidWinter

2008-12-01T20:46:00.000-08:00

Years ago my mother gave me a very lovely ceramic nativity set. She did the glazing herself -- all white with a hint of blue to accent -- it was just beautiful. But over the years, things happened.

First baby Jesus went missing (so I put the nativity set out without the Jesus) Then Mary's right hand broke off (so I placed the hand in the empty manger) Then Joseph broke one of his hands off (must have been in honor of Mary) Finally it got to the point where the kids and I decided it was time for a new nativity set.

It would have been easy to order some pre-fab Costco set, but the kids and I wanted something unique; something that spoke to us. So I googled and looked and eventually happened across a set on eTsy that was very appealing to me; not only was it handmade and unique, it was also downright cute. Plus the potter will customize your set by sending the characters you want (I strongly considered getting an extra baby Jesus, just in case) Here is my new Nativity set:

love it.

Bananas - God's Grace in Fruit Form

2008-03-17T23:17:00.000-07:00

Last week I had to be picked up via ambulance - in front of my children (not good) and taken to ER for seizures (also not good.) To suddenly have your body stop working as it should and basically tweak out was scary enough, but in front of the kids, let me say that it makes one feel powerless. After much testing, the doctors believe it was just another migraine, albeit more severe than usual.

My neurologist was thinking that beta blockers might help. Since there are side-effects (as with any med) I'm not in love with this idea, so I googled and found that the humble banana containes natural beta blockers. So I've been blendin' the smoothies (and taking my vitamins, getting good rest and exercise) and after a week I've got to say that I do feel better and am starting to believe that the banana is one of God's more perfect creations. After all the Banana comes in its own case, is easy to transport, gives a good burst of energy, and tastes great dipped in chocolate, rolled in nuts and frozen.

And on a completely different note, I would like to point out that the humble banana is now art... in an elevated sense. Check it out here:

GEOSTATIONARY BANANA OVER TEXAS

and be amazed.

Peace, love and good produce to all.

Goin' Green - the Bicycle

2008-03-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

Now that Spring has sprung, and we have that extra hour of sunlight, I'm thinking of taking my bike to work.

It's not common knowledge, but at the turn of the 20th century, entrepreneurs built an elevated bikeway that streatched from Pasadena to downtown LA. For a fifteen cent toll, bicyclists and quadricyclists (remember those?) could pedal several miles along a nice, scenic route on their way to work. Though the original bikeway was torn down, its refreshing to read that now, some 100 years later, bicyclists are reclaiming that route raising hopes for future commuters. And other cities are getting into the act by incorporating bikeways.

High gas prices? Oil? Spare tire 'round the ol' middle section? The answer may be as simple as *ride a bike.*

Sweet Sweet Melodie

2008-03-03T19:03:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in my living room - sipping the last wee bit of the Montagne Saint-Emilion - watching my two year old learn to scissor.

Scissoring is it's the most marvelous thing when you are 2 or 3.

With the coloringbook picture in one hand, and red-handled safety scissors in the other, she purposefully *snip-snip-snips* her way all around the paper's edge. When she's done with her scissoring and coloring, we'll hang it on the fridge.

My seven year old, meanwhile, is practicing for his baseball game in the back yard. He's positioned himself right in my line of view and every few hits he waves and yells out 'how was that one?'

"Great job!"

I think my eleven is cleaning his room, I'll check in a moment and see how its going.

Three happy kids and three happy cats - how wonderful! I know it won't last as our days are peppered with the occasional kid melt down, but this particular moment is one of life's sweeter melodies.

~Grace