"You really cannot make it happen; gratitude, like faith is given to you. It springs on you. It knocks the wind out of you just when everything seemed impossible.

Gratitude happens most often during suffering, loss, and other really hard stuff. It is the leading edge of joy. It happens when the big reality hits you. You have no more right to be loved than anyone else." (from Radical Hospitality)

Lord, make me an instrument of your mercy and peace . . . for the little boy with the dirty face and spider man shirt (Jan's blog) . . . for my own grandson . . . pouring cereal and milk . . . for each one.

For your mercy . . . Deo gratias!

Book

Club

is Wednesday . . . I haven't read the book . . .

company's coming this weekend . . . the house is clean . . . but, I haven't grocery shopped . . . or sweetened the guest room . . . the plants need watering . . . car washed and filled with gas . . .

so much undone . . .

I promised to be with my grandkids today . . .

Jeff calls it "holding the tensions" . . . I don't know . . . I just feel crazy . . .

(smiling) my husband loves that song . . . c r a z y . . .

Did I just let go? Deo Gratias!

"Remember The Wizard of Oz?

It is the story of Dorothy, who is trying to get home. Dorothy does not lack courage. She's lost, but she is not cowardly. The Tin Man thinks he lacks a heart, and the Scarecrow thinks he lacks a brain, and the Cowardly Lion thinks he lacks courage--only the Lion is right; what they all lack, we eventually find out, is courage. They lack the courage to become more than they are. They lack the courage to get through the tough times, and when they stand in the hall of mirrors and smoke and roaring voices they lack the courage to declare themselves--all accept the little girl, who has come this far by courage, and will make it home by courage.

Courage is the power of the heart, and it resides not in the emotion, but in the will and power to choose." from Radical Hospitality

For calling me beyond my worst choices . . . for companions like the Tin Man ( heart forming story). . . Scarecrow (desiring wisdom) . . . Cowardly Lion (praying for courage) . . . and all those like the little girl . . . who's courage inspire me to more than I've become . . . each day! Deo Gratias!

I'm a sucker for a good love scene!

It's Monday . . .

I had lunch with my sister.
She knows my story
and I know hers . . .
enough to finish one another's sentences.

I noticed something today . . .
it's hard to listen
when you know so much . . .
every sentence arriving in paragraphs . . .
all that knowing filling up spaces meant for
something brand new.

Wait a minute . . . I said . . . I'm calling a do-over.

Let's begin again . . . over lunch? . . . next Monday?

For my sister . . . and do-overs! Deo Gratias!

For Gloria and Jaime and anyone else who wonders, From Sleeping with Bread

"This book begins with the image of World War II orphan children sleeping with bread to reassure them that they would eat tomorrow as they did today. Many of them survived the concentration camps only because other prisoners had given their own last piece of bread to these children. Viktor Frankl wrote of how this bread brought not just survival but also hope and interior freedom:

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number . . . but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of his freedoms--to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

When we sleep with bread we are empowered to choose our own way under any circumstances. We become like the men and women in the concentration camps who could give others the bread of life they held."

For the bread I need each day! Deo Gratias!

I'm at one of those crossroads again. Not sure which way to turn . . . I've learned to wait. Oh, I could journey awhile down one path or another . . . but, that steals my wonder. So, I wait . . . and wonder . . . where everything is possible.

These past few weeks I have been gifted with many open ended questions. I love open ended questions . . . often they have had resurrection power . . . gifts that bring light and life . . . and because I unwrap them they have the power to change . . . ME!

I am grateful to the bearers of these gifts . . . because, while the answer may be as plain as nose on my face . . . they have been given . . . for me . . . to unwrap. And that, beloved companions . . . is the best kind of gift.

Deo Gratias!

Today was "Grandma Day" with Joshua.

When crossing the road with toddlers you need a game plan . . . mine is "stick like glue" . . . in todder language that means . . . "stick with me" . . . trust me it works.

Joshua and I have a special "love language" . . . it involves trading jokes. Not all of them are repeatable . . . however, not for the reason you think (smile).

I was excited because I had a new one. So, I began . . . Joshua, why did . . . Grandma, I'm Spider Man . . . ohhh right . . . Spider Man . . .

Why did the sucker cross the road? . . . then after many guesses . . .

Because it was stuck to the chicken! . . . pause . . . Grandma . . . I'm stuck to you . . .

That's the plan Spider Man . . . may this day stick to you forever! I love you Joshua!

The first words I learned were beautiful . . . come here . . . I still love hearing them.

It took me awhile to learn the difference between words spoken with all of you . . . your legs . . . your arms . . . your eyes . . . and . . . . those from the mouth alone. Words made flesh.

So . . . for me. . . language has had very little to do with words and much to do with everything else.

I am choosing to blog (smile)! This morning we read the following while visiting Gloria's:

"...when she was done, she said to me, 'You know, my eyes ain't too good at all. I can't see nothing but the general shape of things, so I got to rely on my heart. Why don't you go on and tell me everything about yourself so I can see you with my heart."
--From Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo

Now, those are words with arms!

They say . . . come here.

Deo Gratias!

LATE FRAGMENT

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
RAYMOND CARVER

Deo Gratias!

I've figured it out!

Daniel Taylor in The Healing Power of Stories says: We are our stories. We are a product of all the stories we have heard and lived . . . they shape how we see ourselves, our world and our place in it.

The heart is where the story forms . . .

I love stories . . . stories with faces . . . your stories . . .

and that, beloved bloggers, is why I am here.

Deo Gratias!

"I used to love the future, and I believed it loved me back. Through my twenties and thirties, I thought that in the future my life would be magically better. It was the balance to my unbalanced life: Of course, I would do all of the things I wasn't doing; I just wouldn't do them now. Because I was working towards (and always through) something, the overwhelming grind of the present wasn't so bad. The future was as powerful as any drug, magnetic and reliably narcotic. There would be children and grandchildren to live out (or, okay maybe reject) my dreams." MORE

The illusions have died . . . replaced by something deeper. The dreams I had lost are born again . . . something old (me) is becoming new.

I'm fifty-four . . . past midlife . . . people generally don't live until they are one hundred and eight . . .

my future is . . .

now . . .

Deo Gratias!

There is "something more" at this table . . . infusing each of your responses. God present . . . calling me to more. Deo Gratias . . . again and again!

I love preparing tables and places . . . making space to receive another. In this time I pause to prepare myself . . . the table within . . . to receive God present.

I'm struggling with this table . . . I don't yet have the knowledge (computer expertise) to make it pretty or personal or welcoming. The language is new and you can't see my eyes . . . more importantly I can't see yours . . .

Something old (me) is being made new . . . this is a good thing . . . this is always a good thing!

The man I love crafted a bat-mobile for our entry in the 4th of July canoe decorating contest our family has every year. . . parading the grandchildren I love in their recycled super hero costumes from our pumpkin decorating contest last fall. This same man (dressed as Batman) rowed them up and down the lagoon at Lake of the Isles while designated cheer leaders waved and cheered on shore (I was one of them). They weren't alone . . . there was a Disney canoe . . . Thomas the Train . . . Clifford the Red Dog . . . PacMan . . .

I just kissed this man goodnight . . . asking him to pray. Tonight's the night I step out of the canoe . . . I said . . . I 've been listening long enough . . . hoping to steal words that might impress the academic community that feeds my hungry mind . . .

Arghhh . . . all I can think of is Batman . . .

I stand on a new threshold . . . Deo Gratias! I think . . .