So Long Snooze

I always think "I am going to get up early tomorrow!", but then, when the alarm goes off at 6am on a Saturday morning, that little buddy Snooze becomes my pillow-mate. Yesterday morning, I awoke to Francesca Battistelli singing, "Sick and tired of being sick and tired..." The Breakup Song (breaking up with the fear that keeps me in bondage), and the first thought I was aware of in my sleep-fuzzied brain was: "Oh no! I forgot to call my patients for today's visits. And wait, who do I even have on my schedule??" I can't remember at all and I feel a hint of panic. Think, think, think. Then the words of the song break through a bit more and my brain, now less-fuzzy, realizes I am not working today. Relax. A slow smile brings the corners of my mouth up and at the same time, my eyes open fully. That realization, along with needing to use the bathroom RIGHT NOW, had me throwing the covers off, taking a brief moment to flex my toes and feet before planting them firmly on the ground like a woman on a mission. I was going to seize this day!

An early morning run sounded about right, but I don't like running on an empty stomach any more than I like running after a big meal. Soooo...coffee....well, of course....and let's see, an organic brown sugar toaster pastry (do organic and brown sugar even belong in the same sentence??). Perfect! Until I burnt the first pastry that is, and the glaze was melted beyond recognition and it dripped and adhered to my index finger leaving a blister. Ouch. I wasn't going to be deterred though. A second pastry was lightly browned and soon I was all set with a book, some paper, a pen, my coffee, and a blanket and I set out for our pond. Again, I always think about doing this and it has never come to fruition.

But I have a choice, don't I? We all do.









I can hit snooze until 8am and then be a bear about not getting up earlier or I can decide to get up. I have choices all day long that can change the course of my day and my attitude. My grandma had a quote taped to her wall between the kitchen and living room at the junction where it broke off to the short hallway to her bathroom and bedroom. No matter where she was coming from in her house, she would see this tiny snippet of paper with a big saying.

 When my alarm goes off every morning I can stay "sick and tired of... (fill in the blank)" or I can do something about it. One thing I did recently was change my alarm clock song during the week to a song by Bethany Dillon called "Let Your Light Shine". I awaken with a prayer and a blessing on my heart.

Father, let Your light shine down on me. Father, let Your light shine down on me; no matter what the day or night may bring...Father, let Your light shine down on me." 

The entire song speaks to me in powerful ways and I have put the link to a youtube video with lyrics below. Powerful truths and I get the privilege to wake up to this. It has helped when I am faced with those attitude choices that I inevitably do. 

7:30am and I am 1 1/2 hours of blessing into my day. I'm being bathed in the warm rays stretching over the treetops, squinting as the light reflects off the water, and finally just closing my eyes, feeling the heat on my eyelids, and even with my eyes closed, I see yellow and orange light. My hearing becomes heightened and I hear the bullfrogs as they twang and harrumph their choir notes in a pleasant off-key medley with the birds. 

Then, tossing a few leftover pastry crumbs to the blue gill milling beneath the dock, I breathe deeply. Is it possible to smell and taste the colors green and blue? You should try it sometime; it is exhilarating! I think I may have inhaled a tiny glimmer of heaven. 

My run still awaits. I have been nourished physically, mentally, and spiritually. I know that I am guilty of allowing anxiety and my fear of whatever I think the day may hold to keep me from seizing the opportunities that each day holds. I forget sometimes that God has me in His sight, that He wants to go with me, that He has gone before me and already knows what the day holds. He gives me a choice, many choices actually. That is powerful when you really think about it.

Dear Snooze, I am sorry to say we may be breaking up. I am not hiding behind you anymore to avoid facing the day. I am not letting you and Fear conspire to keep me in a bondage. Let my just borrow Francesca's words to say, "I know who I am, I know I'm strong and I am free, go my own identity. So fear, you will never be welcome here.". 

Love,
Dianne

Conquering the Climb

FEAR

I allow it to own me, 

stopping my dreams in their tracks,

keeping me in a box. 

BUT yesterday? 

I made a decision to do something new. 

Something that made my heart pound and my body tremble. 

I went rock climbing with my daughter,Amy and my almost son-in-law, Joel. 

This is how it went. 

After church at Veritas in Columbus, Ohio we went back to Amy's house and ate chicken alfredo. You know, energy for what the afternoon would bring. Maybe I should have had Wheaties, but Wheaties are gross and alfredo is not. I put on what I thought would be appropriate rock climbing attire and off we went to The Wall. 

Kinda looks like I have to pee. I don't. Not yet. 

"Okay. I can do this. I can. It's not that high. And you have a harness. It's all good."

I keep telling myself this as we watch the others on the wall, waiting for a free auto belay. You know, the thing that will keep me from plummeting to the ground in an ungraceful heap. 

Ummm. 

So, the ungraceful heap? 

My first attempt to go up also involved how to get down. I have this harness around my waist and thighs with one rope attached in the front. And ALL I had to do to come down is LET GO OF THE WALL and TRUST that this auto belay will let me down gently. 

~Apparently I have trust issues.~

I would think "Go, just do it!" and I just couldn't. 

"One, two, three...."

And still there I was perched on the wall, arms starting to feel numb. 

And then I had to let go, and because I wasn't too far up yet, the auto belay didn't really have time to slow down. I landed on my feet with an "ooooff" and then proceeded to bounce back onto my butt, not just once but about three times in a row. Think how a pebble looks skimming across the pond. That was me. Did I mention that the ground was a little bouncy on purpose and my bottom is ample enough that the bouncing was just a natural phenomenon? I am sure it looked natural and will be a move that other rock climbers will now try to emulate. 

I finally figured out how to go up to this little ledge that you could stand on, and pulled myself up, breathless and exhausted. It was the climbing part that the little kids do without ropes. I am having flashbacks to my 5th Grade ski trip and never making it off the Bunny Slope. 

Fear. 

Intimidation. 

Self-consciousness.

NO

Not this time!!

Let's Do This! 

This young woman is my inspiration. Amy, you rock!

(sorry, I couldn't help that!)  

I hook into a different auto belay and try again. I decide I am not going to look down or too far up; my focus is where I am and my next immediate move. I had tried Amy's climbing shoes and I wasn't sure if I liked the shoe or being barefoot; besides the shoe hurt my left foot, making it cramp, so I decided to try it both ways. I'm not sure if that was the trick or not, but this was the only time I made it all the way to the top. If I thought letting go was hard before, this was just as hard. I may have swung around more than I would've liked on the way down, but I did manage to avoid the pebble-on-the-pond look at the end. I landed on my feet. Like a cat.

Speaking of feeling cat-like...

I was feeling a new confidence and as Amy and Joel were conquering another part of the wall, I thought I'd go jump up athletically onto the two foot high rock wall that surrounded the climbing area as I made my way to where our stuff lay on the grass.

I approached the wall with a slight swagger.

Oh yeah. I am feeling this.

Then, as I go to jump up, I trip and instead of landing on my feet, you know cat-like, I sprawl across the rock, my head and arms in the grass, my belly on the rock and my legs still on the gravel. I immediately tried to think how I could make this look like I intended to land this way. 

Ummm, not happening. 

I literally crawled the rest of the way to our gear and then just burst into laughter. 

Maybe I can tell everyone that the bruise on my knee is from heroic rock-climbing. 

I think I was not expecting just how much scaling a rock wall would take out of me.

My arms would feel crazy, both numb and tingling. I learned that if I stayed in one place too long, trying to figure out my next move, it would make my arms and legs lose energy and strength. I was better if I studied the wall for a bit before even trying and then once moving up, to just keep moving. 

Okay, sounds like a life lesson here. 

Fear can hold you back and sometimes that's a good thing, but I need to take time sometimes to explore options, see what the possibilities are and then take the climb. Or the plunge. God is more secure, more reliable than any auto belay. He holds me in the palm of His hand.

I choose to trust in that. 

Love, 

Dianne 

 

Little Red Iris

Ryan has been waiting, some days patiently, other days not so much. There has been a scrap of notebook paper on the refrigerator since last fall with the tentative due dates for his goats, Rosie and Daisy. He has done his research and knows more about the goat birthing process than the goat herself. About a week ago, he slept in the barn next to Rosie, under a tarped-in shelter and snuggled into a sleeping bag.

Just to clarify: He was in the sleeping bag, not the goat.

A week passed and still no babies. Were the dates wrong? Then, when I came home from work Friday evening, he informed me that it would be "very soon" as Rosie had "bagged up". Yes, that's udder talk for you. Rosie was bunking in our old milk-house with piles of hay to bed in, fresh water, and essential oils diffusing to relax the pregnant goat. Okay, so maybe not the essential oils; Rosie thought that was a bit over-the-top. Ryan planned to go out around midnight to check on her, but as it sometimes happens, he fell asleep and slept through the night.

In the morning, Ryan opened his eyes, saw the daylight and headed to the barn, still closing his jacket as he hurried through the cold morning air, his breath streaming out in great puffs of white. Opening the milk-house door, he saw one little red goat, already on her feet. Running back to the house, he found me.

"Mom, Rosie is having her babies; she has one already and it looks like she's having another one."

It actually sounded more like this: "MomRosieishavingherbabiesshehasonealreadyanditlookslikesheshavinganotherone"

I hurried and got dressed, cleaned the spider webs out of my winter barn boots (no, I don't go out there much in the winter) and made my own breath trail as I hurried to the barn. I heard the insistent "baa-ing" of the baby before I even opened the door and then stepping inside, I see Ryan with not just one new baby, but two.

With an old towel, he was cradling the smaller, darker red goat. "Mom, I found this one over there in the corner and not in the hay. I don't know what Rosie was thinking. I don't know if it'll be okay; she's pretty cold."

She was cold, her ears, her feet, her body. I rubbed her vigorously with the towel to try to get some warmth going. Her head lolled to the side and she couldn't even attempt to stand. The other little one was active, walking around, buffing at Rosie to find some milk, but the little one I held in my arms had me worried.

Leo came home from a meeting at the church just then and wise farmer that he is, suggested Rosie and her babies be taken into the basement by the furnace. I stood up with the cold, quiet baby in my arms and Ryan handed me the other baby who was vigorously crying and trying to get away. If I could only get some of her vigor into the other one. I walked as fast as I could and quickly got her onto the top of the warm furnace. While Ryan watched them, I ran upstairs to warm up an old towel. 

(Towels do catch on fire when heated for two minutes in a microwave. Not that I'd know from personal experience or anything.) I grabbed the bathroom heater and got it plugged in and focused on the wee goat who was actually now starting to perk up a bit. 

Little by little, warmth began to infuse through this little dark red goat. Her eyes became more focused, she tried to stand, her crying became less frantic. I kept thinking, "THANK YOU GOD!!" Ryan (and me too!) would have been so sad if Little Red didn't make it. 

Fast forward 24 hours: 

I mean, could they be any more adorable?? One has Boer goat ears, the other has Pygmy goat ears and both are eating up a storm, frolicking about, and already trying to find things to nibble on. 

As for names, I rather like Little Red, but in the end, Ryan went with Iris and Sushi. I think I need to go out and warn all my flowers, shrubs, anything remotely garden or plant related to "Look out!!" because I think, come Spring, these two might be better named Lawn Mower and Weed-Eater.

Love, 

Dianne

Fern

I am here, hidden beneath the porous damp soil

waiting for warmth and golden light to filter through.

Waiting to stretch and push though,

but barriers stand in my way:

Fear. Insecurity. Isolation. Depression. Myself.

I'm waiting, but I'm not sure what it is I am waiting for. 

I hear a Voice. 

He knows my fears, my insecurities, my loneliness. 

He knows Me. 

But I am still afraid.

The darkness is where I have been, it is what I know. 

This is my dwelling place, what I think is safe. 

"Go."

A voice breathes in my ear. 

"I am with you. I have gone before you. I know what is ahead.

Trust Me."

Tentative. Cautious. Slow. 

I lift my head and open my eyes. 

Light.

I see it filter through the cracks in the dark cloak

I have surrounded myself with.

Warmth. 

Touching my face, soft and gentle like butterfly wings.

Reaching up to finger the light and part the shadows,

I find myself not just reaching, but pushing through. 

It hurts and I want to go back. 

There is no going back, only forward. 

"Onward and Upward." 

I hear whispers in the breeze;

it is making my hair sweep across my cheek. 

Brushing it back, I feel the tears that have fallen unnoticed. 

"Trust Me."

I reach out.

He reaches back.

I am exposed, naked, raw in the dappled sunlight.

He does not turn away or leave me to stand alone. 

I am warm for the first time. 

Truly warm. 

More, I want more of this. 

I don't want to stay curled inwards. 

One limb at a time

I stretch as far as I can.

I find that I can breathe like I never could before. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

It is good. 

"You are good." 

What? 

"You are good. You are my creation. My daughter. I love you.

I see you and I know my creation is very good."

"Look and see."

Turning my head from left to right, looking ahead and behind,

my eyes widen. 

I am not alone. 

All around are others just like me in spite of the differences of gender, race, ethnicity, and color. 

Different stories, fears that vary, hurts that are many,

and joys that we celebrate, 

but we are here together. 

Together with our Creator. 

"Onward and Upward, my daughter.

There will be storms. It won't be easy. 

There will be tears and the darkness will threaten to engulf.

But you will not be alone if you just reach out

and hang on tight. 

I am here. 

I have always been here.

Make me your dwelling place. 

Yes. 

I am Yours. 

¹How lovely is your dwelling place, LORD Almighty! ²My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. ³Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young- a place near your altar, LORD Almighty, my King and my God. ⁴Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. ⁵Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. ⁶As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. ⁷They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.

---

New International Version , Copyright 2011-2017 Biblica

With Love, 

Dianne