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Minnesota: The Travelling Dinner

Margo — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 14:00:00 +0000

In my previous posting Vignette- Paula in Minnesota, I mentioned the “travelling dinner”. I vaguely remember some years ago a friend talking about a “neighborhood dinner”, where everyone from the neighborhood (a fairly small one I believe) shared a meal. However, instead of all coming to one house to eat, the families went from house to house eating a course here and another there.

So on one of the evenings that we spent at Sherry and Greg’s place in Minnesota, we were invited to participate in a travelling dinner. Two of the couples did not live in the immediate vicinity of Sherry and Greg’s house, but were great friends of all the people who did. So they brought their contributions to the meal to Deb and Crystal’s home.

On the appointed evening at the appointed time Sherry, Greg, Rich and myself walked down the driveway. It was a very pleasant evening so the walk was very enjoyable. We made a right-hand turn onto the road at the bottom of the driveway, walked about fifty yards, passing the driveway that led to Connie and Joe’s house (Sherry and Greg’s immediate neighbors), before making another right-hand turn into Deb and Crystal’s driveway.

No house could be seen, so I wondered how long of a walk this was going to be. I needn’t have worried. The driveway sloped upward for about fifty yards and as we crested the top we saw that it then sloped downwards for about another fifty yards and there at the bottom, slightly to the right, stood the house. From this view point it appeared to be a one-story building with beautifully cultivated flower beds on the one side, and a wonderful large fire pit encircled by brightly colored Adirondack chairs which in turn were surrounded by more raised flower beds. All this was then surrounded by lush green grass and trees. Another piece of heaven!

Kokopelli entranced me!

But the view of the house was deceptive because it was built on a fairly steep slope. It wasn’t until another day that I saw the other side of the house and realized there was a lower level which contained a spacious apartment where Deb’s Mom, Mary, and Deb’s sister, Paula, lived. It took me a while to actually go into the house because, being the gardener that I am, I had to check out all the beautiful flowers in bloom and the various plants that I didn’t recognize, plus there were lots of interesting and whimsical garden decorations to look at.

Eventually I made it inside where there were some delightful appetizers laid out. Once we filled our plates, most of us migrated through the kitchen and dining area to a lovely screened-in room located at the back of the house. The view was as delicious as the food we ate. As I mentioned before, the house was built on a fairly steep slope, so this room was was quite elevated and gave the impression that we were seated among the tree tops. (For me it was a small God-moment.) It was here that we got to meet the non-neighbors, Char and Frank and Doug and Deb.

After about forty five minutes of eating and socializing, it was deemed time to move to the next course. This was to be eaten at Connie and Joe’s house and we were told that we were going via the “scenic route”. So we all trooped out in Indian file and followed a pathway that they had created through the woods connecting the two houses. It was rather magical and I half expected fairies and pixies to jump out from behind the trees. The crossing point between the two properties was marked by a lovely vine-covered trellis archway that stood over a couple of steps down. My heart actually started beating a little faster right here because in a “deja vue” moment it reminded me of my Dad’s garden. (See my posting Vignettes- My Kingdom.)

All of these neighbors are avid gardeners, so we found ourselves stepping into another beautifully appointed garden where flower beds were in full bloom with lots of lush greenery everywhere and more whimsical garden features. We spent quite a bit of time checking everything out. A special mention needs to be made here about Joe’s “work shed”. I’m talking about a GIGANTIC work shed the size of a small warehouse. There were big tools and small tools, and every kind of small (and some not so small) machinery all neatly laid out. As you can imagine, the men folks in our party were in hog heaven.

Don’t you just love her!!

After admiring everything, flower beds and the work shed contents, we all drifted into Connie and Joe’s where a second round of appetizers was laid out. More eating and more socializing took place and by this time a few glasses of wine had been consumed so there was lots of merriment and laughter. In the meantime some rain clouds had gathered and so we got sprinkled on a little as we made our way over to Sherry and Greg’s. Earlier in the afternoon I had helped Sherry assemble a huge bowl of a very colorful mixed salad into which we had put everything bar the kitchen sink! As people came in, we tossed it in a home made dressing and in no time at all that huge bowl was empty.

We were all beginning to get full tummies but the walk back to Deb and Crystal’s house must have helped our digestive systems because we were ready for the main course by the time we got there. Actually some of us rode in the car because of the rain, but we were still ready. I think the laughter and the socializing shook the food down nicely because we even had room for dessert after eating yet another plateful of food. It was altogether a very fun experience and I’m already plotting and planning to see how I can replicate it, even though most of my friends live in rather spread out areas. But maybe that will make it even more interesting. I’ll let you know when and how I make it happen.

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Shared Wisdom: Words On The Road

Margo — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 15:00:00 +0000

We have arrived in Kentucky and are spending time with family in Louisville. So far we have travelled through 14 States, a couple of them twice over. Even as I travel, I am aware of words that float up from memory, or that I encounter as I journey from place to place, or that I find scribbled on pieces of paper tucked into my meditation books or my gratitude journal. So here are some words of wisdom from the road.

“Life is curly, don’t even try to straighten it out.” (Rebecca – age 11 years)

“What God gives us in answer to our prayers will always be the thing we most urgently need, and it will always be sufficient.” (Elisabeth Elliot)

“What matters supremely is not the fact that I know God, but the larger fact ……… that He knows me …….. I am never out of His mind. All my knowledge of Him depends on His sustained initiative in knowing me.” (J.I. Packer)

“Light does not resist or avoid darkness. It merely includes it, welcomes it, loves it. Light is not afraid of the shadow for it knows the appearance of the shadow is the first sign of illumination.” (Paul Ferini)

“We are not alone on our journey. The God of love who gave us life sent us {His} only Son to be with us at all times and in all places, so that we never have to feel lost in our struggles but always can trust that God walks with us.” (Henri J.M. Nouwen)

“I’m a girlfriend-kind-of-girl. I love having women in my life. In fact, I think women who claim they don’t need a girlfriend just haven’t found a good one yet. I don’t have that problem. I am surrounded by an abundance of the most remarkable women God ever created to be my sister, mother, daughters, and friends. It’s a blessing I don’t take lightly. Quite simply, having such dear women in my life makes my heart tingle.” (Suzy Toronto)

“When you take the first step to embrace God in your circumstances, He will go the distance to embrace you.” (Stormie O’Martian)

“When the reed is empty, blowing through it makes a beautiful sound, a sound that returns effortlessly to silence. When mind is still, thoughts arise spontaneously, offer themselves, and die in the wind. There is no complexity here. The goal is not to make thinking go away, but to slow it down so that it comes to rest in its natural container. Once you rest in that place, you no longer desire to be anywhere else.” (Paul Ferini)

“Faith is meant to be lived moment by moment. It isn’t some broad, general outline – it’s a long walk with a real Person.” (Joni Eareckson Tada)

Blessings to you all.

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Shared Wisdom: Words From Others

Margo — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 00:11:00 +0000

Once again it is my pleasure to share words of wisdom from others that I seem to find at every corner and in every moment of my journey, many of them at just the exact moment that I need them.

- “Truth is such a rare thing; it is delightful to tell it".” (Emily Dickinson)

- “One thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.” (Albert Schweitzer)

- “I pray thee, O God, that I may be beautiful within.” (Socrates)

- “Do whatever comes your way to do as well as you can. Put a good deal of thought into happiness that you are able to give.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)

- “Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves.” (James M. Barrie)

- “From every human being there rises a light that reaches straight to heaven and when two souls that are destined to be together find each other,
their streams of light flow together, and a single brighter light goes forth from their united being.” (Unknown – used by Michael Podesta, Calligrapher)

- “No man is an island entire of itself; Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” (John Donne)

- “You can lay the foundation of a friendship in a matter of moments, but it is a work of time to build a monument.” (Madelyn Watt)

- “Every human being, of whatever origin, of whatever station, deserves respect. We must each respect others, even as we respect ourselves.”
(U. Thant)

- “Were there no God, we would be in this glorious world with grateful hearts and no one to thank.” (Christina Rossetti)

- “Don’t be afraid to take big steps. You can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps.” (David Lloyd George)

- “Some goals are so worthy, it’s glorious even to fail.” (Unknown)

- “Why was man created on the last day? So that he can be told, when pride possesses him: God created the gnat before thee.” (The Talmud)

- “No one is so rich that he does not need another’s help: no one is so poor as not to be useful in some way to his fellow man.” (Pope Leo XIII)

I hope you enjoy these quotations and that they prove to be as helpful to you as they have to me.

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Musings: Tears ……

Margo — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 23:51:00 +0000

I carry my reflection books in a small plastic tub. It keeps them all tidily in one place, and makes for easy transportation when I go away. As I reached down to pick one out this morning, my fingers encountered a loose piece of paper. There, at the bottom of the tub, lay a small 3” x 5” piece of printing. I pulled it out and recognized it immediately as something that a dear friend had given me about a year ago. It was the copy of page 242 from a daily book of goddess reflections that she reads.

At the time, I was going through an immensely sad moment in my life. In hindsight, I realize I was probably verging on the edge of depression. I am very fortunate that I have many tools that I use on a daily basis that help me to never sink into the desperate depths of that particular disease. And then too, I have wonderful friends who walk a similar path to mine who care about me and give me exactly what I need when I need it.

And thus I received page 242 at just the right moment. The goddess who was addressed on that page was O-Ryu. She is referred to as Grandmother O-Ryu and is the Japanese goddess of the Willow tree. This is what was written about her.

She waits for you in her sacred tree temple beside the quiet night river. A golden Moon whispers above her long and hanging
branches, casting a twinkling outline around her wavy edges. “Come to me”, O-Ryu calls out as she reaches her long and
leafy branches toward you for a loving hug. An owl flaps a low, deep hoot from somewhere inside her soft green tendrils,
and you notice a spider’s web gleaming silver on the tips of her twiggy fingers.

”I am the Witch’s Tree, sacred to the Wise Ones”, she reminds you. “My branches are for making magic wands. My bark
supplies aspirin, the remedy for pain. Come. Sit beneath my weeping branches. Let me hold you close. It’s okay to feel
sad. Let yourself mourn and cry and weep. The relief you are seeking is in letting yourself feel. Do not hold back.

Perhaps you have postponed your mourning too long,” O-Ryu urges. “Mourn means ‘to remember’. Who wants to be
remembered today? Can you whisper their name out loud? Call their spirit to come and sit beside you here by the River.
Let us cry together and gather the wisdom they want to share with you. The spirit of someone deceased wants to talk
with you. Something you need to know will be revealed in a powerful feeling.”

At the top of this page was a statement: “Tears, too, are sacred and can wash away your grief. Honor your memories.” At the bottom of the page was another statement: “Mourning my losses and grieving are necessary processes on my spiritual path.”

When I was in High School there was a small section of the playground that was a grassed area where we could sit in those rare warm English summer days! In the corner of this place was a large weeping willow tree that I loved to sit under and feel protected and safe, cocooned if you will. As I read page 242 I was reminded of those days and, because I firmly believe that nothing happens “by chance”, I chose to work with the imagery of O-Ryu for the next few days, weeks, however long it should prove necessary.

In those days, I discovered that I was mourning the loss of my daughter. No, she had not died in the physical sense, but I had “lost” her all the same. The details of this loss are not important to this writing. What is important is that I discovered what had been destroying me inside during that moment in my life, and I was able to release it with O-Ryu’s help. I also discovered that I needed to mourn the loss of my mother at a deeper level, I came to understand some of her pain that I had helped to create.

Tears are cleansing. They are an important part of our journey to wholeness. They wash away the grief and allow for new seeds of happiness to bloom in once broken hearts. Welcome your tears as the refreshing waters for new growth. As the tears evaporate and dry on your cheeks, so an inner peace will enter your soul and bless you on your way.

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Spiritual Growth: Forgiveness

Margo — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 19:29:45 +0000

I came across some notes that I took during the course of a retreat. The speakers had been presenting their views on forgiveness. These are the notes that I made during the presentations.

- Forgiveness: the warm fuzzy feeling doesn’t happen immediately – maybe never. The important thing is to make the decision to forgive because it is the
   right thing to do, for God and for us. And most times we have to make that decision on a daily basis for a long time before any peacefulness about
   the situation or the person comes into our hearts. “Faking it till you make it” doesn’t quite apply in this circumstance, because a deep willingness to forgive
   needs to be there. It is important that we practice making that decision every day for the peace to come.

I thought it was quite God-incidental that I came across these notes a couple of days ago because someone has just sent me a very interesting article about forgiveness which, I think, puts another slant on the topic. It is the recording of a conversation between a person called John Cali and another “person”, Joseph (referred to as Chief Joseph), whom Cali channels through. These are Chief Joseph’s thoughts on forgiveness.

“We are going to say something right here at the start which may surprise or even shock some of you.

There is never a need or a reason to forgive another person. That’s not your job.

True forgiveness, friends, is forgetting – forgetting the pain, the anger, the sadness – and remembering the love.

Forgiveness is really about letting go. Letting go, and forgetting, the pain you’re holding onto. And whatever that pain is, you – not the other person – created it. The pain is self-inflicted. Always, no exceptions.

Forgiveness has nothing to do with the other person. It has everything to do with you, and only you.

Do you think God holds grudges? Do you think your higher self holds resentments?

When you are willing to go through that process you call forgiveness, you are remembering who you are, who your higher self is – God.

If you insist on forgiving, then forgive yourself. Whatever real or imagined harm the other person did, did not hurt you. Only your thoughts allowed you to be hurt.

No one can hurt you without your consent. The other person, acting in the best way she or he could in the moment, was there in that moment because the two of you co-created that experience.

No one is to “blame”.

If you see such situations from your higher self’s perspective, your pain will go away. All that will remain is the love.

Pain is illusion. Love is real.”

I have been pondering on this for the last few days and although it is tough, I think it is right. I probably need to give it some more thought and talk it through with some friends that I trust, but the more I think about it the more it resonates in my heart. Hope it gives you some food for thought.

Blessings.

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Musings: God and Chicken Soup

Margo — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 03:03:30 +0000

This past weekend I was involved in putting on a workshop about prayer and meditation. I’ll talk about the workshop itself in a separate posting. As well as the presentations on the topic we also provided food. We work on the premise that “if there’s food, they will come”. I knew there were plenty of veggies, chips, dips and desserts being prepared as well as a couple of platters of wraps. But only one meat dish was on the sign up list, so I decided to grab a few rotisserie chickens, pull the meat off and serve it up in small portions.

This left me with four chicken carcasses. I love homemade chicken soup, so before leaving for the workshop I dumped the bones into a large pot, filled it with water, and put it on to boil. When I came home I fired it up again, let it simmer for a bit, then turned it off to cool over night. Now I’m not sure about you all out there, but when I make chicken soup I don’t want just the broth. I want every single tiny morsel of meat that was left on the bones in my soup.

So, what better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than to scrub my hands clean then plunge them into a pot-full of cold chicken broth? I mean it’s the ultimate Sunday afternoon activity, right!! My husband thinks it’s a little crazy but he sure enjoys the soups that come out of this. However, this Sunday was a little different because as I manually sifted through the chicken bones I had a real spiritual experience. She’s flipped, you’re thinking. Totally lost it, you’re saying.

Don’t be too quick to judge and let me explain what happened. Now I’ve been through this chicken soup process many times before and never thought about God. Perhaps it was a result of the workshop the previous day that had me floating on a higher plane, on a deeper spiritual level; who knows. But as I picked up the different skeletal parts of the chicken to strip them of their tasty morsels, I became very aware of how amazingly a chicken is put together. Hundreds (at least it seemed like that many) of tiny bones all put together and connected in a specific design to create the animal that we know as a chicken.

Then I began to think about how many different animals, birds, insects, reptiles, and sea creatures inhabit our planet earth. Having watched many different animal documentaries and always being so totally surprised by the number of different animals there are, I surmise there must be millions of different species all over the globe. As I thought about that, I began to let my mind wander in this zoo that I had conjured up in my mind and saw all the different shapes and sizes of the various creatures therein, and I imagined all the different skeletal designs that each one had.

It occurred to me in that moment how marvelous and how rich was the diversity of life on this planet. It also became very clear to me in that moment that even if I didn’t have a religious experience in my life, no way could I believe that all this richness, all this diversity, just created itself out of nothing or came from some “big bang”. Some incredibly awesome, powerfully intellectual-beyond-belief Creator had to have masterminded all these different creatures.

My mind was totally boggled for quite a while as I continued to sift and separate bones from meat, from fat, from grizzle, from tendons. It’s in moments like this that I get quite “right sized”. I realize in the same moment how insignificant I am in the bigger scheme of things and yet how important I am. I must be important if this Creator, in the middle of creating this planet with all its life forms as well as the universe with its billions of stars and planets and who knows what else, had the time to think me, to love me into existence with my own unique skeletal design.

In the same instant it is both a wildly happy thought and a wildly terrifying thought because it is really quite unfathomable to the human mind. So I think, and this is just my take on this, that all those grand intellectuals who claim the non-existence of a God, a Supreme Creator, are probably too terrified by the thought of such an all-powerful being to admit He/She/It may be there. I would not like to be on their deathbeds.

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Musings: The Tapestry of Life

Margo — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 14:46:39 +0000

The other day I was reading a small reflection about how we are all part of the tapestry of life. The reflection said that we are all unique threads in the great tapestry of life, each with our own subtle texture and color. It lead to to think about my own life and to see how that is a unique tapestry of its own. The events that have taken place, the people that have crossed my path, and my response or reaction to both of these, have all contributed to the rich cloth that has been woven.

I also think of my life as representative of the seasons – spring, summer, autumn and winter. Some of the threads are black and grey and dark brown and these form the winter scenes. Others are bright yellow and light green and various hews of light blue creating renewal of life spring scenes. Bright gold, vivid red and brilliant greens and blues form the summer, and then there are the gorgeous burnt tones of autumn – orange, ochre yellows, rich rusty browns and deep reds and purples.

As I thought more about this particular view of life I had a sudden memory of “photo tapestries”. This type of art form came onto the scene maybe ten or fifteen years ago. The artist would take thousands of photos of human faces. Then he or she would render them as miniature pictures and lay them out to create one large unique image of a specific face, usually someone famous such as the Mona Lisa.

And so I thought of God as the artist creating each of us and then allowing us to co-create our life tapestry/photo through our behavior choices and responses to life events. He would then take each completed photo and lay it out with all the others to form a complete photo-tapestry of the whole world from start to finish.

Just imagine, we are each a tiny, unique, infinitesimal yet very important part of the whole. We are each a wonderful creation of God with possibilities and opportunities to create a grand self portrait. Then he, the Grand Master Artist, gets to take our individual portraits – our works of art – to blend them together to create his work of art – the human history of the world.

As I thought this all through it made me want to make the rest of my life as beautiful and as interesting as possible. I want my life to represent joy and love and laughter. I know I have created many winter scenes, but I have also managed to weave in to my own personal tapestry/life portrait much of spring and summer and the glorious tones of autumn.

Then, when it is time, I will lay my gift at the feet of the Master. Only he knows where my creative work shall be placed in the bigger scheme of things. Only he knows the unique offering that I have made to the whole. Only he knows and can appreciate the bigger picture. And when the time is right I am sure he will allow me to share that too.

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Shared Wisdom: The Voices of Others

Margo — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

There are many moments along my path when I have to acknowledge the influence that others have had on my journey. So many times these various pearls of wisdom have led me on a detour or returned me to the “straight and narrow”. Here are a few gems that I would like to offer you today.

“Spiritual life is not listening to the murmurings of the world but to that inner voice.” (Sue Sikking)

“Don’t compare your life with others’. You have no idea what their journey is about. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.” (Anonymous)

“Right here and now, this very day, you have the power to think, the power to dream, the power to make decisions, the power to create, to learn, to influence others, to change things, to experience and enjoy. On top of all that, you have the power to invent, to innovate, to change your mind, to understand, and to move in a new direction.
You have the power to persevere, to work with discipline and focus, to manage your time, to recognize opportunities, to take responsibility and to act responsibly, to solve problems, to effectively utilize your resources, and to make a positive difference in your world.
Some people take these very same powers and achieve great things. Others live as if they didn’t even know they had them. Still others destroy the value of their own positive, living powers by directing them toward negative pursuits.
You have the power to do great things. How will you make use of that power today? It is an incredible opportunity and an awesome responsibility. It is real and it is yours. Challenge yourself to transform that power, with your thoughts and actions, into your own special greatness.” (Ralph Marston – Founder of the web page The Daily Motivator)

“We say that we don’t deserve grace, or need any special favors. Why is it so hard for us to accept a gift we didn’t “earn”? That is EXACTLY WHY we are given grace. Because we believe that we aren’t “good” enough.” (Anonymous)

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” (Soren Kierkegaard)

“The great blessings of mankind are within us and within our reach.” (Seneca)

“Spirituality is the sacred center out of which all life comes, including Mondays and Tuesdays, rainy Saturday afternoons in all their mundane and glorious detail …….. The spiritual journey is the soul’s life co-mingling with ordinary life.” (Christina Baldwin)

And as a confirming follow-up to that last quotation I will share the prayer from one of my meditation books:

“God, thank you for those small
daily happenings that make
life so spectacular.
Help me celebrate the holiness
of the common day.
Amen!

Blessings to you all.

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The Garden: An Inspiration

Margo — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 13:00:00 +0000

Those of you who know me through my writing know that I love gardening. This love of gardening comes partly from my historic/geographic gene pool – I’m a Brit and we’re almost all gardening mad! The other part is still from my gene pool but from a more intimate and personal section – the family. Both my parents loved the garden, but my Dad had an absolute passion for his garden.

I’m not a very organized gardener as I’ve already mentioned in other postings. I’m not a very organized anything because I’m a real “fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda gal”. My garden is a veritable hodge-podge of flowers and plants and I’m never quite sure what’s going to pop up where. I throw seeds all over the place and plant bulbs here and there, then I sit back and wait for the wonder of nature.

I love the growing process. Taking a seed and watching it peep up through the soil with it’s first tip of green is a most exciting adventure for me. It fascinates me that from that tiny little thing a whole flower or plant or bush or even a tree can come forth.

Sometimes I stand in my back yard with a seed in my hand and I look at everything that’s growing around me, and I am in absolute awe as I think it all started with a few seeds. The hand of God is most definitely present in such a miracle.

Gardening brings me great joy and I consider it to be wonderful therapy for the soul. Gardening takes me out of myself and is one of the few activities through which I feel a real connection with God. Gardening makes my heart happy.

But today I realized another benefit that comes from my hard work out there in the garden. Of late my husband has started taking series of photos of my garden. At first he was taking general all-around shots so that we could share them with the rest of the family that is flung around the world.

More recently he began taking close-ups of single blooms and flowers. Such works of art each and every one in itself. He also took one set that was all leaves and they turned out to be very interesting and beautiful. But here’s the kicker.

Richard is also this “computer geekie/techie guy”. He works a lot with Windows 7 and it allows him to create themes. These are a series of images that you can put together as desktop wallpaper. Well he has taken my garden as his inspiration for creating beautiful themes that are available for free download if you work with Windows 7.

If you’re a garden fanatic and you’d like to check out more shots of my garden, you can visit our Summer Garden shots album. I hope you get as much enjoyment from this as I do.

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Musings: Life’s Curve Balls

Margo — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 18:26:40 +0000

Just recently life has thrown a few curve balls into my personal space. Nothing drastic, but enough to throw me off balance. And then, of course, there’s the dratted weather, which has thrown enough curve balls into everyone’s territory to create disruptions galore.

My last posting (yes, I know, it’s been two long weeks!), was on 7 March Musings- Freedom, and I shared how sick I had been and how much I was enjoying the freedom of wellness. We had a short interlude of a few days of good weather as I regained my strength, and the first call of order was the garden. So much needed to be done in the way of general tidying and clearing before beginning on the major project which would completely remodel my front yard.

I have to admit that even as I experienced the joy of gardening, I struggled with a certain level of frustration. As much as I wanted/needed to be out doing the garden, especially as I had lost so much time due to bad weather and we didn’t know how long the warm weather was going to last, I also really wanted to be writing. Having two passions is sometimes difficult to manage and the garden passion and the writing passion each carry about equal weight in my heart.

Well, I chose the garden and managed to get a few days good work in as well as immersing myself into the the general mainstream of my daily life. I was on about day five of this readjustment back to normal when the next curve ball arrived and truly took the wind out of my sails.

I had just arrived in St. Augustine for a Body Talk appointment. I pulled into the parking lot, took my phone out of my bag to put it on silent mode, and it rang in my hand. It was my husband calling to let me know that he was in the ER with chest pains “but please don’t get alarmed”!

In hindsight I have learned that my reaction to crisis/alarming news is to back off, disconnect if you will. In that moment I said to my husband, “I’ve just arrived at my appointment in St. Augustine, do you need me there?” He kind of muttered around for a few moments as I cautiously allowed my mind and my heart to re-approach the reality of the situation, then he said, “Yes, I think I’d like you here.”

As I ran in to cancel my appointment before turning the car around and racing back to Jacksonville, I realized what my comment must have sounded like to my husband as he lay on a gurney in the ER. I called him immediately and left a message (they had made him turn his phone off). I told him that even as I had asked that ridiculous question, there had been no doubt that I would go right to the hospital to be with him. I had just needed a moment to allow my fear to subside so that I could get on and do what I needed to do.

I guess for me it is a defense mechanism. Stepping back so that I can allow my head and my heart to kind of sync up together and work in harmony. It’s the kind of mechanism that has us go to numbness or disbelief in the face of personal tragedy. We need that small space of time so that God can step in and hold our heart and our hand, or even pick us right up into His arms, and walk us through the pain and the difficulty of any given tough situation.

I spent the whole of the drive back to Jacksonville in prayer mode. I asked God to protect my husband and surround him with His healing grace. I made a couple of phone calls: one to my daughter to put her in the picture, and two more to dear friends so that I would have my support group in place no matter what.

By the time I got to the hospital I was calm. They had done a bunch of tests on Richard and were beginning to administer some different medications. His EKG’s, chest X-ray, and blood work were OK, but he was still experiencing tightness and pressure in his chest as well as shortness of breath when speaking. They kept him in for observation for a couple of days before sending him home with more medication and instructions for follow-up, including an appointment with the Cardiologist.

It is amazing how a couple of days and a crisis can affect the human system. It was only after getting Richard home and seeing him slowly return to normal that I realized how exhausted my body was. As I went through the process of letting go of the anxiety all I wanted to do was sleep. I also noted how I felt generally irritable, and irritated toward Richard. (Like how dare he put me through that!!).

Stress is a very hard task-master that produces strong emotions and reactions. I am grateful that I know how to recognize stress fairly quickly and can take positive steps to reduce and eliminate it from my life. I booked a massage in the next few days and also returned to my beloved garden, two of the best therapies for stress that I know work for me.

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Joy: Tis the Season

Margo — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 05:56:36 +0000

Joy is such a short simple word for such a full and rich and complicated emotion. How can I describe joy? It has so many facets and so many ways of manifesting in my life. It is most certainly an emotion that fills me up, rather like an exquisite meal fills my tummy.

But joy is not tangible. You can’t see it, except as a reflection in yourself or someone else. And you certainly can’t touch it, or smell it, or taste it. And you really can’t hear it unless it is expressed through someone’s words or laughter. And yet there is nothing quite as magnificent as experiencing joy.

When I sit on my lanai in the morning I am filled with a quiet joy. The feeling creeps gently inside me at that time of the day. I am slowly coming to my senses out of sleep. I am not a morning person and it takes me a while to be fully present in my body.

So I sit and listen to the birds as they too slowly awaken to the day. I smell the fresh air which usually carries the subtle fragrance of the pine trees behind my garden. If the sun is rising I watch it wake the day with rays of light and this always bring light into my heart. This quiet morning time is very blessed as I make my connection with God and invite Him to join me in my day.

Joy can also be a noisy, rambunctious (now there’s an old-fashioned English word!!), eruption of feeling. I know that Rich and I felt that kind of joy as we watched the Dallas Cowboys play victoriously against the New Orleans Saints just a few days ago:-). Nothing quiet about that one as we jumped for joy and punched the air in exhilaration.

Joy can be felt at the sight of an amazing God-created sunset or an equally beautiful sunrise. It can come with the birth of a new baby or in a froth of white wedding gowns. Joy can manifest at something as simple as receiving an unexpected letter or card or hearing the voice of a distant loved one on the other end of the telephone.

And joy is also a warm excitement that radiates from my heart throughout my body as I realize that we are once again at that moment of the year when we celebrate the birthday of our Saviour. As I prepare to go to Mass this evening there is a sensation of anticipation in my heart that has nothing to do with the gifts under the tree. Although they will also produce their own joy upon opening.

Tonight there is the joy of knowing that I am a beloved child of God. Of knowing that God loved me so much that He gave me the ultimate gift of His only Son, Jesus. And then realizing that Jesus, in his turn, loved me so much that he made the ultimate sacrifice that I might know Him and be with Him eternally. Tonight is the ultimate night of joy.

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Poetry: Words Painting Pictures

Margo — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 02:14:32 +0000

Words have always fascinated me. The way they march across a page creating people, places, and life stories, or laying down facts and information, excites me to the core. I curl up with pleasure at the sight or sound of certain words while others have the power to chill me to the bone.

Words can be kind and compassionate, soft and gentle. Words can cause love or anger to burst forth in an eruption of passion more impressive than the best orchestrated firework display. They can soothe the soul and warm the heart or they can cut sharper than any well honed knife.

Words light up my own imagination and set my soul on fire. Perhaps for this reason I am always reading. As I already mentioned in my previous posting Musings- Relationships, I devoured books as I child. In elementary school they couldn’t keep enough books on the classroom library shelves for me.

Even poetry pleased me from an early age. Perhaps that is why I began writing my own poetry as I emerged from my painful “past life”. In High School, perhaps my sophomore or junior year, we held a poetry reading contest. One of my class mates, Mary Griswell, read a poem called Snake written by the somewhat controversial author D.H. Lawrence.

I was mesmerized by the second line. I was there, a few yards from the water-trough, in my own pajamas and I could feel the heat all around me. As the poem unfolded I was transported to this hot place in Italy (strange that it was in my beloved Italy!), and I could see the snake, his colors, the texture of his skin, and the slow movement of his body. Let me share the poem with you.

Snake

A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.

In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before
me.

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of
the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.

Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second comer, waiting.

He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.

And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.

But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?

Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.

And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid, But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.

And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.

I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.

I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste.
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.

And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.

And I thought of the albatross
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.

And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.

Taormina, 1923

This poem made such an impression on my heart and mind that some years later I was inspired to make a pen and ink drawing of the snake. It sits in my dining room to this day. Whenever I look at it I can picture Mary in the library of the Ursuline High School, and if I close my eyes I can still hear her reciting the poem.

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Musings: Relativity & Perspective

Margo — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 03:08:46 +0000

No, I’m not going to do an Albert Einstein. I do not have that kind of analytical and scientific mind. But it struck me that any given situation will probably be viewed differently by each person involved in it. I just have to think about any normal, every day conversation between myself and my husband and how we sometimes struggle to understand exactly what the other is saying – and we’re both speaking English, and are relatively on the same page!

Just recently I read a phrase that really caught my attention. It said something like, “A mistake is just another way of doing something.” Yesterday I read another phrase which said, “A weed is no more than a flower in disguise.” And they both carry the same message as the old proverb, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

I remember participating in a workshop some years ago. There were various projects and activities that we engaged in during the course of the workshop. One that I will always remember went something like this. We re-entered the classroom after a short break and in the middle of the chalk board was the word “track”.

The instructor asked us to just focus on that one word. Then she asked us not to talk among ourselves and to write a sentence using that word. As I recall, there were about twenty to twenty five of us in the class. There may have been a handful of sentences written that were similar. The rest were completely unique, each offering a different meaning and use of the word.

I’m sure that this creates problems from time to time. Going back to my husband and I, I can think of a few times when the discussion has become somewhat heated simply because of two completely different perspectives, understandings of, one word or phrase. (We’re probably not a good example because I’m British and he’s American, so the language barrier in and of itself sometimes is a bit of a beast!!!)

But different perspectives can also bring wonderful variety to our lives. Just think of art and architecture, and what about music? All the unique styles created by different people enrich our lives in all those areas. I absolutely love Modigliani and Monet and yet they create works at opposite ends of the spectrum. As do Degas and Dali and yet both have produced works of exquisite beauty.

I cannot imagine life without the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. But there are days when all I want to hear is Dvorak or Beethoven. And when I’m in the mood, please get my toes a-tapping with some down-to-earth, boot-stomping Blue Grass.

On the news yesterday and today are the heart-wrenching stories and pictures from Samoa and Indonesia. People’s lives torn apart, wrecked by savage tsunami’s and earthquakes, forces of nature over which we have no control. Any “small stuff” problems that I may have been lamenting about dwindle into nothingness by comparison.

Probably the biggest example of perspective that I can remember in my own life happened back in the mid seventies. I was living in Sardinia at the time. It was a gorgeous, warm, clear August evening and the sky was littered with millions of stars forming the Milky Way. I remember standing on the patio of my little cottage and getting a cricked neck from staring upwards.

Then I had an idea. There was a six-foot long wooden picnic table on the patio which I covered with a sleeping bag. Then I lay on top and in wonderful comfort began to star gaze. It was an incredible experience. It looked as though someone had taken a dozen sacks full of diamonds and thrown them across the width and breadth of the sky.

It was only then, at the ripe old age of thirty something, that I began to get a clear idea of what the universe was about. As I lay on that picnic table I suddenly realized that it wasn’t just a flat dark blue background with “big stars, and little stars” painted all over it. I understood for the first time the significance of the word “infinity”.

I became aware that the “little stars’ were in fact probably just as “big” as the others seemed to me, but that they were further away and thus seemed “smaller”. And I also realized that if I squinted I could just barely see even “smaller” stars that were even further away. And in that one moment the full magnitude of “the universe” hit me.

In that one moment I was both terrified and also in total awe, and I realized just how insignificant I really was in the bigger scheme of things. And yet I also realized just how important I must be to my God that He has chosen to place me here in the bigger scheme of things.

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Self Nurturing: Program Yourself Positive

Margo — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 02:50:56 +0000

Our brain does exactly what we tell it to do. This has been proved over and over again by psychologists, psychiatrists and scientists. Much of what we tell our brain to do goes on at a subconscious level.

There are programs in our brain that have been stored there ever since we were born. Some are positive, some are negative. They represent the collection of our experiences as a human being from birth.

Although we human beings are unique as a “thinking” species, we are also rather like robots when it comes to gathering information. Do you remember that strange robot character in the Star Wars movie – R2D2? He was in constant “input mode” devouring every thing he saw and heard and storing it into his system. Well our brains are constantly alert, even when we are babies, and we are constantly absorbing and filing information.

However, a very important thing to remember is that we can start putting powerful, positive programs in our brains right now! Starting this minute, we can build a store of self empowerment that can help us to improve our level of self esteem.

With a higher level of self esteem we will be able to face life with a more positive attitude. This new positive attitude can help us to deal with life’s problems rather than run from them. The quality of our life can improve tremendously. Remember ….

YOU ARE THE PERSON WITH THE POWER TO DO THIS.

One of the simplest yet most powerful tools discovered by man is the concept of “self talk”. What is self talk, you ask. It is quite simply all of the things that we say to ourselves inside our own head – our internal private conversations. And no, that is not a sign of insanity!

Whether we realize it or not, self talk is going on in our head all of the time that we are not actually speaking out loud. Self talk is all of our unspoken thoughts, opinions, judgments, questions, and ideas. However, our self talk can be a conscious level of conversation that we choose to create.

With practice we can build positive thoughts about ourselves which can help us get through tough situations. This leads us to feel good about ourselves – thus increasing our sense of self worth. It is a method that we can use to move out of negative thoughts into positive thoughts. When our thoughts are positive, our attitude becomes positive too.

There are many things we can say to build our self esteem. Here are just a few suggested ideas.

I am a unique person. There is no one else in the whole world exactly like me.
I am blessed with many talents and skills that allow me to live a full life.
I radiate joy and people like to be around me.
I am a beloved child of God.
I am a worthy, valuable person and I deserve to be treated with respect.
I am a sincere and honest person. People can trust me.
I am a caring and loving person.
My thoughts and ideas are intelligent and worth listening to.

Why don’t you take some time right now to write some affirmations about yourself. When you have written them, put your pen down and read them back to yourself. If you are in a private place read them out loud and see how good it feels to hear positive things about yourself.

Pick one or two of your affirmations (or choose from those written above), and commit to saying them to yourself every day for a week. Notice how different you feel about yourself. Write some more affirmations as they occur to you; continue to say them out loud to yourself. Learn to affirm yourself often. You are worth it. You deserve it.

As a Life Coach, I encourage people to use self affirmation as their number one tool. It is always available. You do not need any special materials or any special environment. It is a tool that can be picked up and used any time, any where.

It is of vital importance to all of us to give ourselves the time we need for ourselves. We are valuable and important beings. Just as we would dedicate time to a specific project, so we need to dedicate special time to ourselves. We are our number one project!!

Any professional, whether they are an artist, a brick-layer, a teacher, a carpenter, or a doctor, will confirm that they have to practice using their tools and skills constantly to benefit the most from them. Self talk is a tool. We need to practice using it – OFTEN. We need to set aside a few minutes each day to practice. Choosing the time that is best for us we should make it a regular commitment to ourselves.

So let’s all remember: We have the power to program ourselves positive. Let’s start doing it now!

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Musings: Your Father

Margo — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 14:00:00 +0000

One of my morning readings yesterday carried that title: Your Father. And although it was referring to God as Father, it made me instinctively think of my own father. His name was Alfred, but everyone called him Alf. He died 9 June 1997.

I know that unfortunately there are many people who do not have a good relationship with their father. The sad statistics on child abuse the world over reflect this situation. And I have read that these statistics do not give a true picture of the enormity of this problem because much child abuse goes undetected or unreported.

I was very blessed. I had a very good father but I did not have a very good relationship with him. We didn’t argue or fight and he certainly never abused me. He wasn’t strict or stern. He was just a very quiet person who didn’t have a big personality, and he wasn’t big on showing his emotions – good or bad. (He died without ever having said “I love you” to me.) I used to describe him as nondescript, the kind of person who faded into the furniture.

He was also a product of his times and of his family background. I do remember that his mother, my grandmother, always had a twinkle in her eye. My grandfather, however, was the absolute opposite. I do not remember him with a smile on his face. When we visited them at their house, he was always seated at a table in the very small, very narrow, very dark kitchenette/dining room, staring morosely out the window and drinking a Guinness. They lived in a very small rather bleak apartment and did not have much money. There was not much joy present.

As I made changes to my lifestyle and began to mature (at the grand old age of thirty five!) I began to review the perceptions I had of my father. I realized that I had played a part in the non-relationship that we had. I am guessing that my father did not live up to whatever grandiose expectations that I may have laid on him, and therefore I probably, for the most part, dismissed him.

I need and want to rectify on paper right here and now any mistaken perceptions I may have perpetuated. My father was a totally good man. He worked hard, at two jobs, to provide for all of us. Actually, when I think about it, he worked at four jobs. He had his fulltime job in a civic agency and he also worked a part time job as a supervisor of ticket sales at a dog track. Then at home he also ran a small shoe repair business for friends and family, and when he wasn’t busy at any of those jobs, he created, planted and maintained an incredible garden, providing us with at least 50% of all our fresh vegetables, salad, and fruit. (This was how he said his “I love you’s.”)

As you may imagine, my father was not a “Johnny-go-lightly”. He just didn’t have the time or energy. The only time he left the house was to go to one job or another. He did not go out “with the boys” and he didn’t even go out, as in “on dates”, with my mother. (Even if they had had the money, which they didn’t, they didn’t have the time or the energy.) He was always at home when he wasn’t working. He was always available if we needed him.

I had very few possibilities to make up for lost time in my relationship with Dad. Once I came to my senses I lived for many years overseas so did not get much opportunity to rebuild a close relationship with him during my visits home. And, sad to say, by the age of sixty five/seventy he had lost most desire to be a happy person and was rather difficult to be around.

Because of this I am so grateful to have a deeply intimate and personal relationship with that “other Father”. It did not come easily to me because I carried old ideas from childhood education of a stern and vengeful God. I thought He was a God who would point His finger at me and who kept a running tally of my sins.

I have been blessed a thousand fold since then to have been given teachers along my path who have helped me to find a Father who loves me passionately. In the Old Testament God is called Father only six times, but in the New Testament, through the words of Jesus, He is called Father over sixty times. Jesus himself brought the Father very close to us.

I was also encouraged by my teachers and spiritual mentors to create a personal picture of this person I called Father. If any of you have read the classic story of Heidi you will have a clear idea of how I see my Father. He is the big, Yogi-bear-like Grandfather who takes care of Heidi. I know I can climb up into His lap and pour my heart out to Him, leaning my head on his shoulder and feeling His protective arms around me.

One of the writers whom I have quoted in previous postings has written a beautiful poem about the Father. Written by Ruth Harms Calkin it is titled I Have A Father . I will quote just the last verse here:

But the great triumphant truth is –
I have a Father.
My Father protects and upholds me.
He strengthens and supports me.
Nothing can happen to me
Outside my Father’s will.
My Father is greater by far
Than he who is in the world.
Once and for all it was settled
On a rugged cross
On a lonely hill:
I have a Father.

If you are struggling with father issues I encourage you to seek help to resolve them. You deserve that as a worthy human being. And in the meantime I urge you, from the depths of my heart, to seek a relationship with the one true Father that nobody can take away from you and who loves you dearly.

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Vignettes: My Kingdom

Margo — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000

Dad’s back yard was his pride and joy. Actually, his whole garden was good reason for him to be proud. I’m referring now to the garden of the prefab house that I associate with my young childhood – age five through eleven years.

There was a concrete walkway that crossed the full width of the back of the house. This was then bordered by a tall trellis fence with an archway set midway. Both the fence and the archway were painted white and were covered by thickly growing rambling roses. The delicate perfume of these roses when they were in bloom floated on the warm summer air.

Three worn red brick steps under the archway of fragrant pink roses led down to a lush green rectangle measuring about twenty yards by fifteen yards. In the springtime bright yellow buttercups dotted here and there in the grass reflected back the sun’s golden rays. Later on in the summer dainty white daisies danced across the carefully trimmed lawn. Sprinkled throughout the grass patches of sweet smelling clover attracted the buzzing bumble bees.

An upward sloping flower bed completely bordered the lawn, and from early spring through late autumn it was a constant changing riot of colors and perfumes. Large plump pincushions of blue and white alyssum grew close to the grass, their musky perfume hanging heavily in the air. Intermingled with the alyssum, yellow and purple Pansies nodded their pretty painted faces, while delicate sprays of deep pink London Pride swayed gently in the breeze behind them.

Jostling for room and vying for attention was a profusion of red, yellow, pink, purple, orange and burgundy dahlias of the single, double, and pom-pom varieties. Pungent smelling French Marigolds and gaily colored Anemones (my mother’s favorite flowers) somehow managed to find some space. Along the top edge of the flower bed stood majestic spikes of pink, blue, and violet Lupines interspersed with tall stems of blossom-laden antirrhinums (we called them “bunny rabbits”).

Beyond the lawn Dad had created an area dedicated to rambling raspberry, currant, and gooseberry bushes as well as some pear and apple trees. To one side of this area cabbage and cauliflower, carrots and celery, potatoes and peas and beans grew, as well as a variety of lettuces and tomatoes. It was always a garden of plentiful bounty.

Coming up the steps from the lawn and going under the archway, I could turn either left or right to get to the vegetable patch. It all depended on how brave I was feeling! To the left was a long line of “dreaded” larkspurs. These tall graceful plants had clusters of vivid deep blue flowers growing all the way up lengthy stems. In the center of each bloom nestled a fuzzy black thing with a bright yellow mark that looked just like a bee!

However, going to the right I passed the rockery which ran the full length of the garden connecting the front and back yards. The rockery was a magical place full of hundreds of small and most unusual plants with minute yellow, white, pink, and blue flowers that clambered over and around a fascinating collection of white crystal, gray and pink marble, and speckled granite rocks. I was sure that faeries, elves and gnomes lived there!

What a wondrous place this garden was, full of color, perfume and adventure. I felt like a queen as I played there and all the flowers were my subjects. How lucky I was to have had a father who dedicated so much time, energy, and love to create and maintain “my kingdom”.

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Spiritual Growth: My Quiet Time

Margo — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 18:21:57 +0000

My quiet time in the morning is totally sacred to me. I come out into my screened room with my books of reflective thoughts and I sit with God. This is the most important part of my day. It helps to set the tone of my heart, soul, and mind and prepares me for the day ahead.

When I am in my screened room I am surrounded by nature. There is my garden, which I tend to in the best fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants fashion, with its green grass and beds full of bright nodding flowers. The old WalMart gazebo wrought-iron frame sits over the central flower bed with hanging wind chimes and colorful hummingbird feeders as well as Confederate Jasmine and Trumpet Vine climbing up each corner post. And a statue of Quan (Kuan) Yin, the Buddhist goddess of compassionate loving kindness nestles below at the base of a Magnolia shrub.

The large flower bed to the left is dedicated to many green plants and shrubs. A statue of St. Francis of Assisi peeks out from a widespread clump of tall Mexican Petunias. This bed also holds a beautiful Roserie de l’Hay, a rose bush that carries deep pink, almost purple blooms that my sister gave us because of the family name (Hay). There is also a small lemon tree that my son Marco gifted to us on a visit a few years ago.

The flower bed in the right hand corner of the garden has large prosperous Chinese Privets, a Cassis tree, and a Chaste tree. The highlight of this bed is a concrete circle that I have installed with a small bird bath in the centre. Surrounding the bird bath are many different shallow ceramic, pottery, and glass containers full of stones, crystals and shells from all over the world. Larger stones and small rocks stand freely between the containers. This is my way of bringing the world together in harmony.

Behind the back fence we are blessed with a small pine wood. This is a source of continuous delight for me. It is full of wild life. Squirrels play in the tree tops and we have an abundance of bird life: cardinals, blue jays, mourning doves, blue birds, tit mice, mockingbirds, woodpeckers, kingbirds, wrens, vireos, warblers, sparrows, crows, and hawks. How can I not feel close to God in such surroundings? With such beauty all around me how can I not find inner peace and solace no matter what may be troubling my heart?

And so I come each morning to quiet my body and just sit still, to quiet my mind ridding it of all worldly pressures and stresses, and to quiet my heart and make any burden less important than God’s presence. If I can shake the noise of the world, the better I can hear God’s voice. If I can silence the busyness that the world creates for me then I stand a chance of creating an inner sanctuary where I find rest and restoration.

God is waiting for me to create this space so that He can enter in and bless me. It is In this silence, in this space of peace, that I can enter into intimacy with God and create and grow a wonderful relationship with Him. It is through this relationship that I can then bless all the other relationships in my life.

It has taken me many years to give this gift of quiet time to myself. For those of you who follow my writings you will remember “Sabbath With Georgina”. That is when and where I had my first real taste of “quiet time”. I have often struggled with the “demon voices” that told me “this is a waste of time”, “you need to get on with (whatever)”, “you have nothing to gain and life is passing you by”, “what’s the point? Who’s listening to you?”.

Today I allow nothing and no one to interfere with my precious quiet time. Whatever my first “outside” appointment of the day may be, I allow at least two hours prior to that for me and my God. This is how I feed my soul and develop my spiritual life. This is where I begin the joy that fills my day.

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Poetry: Driving To Kentucky

Margo — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 10:00:00 +0000

Dear God, how awesome is your work!

As we drive through the rolling hills of Georgia and Tennessee,

the amazing canvass that you continuously create

unfolds before our very eyes, mile after never-ending mile.

Oh God, what fun you must have had.

Eyes ablaze with inspiration, sweeping color-laden brushes

across earth’s length and breadth,

perhaps an artist’s black beret perched askance upon your head.

And as the Muse’s smile spread over you face

you laid down all the vibrant hues of Fall.

(A touch of Michelangelo? Da Vinci? or Van Gogh?

You gave them all their talents Lord, thus you own their gifts.)

A rich and glowing riot of red and burnished gold

with blazing orange amidst patches of deep deciduous green.

Then here and there, as if to satisfy my passionate purple soul,

a bush or two in lustrous olive-violet or darkest aubergine.

Fall 2004

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