grace
Frost is glistening on the grassy meadow as the ravens caw away at their morning ritual. The house is warm as the furnace blows the heated air from the vents. This day, dubbed Christmas hundreds of years ago has turned its eye upon us here in the southeast, prompting multitudes of celebrations from household to household. Some are flinging wrapping paper, others are testing out new bikes in the driveway, while some others are watching in wonder at how the families have grown. The so called “social” media has borne witness to others who complain of losses and the burdens of what has been and what is yet to come (sorrowfully). As this reluctant host to the ailment dubbed Parkinson’s Disease ponders his being, he can’t help but begin to unwrap the gifts, blessings, and or opportunities for giving thanks that flood his dopa-deprived mind! The blessing of family nearby that shares the victories of challenges nearly every day. The comfort of an engulfing and worn recliner whose seat renders reflection of the one to whom its embrace has molded. A warm and constantly shedding canine who has no clue that she is over seventy pounds as she climbs sometimes not so gracefully into the lap of one that she treats as part of her pack. The buzzing sounds of sleeping family for whose presence we are constantly raising praise. As each layer of the blessing for which we are grateful is gently uncovered, we are lifted to a higher place than the challenge of physical “limits” has gripped. Grace (unmerited favor) has been bountiful and its wonder is experienced in its truest form as we lift thanks to the One who is the giver and the gift. Merry Christmas!
As the alarm sounded the mental struggle began identifying the location somewhere between deep REM sleep and the darkness surrounding the space in the room where this peacefully sleeping possessor of Parkinson’s was enjoying pain free moments of restful bliss. The day, the duties, the persons for whom I pray all rushed forth as I reached down to gently slide the slippers over my feet. Soon the first noticed rush of rain showered down on the tin roof of the old farmhouse engulfing us in sound like the touch of a blanket wrapped securely in the still of the night. Gracie, the Golden, was prancing to exit into the early morning quiet and the spray of the passing shower. Set free for the moment, she pranced ever so gently to her desired spot just long enough to free her evening collection and pounce back to the covered porch awaiting her return. Daybreak is coming later now as we enter the first full day of autumn, and rain clouds hovering add to the diminished specter of sunlight in the eastern sky. Soon the full dose of morning medication is consumed and the first cup of coffee is brewed. The view from the Great Room provides a peaceful backdrop to the prayers of thanksgiving that are being offered up for the blessings received and the gratitude for those yet to come. Grace has made its way to this house of hope and we celebrate the reality of its presence. Another day is about to unfold!
A change from rainy and crisp to overcast and muggy served as the backdrop to stiffness and aches that seemed to annoy this survivor of nearly seven decades. On the advent of my birth anniversary I was perched precariously on the precipice of a pity party! A mood of woe was creeping in as I sat reflecting on the last couple of years since a formal “retirement”. As a not so fond participant in woeful moods, I decided to let myself go there and “listen” to what I must have been telling myself. Added to the mood walk after the evening eclipse, was the weight of an interrupted sleep by a not so well doggie who must have found a tasty mushroom or some other indigestible morsel to consume the day before. As I “listened” to what the mood “felt like” I began to realize the inaccuracy of the message. It is true that what has been accomplished is firmly in the past, but it is not over! The grace that underpinned any accomplishment attained still resides within this vessel overflowing with knowledge and experiences yet to be fulfilled. Gratitude began to arise as thoughts moved from “has been” to “yet still”. As I savored the presence of the “yet still” thoughts and began to season them with heartfelt gratitude, my “mood walk” changed. It is true that what has been is in the past, but here and now lays the good grace to discover the possibilities that are the substance of tomorrow’s memories. Yesterday’s tomorrow is here today. Thankfulness warms the pot of possibility that is now steaming with God’s grace.
Broccoli slips planted two weeks ago are thriving and asparagus should be sprouting up any day. The time is arriving soon when the rest of the garden can be planted without concern for frost or freezing. Spring has emerged full force from the throes of winter bringing with it warm days and cool nights and random showers to moisten the fields. Birds are at times frantically preoccupied with the building of nests virtually anywhere safe from the elements. Life’s cycle in nature is manifesting itself yet again as it demonstrates the wonder of creation. In two days I too will take a step toward renewal as I submit to the cardiologist’s skill at “cardioversion.” Through either medication effects or my unique cardiac perception of time and space, my atrium has engaged consistently in flutter and fibrillation. The winter of rapid pulse rate is soon drawing to a close and the spring of normal sinus rhythm is around the corner. As I anticipate the procedure that will literally stop my heart and “shock” it back to a normal rate I must do so with a metaphorical heart placed in the hands of gratitude for the opportunity to have this done. I have studied the risks of such a procedure as well as the consequences of doing nothing and I have chosen to engage the former. Trust and faith are both at work as I look ahead to an outcome that is both renewing and rewarding. Grace will sustain the outcome however it may unfold!
In the dead of winter the leaf barren trees offer what is only a muted view of the horizon beyond the Dan River flowing past the farm. Spring brings forth leaves that obscure the vision of anything beyond the trees upon which they grow. During three of the four annual seasons, it is fair to say, one can see no evidence of an eastern horizon or that of a river flowing below. Simply because one cannot view the horizon during those seasons does not mean that horizon and river do not exist. Even in the midst of winter when leaves have fallen to the ground below the trees the view is still somewhat obscured by limbs, branches, and evergreens. As I ponder this natural phenomenon I realize that the full magnitude of God’s grace and love cannot be viewed because of the nature of the obstructions we place in the way. Time, agendas, habits, ego, grief, joy seeking and self-pity are but a few of the branches and leaves we put on the trees in our vision. As I ponder these hills in the quiet of the morning I recognize the obscurity of my vision and give thanks for this moment in which my view need not be more than that of grace.
Water in the old kettle atop the hot wood stove bubbles as the heat rises to warm the room. Though the sun shines bright today, the cold of winter makes itself known through every crack and crevice that is not sufficiently sealed in this old farm house. The stillness of the morning is a welcomed reprieve from the blustery winds that brought with it subzero temperatures last evening. In the warmth of the morning fire and in the presence of the shinning sun we pause to reflect upon present and past. Challenges have more often than not been turned into opportunities for growth and burdens have been lightened with a healthy dose of gratitude. Healthy reflection often illuminates the light we may often have taken for granted. Yesterday is gone, but reflecting on it in the light of today presents opportunity to brighten our path each step of the way. A thankful heart is the instrument through which gratitude brightens our vision. May we be willing instruments that grow to see the gift of grace as more than mere rhetoric. As we take it in, may we live it out!
The tin roof on the old farm house echoes the sound of the falling rain. The fire crackles in the old stove as excitement rises with the anticipation of the day ahead. Last minute errands and a trip to the airport to greet our loving daughter top the agenda. Gratitude fills this racing heart as we recall the wonders and blessings that have been witnessed this season. A new and healthy grandchild, promising employment for two of the children in need, exciting travels to places only dreamed about before, and relief from labored walking are among the joys for which we give thanks. As a time of remembrance approaches we are reminded that the greatest gift to human kind is the birth of the Savior whose often painful but nevertheless perfect life was given as a love offering for us. Neither earned nor deserved, grace embraces us with perfect love and bestows mercy that saves is from what we truly do deserve. The wonder of the Gift was wrapped in “swaddling” clothes and witnessed lying in a feed trough in that tiny town called Bethlehem. The greatness was neither the wrapping nor the surroundings, but rather the gift of new life found within. May the wonder of the Creator’s grace and mercy feed the flame of love in you this Christmas!
The ache was becoming more and more intense. Turning from side to side and then on the back offered only momentary relief. It seemed useless to stay in bed any longer since the pain in the lumbar was not relenting and no place was offering a respite. This experience seems to be arising as the norm. Thoughts run rampantly to a place that questions what I might have done that caused this now common occurrence. PD, age, a lumbar cyst or any other number of things may be behind the throb, but nothing that I can recall doing shows me a direct link. In the Gospel of John, chapter 9, the disciples ask Jesus as they happen by a blind man Jesus will soon heal whether the man or his parents have sinned, causing the blindness. Jesus surprised them with His response; “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.” Gratitude fills my heart that opportunities exist to emerge from the bed and “walk off” the discomfort. Thankfulness that grace is sufficient to free me from the throws of self-deceptive belief (and action) that I can always have it my way permeates my thoughts. The pain may not completely go away but the burden of self-reliance and determination, when surrendered, leads to a “heart” healing that is the victory. Gratitude outweighs the pain and lifts the heart to a higher place when touching that place of surrender!
Lounging comfortably near the radiating wood stove and reading the day’s early morning devotional, there arose a persistent “thump, thump” coming from the kitchen. Its sound was familiar to the ones heard randomly during the previous week. A quick observation confirmed the thumping source. An Eastern Mockingbird had lingered too long at the poke berry vines bearing its intoxicating fruit and was now drunkenly insisting upon entering the kitchen through the double paned window. Further evidence of the bird’s indulgence was found in the splattered purple renderings on the window screen. Nothing seems to deter this bird from her drunken quest. Time will facilitate her metabolism and the eventual reduction in her drunken delirium. Absent the drunken delirium, often pesky PD symptoms arrive at the “window” of perception insisting upon entering for an extended visit. The “double pane” window of medication and exercise reject the sometimes persistent intrusion leaving only a reminder that without the protection, the drunken bird of symptoms would come to roost. Grateful for the opportunity to fend off the intruder, this recipient of grace lifts prayers of thankfulness!
Visitors are virtually always welcome at our humble abode. However, there has been a visitor attached to the Parkinson’s invader whose name is Pain. This visitor is not at all welcome and this unintentional host does everything he knows to avoid this annoying pest. Exercise helps stave off some of his visits, but often he arrives in the middle of a restful repose as though to shout: “hey buddy, I’m here!” A couple of years ago a benign spinal lumbar cyst was discovered and until recently, it appeared to be causing little problems. For several days now it is suspect in the appearance of sharp and piercing pains on the left side. The “stabs” are sometimes frequent and at other times a low throb diminishing to just a tightness. Anti-inflammatory medications are helpful, but fraught with their own insidious side effects, so this host chooses to use them judiciously. Sharing the thoughts of these invasive moments is not intended to draw sympathy, but rather to honestly give testimony to struggles for which there are often frankly no immediate solutions. My common response to pain is anger. Irrational though that response may be it often is the genesis of motivation to not be overtaken by the invader. A mighty partner in this journey is gratitude which serves as a comforting shroud. Wrapped within its satiating folds this host finds peace and the fuel of thankfulness that the discomfort of the invader is not greater than the Grantor of grace who calls us to look His way. Grace is a place where gratitude and thankfulness live without distraction. Admission is free; living there requires surrender.