Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Job

Compadres

           Yesterday I once again fasted, for direction, clear meaning, and other existential ideals. To re-create purpose. Lately I do that sort of thing, embracing quotes like, "When I waked, I cried to dream again (Shakespeare, The Tempest, quoted in The King's Speech). The day was filled with distractions, errands and non-essentials. Anything to keep my mind off of food and eating.
           Today "when I waked" again I felt little closeness to God and no specific direction. I exercised inside on the treadmill, because of unusual summer-downpour rains, rains, and more rains. Walking the treadmill is like spinning in a hamster wheel that leads to nowhere. It is as exciting as yesterday's discipline. I hate it. So I either watch TV or listen to music. I NEEDED to be encouraged, so today I opted for energetic music. An epiphanous thought struck me as I listened to Kirk Franklin's CD (songs to which I had not listened, for years).

A clear line of thinking came, like an "aha moment," a revelation from out of the blue, similar to the way Author Virkler says God speaks. It was a spontaneous impression rather than meditated. I already thought that possibly we had been going through testing. It feels more like a comprehensive final exam, covering everything I've ever learned in my 159-7/8 years of life:  IF love wanes through what I perceive as repeated "failures," this test reveals selfish and ugly things--that the main reason I love is because of things done for me or given to me...

           ...and then, the stinging curve ball: Which.Reveals.My.God-Relationship.
What?  I am prone to follow God only because of what He does for me. In other words, to use God rather than love Him. Grow up. Ouch! The dreaded "gimme, gimme syndrome."
           Approaching a notable birthday, as well as 39 relatively steady years of marriage, this lengthy test uncovers... my vulnerable-side. How do I react to repeated dead-ends? How much do I really trust my husband... and God? During an unending season of ego-smashes and challenges to our identity, I can't help but think in the education mindset and hope for an A on the comprehensive exam.
           My fictional Prince Charming is intelligent, kind, strong, and courageous. My husband is all that and more. We are a team. Like George and Barbara. Jimmy and Rosalynn. Ronnie and Nancy. Appreciation-roots actually seem to be deepening. I love my husband in sickness, and in health, and now through... career strangulation, with pinnacles being re-adjusted as well as the eventual follow-through. Through lightning strikes, floods, and chemo fire with under-pixilated brain fog. There is a collapse of ideal dreams. Our imagined Lego structure might be only 12 bricks high instead of prime 13. And then the self-searching question: Did I prolong this never-ending season?
           Faith and trusting God are active and circular (a hamster wheel). We trust God, and God trusts us enough to allow a decade of back-to-back and bamming ego-busters, for refining; for our benefit and our good. Resist natural responses like Wealthy Job's proud, despairing, (possibly realist) nameless wife "Mrs. Job" [after experiencing unimaginable, rapid-fire personal losses in one day... and then, to top that, on "another day" came Job's loss of dignity; losses that we would never wish on our worst enemy] who wailed to destitute Husband Job, "Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!" (Job 2:9).
            I sense Mrs. Jobs' tears, dramatically-flailing arms, and maybe even a touch of hopeless cynicism. She was vulnerable. Like newly-planted, fine, and tender grass shoots or seedlings. They are bright green and glaringly easy to spot. It seems appropriate that since the Bible mentions her in a negative light, her name was withheld. Her soul was deflated. She had an understandable weak moment and needed shielding.

Thank you, Father. Despite my wavering ways, You personally call my name. And You do intimately communicate. God carefully cradles an awkward set of size 10 extremities, but what does He see? A little set of feet. A beautiful asset which is precious; and, kindred to this transparent blog post, vulnerable.
           And, too, my husband and I represent that same set of feet; compadres; a pair. We are one. We fight the good fight of faith separately, yet together. And, today, I am humbled. Despite feeling disillusioned, our relationship is precisely where it needs to be: In God's loving and settled hands.

           Happy soon-to-be 39th, Sunshine, and many more.

Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called

when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses.

(I Timothy 6:12)

Believe for Impossible, But Discern Stupid

I have made a fool of myself, but you drove me to it. I ought to have been commended by you, for I am not in the least inferior to the “super-apostles,” even though I am nothing. I persevered in demonstrating among you the marks of a true apostle, including signs, wonders and miracles... (2 Corinthians 12:11). 

The earnest yet unpolished Apostle Paul's long-distance leadership was being challenged by the Church in Corinth. Why? For one, he didn't ask for a salary! The leadership used that and other arguments to claim he was attempting to manipulate the church body. On-site leadership desired to overthrow his power, and Jesus-followers desperately needed discernment. 

Spiritual as well as common-sense discernment is beneficial, as we interact with others and even in everyday life situations. To help us make solid decisions. This simple, personal story bomb attempts to illustrate discernment, or the lack thereof.

It is a cloudy, rainy morning; and as with most workdays, I am the first in my department to arrive at 7:30 a.m. I.AM.CHILI-BRINGER... for today’s birthday lunch. Ugh! Why is it raining at this moment, the morning I've brought food? How will I carry a full crock-pot, the compact elephant-sized kind, AND keep my hair dry with no raincoat hood? Should I wait and ask for a later-arriver's help? No… just think of it as a shortened triathlon, and believe for impossible.

Yoga's easy Eagle Pose

My trusty polka dot umbrella pops up, as hoped for. I carefully press its skinny handle into the crook between my head and shoulder, managing to cover my styled coiffure. Thus far, my neck is uncomfortably kinked to the right, but my left hand is free to open the vehicle's rear door with dry hair, no problem. I take a deep breath, bend at the knees like a Yoga instructor in the Eagle Pose, and reach for the crock-pot situated on the floor. 

Now, stupid begins because multi-tasking with a heavy pot is not wise. The weight of the chili-filled container requires flexed arms, coordination, and muscle. After skillfully rising, I step back and fling my bony elbow to close the car door. My encumbered right hand somehow frees a feeble finger to press the remote’s lock button. Triathlon "Leg One" completed.

I amble to the covered entrance. The umbrella is no longer needed, so I drop it and contemplate "Leg Two"… somehow opening the building's door, with both hands already in use. Can it be done, the announcers anxiously ask? 

One of my crock-pot-carrying palms has four ever-willing fingers to grasp the handle. The fingers half-way fling the door open, and I slip through. Whew! I’m in!

"Leg Three," climbing the first of three flights of stairs, feeling mega-encumbered... the second flight... and then the third. By now my heart is racing with labored breathing. On a drizzly, dreary morning, I experience a meager victory. I plug into the conference room’s electrical socket the intact crock-pot with its tres bon chili. Woot, woot.

An impossible accomplishment for which I feel proud. But why? Are impatience and feel-good vanity all-important factors? Nothing bad happened, but where is wisdom?

Disclaimer: NEVER attempt this impossible feat. Press out of the moment, to discern stupid: For vanity's sake, wear a hooded raincoat, and for safety's sake... WAIT FOR HELP.

The Church in Corinth, too, needed prayerful help... from God. To either listen to tangible, onsite, manipulative leadership that was attempting to undermine Paul's authority. Or, to step back and remember off-site, solid, motivating Paul. They knew of his miraculous change to Christianity. He was a supernaturally-provided leader. 

All that glitters (and makes us feel good) is not gold, nor are decisions based solely on our fickle feelings. It takes discernment, and like Yoga's praying Eagle Pose, is easier said than done. If we were Jesus-followers in Corinth, what would we have discerned and decided regarding transparent, earnest, rough-edged Paul?

Sabbatical Reflections: U Jelly?

My hoity-toity hubby casually strolls past a luxury car carrying a loaf of day-old bread, for PBJ's

    We spy a unique eyeful in our Braum's parking lot. The mere sight of it evokes indulgence, excess, diamonds, chauffeurs, elegance and M.O.N.E.Y. It is shiny, taupe-colored, regal, and has a double-R on its trunk.

     Two questions enter our minds which are, unfortunately, never answered: What's a Rolls Royce doing in our modest city's Braum's parking lot? and, What do the owners look like?

     Think of all the worthwhile things that could be done with its price tag! To imagine being in the socio-economic level to even think about having the desire to own one is incomprehensible. At least one worthwhile thing can come from seeing that Rolly. This peanut-butter-&-jelly-raised GenJoneser can seize the prime opportunity to define 2010's then up-and-coming:  "U Jelly?"

     When my husband sets his loaf of bread into the car, I don't say, U Jelly? meaning, "Do we have jelly at home for your peanut butter sandwich?"

     The Urban Dictionary shortens the phrase, "I know you're jealous" to "U Jelly!" That lingo makes perfect sense. Envy is a form of envious. Why not jelly for jealous? It is a phrase that the possessor of a tantalizing object mischievously says to an envious buddy. The owner of that opulent Rolly earned the license plate: U Jelly! IF we were into Rolly's, we would have needed a tres bon mountain-size of God's grace. 

     News stories reveal race horse California Chrome's owner post-race losing his composure. His face is beet red following the 2014 Belmont Stakes. He disregards his wife's brief and desperate calming plea. He rants and raves "Unfair" to the media. His credible point is that horses should be required to run in all of the Triple Crown races; but, nevertheless, he is a sore loser. The gracious winner of the Belmont Stakes controlled himself, but he certainly could have tauntingly said: U Jelly! ... 

    Hmmmm. My "Sabbatical Reflections" identify with each aspect of the Belmont Stakes, depending on my mood, Vitamin B-12 levels, and downer allergy medication. Taking the birds-eye viewpoint, I see: Gracious. Mischievous. And sometimes the sore loser.

Father's Day

     A wise and highly successful father recently said:  "Never let your children win. A truly competitive father never lets his children win, because he loves them. Every time you give your children something that you did not have growing up, you take from them something you did have. So, always compete."

     After chewing on this tres bon advice, I add two footnotes: 1) Never say never or always, and 2) the preface words "A truly competitive father" are key regarding letting your children win. But, basically I tend to agree. Heed the resistant, knee-jerk notion, "I want to give or do this or that for my child because I wished my parents had done this for, or given that to, me."

     Review your strengths in light of insightful Deuteronomy 1. With potentially unneeded coddling or rescuing, would you possess your key strengths? Ninety-nine point nine percent (99.9%) of the Israelites seemed unfazed by God's Almighty Fatherhood.

Sabbatical Reflections: Rhythms & Swooshes

Reflections continue as I think about sabbatical times. A regular job earnestly eludes me, as well as definable purpose. What is an avid do-er to do besides do or re-direct myself? Blogging is my dinghy (a life raft, not to be construed with the word dingy). It is a productive and diverting outlet. The question jabs me: Who am I, naked, with all identities stripped?

I am: Invisible and striving Generation Jones, with a treasured and extended window of opportunity to notice delicate details that others might dismiss. I think about those tres bon delicacies, and I write about them. My signature is to imprint, journal, and piggyback or horseback ride off of the flavorful cuisine of sole relationships (which could be construed with soul).

One light-hearted and personal object lesson helps to demonstrate the 2 years of this sabbatical venture. It is the fidgety dance of two adorable, on-stage pre-schoolers during the recent baby dedication of their younger siblings. For a time they are admirably quiet, but then, that's when their squirmy instincts activate...

• Younger "Joey" stomps his feet, one by one, and milliseconds later, "Nellie" quietly stomps her feet, one by one. 
• Joey catches Nellie's eye and appears to notice her mischievous cue, Let's play the game "Simon Sees." He nonchalantly stomps one foot, just to make sure his read is accurate. 
• Bingo! Nellie stomps one foot, just like he did. The game is on to fill a few boring seconds! 
• Nellie teasingly swooshes the ruffles of her girly, fuchsia-colored dress, inevitably believing: Joey won't be able to mimic this!! 
• Joey takes just two milliseconds to figure a way to manly mime the ruffle swoosh. He grabs his boy attire for an ingenious shirt swoosh. 
• Next, what does antsy Nellie do?

Dogged, daring, diligent, dinghy
B.L.O.G.G.I.N.G.

Joey and Nellie's older sibling duty is finally rewarded with tres bon cake. Their fanciful, quiet game "Simon Sees" demonstrates the idea of mimicking non-verbal cues.

 I, too, have mimicked... the rhythms and cues of organization-STOMPS and grandchild-SWOOSHES. I see, and I blog. I feel like antsy Nellie and ask the mischievous question:

How have I kicked and stomped during this fidgety sabbatical?

The answer...dogged, daring, diligent, dinghy B.L.O.G.G.I.N.G., cuing off of sole experiences:  Worried? See-&-Blog. Fidgety? See-&-Blog. Happy? See-&-Blog. Creative spurt? See-&-Blog. Forlorn? See-&-Blog. Doubtful & questioning? See-&-Blog. Courage & direction -seeking? See-&-Blog, blog, blog!

The Bible's David, just prior to his successful slingshot Battle-to-the-Death with Goliath, responds to years of daring Shepherd Boy "Simon Sees" :

But David said to Saul, 'Your servant has been keeping his father’s sheep. When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it. Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; ... [Generation Jones typewriter "carriage return" emphasis, mine].
...this uncircumcised Philistine [Goliath] will be like one of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God. The Lord who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine' 

(I Samuel 17: 34-37). 

[DAVID SEES. partnering with God & his soulful, sole-seasoned slingshot & stones: 
lion-. bear-. & GIANT- KILLS.]  [Generation Jones, 1990's sitcom, Tim-the-tool-man, growled, "AR, AR" expresses David's mindset during this quintessential nail-biting cliff-hanger].

 

Simon Sees. Adorably.
It's quick, so hold that sneeze.

Sabbatical Reflections: Soulo Survival

Soulo Survival (The 30-day Plank Challenge is below*)

Two years ago when I started my self-induced writing sabbatical, I was ecstatic. Health issues combined with department down-sizing and nail-biting consolidations in my 7-year job helped me to walk away from a scheduled work-day life breathing a sigh of relief.

After 20 years of career I was free to plan my days, however I pleased. I could sleep in until 7:00 a.m. for health renewal, or not. I could muse and clean-up from weekend happenings, or not. My days were open and free, and that pleased me just fine. I was embarking on a new, solo, experiment. Kind of like taking on the 30-day Plank Challenge, seeing IF I would daily plank, just because, with no accountability partner.

Freedom comes with constraints, too. For 2 years I've awakened, only because I choose to. Each morning, I stir, to the same four walls. It is a self-thing. By this I mean I motivate myself to accomplish goals that no one but my husband sees. It takes boldness to be alone. Especially in a striving, education-actualizing community. It takes courage to have zero.daily.identity... besides: housewife.

Answering someone's question: "What is your job?" with a dejecting, "I stay at home" is anything but an ego booster.

Patchy gray hairs stingingly punctuate that not only am I home, but that my grown children are long gone, and miles away, too. I have no children or grandchildren at my side. I have a very empty nest, and after 2 years this soulo experiment has an L-shaped bulls-eye forming in the middle of my forehead whispering: Loser.

It's like washing my cast iron pans with hot water only. I want to add dish soap to clean up the residue. But my daughter says soap isn't needed because it takes away the skillet's seasoning. Can only hot water with a little elbow grease fully remove germs and bacteria? Do the pans really produce more palatable, seasoned food? (Cast iron does add iron to simmering meals, which is a great thing!)

The big question is, can being just a housewife really be enough, or do I need to "soap-up" the title?

We'll see if more reflections develop. I'm free to blog, or not to blog. That freedom is either tres bon refreshing or stifling.

Sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let not your hands be idle,

for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, 

or whether both will do equally well (Ecclesiastes 11:6).

*The 30 Day Plank Challenge will send your core strength through the roof! Yes, all you have to do is HOLD the position shown above, nothing else! It looks pretty easy, but it isn't!

Day 1 - 20 seconds
Day 2 - 20 seconds
Day 3 - 30 seconds
Day 4 - 30 seconds
Day 5 - 40 seconds
Day 6 - REST
Day 7 - 45 seconds
Day 8 - 45 seconds
Day 9 - 60 seconds
Day 10 - 60 seconds
Day 11 - 60 seconds
Day 12 - 90 seconds
Day 13 - REST
Day 14 - 90 seconds
Day 15 - 90 seconds
Day 16 - 120 seconds
Day 17 - 120 seconds
Day 18 - 150 seconds
Day 19 - REST
Day 20 - 150 seconds
Day 21 - 150 seconds
Day 22 - 180 seconds
Day 23 - 180 seconds
Day 24 - 210 seconds
Day 25 - 210 seconds
Day 26 - REST
Day 27 - 240 seconds
Day 28 - 240 seconds
Day 29 - 270 seconds
Day 30 - PLANK FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE!!

Benefits of Plank Exercise:

*It strengthens your lower back
*It develops your core muscles – which include the abs, back, hips and the butt.
*Helps you to avoid injuries and encourage good posture
*Can be done anywhere
*Develops your abdominals by targeting the rectus abdominis

Dreams: Strawberry Fields

Dreams are incredibly fanciful. Floating in and out of one particular fuzzy happening and then to another. At one moment riding in a vehicle to the airport; the next taking no steps, but somehow arriving to a door. Perusing valuable garage sale items, and then rescuing a crawling girl who has fallen down a flight of stairs. And, during one riveting night's sleep, achieving the pinnacle aspiration of chatting with Icon Paul McCartney and Beloved Billy Graham. Experiencing The Beatles' stupor-sounding lyrics from the song, Strawberry Fields Forever: ♫Nothing is real. And nothing to get hung about.♫ Or floating on a Magic Carpet Ride (Steppenwolf).

"Strawberry Fields" fuzz, captured by our 3-year-old

Feelings are attached to dreams. Fears, happiness, heart desires, vulnerabilities, stresses. Sometimes dreams even come true. They might actually prenote or punctuate reality, about a future occurrence. In a slumbered state, the spirit somehow conveys deep information. A dream about a baby boy, bringing joy and warmth, 9 months later becomes reality.

God can especially speak through dreams. Well, unless, just the evening before, we've eaten an entire greasy pizza! (By the way, outdoor activity absorbs vitamin D which encourages dreaming.) But, yes, when walls are removed. When spirits are vulnerable and open. When we are uninterrupted. It is uncanny and almost spooky. We prayerfully seek wisdom or confirmation for a particular life-direction, and a dream awakens and inspires. Tres bon Strawberry Fields sometimes parallel real life.

“In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams" (Acts 2:17).