"Today on the streets of Downtown OKC,

I passed a man simply asking for change as he held out an empty shoe polish canister.

I had none, so I passed him and went on my way.

On my return trip to the office, I found him and this woman sitting together.

She did not give him change,

she did not drop off a hot meal.....

she sat down, cut her chicken wrap in half,

and shared it with him.

She did not leave, she sat and talked

and asked genuine questions that many of us would ask while out to lunch with a friend.

She did not treat him like a person to help, but a person to love.....

so whoever you are lady, you get it."

Credit: Darrin N Tory Hand

 

 "There are some of God's dear servants who walk in great maturity and they have a degree of clarity and divine knowledge 

more than we can discourse of, 

and it is even more certain than the demonstrations of geometry, 

they are brighter than the sun, 

and unfailing as the light of heaven.

But I shall say no more of this at this time, 

for this is to be felt, and not talked of; 

and they that never touched it with their finger, 

may secretly perhaps laugh at it in their heart, 

and be never the wiser. 

There is in the things of God, 

to them which practice them, 

a deliciousness that makes us love them, 

and that love admits us into God's cabinet, 

and strangely clarifies the understanding by the purification of the heart.

 

"In the mature Christian there is a higher degree of mediation, 

so exalted, 

it is a prayer of quietness and silence, 

and a mediation extraordinary, 

a discourse without distractions, 

a vision and intuition of divine excellencies, 

and a resolution of all our faculties into sweetness’s, affections, and staring’s upon the divine beauty; 

and is carried on to ecstasies, 

raptures, 

suspensions, 

elevations, 

abstractions 

and apprehensions beatifical.

They that experience these heights call them the secrets of the kingdom; 

but they are such which no one can describe; 

such which God hath not revealed in the publication of the gospel; 

such for the acquiring of which there are no means prescribed.

And a warning, let no man be hasty to eat of the fruits of paradise before his time 

or he runs the danger of losing all right sense of religion and prudence."

Jeremy Taylor 1600s.

This is my favorite poem about how to comfort someone with a great loss. This letter was written to James Whitcomb Riley’s best friend, who comfort him as he grieved for the loss of his wife Martha, who he called “Marthy”.

 

TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAN

For forty year and better you have been a friend to me,

Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity,

You always had a kind word of counsel to impart,

Which was like a healing' liniment to the sorrow of my heart.

When I buried my first woman, William Leachman, it was you

Had the only consolation that I could listen to—

For I knew you had gone through it and had rallied from the blow,

And when you said I'd do the same, I knew you ought to know.

But that time I'll long remember; how I wandered here and there—

Through the setting'-room and kitchen, and out in the open air—

And the snowflakes whirlin', whirlin', and the fields a frozen glare,

And the neighbors' sleds and wagons congregating' everywhere.

I turned my eyes towards heaven, but the sun was hid away;

I turned my eyes towards earth again, but all was cold and gray;

And the clock, like ice a-cracking', clicked the icy hours in two—

And my eye’s had never thawed out if it hadn't been for you!

We set there by the smoke-house—me and you out there alone—

Me a-thinking'—you a-talking' in a soothing' undertone—

You a-talking'—me a-thinking' of the summers long ago,

And writing "Marthy—Marthy" with my finger in the snow!

William Leachman, I can see you just as plain as I could then;

And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse me up again,

And I see the tears a-dripping' from your own eyes, as you say:

"Be reconciled and bear it—we but linger for a day!"

The ways were devious, William Leachman, that me and you have passed;

But as I found you true at first, I find you true at last;

And, now the time's a-coming, close to our journey’s end,

I want to throw wide open all my soul to you, my friend.

With the strength of all my being', and the heat of heart and brain,

And every living' drop of blood in artery and vane,

I love you and respect you, and I venerate your name,

For the name of William Leachman and True Manhood's just the same! 

  

  This is a heady piece, Martineau's vocabulary is beyond enormous! I think, in short, he is saying that the moralist sees habit as the grand hope, we learn to build good habits but it makes religion less relational, which to the deeply religious is the despair of our faith.  

  "Nothing perhaps so clearly exhibits the true contrast between 'morality' and 'religion' as the different relations they sustain to the   'law of habit'.

Habit is the grand hope of good morals, but it is the despair of deep religion. 

If the moralist, in urging his system of right action, can but give us motive enough to begin with, his hardest point is gained; the great fly-wheel of the will once set in motion, the second revolution will be promoted by the first, so gain will build momentum, and the original impulse may suffer decline without much consequence.                        His maximum of force is needed only at the initial instant; and he is content, when the inertia of rest is overcome, to substitute the inertia of motion. 

But this, the last triumph of morals, is the total discomfiture of true  religion; which abhors the sleepy rhythm of a rotatory nature; which protests against changing the seat of duty from the center of soul, to the muscles of the body. 

The devoutest moments of each person's life are those in which they first create the rule which thenceforth they obey; and passes straight from the deep passion into high action; and bridges over the awful chasm between the world of sacred thought only, and divine vision. 

 True religion has no other office than to be ever pressing towards divine vision: it checks the spiritual encroachments of habit; compelling it to abide in the 'outer courts' and busy streets of action, and guarding from its invasion into the inner temple of the mind; to keep the eye intent  and the soul awake.  

 

  

Garden of Wonders

 "One of the wonders of Santa Ana is a hidden garden. It's a garden in which the science of botany is developed to veritable zeniths, for here thrives countless varieties of flower and plant life of intense interest to everybody. If motoring past the residence at 1317 Spurgeon Street, a stranger would not have the least idea of the existence of such a wonderland thereabout. Yet, there it is, just around the corner of that residence. 

Blauer's Nursery and Cacti Garden, one of the busiest spots in all Orange county under the able management of Fred C. Blauer. 

In strolling through one section of the place, one gets all the illusions of being on a far-away desert inasmuch as all kinds of cactus specimens abound. Then a visit to another corner is for all the world like being in the tropics while adjacent nooks are remindful of flower filled decks back in the old Missouri or Indiana home in the merry month of June.

Everywhere in this hidden garden Nature is at its glorious best and it's an ideal place to go to renew one's faith in the munificence of a Higher Power."

 These words are from a newspaper article describing my Grandfather's nursery and it can't begin to exaggerate the beauty and impression it left on me. The love I have for gardening is foremost inspired by the boyhood play and work in this wonderland. I suppose the property was about two acres. As a boy I wandered though wisteria covered arbors, blossoming gardenia, hibiscus and rose. The scent of which lingers still. 

 I'm not sure when it was built, but my memory is of aged buildings with squeaky slat doors, worn from years of use. I explored with childhood curiosity every nook and cranny, old potting sheds, the tropical smell and humidity of the large glass house used to start cuttings, and it still rushes to memory whenever I find myself in the rain-forests of Oregon or in a local nursery selecting a flower seen in the old family business. Dark backrooms with a bare bulb, or no light at all but what comes in through the slats. Tool sheds filled with what would be antique treasures today. I'm sure my love for the old and worn is shaped by these boyhood memories.

 My work ethic was born from the labor under Dad's watchful eye as I watered the stock or filled countless gallon cans with earth. Like the old blacksmith, my father's hands and arms were muscled by his labor there. Giving up a career as a pilot trainer to come to his Father's and in maintaining the family business, I'm sure he loved the work, but always looked back. 

I look back too, would that I had stepped in and continued the work.... 

 

 

"So it is with those Spirit led prayers, 

which sound all broken up 

with discordant sighs and inarticulate expressions. 

Some are even heaving of the bosom, 

sobbing of the heart, 

and anguish of spirit. 

Our gracious Father reads them as a man reads a book, 

and they are written in a character which he fully understands."

 We preach Jesus

“For the protection of the innocent, 

for the safeguarding of the weak,

 

for the warning of the tempted 

and the alarm of the wicked,

 

the truth must be told, 

the truth that sets you free.”

 

Ernest a. Bell. 

 One of the most respected Puritan author is Richard Sibbs, I've been reading him online and in a chapter about devoting our work, how ever mundane, to God, he made a comment that I've never heard before, it's regarding his understanding of the scripture about the "woman being saved through child bearing."

 “Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord and not for people, knowing that it is from the Lord that you will receive the reward of the inheritance. It is the Lord Christ whom you serve. 

So even the poorest servant in his drudgery, serves God if he does it as in the presence of God. 

The poor woman, in bearing and bringing up children, shall be saved; that is, her salvation is not in any way hindered thereby, but rather furthered. 

So that it is graced that elevates earthly works and makes them heavenly.” 

The point that struck me, is that bearing and bringing up children is truly doing “mission work,” she is not a bit hindered by the unending tasks that come with child rearing, but rather, her salvation is furthered. 

 I love this interpretation! "shall be saved; that is, her salvation is not in any way hindered thereby, but rather furthered."

The Mother's work is equal to any Christian ministry.

 

Living with a Broken Heart

Remember what the Tin Man said in the “Wizard of Oz” after he finally got a heart….

“Now I know I've got a heart because it’s breaking.”

If someone you love died, your heart is probably broken. So how do you live with a broken heart? The answer isn’t how you fix it or move beyond it. The skill is learning to live with your grief as an ongoing way of being in the world. It’s the way you honor that which you love.

What I’m proposing is that, with enough healing, living with heartbreak can become natural, and very normal.

From my personal and professional experience, I can tell you that as you embark on your healing journey, you’ll start crying a whole lot more. Not just to clear pain, but for the simplest of everyday reasons, and out of nowhere. You’ll cry when you see a bird, a can of paint, an apple, or even the shape of a cloud.

Random things will make you cry.

The heart is designed to grieve, it wants to grieve…..it has to grieve!

Especially when it’s broken.

This is the price you pay for love. The loss of the life you thought you had,

the life you once knew and held so dear.

Loss of a dream you believed was true.

But you can also find and feel grief in opening your heart. Opening it to love and to new possibilities. Opening it to what the future holds.

Isn’t that what life is all about? Endings and beginnings, closings and openings?

The heart was designed to navigate you through this forever winding adventure called life. But you have to be willing to feel…..and to live with a broken heart.

Here’s the thing…..you can learn to live with your broken heart by befriending your grief.

You can discover the love that still exists around you…..and share that love with others who are also living with a broken heart.

Gary Sturgis - “Surviving Grief”

 

 

"Betrayal is a truly awful thing.

I’ve faced it more than once and

I’m sure you can say the same.

It will leave you broken like few things can.

It will leave a gaping wound,

that will change you.

Sometimes, the grief of being betrayed

will cast a shadow over every relationship

You have had, or will have.

You often lose the benefits of that easy trust, that sweet security, that fine faithfulness.

I once talked to a woman in her eighties.

She had survived her husband’s adultery.

But she was quick to say that no matter how much she fought the emotions, and had forgiven him, and they stayed together, it was still always in the back of your mind. Always.

At least for her.

Others have told me they took that betrayal and pinned it to a hundred other people

after, who probably didn’t deserve it.

These are people who have become

victims of betrayal.

Before we judge it harshly, know it’s so

is easy to do. Truly.

And…the more intimate the relationship,

the deeper the wounding.

Still….it’s not nearly as profitable as

healing and growing and letting go,

so that you can let others in.

Most of our feelings about betrayal are

things we have thought about for too

long and too hard.

We can not choose our feelings or what someone else did to us, but we can choose what feelings we keep, coddle, and what we do to others. How we grow through betrayal

makes us a victim or a victor, who does

not let feeling dominate.

Many find themselves immersed in the obsession of pain in betrayal.

Maybe because it’s more than one thing.

As a young man pointed out to me, after his father left the family, It’s not just lying, it’s stealing, it’s cheating, it’s the fear, the shame, unfaithfulness, degradation, the pain of the

unforgivable. It’s hurts!

Maybe because it’s usually done to us by someone we love, respect, honor and truly wanted in our lives.

So, the mixed emotions cloud every

beautiful shining one, that seems to try

and get through.

But as long as we choose to be a victim,

we cannot live joyfully as a victor.

We will keep betraying our own selves the joy of becoming more than our betrayal.

And we are so much more!

Keeping betrayal alive and doing its

damage in our lives, does not victory bring.

Instead it brings more destruction.

Today, while you likely can not go to the person who betrayed you and set it all

back into the way you think it ought to be,

you can go to God.

You can let Him carry your pain.

You can train yourself to live beyond betrayal.

Betrayal defaults to hate.

The heart was not designed to hold

hatred and unforgiveness.

It will affect your whole health

if you cling to it for too long.

When you can’t change it, you can change how you use it in your life.

Determine to let that betrayal become a lesson, but not a life long sentence.

Let it be a discernment for trusting, but

not a wall to keep out goodness.

You are too precious to stay locked

in your own victimization.

Train yourself to walk free, to help another prisoner of pain, to grasp the beautiful

healing that can be yours.

Maybe today is the day to restore

your heart’s hope.

Only you .....choose to be a victim."

~AnnStewartPorter