Heavenly Company

Recently, I observed a flock of beautiful geese and ducks that the Lord so masterfully made. As I watched them, I was just amazed by the color orange. The orange that colored their beaks was so beautiful. It almost seemed unrealistic. How could an orange that beautiful exist? That doesn’t even begin to speak of its texture – so luscious that I longed to touch it. Out of fear of getting snipped by the bird’s unpredictable beak, I restrained my curiosity.  How good is the Lord to have created such imaginative creatures? He has a plan. The wandering geese and ducks know nothing about coronavirus. They just waddle along nibbling at their feathers and green grass in search of something to eat.

A brave goose approached me as I observed the flock from a bench beside the pond. I expect it was driven by the faintest thought that I might have a treat for him. As it came closer and closer, I was able to gaze deeply into his eyes. Eyes of the most incredible blue. Blue like an infinite, crystal-clear body of water with a dark black center. As I stared into the eyes of this beautiful goose, I wondered what it may see in me. I will never know, but what I do know is that his eyes were awe-striking. How kind of God to afford me the opportunity of this experience.

This is a difficult time for many of us. We all have different challenges during this uncertain time. Some seem thornier than others. While I am beyond blessed in many ways, I remain human. I still struggle with yearning for things to be back as they were before March 2020. I long to hug my friends and family without worrying if I am going to make them sick or that they might make me sick. I want to get out and live life in the “normal” we knew before. Yet, that is not my reality right now. I am left in the company of my cat and walks alone - that on occasion provide unexpected company – Heavenly Company in the form of white, white birds. Though this company could not speak “human,” they acknowledged me - even if it was out of shallow, food-wanting intentions. Oh, to be acknowledged and known by another. Even if it is only by birds, it seems that when whoever or whatever acknowledges me, I am reminded and comforted by this truth:

“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and  you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.” A selection from a Psalm of David – Psalm 139:1-12

Grandmommy's Feather Pillows

The soft clean sheets engulfed my smooth 9 year old legs as they entered my Grandmommy’s bed after my nighttime bath with pink Dove soap on a warm summer’s night in July.  My head hit the soft feather pillow and I scooted in as close to Grandmommy as I possibly could.  I felt safe to be near her in her silky night gown.  After we were settled, she began to tell me her stories.  “These are feather pillows she would say.  They were made from the feathers in Momma’s feather bed. I wouldn’t have any other pillow but a feather pillow,” she would say.  “Whoo, there ain’t nothing like them.  When I was a little girl we didn’t have anything but feather pillows and my Momma got them from our geese.”  She would raise her head up and down and move it around as she spoke as if she had some sort of nervous habit – the pillow conforming back and forth to her head. I didn’t really think anything about it because that’s just what Grandmommy did when she was talking.  I just laid there and listened to her stories that she would tell.  It was our nightly ritual. I learned about the camp meetings that she would go to at the church when she was a little girl.  I learned about the time she burned 2 chocolate pies during the WWII sugar ration; and how she dumped them out in the woods to hide the fact that she had wasted the sugar by burning the pies.  I learned about a side of Frog Jump that I couldn’t experience, but one that I could imagine.  I could imagine it because I was familiar with the place myself.

The comfort of Grandmommy’s pillow next to my side, with her head in it is gone.  A transient moment in my life, defines a memory that remains permanently etched in my mind.  Yet, while the memory remains, the trust that was put into my Grandmommy’s presence in my life slowly begins to fade away as Grandmommy, 87, now suffers from Alzheimer’s disease.  She is no longer near me and I learn that the trust that was placed in my Grandmommy’s company will soon be gone.  The pillows in The Weight of Glory, symbolize a moment of rest; a moment of no fear and complete trust.  The pillow; cast in concrete though freezes a moment in time and captures it permanent.  I trust that the pillow will not change.  It is captured just the way it is.  To last forever.

Cast Concrete Pillows from the Installation, The Weight of Glory, 2017

Epiphany - MUD

The path became familiar.  I smelled the breeze.  It was familiar too.  I wanted to go back and as I turned the curve and reached the top of the hill that fixed my eyes on the bottom land that would lead me to my final destination, I went back.  The hat I wore was the same.  I recalled a bicycle wreck that I had as a child going down this hill because  of the orange hat that I wore.  The wind had caught it and as I tried to pull it back, I lost control and wrecked.  That was the same hill.  As I approached the bottom land I saw that the river was high - or had been.  Part of the road was covered with water.  I knew I would find a way to cross it.  I went as far as I could before the water had completely covered the road.  There was no where to cross.  I looked for a log to make a bridge.  There wasn't one to be found.  So I looked to the other side. 

 

Maybe I can cross over there if I go through the woods a little.  I tried. Nope.  Why didn't I wear rubber boots?  No wonder they were my favorite childhood shoe.  I had walked all that way.  I couldn't go back now.  What would I do? I looked down at my feet and decided the only thing that I could do was take off my shoes and socks and walk through the water and mud.  Fears - they were present.  What if there are snakes?  What if there are sticks that will cut my feet?  Glass? Barbed wire?? Fishing hooks?  Cuckobears?

 

STOP.  Just do it.

 

I cautiously stepped into the water that lay before me and surprisingly - it felt good.  Relief.  My senses were alive as the mud squished between my toes.  Forget the nail polish.  I am not sure what I was walking in but it didn't matter. I was going to cross.  The water was slightly warm in some spots as it was a sunny day.  I smelt the mud in the air.  The soft bed of leaves and grass that were beneath my feet felt good too!  I wadded through the water with caution; not knowing how deep the water was in places.  I looked for places where grass peaked through the water to gauge the depth.  I pressed on.  Before I knew it, I was to the other side and there it was.  The River.  The place where I wasn't supposed to go as a child.  Yet, a place that I went anyway.

 

What is that place for you?

 

You know we have been called and created to be something greater than we could ever imagine. I can't explain it because is too great to fathom. I am learning that most of us are afraid to do what we have been called to do.  We are too fearful to put our feet in mud - to experience the fullness of the life we have been given.  We stay close to home in our safety net with our shoes and socks on - crew ones at that - rather than jumping out into this life that is unknown.  Yet, I think we have been called to jump out.  We are called to GO.  We are called to embrace who it is that we have been created to be. 

 

Unfortunately we are most often too scared to figure out just exactly who we are.  We are too timid.  We stay comfortable in what is known and what is expected and we miss the excitement that is in store for us.  Faith requires action, you know?  It requires TRYING.  I am so guilty of not trying at times.  I doubt. I question. I do not trust.  I ask myself if what I am doing is valid.  Is it valued?  Well it most certainly is if it is what I have been called to do.  I want to experience the fullness of this life that I have been given.  I know I am being led. I know that even if I do fail at times, it is all part of the process.  The process that will make me.  I will just get up and continue to follow.  In my human nature I fear, but in faith, I can trust.  I pray that I will go where I am led so that I may experience the life that I have been called to live to the fullest because I am not my own.

 

If that isn't the good news, I don't know what is!

 

I think that I should put my feet in mud at least once a week.

 

 

And now I know why Mr. Benson said to go jump in the Mississippi River.  I just think that the Forked Deer is better.