Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Things I Know For Sure Now That I'm 42

In my four-plus decades on this planet, I have learned, or perhaps more accurately realized and assimilated, more in the past 24 months than in the sum of the previous 480.

These realizations range from profound to just plain silly and what follows is a by-no-means-complete list in no particular order:

• There is no greater or more powerful path to REAL Freedom than complete surrender to Truth. The process for me hasn't been pretty, easy, instantaneous or anything less than excruciating, but the payoff has truly been life-changing. "The Truth Shall Set You Free" may be a cliché ... that doesn't make it any less accurate. The thing about secrets is, you don't realize how heavy they are until you have none. What sweet relief!


• Miracles happen. Every day. Everywhere. You've just got to be willing to see them for what they are and stop using limiting, cyinical words like "coincidence," "accident," and "fluke." God loves us and wants to surprise us with happy things like any loving parent does. This morning He surprised me with two, very appreciated gifts: My children slept until nearly 10:00 (which NEVER happens) AND a "bouquet" of daisies that just appeared in our pasture this morning, right outside my kitchen window. These are the ONLY daisies in our pasture. Two acres of weeds and grass, never one daisy and precisely on June 20th... Boom. Like I said. Little miracles.


• When he puts his mind to it, my husband is an excellent cook! This morning he got inspired to make me strawberry crepes for my birthday... and he knocked it out of the park! I'm quite certain that if he ever got truly turned on to the idea, he would outstrip my culinary abilities in a heartbeat. While I await that glorious day, however, I will just enjoy his momentary gourmet outbursts and my current reign as primary house chef.





• Crepes are an absolutely outstanding way to serve fresh strawberries!

• And when you run out of crepes, they're really awesome on left over strawberry dumpling noodles, too.

• My children are two of the most Spiritually aware and powerful people I know.

• I LOVE to mow the lawn! (As long as I'm using our riding mower.)

• I enjoy doing stuff in the yard a whole lot more than I ever thought I would and am now a little obsessed with landscaping, plants and the outside of the house in general.

• There is nothing on this earth that can overpower the fierce beauty of Grace.
Definition:
Grace: 1. (in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.
2. My youngest daughter.
Take your pick, they are both truly AMAZING.

• I am certain, no matter how old they get, my children will never outgrow their passion for dirt.



• My oh-so-fragile preemie, first-born has blossomed into a vibrant, resilient, generous, brilliant young woman who embodies genuine love and intense gentleness. Anna can smell God in the approach of a rain cloud, see Him in the emerging chartreuse hues of Spring's first tender shoots and respects every creature and being as unique and precious... from potato bug to toddler.

• My husband is a study in unknown depths. Just when I'm certain I know all there is to him he'll surprise me with some insightful observation, unexpected wisdom, or tender expression that takes my breath away. I am beyond grateful that I had the unparalleled honor and privilege to marry him twice!

• I have never been more contented or truly joyful in my life and there is no place or time I would rather live than here and now and no other person I would rather be than me.

• To say I am "fortunate" is an understatement of Biblical proportions... fact is... looking at my life and the Grace, Love, Abundance and Blessing that define it, I'm convinced I'm God's favorite! :D


Happy June 20th, Y'all!

Saturday, May 10, 2008

The Magnificents


For those of you interested in tales of our amazing, big, fat adventure with God, you can check it out at our new blog!

Sadly, since one can't rearrange posts, you'll need to scroll all the way down to start at the beginning, or click the link at the top of the side bar.


It's okay of you come by just to gawk... we know we're Freaks... but that doesn't change how cool it all is.

Peace, Y'all!

Thursday, April 10, 2008

God spoke to me through Thai food.

It's important to recognize when the fortune cookie is smarter than you are.

The wisdom delivered here hit me right between the eyes. It goes far beyond exposing the recklessness of deception. It's also a reminder I can't put anything over on God.

I have finally *really* figured out that I can't show God a particular side of me. He sees the WHOLE of me... "warts and all" as they say. What's more He LOVES the whole of me and doesn't hold my warts against me. He isn't even repulsed by the great big booger hanging off my nose. All He sees is the being that He created me to be.

Beautiful. Radiant. Flawless.

That doesn't mean anyone else sees me that way, or needs to, or that I think I'm perfect because God sees me that way. It REALLY doesn't mean that He thinks I don't need any improvement or correction. God has been correcting my ass off in recent months. What it means is that I don't need to be self-conscious, because I'm good enough, just the way I am, for anyone... even me.

Which brings me to the other truth that this fortune cookie revealed to me...

I can't outwit myself, either.

No matter what persona I project or how I wrestle parts of myself back in fear that people will be uncomfortable with me at "full strength," or perhaps they'll realize just what a doofus and fraud I really am, the "real me" is still there. Who I am lurks just below the surface clambering to be seen and heard in more than just regulated, censored cameo appearances... because that is the person God created me to be.

I can't change it any more than I can change the color of my eyes or the length of my legs.

I don't need to fear negative reactions because I say what I really feel. Someone just might be thinking the exact same thing. And if they don't agree, they are certainly entitled to feel differently. It doesn't mean I'm stupid, or wrong, or bad. We simply don't agree. It's not a crime or a sin to disagree.

The greatest disservice I can do those around me, especially those I love, is to withhold my honesty in a vain attempt to "protect" them somehow and display only what I think others deserve, or expect, or can handle from me. That's not to say that I need to be brutal or cruel. Just real. To say the truth and then work through their response with love and respect. That is the only way to have a firm footing.

To build a relationship while being who I *think* I'm supposed to be and expressing only what I imagine my loved ones want to hear is to live on a constantly eroding slope that will inevitably continue to fail and lack true stability until the bedrock is finally exposed.

What greater expression of Love for my family and friends could I offer than to allow the person God made me to be finally beam at full candle-power in stead of a feeble attempt at acceptable fashioned by my own floundering, myopic humanness? To quote Ani DiFranco, "I'm 32 Flavors and then some..." My family deserves them all... not just the ones I *think* they like.

How will they know they like pistachio unless I give them a chance to try it?

Mint Chocolate Chip?

Licorice, anyone?

What better gift and show of respect for my Creator than to quit camouflaging His design?

I'm done being afraid of who I am.

I'm pretty much done with fear in general. Fear is the opposite of Love.

I'm ready to Live Out Loud.

I'm ready to break free of self-imposed twilight.

At last, I am ready to shine... and maybe even sing.


Nothing like a little Pad Ginger with a good friend for lunch and a smack upside the head from God for dessert, eh?

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

It's So Cold Grace Chattered Her Tooth Right Out!

The snow pictures are from Monday though it has been super cold with various combinations of precipitation off and on ever since.



One can only do so much in the area of snow man construction within the window of a two-hour school delay.



After weeks of barely letting anyone LOOK at her tooth, let alone actually try to PULL it, said chomper finally just leaped to freedom as we were leaving the Wilco store yesterday. Thankfully, Grace caught the slippery little sucker in her hands and didn't swallow it.


Grace has been to school ONCE so far this week. A two hour delay means "No School" when you're in half-day kindergarten. She has been having a lot of difficulty going to school lately anyway. We're still trying to get to the bottom of her not wanting to go, but the snow days have made my life easier, at least temporarily, in not having to endure the struggle.

This morning she came to get into bed with me, saw the snow outside and said, "Is there no school today?" To which I replied, "Well, for you there isn't. Do you know why?"

... get ready for this one, folks...

"Because God loves me and wants me to be at home so he made it snow..."

... you know... she's right. She has been needing some extra time with mommy and she's had two unexpected days of it this week and she won't be behind in class.

God is taking care of her.

God is taking care of all of us.

Peace, Ya'll.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Walking In Your Footsteps...

...and trying not to trip in your very big shoes.



I would never dream of flattering myself by believing I could ever take my Grandmother's place in this world since her departure from it. However, since she left us about a year and a half ago, there are certain things that I feel compelled to do, have strong feelings about or have experienced that have the very distinctive "Esther Rueck" brand upon them. I sense her presence in a very tangible way when I do these things. It feels very right and like a natural progression for me to attempt to emulate her in their practice. As though the "torch has been passed." (This feeling is not diminished by the fact that I am her namesake, Esther being my middle name.)

Aside from when I'm brushing my teeth, a time when I am most aware of her is when I bake bread. Gran and I had sooo very many conversations about baking, but we never really got to do it together when I was old enough to actually know a little about what I was doing. We did lots of theorizing and comparing notes verbally though. So now since her departure, it doesn't matter what kind of bread I'm making, she's there with me.

That being said, you might imagine how much it meant to me when, upon pulling the new coffee maker my folks gave us from its box, I noticed an old yellow recipe card laying face down in the bottom of it. Since the box had never been opened, for a split second I thought Grannee had been up to her tricks again and miraculously dropped it in there for me to find... Upon an excited call to my mom, however, I learned that she had been startled to discover Grannee's Rye Bread recipe in an old canister she was about to give away...
*gasp!* that was close! ... and had wedged it under the lid of the box as a surprise.

She may as well have sent me a Portkey* to my Grannee's kitchen. I was giddy with excitement, but wanted to wait until I could give my full attention and focused intention on making this special, magical recipe for which my Grandmother was renowned. It was like no other bread you could get anywhere. Grandad always said it was better than cake... and he was right.

This bread was something much more than the sum of its ingredients. For her, it was a meditation. A profound demonstration of love for her family and guests... and you could taste it. We begged for this bread. No one ever felt the least bit gypped if they got it for Christmas in stead of some *thing*.

Everything that left her hands was completely imbued with love and intention. To both of my Grandparents, if anything was worth doing it was worth doing well and she had refined this basic human nourishment and item of sacrament to an art form... and the rest of us have never been able to duplicate it to her level of mastery.

It was her own special kind of magic.

This time, when I set out to make my attempt at Her Rye Bread, it wasn't with a recipe dictated over the phone and written in distracted haste, but with her very own card. Written in her own elegant hand. There are no instructions, just measurements of ingredients, temperature and cooking time. This card served only to jog her memory of the details of a process she could do in her sleep... and often did once she became too frail to wrangle heavy, awkward dough.

When she wrote this recipe down, her penmanship was still pristine, not ravaged by age and weariness. She was vibrant and brimming with passion, generosity and grace. I could feel her vivacity resonate as I carefully held this precious artifact as I read it, intense thoughts of her washing over me as I assembled the ingredients. I felt her standing right next to me and she was as excited as I was that we were *finally* getting to bake together. I couldn't stop myself from smiling and even let a little laugh escape my lips at how much fun we were having, the two of us.

As I prepared the dough, I could hear in my head little comments she had made to me over the years about how the dough should look or the fact that it's pretty sticky. I made only the tiniest adjustments based on my particular circumstances. Alterations with which I felt she would agree.
Though there is no way I would ever make notations on the recipe card. I'll keep those notes in my head for now.

I was so excited to give my little family a taste of Grannee's Rye Bread and every aspect of what that means. Yes, it's amazing in flavor and texture, very nutritious and its aroma is what I think Heaven must smell like, but mostly what I want them to taste is my intention, my meditation of love and the same blessing that Grannee put into everything she fed us.

The bread I made doesn't taste *exactly* like Grannee's but it's very, very close. I have only my hands, pans and slightly different ingredients to work with so, I guess it's becoming My Rye Bread now... but I will always bake it (and enjoy that first, warm heal) with Grannee.



* For you non-Harry Potter readers: a Portkey is an enchanted object, often a piece of supposedly worthless junk, which when touched will transport a person to a preprogrammed location.


Thursday, July 26, 2007

Forty Years to "Getting It" - Part Three


The last (?) in a series of long-winded expressions of gratitude.
Okay then!! Hopefully the pictures will stick this time.

Read on, Folks...


Before I even start, I want to apologize to my friends and family for the amount of time it has taken me to assemble this post. It's big. It's important. It took time to (hopefully) get it right. Your patience, and your presence in my life, are greatly appreciated.

WARNING! This is the longest post to date. If you plan to read it in one sitting, you may want to clear your schedule and grab yourself a hearty snack... and maybe a beer, too, just to be on the safe side.

It all started at Grace's Fifth Birthday Party in May.

During the course of the evening, the inevitable topic of my impending chronological progression cropped up. When you're nearing a benchmark year, it's to be expected.

The subject of The Party was soon raised and I informed *my gals* that James had asked me if I wanted a big party or a romantic getaway. When your husband asks you that question in a rare moment of quiet solitude together, of course you say "romantic getaway." However the spoiled little brat inside my head was jumping up and down screaming, "I WANT BOTH!!" (I lovingly refer to her as "Veruca.")

My sister-in-law, Dawn, piped up and said, "I don't THINK so! James can do the romantic thing. We'll throw you a party!" Veruca and I hopped around, clapping like a preschooler.

Beth chimed in with, "Hey, I want in on that!" and I'm pretty sure my sister-in-law, Betsy, and maybe Renee (it's hard to remember between my heightened state of excitement and a couple of glasses of Pinot under my belt, not to mention my advancing age) responded similarly.

I immediately began feverishly looking forward to this party!

These girls know what they're doing.

The next several weeks were shrouded in mystery. There was so much going on in our family, namely Dawn's family, that, had the whole event ended up getting scrapped in favor of a frustration-fueled kegger on my in-laws' pool deck, I would have totally understood.

Then, one glad morning in June, the email I had been so eagerly awaiting finally arrived.

It was from Dawn and she was asking for a guest list.

I was not allowed to ask questions, just fork over the names and contact info for the people I wanted to invite.

A few weeks later: my instructions plinked into my in-box.

"Saturday morning....just wake up, shower, get dressed in nice casual type clothes, and be ready by 9:45. At that time you will be notified of what to do next!" ("Saturday" meant the 7th of July. Yes, my birthday was June 20th, but like I said, folks were busy and that was the soonest it could happen. And, besides, 07/07/07! Common!! Postpone away, Dear People!!)

A couple of days before The Day... another email from Dawn. A list of (seemingly) random *getting to know you* questions. I laughed out loud. The woman has *known* me for 20 years. I figured it was mostly her way of finding out what coffee drink to order for me. So clever!

When the fateful day arrived, my beloved nephew, Jacob, Dawn's 17-year-old son, showed up on my doorstep at precisely 9:50 AM and presented me with two gift bags. One contained a glitter-encrusted tiara with the number 40 in a heart at it's pinnacle (which I was instructed to wear the entire day). The other, a pair of black, Nike flip flops (see opening photo).

He informed me my ride would arrive in about five minutes, hugged me, and dashed back out the door.

I was totally stoked! What a way to start this day!

Shortly before 10:00, Dawn, Betsy and my mom-in-law, Fran, picked me up and took me for... you guessed it... PEDICURES!! (My mom had planned to come but, sadly, wasn't feeling well and stayed home to rest in hopes of joining us later... which she did. Yea!)
Our toes hadn't been soaking more than five minutes when Jacob arrived with coffee drinks all around. How cool is that?!

We sat there and frantically attempted to arrive at a good name for our little group... well I did, anyway... I do stuff like that. We came up with a few really funny ones... none of which can I remember with any reliability at the moment, dang it.

I sure hope I'm not already having "Senior Moments!" YIKES!


But, I digress...

With toes polished and calves amply massaged, we piled back into the van and headed to Fran and Doug's back yard for a beautiful brunch.

Fran's homemade raspberry jam from just a day or two before, scones, three kinds of chicken sausage, juice, fresh fruit... it was heavenly.

Before we could dig in in earnest, my little brother, Kelly's wife, Laura, peeked around the corner, and gleefully joined in the proceedings.

Sister-in-law (I have a *lot* of sisters-in-law), Linda, who had been quietly working behind the scenes, and Jacob, enjoyed the delicacies with us until it was time to head out once again.


This time, Jacob offered me his arm and handed me yet another gift bag containing two organic dark chocolate bars and a magazine article I was not yet allowed to read. He escorted me back to the van, very gentlemanly open the passenger door and deposited me inside, then took his place at the wheel. At this point, he's reeking of "Designated Driver" and I have a pretty strong feeling that we're going wine tasting! YESSS!

Laura, Dawn, Betsy, Fran and I continued the festivities with our first stop at Domaine Serene. Jacob dutifully escorted us to the tasting room, took some pictures, then planted himself in the shade while we sampled expensive wine on the majestic hill-top.

It was all quite a lot for me to absorb. Such an open and genuine expression of love and affection had me rather overwhelmed. Tearful.

It hit me, with full force, exactly how much love surrounds me every day of my life. Don't get me wrong. It's not like I've felt *unloved* or on the outside all these years, but I never, fully *got it,* to the marrow of my bones, until the drive to the first winery.

I felt sick to my stomach. It was almost like I couldn't accept such an outpouring directly focused on me. And, I think the thing that was as hard to absorb as anything was that my 17-year-old nephew chose to be such an integral part of this day. He had to work later and could have chosen to do anything else with his precious free-time. He wasn't coerced or guilted into it by his mom. He wanted to be there and expressed to me his sincere disappointment at having to miss everything that would come after he left for work.

I love all my nieces and nephews like they're my own, but Jacob has always had a very special place in my heart. On this day, I definitely felt like I also have a special place in his.

I banished the thoughts and feelings of unworthiness, claimed my gift from my amazing family and, finally, the acute nausea that threatened to undermine all their efforts subsided. We then carried on, with great relish, to the next stop: Wine Country Farm.

Here we enjoyed a vast array of wines in a more casual, unpretentious venue. The setting was warm and relaxing as we tasted about 10 different wines... everything from Pinot Gris to Pinot Noir and a Late Harvest Müller Thurgau that really caught my attention.
Just as we were wrapping things up, I thought, buying wines we liked and getting ready to move on, Jacob, once again, offers me his arm and hands me an open bottle of the Pinot Noir upon which I had, only moments ago, commented favorably.
He escorted me to a most beautifully vine-enshrouded gazebo that had been *mysteriously* well-appointed with a host of wine-friendly delights. Triple-Cream French Brie (my favorite!) crusty bread, huge, sweet grapes, chocolate... so many things I like enjoyed in the company of, and thanks to, a good sampling of my favorite people on the planet.

It was mind-boggling.
Once again, I was nearly moved to tears.

It was hard to leave such a pastoral and soothing scene when it was time to go, but there were more joy-filled experiences to be had.


Jacob and the gals deposited me back at home with instructions to take it easy and cool off for a couple of hours while preparations were polished off up the hill at Doug and Fran's. I was to report in at 5:00.


As I rested in the semi-coolness of my bedroom and listened to the kids playing in and around my house, I continued to attempt to comprehend all the effort so many people had exerted to make a party, that actually was more on the scale of a bridal shower and wedding reception, for me.

In the days leading up to the event, I remember observing my father-in-law string-trimming the edges of their yard where the juniper bushes meet the front field and recognizing why. "He's getting ready for my party" I realized to myself with a broad smile and a very warm feeling.

James was given assignments by the crack team of party planners known as Betsy, Dawn and Fran, which he dutifully carried out to his usual level of precision and expertise... in addition to the things he already had in mind to do.

A veritable banquet was planned, prepared and laid out by many, many loving hands.

The pool was cleaned and treated and cleaned again to make sure it was at its pristine, refreshing best by the time the guests arrived.

Game courses were set up and meandered across acres. Lights were strung, flowers snipped and floors mopped in a flurry of preparation...

... All because I made it to 40 and they love me.

Wow.

At the appointed hour, I strolled leisurely up the hill to see the guests from my list begin
slowly trickling in. My brothers and their families, my folks, Uncle Monte, the Foxes, the Skaggses, Londons, Phillipses, Havleneks and the whole Umfleet clan... everyone who could be there, eventually, was.

Friends and family played together, talked, laughed, swam and of course, ATE with rapturous abandon.

All together, there were 40 people in attendance, the number a coincidence, I can assure you, but a fun bit of trivia nonetheless.



As the evening wore on, all the planning and execution of culinary perfection reached its moment of glory. Dinner was served!

When this group gets together, you better be packing an empty stomach and a clear artery or two because we know how to cook.

There were *five* chickens and a spiral-sliced ham roasted on Dawn and Jeff's Traeger grill, two kinds of potato salad, bruschetta and mushroom caviar on crusty bread, baked beans... oh, goodness, there was so much amazing stuff I can't even remember it all. My apologies to everyone whose contribution to the loveliness my lagging mind is omitting. It was all phenomenal!
The sunset was one befitting such an awe-inspiring day, the surrounding hills and trees striking sharp silhouettes in its vibrant pinks, oranges, and pale blues.

Perfect.



Eventually, there was, of course, dessert! Five or six kinds, as I recall. And me with only one stomach. DANG!
Farm Girl does like her sweets.



Beth's Chocolate and Vietnamese Coffee Tart, or "Chocolate Porn" as I dubbed it, was this chocoholic's highlight of the dessert buffet... which is saying something next to Fran's Spelt Chocolate Cake. (Spelt flour makes *the best* chocolate cake ever. You should try it.)


With sugar comas at full tilt, it was time for gifts... and there were some great ones!

My brother, Doug, and his wife, Paula, (yes, *another* sister-in-law) gave me a very clever gift of forty little pieces of paper with different facts about my birth date written on them, each one rolled around a one-dollar bill. Topping it off was the brilliantly chosen card that played "Everybody Wang Chung Tonight!" Sweeeeeeeet.


There were candles, and pasta bowls and bottles of wine and bath salts, a kickin' purse, home-canned preserves... each item as well-thought-out and appreciated as the last.

The unavoidable, core-jarring truth here is: These people *get* me.

No matter how loved, accepted, protected we feel, how often are we actually convinced that the people in our lives really know what makes us tick? I mean, are they really tuned-in to what's knocking around inside our cranium?

Well, this event and all the days since May leading up to it have crystallized for me, in no uncertain terms, that my people do know exactly what I'm all about.

I could not have planned a more satisfying experience had I spent weeks on the endeavor personally. But beyond the amazing events of the day, I am most grateful for finally *getting it* myself. The *spiritual two-by-four-upside-the head* realization of the depth and breadth of how much I am loved. There is no better gift.

For all the words the English language lays at my disposal, I still run out of all the right ones to express my gratitude. I use that word a lot as I feel it is one that best expresses my perpetual state of being, but it never seems to communicate quite enough.

How do I tell so many people in a few feeble syllables that your verbalized and wordless expressions of love have reached those dark little pockets of my soul that I never quite realized needed filling until you touched my life?

I can say, "I am finally glimpsing how much God loves me through your unending support and continual demonstrations of kindness and generosity" but the words can't ever fully transmit how it feels in my being.

All I can do is live in hope that you all grasp just how much I love you and how grateful I am for you and all the things you do. Great and small.

Now, at the end of all the celebrating, and about *ten pounds fluffier* for it, I will carefully guard the "Tiara of Forty-Tude," until the day in the not too distant future when I can dutifully bestow it upon Dawn...

...It may be hard for me to part with, though. It goes so smashingly with my overalls...

I only hope I can recreate for her the kind of experience she orchestrated for me. She's one tough act to follow.
07/07/07 was as perfect a day as the number would promise. It was, in a word, transcendent. I will cherish the memory until the day they plant my thoroughly-spent carcass in the good, sweet earth... after which, I can only imagine, there will be yet another great party.


So, now you know why I so confidently assert that "I am the luckiest girl in the world..." though, "blessed" might be a better choice of words...

It only took 40 years, but I'm glad I finally *got it*.