Heavenly Light Part II

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Heavenly Light Part I

Tonight I was reading something how God has the motive and desire for each of us to come to a point when we want to "know and abide in His presence." So for a short time, he separates us from something or someone we care about deeply. Only God knows why He does this, but the author said that it is to "bring focus and spiritual depth to that person's life."

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The Squashbuckler

Well, folks -- I've been offline for two days now because I've been squashed under a heavy mass of blankets, and I've been "buckled up" in long underwear, flannel pajamas and a heavy robe. Is it any wonder? I've had the chills. I came down with whatever-this-is in the wee hours of Thursday morning, but went to work as usual, actually longer as I had go early and give a make-up test.

Friday I could barely move. I felt like I was in a great fog. I imagine I have the flu. I hope it isn't the swine flu. I don't know though as my doctor wasn't in his office on Friday and I heard my principal say that it cost $300 for the swine flu test. Since I'm not insured, I can guess that what I have is the normal flu ... sore throat, fever and dizziness. I missed a day of work, sent work along, however, for my students. Then I crashed in bed. All day long.

Today (Saturday) I woke up with lots of energy, clearer-headed and ready to take on the world. I washed dishes, did my banking and mailed a card. That's all she wrote. My energy bank had used itself up. I had to lie down. When I woke up, I completed a few loads of my laundry. Then, exactly the same result: with that burst of energy used up, I had to lie back down.

Then I woke up and made lasagna. By the time I finished that, I was more than woozy. I got my layers mixed up (at least that's what I tell myself; I suppose it could have happened flu-less or as usual, because I was clueless!). Lasagna takes lots of concentration even on a good day! I've not had a good history with this dish. I've only made it a few times, but the first time I attempted it, I was working between two recipes. I glanced down at my book and then at the box, and was ready to place the top layer on the coveted dish, when the whole glass rectangular baking dish careened to the floor and broke in a million pieces. Not only did I lose the dish, I cut myself and plugged up my sweeper vacuuming the rest of the glass up (the sweeper is still broken!).

Thanks for checking in today. I think I feel my energy waning again; I just might be squashbuckled into bed again within the next five minutes. Whew! This burst of energy is short-lived! But if it comes back, I'll post my next story to you.

Just a greenhorn networker!

Today I was very busy preparing for a networking session I had just learned about aimed at business strategists, writers and inventors. I gotta start getting serious about my goal of becoming a published writer. No time like the present!

"How can I attend? I don't even have any name cards! What if...?"

Whether it was to show that my excuses for not attending or worries about being prepared once I got there were unfounded, my friend designed a simple but effective name card for me to pass out at the session. It contained only my name, profession, the link to my blog and my email address. My immediate goal was to promote my blog, since both my two books are very much works-in-progress. I made photocopies on card stock and cut them with a paper cutter so they would look fairly professional.

I had never networked before but I psyched myself up. Gone was the under confident, do-you-think-I-can-really-make-it-as-a-writer Amy. This new me had to believe that I already was one in order to sell myself! Apparently, there was to be a famous speaker at this event, and we had only half an hour to network. I would have to be efficient. The speaker seemed incidental to my goal of networking.

I arranged for transport to get to the event, then hurried to be ready to leave after a quick dinner. As I waited, thoughts assailed me. What if people avoid networking with me cause they think I can't see? What should I do? Maybe I shouldn't go after all.

"Of course you should go!" My friend sounded exasperated. "It's up to you to make others feel comfortable. Make small talk. That's how conversations open up."

My ride arrived and off I went.

Countdown to network: twenty minutes. Ten minutes. five minutes. 6:30! Time to mingle!

One glance around said that might be a challenge. There were so few people! I saw only five or six, total. The attendant offered to sign in for me but I assured her that I could see well enough to do that myself. I then proceeded to prove that I could by doing it.

Afterwards. the blond-haired woman guided me over to the water table and asked me kindly, "How can I help you? What do you need?"

I felt puzzled; I didn't 'need' anything, except to pour water from the pitcher and to begin networking.

"You will hear many people saying that to you tonight," she added.

My first thought was "I am perfectly capable of navigating myself through this networking session on my own, no worries."

It has only been two months since I have been using my cane. As a result, I am sensitive about my independence and what I can accomplish even though I have vision limitations. People don't know how much I can still see, and they don't ask. They often assume that I am completely blind and can do little or nothing by myself. This irks me.

But after the woman spoke to me a little bit more, I realized that the "How can I help you? What do you need?" are catch phrases designed to help people network more effectively and had nothing to do with my vision issues whatsoever! I smiled. I felt energized once more.

I have so much to learn! I'm just a greenhorn!

"Uh, I am a-a writer." I must attempt to sound more polished! Oh no, I even forgot to offer my name card-- though she promised to send me some information for copywriters. Next time, I'll get it right! As the woman sauntered off to ask another how she could help and what was needed, I prepared myself.

Networking, here I come! I squared my shoulders and set off for a group of three that I saw talking.I listened for awhile but then jumped in. "So you invented a game--?" I asked one of the women. She nodded and launched into a how-great-this-organization-is spiel. "And what about you two?" I asked warmly as I turned to the other two.

"I have a cleaning business." the other woman said.

"I'm just here to cart her purse," joked a silver-haired gentleman with a moustache.

"Do you have a card?" There! I got the words out just as I had been coached. As soon as I got hers, I could go ahead and offer the first of my own thirty-two cards. I could hardly wait!

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Do you need someone to clean your home?"

No! This is not the way it is supposed to work! You are supposed to offer it kindly with a smile on your face and ask for mine in return, or at least give me a chance to offer it!

She motioned to the silver-haired gentleman who stepped away from the group to fetch her coat. She fished into a pocket before returning the coat to her friend. "As a matter of a fact, I do." She handed it to me casually.

"Oh! I have one, too." I almost felt like I should present it in the Japanese way since this was a big deal for me. But I caught myself in time. Get a grip! You're not in Japan anymore!

The words were barely out of my mouth when the woman with the cleaning company suddenly left me standing alone. She rushed off to meet someone who I surmised would benefit her more. A few feet away, she turned as if just remembering our conversation "Excuse me, I see someone I know."

"Oh, have you been here--?" I was going to say before but she was long gone.

"Keep smiling, Amy!" I desperately tried to scope out someone--anyone else--to continue networking off my remaining thirty-one cards. Unfortunately, my time ran out. The regional director stepped up to the microphone. Everyone quickly took their seats. After a couple of minutes, she introduced the keynote speaker, a famous entrepreneur.

He was exciting and motivating - though some of his speech went over my head; the personal stories and entrepreneurial stuff seemed to blend together in one continuous blurb that everyone found very funny. I found myself missing key points. He did have a commanding presence, however.

Afterwards I had a chance to mentor with him briefly and he convinced me that I had the ability to not only write a book about my father but also a screenplay of his life! The speaker led another man to dream that he, too, could get published. After hearing about his talents, the speaker suggested that he write a practical book utilizing his psychological background. "Entitle it, 'We're All Nuts!' We are all nuts in one way or another. It's something we can all relate to. It'll be a best seller!" It was as if proclaiming made it true. Everyone clapped in delight.

To the fabulous baker in our midst, he gestured grandly, "Rename your business..." he looked in my direction as if to inspire himself, then snapped his fingers, "...to something like "The Gingerbread House." He then swept her off her feet with his enthusiastic marketing and branding possibilities. Our speaker encouraged the out-of-work business man who'd worked for big companies all his life only to be laid-off now just before retirement, "My company can get you networking with other companies. Tell them you want to be the chairman and demand five percent of the profits. We'll put your skills to good use!" The frown on the businessman's face turned to a smile and he began to nod in agreement as he saw himself in this new, much more positive role.

Our speaker was in the business of flaming our grandest hopes, much more so than we dared to envision on our own . He believed BIG. We each saw our dreams in vibrant technicolor as we entered the spotlight tonight. Very heady stuff!

But at the end of the night, my pocket still held thirty-one name cards and my pocketbook was void of the thousands of dollars I needed in order join this outfit to become the screenplay writer I was intended to be.

But it was a great experience! I'm one sweep of my cane closer to becoming the writer I want to be. Next time I won't be so green...maybe red in the face, but not green.

Oh Lord, I'm thankful that you showed me this opportunity and provided me with a friend that didn't allow me to back out when my fears threatened to overcome me.

The English Tea Set

One of the new genres I'm attempting to write now is the devotional. It's challenging for me because I'm used to using much more description. This is forcing me to focus on my message and keep my ideas concise (around 300 words). This story seemed to leap to the forefront of experiences I've had recently. The words were buzzing around my head til I finally wrote them out.

~ ~ ~ ~


"Talia with the tea set her Aunt Emily gave her for her birthday."

Devotional

“The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” Then Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” I Samuel 3:10

My niece, Rachel, stopped by to visit with her two-year-old, Talia, in tow. Talia found something new - an ornate shelf, which held several teapots from around the world. She spied one just her size, a miniature tea set from England. She picked up a teacup and drank some tea.

“Hey, she’s never done that before!” I exclaimed. “When did she become interested in teapots?”

“Her aunt Emily gave her a play set for her birthday last week!” Rachel laughed. She tried to still Talia’s hands, “Maybe we shouldn’t play with this one.”

“Oh, it’s okay, she can’t hurt it.” I assured.

Talia poured some imaginary tea and filled it with cream. The tea set looked very beautiful with its tiny rosebud pattern and of course, was very fragile. “You can’t find this in America,” I said.

A moment later, Talia broke a handle on the delicate creamer. “I’m sorry, Aunt Amy,” Rachel said, “Her fingers are too clumsy to handle this stuff.”

“It can be fixed, don’t worry.” But Rachel pulled her over and whispered something in her ear. Soon, Talia was chasing after the dog and forgot all about the tea set.

I, too, was clumsy recently and broke a budding relationship. I thought I could easily fix it, just like the handle on the creamer. But I was wrong. God, that relationship was also beautiful. Please whisper something in my ear to draw my attention away from the breakage. Speak to me, and I will listen.

Application: When your mistakes overwhelm you, listen to God’s voice and let Him refocus your desires.

Trusting The Master

I took a long walk down to the Boro park the other day. During the walk, I picked up leaves. I decided to take them home and flatten them under a big book, then make cards with them. As I bent over to look for good leaf specimens, I began to think about all the leaves along the path. It was kind of windy so I pulled up my hood and secured it. I could hear the wind moaning through the hundreds of trees along the banks surrounding the road. I looked up and saw that the wind was prying some leaves off and throwing them to the ground at that very moment.

This caused me to reflect on not only the leaves but our lives as well. "Trusting the Master"is the result is the result of my reflections that day.

It's as if we are leaves in God's palm. Oftentimes, we are at odds with letting go of the familiar. We almost have to be pried from the safety of our branches, limbs, and taken from the tree, which has been our home for a season...how much do we trust Him? How many emotions we go through on our flight off the stem! Do our deeper colors demonstrate our maturity ... or is it our size ... or speed in which we fly? Or is it how we land?

~ ~ ~ ~

"...because he himself (God) gives all men life and breath and everything else...He determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is never far. For in him we live and move and have our being." Acts 17:25-28, NIV.

Trusting the Master

Yellow-belly core
Hugging slender stems,
Unwilling to let loose--
Prying, tearing, lifting,
Filtered through His Hands.
Sailing, lunging, laughing,
Each unique acrobatic performance
Highlights the changing
Crimson-tipped free form
Cupped within His fingers,
Finally wafting to resettle.

Wherever it is that we land, may we never lose sight that God is the one who gives us life and breath, and it is His course that we spiral through during our lifetime.

Walking through the woods made me realize that I cannot chart my own path or determine how fast or slow I am to move, but I have to depend on God to guide me. I am lost in the wind without Him.

Poetry Tribute to Don Bovaird

I know nowadays a poem is not as esteemed if it rhymes, (that's considered passe) or if doesn't have a certain rhythm with the syllables. A poem this long should be free verse, I'm told from my critique circle. But I like it. It expresses what I feel my father's life stood for. There are a couple of lines I could tweek, but this is the story of my dad's life. So, I guess that makes it a story poem. It's light, and every bit true-to-form. I'd like to put it at the end of my book with a photo of my dad, his truck and his dog.

~ ~ ~ ~

My father lived as he saw fit, kind to all, giving bit by bit,
To his family and children, he seemed to never quit.
The land, his trees and cars were his favorite pastimes,
They made up his life and summed up his fast times;
Missy and Elmo with snoots to the wind brought him great pleasure,
In exchange for a doughnut, some pie, and the parades to treasure.
To children around town he offered rides and great tales,
To his customers, a chance to see Lake Erie and their boat sails;
He kept a family-run trade his kids often part ‘a the crew,
His wife did the accounts and answered calls as it grew.
A long-time tree squad made up of a bunch ‘a guys,
More like monkeys with fun and mischief to devise;
He built up the business with his know-how and two hands,
Some chainsaws, a few old trucks and a trailer of spray cans;
His trucks groaned onto the tree site, leaving a trail a’ oil stains
And a ground man with sawdust to cover or leave for the rains.
Soon Dad would drive up in a rickety truck to give an order or two,
Then chortle off with instructions for the other work crew.
I knew Dad would never retire; he’d simply inquire
Seek yet another goal to acquire and dream to inspire;
Unique and bold to ‘branch out’ on untried roads ahead,
From cutting down trees to stretching out cars with old tread;
A fun loving man to know with a great many stories to tell,
All around people would wave, or sit down for a spell;
From chasing a crook to putting out fire, or dispatching a call –
Just talk to my dad who seemed to have done it all!
He mapped each road and unmarked route in his head,
Assuming his guys’ local geography just as widespread.
An optimist to the end he always started a brand new trend,
It still seems as if ‘The Tree Man’ will appear just around the bend --
With a wave and a smile, perhaps a honk as a sign,
And that trademark black Lab with a bark from behind.

May 21, 2006