Lent - Day 3

Today I took a vacation day from work. I had awaken early and had a wondrous surprise:

Snowfall!

Considering it was warm enough to wear a sweater or sweatshirt with no jacket outside, this was indeed a pleasant surprise. We've had such a shortage of snowfall this year, that even those that hate shoveling miss it.

I harvested the last of my Farmville crops this morning to go into another hiatus from the addicting (and distracting) game. I then started to poke about the virtual farm, arranging and re-arranging things like a doll-house for grown ups. It wasn't until the fourth time the system crashed that I got a clue. There was something I was missing...

Outside lay a golden opportunity; one that was rare this winter. That was helping my neighbors shovel. How often have I allowed myself to be distracted and missed these golden opportunities?

One of the lessons I've learned earlier this morning points directly to this. I've been asked to stop multi-tasking while I am talking with people or working on something. I must admit, even my prayers would be done via multi-tasking, such as I would say grace while setting up to eat or say my morning prayers as I stumbled through the apartment half-asleep to the bathroom. Not very respectful. 

Not only is this how I miss many opportunities, I AM being disrespectful, to God, to Yeshua and to all others. I need to step away from the distractions and really start give 100% of my attention to what is around me, and who is around me, what they say and what they need. I may regret I can not stand before a full church and preach, nor even afford to go on mission trips. Yet there are countless opportunities to help so many people in my life - everyday.

Today begins with shoveling; I tugged on my snow boots and grabbed the shovel. Our steps and walkway, as well as those of our elderly neighbors, are now clear and liberally sprinkled with salt. My husband went out and cleared off the cars as well.

Who knows what else there may be when we set the computer and cell phone aside, shut off the radio and TV and just observe, just listen. 

It's a beautiful day.

I plan to make the most of it.

Carpe Diem. :D

Lent - Day 2

On Wednesday, I left some stuff to do at work. I promised I would get to work early Thursday and get them done before the boss got there. I left an hour early, but I didn't get there early.

Instead I was given an opportunity to help someone. On the walk to work, another woman walked up to me and asked directions to a place I haven't heard about before. She was on her way to work and had just gotten off the bus. She knew it was off this particular road. Unfortunately the road was a few short blocks down in one direction (which I knew well) and then stretched 16 miles (26 km) in the other direction.

After realizing we would not find the place talking about it and this woman may have to walk several miles to reach her destination. I offered to get my car and drive her. After all, I really didn't need to be at work for another hour.

We walked back to my apartment complex and got into my old Jeep. I joked about the rust spots and radio that doesn't play; she commented that I was fortunate to have a car at all. She takes the bus whenever she needs to get someplace. We drove all the way down the road and back, missing the turn at first pass. On the way, we pointed out the bus stop locations so we would know the closest one to her new workplace.

On the way back, though, she suddenly suggested I turn up another road. To our surprise, while we didn't find the road we needed, we found the public bus waiting between runs. In fact, it was the same bus driver that dropped her off. He scolded the woman for getting into the car with a stranger. She pointed out that until she got onto his bus that morning, he was a stranger too. So he conceded the point.

Upon hearing that we still could not find this place, he looked up directions on his cell phone and walked over to my Jeep to pass them onto me. I recognized the streets and turns and could figure out from there where this place was. Needless to say, she got to work on time, as well as I did.

There were three Good Samaritans that day. Not only did I help the woman, she helped me by giving me an opportunity to help another. Our mutual help also inspired the bus driver who could have simply said "No, I don't know," and closed the door in her face. Instead, he got out his phone to help us find this place.

One good deed does inspire others.

Lent - Day 1

I guess I'm off to a slow start with both Lent as well as the blog. I'll add a few posts this morning to "catch up" with the blog. Lent traditionally begins with Ash Wednesday. It also marks the start of my personal 40-day fast.

We planned to attend a 12:15 Mass where I would take a slightly longer lunch break from work and meet him at the Church. This old mare stumbled out of the starting gate. I had completely forgotten and ate a few pieces of bread and butter for breakfast, as well as a handful of peanuts late in the morning.

Then I heard a reminder over the radio, where they mentioned Ash Wednesday. I told myself I needed to remember to go to church. My alarm went off at Noon, but I continued to do what I was working on "to finish one more thing." That one thing became another, and another. Next thing I know, Mass is about to start and I was already late.

I called my husband as I dashed out the door. He was still at home, cooking lunch and as oblivious as I was that it was Ash Wednesday. We met at the church and walked in to Mass together.

While I was there, a thought had occurred to me. While I botched it the first few hours, there was still a long run ahead of me. This stumble is not the end; it's a greater challenge at the start.

And I am not alone; Yeshua (Jesus) is with me. I had a cute image shared, where Yeshua lifts up a younger sibling so they could reach the cookie jar high on the shelf. It's something a big brother would do for those He loves.

Where will Lent take me on the journey this year? I don't know. But with Yeshua at my side, it will be something wonderful.

Maybe there will be cookies too.

:D

Confession ~ Follow Up

This is a follow up to an earlier post where I realized the Lamb (Yeshua/Jesus) wants His Bride reconciled with the Church. I did go to Confession, but I have been remiss in sharing it.

I was still nervous that Saturday. I had prayed many times for guidance. It came via my husband. We talked a long time about why I have such a grudge against the Church. Unlike many who have been vocal against the Church, it's not the sex scandals with the Catholic priests. Some grudges have to do with the exclusion of women in the priesthood, perhaps dating back to my day when girls could not serve on the altar as they do now. But this morning, I have realized much of what I know of the Church stems from many years of Catholic school and a strict Catholic upbringing where I was forced to follow customs and observances with very little insight as to why they were done. I was simply told, because this is what we believe and what we do. Period. 

It's no wonder I rebelled and walked away once I reached adulthood.

When we got to church, I prayed again before getting in line. My husband jokingly whispered, "I hope there's nothing you will confess that I need to worry about." Immediately following his words there was a loud <BANG> that rumbled through the large speaker beside us. Perhaps it was a coincidence that someone had just activated the PA system or dropped a mic at that moment, but it was creepy. For when it occurred, my mind was thinking about one of the things I wanted to confess. It was something my husband would indeed worry about. I had inappropriate conversations with a man who was not my husband. Granted, I had realized my mistake, confessed to Yeshua directly and stopped that behavior.

When I got into line at the confessional, I wasn't quite sure of the procedure. Instead of a line along one wall, there was a cluster of people sitting or kneeling in the pews near the confessional lights: a white light and a red light. So, checking my growing nervousness, I asked one of the women sitting there if she was waiting for Confession or for the Mass which was to begin right after. When she admitted she was waiting for Confession, I mentioned that I wasn't too familiar with how things were done and - sheepishly - admitted it's been 23 years since my last Confession. She smiled broadly and said, "Wow! Welcome back!" and then went over some things I needed to know.

I was told I was lucky for this particular priest was "easy." I am still not sure if she meant that he was easy to talk to or didn't give strict penance after the confession. While this woman was my age, there was another young woman, perhaps 14 - 16 years of age, that overheard our conversation. She added what she knew of the process. She mentioned that she prefers the face-to-face confession.

Face-to-face???

We told her confessional experiences from the old days, including my last time. The priest would sit in a box the size of a very small coat closet, no bigger than the door in width and only deep enough for a small wooden seat and his legs. Those who went to confession would go behind a dark heavy curtain, through which all others in line could hear the whispers of your confession. The room behind the curtain was VERY dark, it was akin in size to the priest's box. There was a wooden or cushioned kneeler (place where one would kneel) on either side adjacent the priest's box. When the confessional was vacated, the next in line would enter, draw the curtain closed behind them and kneel in the dark facing a metal mesh screen with a wooden panel between the screen and the priest. Some had a candle or tiny electric light over the Act of Contrition prayer taped to the wall beside the metal screen. But the light was covered in such a way that the light only shone down directly on the words. The rest of the tiny room was pitch blackness.

 

There the penitent would wait. One could hear the whispers of the priest and the one currently confessing their sins on the other side of the priest. It could be a long wait or a very short one. You never knew. You could also hear the shuffle of impatient feet outside the curtain sometimes. You waited... Not knowing... Wondering... Trying to remember everything you came to confess...

Then there was a sudden scrape of wood against metal sliders as the priest slid open the window on your side. You did not see a face. If your eyes were good, you might make out a silhouette through the metal bars of the screen. But mostly it was a dark prison cell; you were essentially in hell.

Some priests listened in silence, which made it seem all the more disapproving of your presence and the things you said. Others would sigh or make *tsk tsk* noises at you. I guess these were to make one ashamed of their sins and turn the person away from such behavior. It made me loathe to go to Confession. I found much more love, acceptance and "You can do better; take hold of my hand, and you can go beyond this" from speaking directly with Yeshua.

But I was told by the elder woman, things are much different now. Before she went in, she jokingly added that she's glad that she's ahead of me: less time to wait. I smiled and thanked her for her help. When she came out I jokingly quipped, "You didn't have to rush on my account." She smiled and laughed.

Then it was my turn.

They had built the new confessional at this church about a decade ago to accommodate handicapped people. Instead of the tiny boxes along the wall of the church, this was a short hallway off the church, nice and wide for a wheelchair. At the start, there were the two lights mentioned above. Red for occupied; white for available. At the other end of the hallway, there was a door to the left and a large window to the right. This was a plain glass window that looked out on the bushes and lawn outside the church, it was comforting. I swallowed, took hold of the doorknob and opened the door.

The room was the size of my home office - it wasn't this tiny box that I expected at all. About two-thirds of the way down the room, there was this wall-type partition that went halfway across the width of the room. On my side of the wall, there was a modern kneeler and metal screen with a white cloth covering it to conceal the priest sitting behind it. There no longer was the whispered conversations, the priest was simply waiting for me alone. Instead of the dark room, all in the room was brightly lit where one could easily read. There was even flowers on either side of the kneeler. In the far corner, there was also a chair that one could sit in and face the priest. It looked comfortable, more as one would expect in a counselor's office rather than a confessional. 

I stood there for a moment, undecided what to do beyond simply closing the door behind me. Part of me wanted to bolt through the door and let the next one in instead. I don't know if the priest even realized I was still standing beside the door. He simply began the traditional prayer that started the confession ritual similar to when I was a small girl. Following tradition more than thought, I raced over the kneeler and knelt down. 

I started "Forgive me, Father, it has been 23 years since my last confession." I was about to recite all I was prepared to say, but I was interrupted. The priest actually started a conversation with me, starting with "Wow! Welcome back!" I smiled because that was the same response as the woman in line. 

Instead of sticking to the hidebound traditional confession, we actually started having a conversation. I told him why, after all this time, I decided to go back to confession. I mentioned that Yeshua - Jesus - wanted me to go back and reconcile with the Church. He didn't react as though this was strange. I mentioned some of the reasons I had grudges against the Church and the priest freely admitted the Church makes many mistakes in the 2,000 years it's been around. We are all human and not perfect.

I also mentioned that while I haven't been to confession at the church, I did confess directly to Yeshua. He was delighted that I continued to confess my sins and practice reconciliation in private at home. This surprised me and made me second-guess the concept the iron grasp of control the church wanted over people's lives. I also admitted to him that I've been stubborn and wrong to constantly hold on to these grudges over the years. It was in the past and I need to let go and move on, letting the grudges stay in the past. The priest admitted that in our lives, we all tend to think we have learned enough and want our independence, but years later we come back knowing there is still wisdom we can learn from our elders.

I did confess that I've lied as well as the other things I've regretted. Then it was time for the priest to determine what would be my penance. This was the part I dreaded. What would be the sentence handed down for all the years away from the church, for all the sins I have committed since then? He simply told me to gaze upon the cross at the front of church and tell Yeshua, "Thank you for your Love." What? That's it??? No litany of prayers. No 100 rounds of the rosary? (I even had my rosary beads with me.) Just 10 statements, that I am thankful for His Love?

When we wrapped things up and it was time for the final prayer, he asked if I wanted to say one of my own. But I guess I was still tradition bound and opted to read the age-old Act of Contrition of my youth. Though through it, I will admit, I was still pretty astounded with the simple request. Maybe I did get off easy... Too easy...

But then the  miraculous and beautiful moment came. Unexpected as it never before happened in Confession. There was a weight lifted from my heart / from my soul, that I did not even know was there. I had grown used to it. It was lifted as the priest said the closing blessing. I was released. Truly released of the past in a way I cannot describe. It was lightening and beautiful. This wasn't punishment, it was release, reconciliation -- true FORGIVENESS. The past was truly released and gone.

On the way out of the confessional, the women who helped me before gave me the thumbs up and I returned it with a smile. I even suspect that perhaps she said a prayer for me as well. Then I noted that my face was wet. I was crying.

Since then, I admit I have lied (twice), around the Valentine mystery discussed in this post. I have also let a bit of laziness get the better of my actions. But for the most part, I'm doing OK. I'm still learning to get over the past grudges, but the dam of resistance is now cracked and crumbling. I also feel so very free.

Released of the past,

I can make a better future.

Love the Werewolves

For some reason, when someone asks me to interpret a dream, they swallow all I have to say whole and keep coming back for every dream they remember. I tell people, repeatedly, "My name is not Joseph, and I don't own a multicolored coat. The simple truth is, I do not receive any divine insight into dreams, not at least the way it is believed. As I have mentioned before, I have a lot of vivid dreams. I also have a lot of practice sitting down and analyzing what I dream to learn both how my mind is processing stuff from my life as well as whatever lessons may be presented to me in those dreams. Yes, I do believe there have been many dreams with a touch of the divine. The better I know a person, the better I can see how events from their own life have been processed while they sleep. There is no whispering voice in my mind that tells me what those dreams mean. In this blogpost, I intend to go through the last of my dreams last night in hopes I show my readers the process I go through.

I will start with the opening scene, go through the events in detail and then do the analysis. Keep in mind, my dreams - while they can be detailed - also make very little sense in this existence. But dreams are not supposed to make sense except in the dream. That is one of their characteristics.

I am walking along the tree-bordered edge of a field. Behind me there is the old re-creation village from the early 1800's; it is closed so no one is around. Through the trees, I see these tall creatures with dark-brown matted fur. Yes, just like the images of Yetti, Big Foot and Sasquatch. The fingers have yellowed darkened fingernails, hardened like claws. They also have sharp teeth akin to wolves with a hint of a muzzle, though more man-faced than wolf. The eyes, though are very human.

I pointed some laser-type gun toward them, where I got the gun I have no clue. I didn't have it a moment ago. They put up their hands in the universal gesture of "I surrender" and step out of the woods. The leader of the group of five speaks to me in English. I did not hear what he said as through the laser gun's sighting (which I don't recall looking through) I spy between the group a distant sighting of the REAL one. My mind had already determined these were locals in costumes trying to keep a legend going and keep visitors entertained.

I tell the others what I had seen and they take off their masks and turn around, searching the woods with me. We do not find the creature again, and I need to give up my hunt to turn the five pranksters in to the authorities; it is my job after all.

The dream shifts to the front of some small-city type courthouse, where there are three-story buildings all around the Main Street of this town and we are standing before a two-story building with huge granite columns and marble facade. My "prisoners" are penitent, asking for me to overlook the prank. They will not do it again. I admit, it was amusing, but the law is the law. I need to turn them in. We walk up the stone steps and enter the building.

As I walk through the doorway, I am no longer entering a courthouse but a church. Before me is a large room, with the cross and altar on the opposite end and countless rows of pews. The men I was escorting in had vanished; I was alone as I walked up the aisle. Unlike many churches I've seen, this one was packed with people. There was no where to sit except at the very front of the church. There was only one space, on the right side of the main aisle in the first row. Resigned, I quietly sit down, clearly aware that every eye in the place is on me. The church services had not started, nor was there anyone on the altar at the moment. But for some reason, I quickly became aware, I was the reason everyone was here. This was MY trial.

The prosecutor "took the stand" as he read a list of accusations from the podium where the gospel and other biblical passages are read. I realize with sinking demise that everything the man was saying was absolutely true. I HAD done all those terrible things. Then he asked others to testify to what they had witnessed. One after the other, people were standing up and casting their accusations about things I had done wrong or not done as I should. Worse, these were elaborated and blown way out of proportion. But all the other people there nodded in complete agreement. I was sinking in a pit of despair as my stomach started to churn.

Then there is a commotion just outside the main doors. A moment later the costumed men burst into the back of the room, stopping the string of accusations and calling all attention to them. Then I realized, these were not the costumes, these were the real deal. Police had followed these creatures in and had wrestled them into some element of control with an officer on either side of them. But that was not good enough, apparently.

I leapt from the pew and ran down the aisle toward them. The only weapon I had on hand were these green plastic toothpicks in the shape of tiny sabre swords. I started flinging them one by one into the nearest of these creatures that were clearly more werewolf than Sasquatch. Unlike the one I spied in the woods, these clearly had the wolf muzzle, wolf eyes and drooling mouth as the tongue hung out the side of an impressive set of sharp teeth. The tiny toothpicks stuck straight out of their thick hide, not even making an impression except to further enrage the creature. I switched tactics and aimed for the genitals. The toothpicks "pinged" off the nether region as though it had hit metal with metal. My mind thought, "They must be wearing a metal cup under there" and thought of another tactic.

Then, as the saying goes, "the light went on." I got a flash of divine inspiration of what I REALLY needed to do in this situation. I dropped the toothpicks and walked quickly up to the first of the werewolves. I firmly but gently placed my hands on either side of the face, well aware of the heat from his breath and close proximity to canines that could rip my throat out. And I simply LOVED the creature. I forgave everything he had done and just poured loving thoughts from my mind toward him. The creature paused, closed its mouth and began to change. Within a minute, there was a man standing before me once again. The costume was still there, but there was a human head and human eyes looking back at me. There were tears in his eyes; he knew he was forgiven.

Then I went over to the next snarling werewolf and did the same. The dream ended.

I'm sure many of my readers can pick up on the main lesson here. If one does not forgive others, one is not forgiven. Then there are the secondary lessons. 

First, "don't judge a book by it's cover." Don't assume one is the enemy when they appear to you as such. Often the enemy has become a faceless monster in our perspective. But there is still just a person as human as you and I underneath the mask we place before our eyes.Yet all too often our egos, as well as many standing at the pulpit, will tell us it's our responsibility to see the sin in others, accuse them "justly" or "rightfully" and turn them over to be punished. I have sadly seen many take delight in looking forward to watching others burn in the fires of hell. How horrible! But even my own ego thinks along these lines. "The law is the law" has been used to justify many tragic and horrible things in this world. Yet, what will be the result of these actions? They lead to our own trial... in this world or the next.

Second, don't be so ready to "jump on the band wagon." Don't be so ready to go with the mob's thought, that there is an enemy and we MUST attack it. This is EXACTLY what I had done by running up and attacking the werewolf, even AFTER it was obvious others had the situation in control. A good reason NOT to go with the mob-thinking; it can just as easily turn on you, as I witnessed in the church. Worse, many people are out there that WILL turn toward a common "enemy" in order to avoid people from seeing their own faults. These speak louder and act bolder than the rest. As you can see, I am no exception to these thoughts.

Third, to attack an enemy in the ways this world taught us - with swords, bombs, and other tools of war - only pisses off another. Why do you think my only weapon was little toothpick swords? They are completely futile as a "holy war." It does not make a better world. Love and forgiveness makes a better world. It changes our perspective from seeing others as an enemy to seeing them as a brother and sister.

Then the monsters fade from our sight and all are given a chance to start again. It is no wonder the revelation took place in a church.

Forum

I took a break from reading the 100-page instruction booklet in filing US taxes for the year. (This does not include the State filing, which is twice as long and twice as complex. :P) During the break, for some reason I pulled up a website I had bookmarked last June, when a friend asked me something about it.

As I read through the conversations on the forum site, it became clear to me how an ego can become rapidly inflated online, and how talking about oneself can lead to the distraction of the point one wished to make.

When I went to close the page, a new post on the forum sight caught my eye. The thread started as:

Christians, if I decide to believe in Jesus, must I also believe in Satan, angels and demons in order to assure my place in heaven?

Will I be accepted by Christians as a Christian if I believe as John 3:16 requires, or must I also believe in Satan, angels, demons and hell? I don't believe in hell, I don't think a loving God would make such a place and I don't think he'd send me there if he truly loved me as much as Christians say he does. So if I believe in Jesus, but not hell, will I still go to heaven? What if I reject belief in Satan, angels and demons? Can't I still go to heaven with just a pure and simple belief in God and that He loved me and sent his Son to forgive my sins? If no, then how many extra requirements are there for me to be really saved?

Others had already started to reply and I read the response from the original poster to one: 

I don't believe in the whole bible. I do absolutely believe in God, beyond all doubt. I had believed in Jesus beyond a reasonable doubt. But, in the past several months, I have been reading that the story of Jesus was going around the Mediterranean for a thousand years before Jesus was born. I have read the stories of others who have the characteristics of Jesus and so my belief in Jesus dropped from beyond a reasonable doubt to a possibility. I can't fathom that God would love me as much as John 3:16, but then if happenstance results in my death one minute before believing in Jesus, that God would then send me to eternal damnation. I wouldn't do that with my kids. So, what I am saying is that I have changed. I no longer believe in men, churches, or the bible, but I do see the common story of Jesus, whether he was Krishna or someone else, I think it is reasonable for God to send a special messenger. So, with my loss in faith of a real Jesus to this minimal level, and my complete loss of faith that there is a hell or a Satan, is that minimal belief sufficient for salvation? In other words, what are the absolute minimum requirements to be saved as a Christian?

For some reason, something inside me wanted to respond. Given I had just received a reinforcement lesson in how the ego gets in the way, I set aside the laptop and prayed over it before I responded. Many fellow Christians may not agree with what I said or how I said it, but I did share this with love:

I wonder if there are two questions you ask here. First you ask what is needed to be accepted as a Christian by other Christians. You will have many answers from many different people. Then you ask what is the absolute minimum requirements to be saved. The first asks what you need to convince others; the later asks what you need to do for your own personal salvation.

I will try to answer the second question to the best of my ability, and as I understand it. "Christian" simply means one who follows the Christ, or more specifically His teachings. This applies regardless if you call Him Yeshua, Yehoshua, Iosus, Jesus, Isa, or many other names the world has given him over the millenia. ("Christ" is from the Hebrew word "Messiah.")

The same question you pose above was asked of Yeshua / Jesus. His answer was a simple one: Love God & Love each other. In doing so, we also follow the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have done to you & do not do unto others that which you don't want done to you. Simplified: Help others & do no harm. The other aspect many forget but is a key point in the Lord's Prayer that He taught: Forgive one another.

If you do these things, I would consider you as a follower of Christ, a Christian. "By their fruits, you shall know them. A good tree does not produce bad fruit, nor does a bad tree produce good fruit." I would consider Gandhi a Christian, though he was a Hindu in the eyes of humanity. He lived life as Yeshua / Jesus taught we should, and even studied His teachings. One of his quotes is a favorite of mine: "I like your Christ; I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."

In sum, accept God's Love and love all others (friends, family, enemies and even strangers). Forgive and you shall be forgiven. Hold no grudges and you are free.

Even Thomas had doubts and was given an opportunity to see. Why would Yeshua / Jesus not give the same opportunity to those who have never seen Him face-to-face?

Continue to love and forgive others, and you will see your Faith and understanding grow, even in ways you have yet to conceive. :D

Peace and blessings to you. :D

Apparently, she took my assessment to heart. Her parting words to the thread were: 

Thanks "Just Me". That statement of yours is peaceful to me. I accept your answer as logical and consistent with what I know of God and Jesus. I am going with that. Post closed as far as I am concerned.

Now I have an internal debate I must face. Did I do the right thing? Was I placating her, leading her away from my dear Brother Yeshua, or was I leading her back to His loving arms? 

Yes, there is a narrow path indeed. I am plagued with doubts on one side and trying to keep a rein on my ego on the other. One thing that Yeshua has taught me does help with this, though. I know more in how to read my emotions. If I am calm, my thoughts are correct. If I am anxious, fearful or despairing, I've cut myself from Him and God. Well, not so much "cut" but a temporary disconnect that can be rapidly re-established faster than a redial. It's just a matter of putting aside my incorrect perception and asking the Spirit within, "What is the right way to see this?"

Doing so in this case, I discover much of my doubts are from too many years under the doctrines of the Church. Things must be done a certain way and a list of rules must be obeyed. But my statement above is the Truth. Keep it simple.

Love God

Love Each Other

Forgive 

Heaven From the Outside

As I mentioned God's Hill in my last post, I thought to share this story too. It is a true event, taken directly from my journal as I had written it down at the time. Please note, this is typed as written, and was not polished.

_________________________________________________________

April 20, 1987 

I sit outside in the sunshine on this warm spring day. I watch the sun sink slowly below the horizon from the top of a steep hill. I look into the sky where the clouds camouflage themselves to match the sunset. Tonight, one cloud suspends over the sun.

The bottom of this cumulus cloud takes on no other color I've seen before: pink. But so soft a pink it looks like cotton candy, but not sticky. I guess it would be more like cotton then.

Then the tremendous view rose from there. Around the outside edges of the cloud, there is a billowing formation soft and cottony like. But the center wasn't defined as the edges. The center was blended together smoothly. It varied in colors that we[re] constantly swirling. I saw greens, blues, purples, pinks, reds, yellows, oranges, browns, and white. But there was no black. No darkness existed whatsoever within that cloud. If I watched the center for a few minutes I began to see things. Places that I'd never think I would see, but places that I wanted to see so much.

Someone came up from behind me and sat down beside me on the hill. He looked at me and at the cloud I was watching. The cloud that was beyond my description, because it was so beautiful. Then, this person pointed at the cloud and remarked about its beauty. I nodded still looking at the cloud. Then the person told me that what the sight was wasn't just a cloud, but the outside of Heaven. I turned around to look at this person, but he was nowhere in sight now. Strange. Then I turned my eyes back toward the sky to see the last of the cloud fading into nothing.

Next, I thought of the cloud and what the person had said. Then, I though to myself if that was what Heaven was like on the outside. It must be unimaginable on the inside.

________________________________________________________________

To this day, I still don't know who that person was. It could have been Yeshua (Jesus), an angel, or just another human speaking with a young teen who was awestruck and memorized by the sight. I have seen many others beautiful sights since then. But no one has since told me I was gazing on the outside of Heaven.

But it still remains true, Heaven must hold unimaginable beauty inside. :D

What's in a Name?

This post is simply feeling out experiences in my life with a sense of wonder. I am starting to see God's hand in an ever-growing pattern of my life. I have little doubt there are similar evidence in other's lives when one looks for it. In this post, I will review names in particular.

I was born in raised in a town on Long Island, an island (a long island, in fact) just off of New York City. In fact, half the island's population is within New York City's borders (Queens and Brooklyn (formerly "Kings")). Just looking at those two names, "Queens" and "Kings," echoes something: We are all Children of God, so in essence, we all bear royal lineage. In biblical prophecies, it is also mentioned that Yeshua (Jesus) will share His throne with us. I hope my readers note, both "Queens" and "Kings" are plural - there is more than one.

Interesting to note, however, Manhattan, was the name the Native Americans (American Indians) gave the main island of New York City. Manhattan was their word for "Hellgate"...

Narrowing down the geography a bit, I was born and raised in a town called "Plainview." The name is a simple compilation of two words "plain" and "view." Perhaps this indicates I will gain a plain - or clear - view of life. I will be able to see things more clearly and understand things a lot better. 

When I was nine, we moved to the other side of town. This home perched upon the second-highest hilltop on the island. One could literally have a view of what was once the grass plains, stretching as far as New York City, about 50 miles (80.5 kilometers) away. So, yes, that is the given origin of the town's name.

But the town had another name; the Dutch settlers (1648) called that area "Mannatto (later Manetto) Hill." Mannatto is a translation of the Native American name "Manitou," which is their word for God or Great Spirit. So from the age of nine, I lived and grew up on "God's Hill." This is also when I first became aware of things most people could not see or hear. I wasn't completely alone in these talents, so I was fortunate to have a pair of others who could help confirm what I see and hear during those years. Some experiences were quite beautiful; others were quite hair-raising and horrific. But I digress.

There is a beautiful story about Manitou Hill I would like to share with my readers. Before Europeans settled on Long Island, the island had a vast grassland where the tribes hunted bison, deer and other game as well as planted their crops. One year, there was a great drought and all the "kettle ponds" left behind from the ice age dried out. With salt-water from the Atlantic surrounding the island, there was no fresh drinking water to be found.

So the People went to Manitou Hill to pray to God and ask for help. The shaman climbed the hill while the rest of the People waited at the foot of the hill; the hill itself was a sacred place. There, the Great Spirit (God) communicated with the shaman and told him what needed to be done so the People would have drinking water. The shaman told the chief, "Shoot an arrow into the air. Where it falls, dig." Without question, the chief did just that. They dug into the ground where the arrow fell and within the first few handfuls, water began to seep up out of the ground. This was the first discovery of the underground aquifers that to this day provides water to literally millions of people on Long Island.

Since leaving Long Island, I have lived in many different towns and States. Currently, though, I reside in yet another significant place-name. Glastonbury has roots in both Celtic and Christian legends. It's a place where Beltane is still celebrated today, as well as where many legends place the Holy Grail.

Then there is the name I carry with me: Tara, my given name at birth. It is an Irish version of Teresa, which echoes the names of both Mother Theresa (who is both an inspiration and great source of quotes for me) and St. Teresa, who experienced the Love of God in a passionate ecstasy.

Tara is also a strong name itself. It represents crag towers or strongholds in Ireland. The Hill of Tara (a connection to Manitou Hill), is the place where the great High Kings of Ireland ruled. This, like the town in which I currently reside, also connects to my Celtic ancestry.

Tara is also the name of a goddess/divinity - not one, but two.

In Buddhism, Tara is a female version of Buddha, known as the "mother of liberation" and represents virtues of success in work and achievements. Tara is also a tantric mediation deity to develop compassion and emptiness, which interestingly connects to BOTH Mother Teresa and St. Teresa.

In Hinduism, Tara is a goddess whose name means "star" and is second of the Great Wisdom Goddesses. Interestingly, I named my other blog "Evening Star Aglow" where I use the signature, "~ESA." One reader connected that to "Esa," which is also "Isa." "Esa/Isa" is the Arabian name for Yeshua, who is also known as "Jesus," as it appears in the Koran/Qur'an. Yeshua is also known as the Morning Star.

The Hindu Tara is seen as the "absolute, unquenchable hunger that propels all life." There are many images of Tara nursing Shiva.

However, there are also many similarities between the Hindu Tara and Kali. Most disturbing are descriptions of Tara wearing a necklace of severed human heads with blood oozing from her mouth. (Ick!) No, that is definitely not like me. I abhor blood sacrifices and find them both repulsive and sad, even if my Celtic ancestors practiced those sacrifices on the Hill of Tara...

There is another place named Tara that has some popularity - the estate "Tara" from the Movie Gone with the Wind. It was a setting in the American Civil War which was once a great plantation that fell into disrepair and despair when the South lost the war. The main character, Scarlet, resided there and it was at Tara that she made her stand and rose from the ashes of the dying south to redefine her life. Not only was this a popular movie when it came out in the late 1960's (when I was born), it also seems a fitting for 2012. Many predict the world will end this year, or at least the world as we know it. In 2011, we have seen many changes around the world, from natural disasters (Haiti, Japan and Iceland's volcano), to changes in governments (Egypt and others). What will 2012 bring? I don't know, but no matter what happens, I plan to survive as long as I can, rising from the ashes of the world that was into a world that will be.

In addition to my birth-name, I do use my Confirmation name, Mary, as part of my full name. I've always felt close to Mary (Marium), the mother of Yeshua. My family attended Mass at Our Lady of Mercy Church. I went to Our Lady of Mercy for grade school, then Our Lady of Mercy Academy for High School. For a time, I wondered if the "calling" I was receiving (as the Sisters of Mercy called it) was for me to become a nun. Obviously I did not and realized God has other plans for me. Yet, Mercy is still a big aspect of my life and personality. Mary continues to be an inspiration. I still say the rosary from time-to-time. Also, I've learned today that some of Mary's titles include, "Bride of Christ," "Bride of Heaven" and "Bride of the Father." I know the first is true, as we are all (together as one) the Bride of Christ.

As a final note, I'd like to review the names of some of my family members. My mother's father was named Emmanuel. Yes, as in "God is with us." No joke! He was a Polish descent and apparently it is not that unusual a name. But I smile each time I hear the angel in the Nativity story say, "He shall be called Emmanuel, for God is with you."

My own father was "James Joseph." Joseph, or Yoseph, was the father in Yeshua's life on Earth. James is Yeshua's brother: "James, the brother of Jesus." It is also the name of my brother, my nephew, my great-uncle and his father. The name ended up skipping sideways in a generation, as my father's uncle died childless in Pearl Harbor during World War II.

My other brother's name is Daniel, another strong biblical name. He certainly had lions to contend with in his life. Yeshua is also known as "the lion" as well.

While my sister's name, Patricia, is a feminine version of the Saint Patrick who brought Christianity to Ireland, one of my pen names is "Brigid." I used that pen name before learning that Saint Brigid also brought Christianity to Ireland. Though, unlike Patrick, Brigid is also the Celtic goddess of poetry; my tweets as @JesusSister are poetical rhymes. The name "Brigid" is also a derivative of the word "Bride." While the Celtic Brigid may  be "bride," Saint Brigid was a wet-nurse. One of the legends of Saint Brigid claims she went back 500 years to suckle the new-born Christ Child. This is an interesting parallel to the Hindu Tara, who suckled Shiva. 

I know this particular post seems to have a whole lot of pointless rambling. To me, it teaches me two things. (1) There are many things interconnected in this world and in our lives. And (2) God is part of the weave and can use these musing to show how much (S)He cares and is part of our lives too.

Valentine Update

This is a quick update from the White Lie post. For Valentine's Day, I taped flowers and an anonymous note to the office doors for some who did not have a Valentine to share the holiday. While I did initially lie, I have been a bit more disciplined and have not lied again, though I am still letting others believe it was not me.

It's getting interesting; they keep trying to figure out who it was. AND they have been nicer to a lot of people. This is not to say that they were not nice and kind-hearted before. But I've noted more smiles, more joy and fewer snippy comments behind a person's back. They don't know who the kindness was from, so they are being nicer - and thinking better - of everyone with whom they are in contact. For all they know, any of those people could be the mysterious valentine.

In truth, is this not how we are called to act in general? Do unto others. More important: Whatsoever you do to even the least of these, you do unto Me ~ Jesus/Yeshua. So, in a way, this Valentine mischief has not only led to some small smiles earlier this week, it continues to extend... like ripples on the surface of a pond.

Paperclips

Though my bloodline makes me an American-European mutt, I grew up with a strong Irish-American background. We reveled in the gift to tell stories, elaborate and exaggerate events and, as Mark Twain once quipped, "never let the truth get in the way of a good story." After four decades of this, lying had become second-nature, and I discovered I was astute at it. Sadly, this was a talent that was not only praised but celebrated in my family. :(

A few years ago, I reached a point where I wanted to improve myself - Spiritually and morally. I had to face the fact: LYING HAD TO STOP. It was hard. I tried and failed and tried again so many, many times. I was practically convinced that it was impossible to change, as I was so set in my ways.

A fellow co-worker at the time was in Weight Watchers (diet group) and told me how hard it was for her to change her eating habits. Then she took out this string of five colored paperclips. She told me that each paperclip represented a pound that she had lost on the plan. Every week she gets evaluated and paperclips are either added or removed, depending on how well she is doing. Anytime she starts to cave in to the temptation of food, hunger and lifestyle pattern she pulls out these paperclips and reminds herself, "I've come this far. I will not blow it by giving into temptation now." The longer the chain, the greater her desire to fight the temptation.

I used this to help me.

I started simple. For every day that I didn't tell a lie, I would add a paperclip. I didn't carry them around. I hung them from a push-pin in the wall right next to my laptop screen at the office. Work was where I was frequently tempted to lie. For example, I would lie to my boss about why the work wasn't done, as I chatted, tweeted, watched videos, etc. instead of doing my work first as I should. You can see how lies progressed into something even larger. So that is where I needed my reminders the most. As an added incentive, the place I chose to start the chain was beside an image of Yeshua (Jesus) that I have on my office wall.

Day-by-day, I progressed. Days I lied, I removed one paperclip. Days I went through without a lie, I added one. There were stretches when the paperclip I added on the wall in the morning was gone before quitting time. But little-by-little, through persistence and prayer, I managed to have that chain grow. It was beautiful! And what my co-worker said was true. The longer the chain, the more incentive I had NOT to lie. I even found that I would go back to my boss after the lie and admit that I lied, apologized, and then did my work as I should.

One day, I found the chain was nearly to the floor. Then I upped the challenge. I would continue to add a paperclip (looping it if I have to) for each day I managed to not tell a lie, but I would remove ALL paperclips if I lied. The first time I lied after that point was tragic. I cannot describe the pain and shame as I went paperclip-by-paperclip unhooking that wonderfully long chain and putting the paperclips back in the container. I felt like an utter failure.

But I began again. One paperclip. One day. Another, and the chain grew again.

After several weeks of this, I switched to one paperclip for each week. This made things even harder. For one lie would destroy weeks of work! The chain hanging beside Christ's image kept me strong as I struggled each day not to lie. And when I messed up and did lie, I wept as I dismantled that chain.

Months came and went and new calendars were hung on that wall as the years changed. Eventually I no longer needed the paperclip chain. They are forever engraved in my mind. Every time I find a lie slip through my lips I cringe. Sometimes I cry. I am not perfect. I ask forgiveness and begin again each and every time. But I have been able to keep lies from me as much as I possibly can. In fact, it's now painful for me to intentionally lie. So I don't.

What else can I now change in my life?
One paperclip at a time.
And begin again.

White Lie?

There is an expression, "It's just a little white lie." This is used to indicate some admission that it is a lie, but apparently one that does little or no harm. Some would argue a lie is a lie. The law in the "Big 10" (Ten Commandments) is that we are not to bear any false witness (lie) against our neighbor. Originally I understood that to mean strictly along the lines of the hypocritical oath: do no harm. Then I discovered I can be quite good at lying, using more lies to cover up laziness, work missed due to addictions (see prior post) and other words used to get out of trouble that my actions have justifiably brought me. So I drew the line at "tell no lies - period."

I must confess that I have lied this week - several times on the same question. I am torn. The lies have produced good, but at the same time - I lied.

The day before Valentine's Day, I had purchased a bunch of mini-roses and had hung a small bouquet on each door for some women that work in the building that I know had no one to share valentine's day. Even their children were grown up and had sweethearts of their own. With each, I had also taped a note printed with the computer that read, "On this Valentine's Day, please remember..." on the outside. Inside, the little note card read, "You are a Blessing. And you are very Loved."

It was a simple, sweet, heartfelt sentiment left anonymously. I had also left one on my door as a deterrent from them guessing it was me.

The next morning, my husband surprised me with an assortment of balloon hearts, balloon flowers (plus real ones) and some fresh-baked cookies that were on my "safe" list of things I could eat with interstitial cystitis. Full of pride and joy at his creative creations, I brought some to the office to share with co-workers, including the ladies whom received the flowers. I had an early morning meeting offsite, so I arrived well after they did in the morning, arms full of balloon hearts and a plateful of sugar cookies. 

They asked if I knew who left the flowers. I lied and told them I did not...

One tried to sleuth out the mystery "cupid." She assumed it was one of the men down the hall. This pleased me. While that particular guy is kind-hearted, sometimes he says or does something that would rub someone the wrong way. I thought it best to let them believe that the flowers were from him, as it would help build relations in a positive way.

Yesterday, one of the ladies went up to the guy and gave him a big hug, thanking him for the flowers. He didn't know what she was talking about, but thanked her for the hug all the same. He's been lonely too...

So they continue to wonder who the mystery-giver is, and once again asked if I knew who it was. Once again, I had lied. Worse, I hinted that it may have been my boss, who was "in the area the night before." IRK! Why did I say that???

As you can see, one lie leads very quickly and easily to another, even when I am trying to do some good in this world. At this point, I can see two points to choose. Either I admit I was the mystery-giver, which ruins the "not letting one hand know what the other is doing." Or I determine ahead of time some way not to admit knowing while not speaking a falsehood.

Oh, what a twisted web we weave

While we try to deceive

Maybe telling the truth is the best path forward. I need to make a decision soon. The boss returns on Friday afternoon and I am sure the women will be asking questions then. 

At this point, all I can see in my mind is ... paperclips (see next blogpost).

Shield

This week, I returned from my gaming break on Farmville, though I am still on hiatus from Twitter. I will admit, it's an addiction. There is no "if" or "but" I should add here; I want to be completely honest. I enjoy it. It feeds my need for creativity, compulsive need to have everything in order, and need to socialize. Plus, I feel helpful when I click on a person's help requests to "send" them items they need for a game quest.

But in the "real world" is this really helping them? I don't know; other than perhaps the feeling that someone does care (some never experience the lack of this), I don't see any real good other than I personally enjoy playing the game. However, it does detract from my real life responsibilities, including work.

Yesterday morning, I played right through the time I was scheduled to arrive at work. My boss - fortunately - allows flexibility in my job, but this is no excuse. I simply did not want to get out of my comfortable flannels, get dressed and go to work. I wanted to stay home all day and play the game. As I said, I'm an addict. :(

After arriving almost a half-hour late, I discovered a voice-mail from the boss who was traveling on business this week. He reminded me that the task he assigned weeks ago had not been done. The deadline was yesterday. I had forgotten about it; the paperwork was buried on my desk under the health and dental benefits renewal paperwork I still needed to go through for the meetings next week so we could determine the company benefits starting in April.

I told myself I'd deal with it as soon as I get my tea.

It doesn't help that I cannot turn to another addiction of mine: coffee. With interstitial cystitis, I had to give up ALL forms of caffeine: coffee, tea and chocolate. Even decaf has some amount of caffeine. I also cannot have anything with fruit or citrus, thus anything from hot apple cider to herbal teas that have orange peel or lemongrass are out. If you read all the herbal tea ingredients, like I had to, you will discover there are only two hot beverages I am allowed for this condition: peppermint leaves (only!) and camomile (only!). I have found peppermint tea is too sweet as a first-beverage of the day and irritable to my stomach. So that leaves camomile. For those who have never tried camomile tea, it doesn't help one feel more awake and alert. In fact, it has the complete opposite effect, even loaded with sugar and milk. 

So while my mind grumbled that this is the perfect example why I need coffee in the morning, I also got the overwhelming sensation that I wanted to ignore the tasks that needed to be done and just play more Farmville. The two addictions hit me like a vice. My head literally started to whirl as I felt I was drowning and out of control in my life...

I reached out to Yeshua (Jesus), hoping to get at least a sympathetic ear for my troubles. I needed to be strong to fight addictions and focus on getting my job done. I felt like one leg was clamped in a steel bear-trap while a steam-roller was bearing down on me. I didn't have the strength I needed to fight these addictions.

He pointed out that, yes, I didn't have the strength. But I didn't need to have the strength. I could use His strength, and He had more than enough for this.

I've tried this before, many times. Sometimes it worked for me and I felt stronger and able to accomplish what I needed. Other times, I felt as though I was racing up a hill covered inches deep in warm margarine, achieving more backsliding than any forward progress and pointlessly "spinning my wheels."

Yesterday was a spinning-wheel type of day. The desires, the pile of work on my desk, the need for caffeine, all seemed to overwhelm me so my mind would not focus on Yeshua as I needed. I was on the verge of tears...

He told me to sit down and just listen a minute. I did - right on the floor of our small company kitchen. Fortunately, no one else walked into the back office where our kitchen is to find me there.

Then Yeshua tried a new tactic to help my mind focus better on what we were trying to accomplish together. He told me to use Him as a shield. I knew He was strong enough, but I couldn't wrap my mind around how to use His strength. So He introduced the new concept into my mind to use Him as a shield from the addictions, from the feeling of being overwhelmed by the workload,... from everything.

Just that: let Him be my shield.

 

It actually WORKED!

Immediately, I was calmer, more focused and - in hindsight - much more alert than I've been in days. 

My mind was so focused that I was able to accomplish ALL the work I needed to do by 2pm (starting at 9am, an hour later than normal). I was able to leave 45 minutes later for a doctor's visit without having to take work home with me. I was able to take breaks through the day, as well, to harvest my farm at the necessary times. I had a balance between work and fun for which I am sincerely thankful!

I also know that whatever is given to me is offered to all, including all my readers. While I do hear Yeshua, I am still learning in this life. That which is shared with me is also to be shared with all.  This is what Yeshua wants. Let Him be your strength & your shield too.

It is only together that we will find our way into the loving arms of the Bridegroom...