Walk Through the Door

Mr. Jade--He Looks Innocent, but He Started it All

Revelation 3:20 NIV

"Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me."

Bandit is sleek. Black with white markings. Thin and fast. She's smarter than all of us put together and doesn't trust us any further than she can see us. She wears a white mask to conceal her identity, but we can see her hiding from us as she shakes in her corner. She wants to be with us but stays on the outskirts of our life.

Tonight's challenge is to catch her. So far, we have lost.

I spotted fleas on Mr. Jade, so he received the first flea treatment. His little sister, Precious, the gullible one, was easy to sweet-talk to her treatment. 

We put the two cats in the garage and then tried to corral Bandit. Allison is the only one who has luck with her. Poor cat had some kind of trauma the first few months of her life before we found her at the vet's, and she has never taken to being touched by people. 

She will sit near us, but she won't interact with us. She just wants to observe us and feel like a part of us. She is a cat's cat and enjoys socializing with the others who look out for their psychotic sister.

Now we try to lure her with her favorite beverage--tuna juice. The other cats are confused about why she gets all the juice. They don't understand the trick. Unfortunately, she does. She doesn't take the bait. Another victory for Bandit. 

If we don't catch her tonight, she may inherit all the fleas from her brother and sister. An old cartoon from my childhood flashes across my mind: Flea families pack their bags, hop off one animal one-by-one and look for a more suitable animal to move to.

Poor Bandit. She's about to become Daytona Beach during Bikers Week or the French Riviera in June for refugee flea families.

It's official.  She defeated us. Day One, all Five Rounds went to her. She gets the Green Jacket for the Brunswick Masters of Alluding Flea Treatments Tournament.

Allison says she has a plan for tomorrow. I like her positive thinking. I have to reach down deep into the inner recesses of my brain to remember what it's like to be fourteen and that optimistic.

I feel sorry for Bandit. She needs a hug, but of course that's the last thing she wants. She's so vulnerable.

At times she stands at the garage door and scratches for minutes to be let in, but when we open the door, she flies away in a shadowy flash.

Sometimes she'll dart like a bullet into the house and dive under our bed where she can't be touched. She'll hide there until she's ready to bolt back into her sanctuary, the garage.

As I consider my timid feline, I wonder how many opportunities would have opened to me when I were younger, if I had turned the door knob?

Or, how many times did I turn away from an opportunity because I didn't recognize what I saw across the threshhold?

I wish I could communicate to Bandit like I do my students that it's okay to trust people.  Not everyone will hurt you. Make the most of your opportunities. Walk through an open door.

I hope as my students (and Bandit) age they will trust others more and walk optimistically across the threshhold of life because there are treasures waiting to be discovered on the other side of a door.
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Lord, Let us bravely answer the knock at the door to receive the blessings you have in store for our lives.

My Hope and Treasure Lie Above

A Path Home?

Luke 15:18 NIV
"I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you"

Much literature I read with my students deals with characters who are lost and struggling to return home. The Odyssey from the Greeks, Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift, and The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway are all thematically wrapped around the need for the protagonist to return home.

When I teach students the difference between the words denotation and connotation, I usually refer to the word "home" as an example because of its connotative value. Everyone has strong emotions wrapped around the word. 

Robert Frost wrote in his poem, "Home Burial,"  "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in." Christian Morgenstern added, "Home is not where you live but where they understand you." Finally, Emily Dickinson believed, "Where thou art-that-is Home."

Home is a powerful influence on people's lives. When I talk to my students, they often tell me about their home life and how they intend to create their own homes once they are on their own.

They watch their parents constantly. The adults would be surprised to hear how observant their children are. 

My students hope and dream about making homes for themselves. Their lives will reflect their own passions and interests.

The Prodigal Son tried to leave home too soon so had to return in humiliation to his father's house. My students may also fail and have to return to their parents' homes.

However, I hope they soar. The Bible doesn't tell the rest of the Prodigal Son's story. Perhaps he lived near his father the rest of his life and patched up his relationship with his elder brother.

Or, maybe he tried again, older and wiser, to make a life of his own elsewhere.  It's not easy to leave the sanctuary of home and all a person is familiar with.  No wonder his head was so easily turned by those who took advantage of him in his youth.

When he hit rock bottom in life, he sought HOME: the place that had once sheltered him, protected him, loved him, understood him and where now, when he arrived, he hoped they would take him in.

It took Odysseus ten years after the Trojan war to arrive home. Gulliver seven. The Old Man was away from home four days during his ordeal with the marlin.

Sometimes the trip home is impossible. Science fiction literature, for example, is filled with characters who never return home, and as a result, readers are left in a state of sorrow and anxiety for their plight.

Anne Bradstreet, the Puritan poet, used the metaphor of home to connect to her Heavenly home in her poem, "Here followes some verses upon the burning of our house, July 10th, 1666." 

After Bradstreet described the terror she felt upon hearing the words, "fire" called out in the middle of the night, she discussed walking through the ruins of her home the next day. She remembered where all her possessions had been placed. Then she rebuked herself and reminded herself where her real "home" is.

What follows are the last three stanzas of her poem.

Then streight I gin my heart to chide,
And didst thy wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the skye
That dunghill mists away may flie.

Thou hast an house on high erect
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished,
Stands permanent tho' this bee fled.
It's purchased, and paid for too
By him who hath enough to doe.

A Prise so vast as is unknown,
Yet, by his Gift, is made thine own.
Ther's wealth enough, I need no more;
Farewell my Pelf, farewell my Store.
The world no longer let me Love,
My hope and Treasure lyes Above.
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Lord, Help me remember you have prepared a Home for me and my hope and treasure lie with you

His Heart is Steadfast

Tree in River

Psalm 112:7 NIV
"He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the LORD."

The seniors and I discussed an excerpt from Book I of John Milton's Paradise Lost today. Two quotes interested them. They are:

1)  "The mind is its own place, and in itself / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n."

2)  "Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n."

We discussed these ideas. They all knew people dissatisfied with their lives no matter how good or bad they have it. The students talked about the importance of positive attitudes for getting by in life.

At the start of class, I asked, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"  Many students believed we go through tough times as an opportunity to learn in order to grow and become better people. 

They didn't perceive negative experiences as necessarily bad, but instead saw them as a path to a higher level of existence we all have to travel.

I explained Milton wrote Paradise Lost as a vehicle to explain to the English why the last two decades of their society had been so tumultuous.  He perceived horrible social events the people had endured as spiritual warfare between Satan and God, while humans were caught in the middle. Satan tormented God's creation in order to get back at God, according to Milton. 

He saw the battle between Good and Evil as the answer to why bad things happened in the world.

We examined Satan as a character in the epic poem. This was a new experience for the students. It's difficult for me to think of Satan as a literary character, so I know it was hard for the kids.

It stretches my imagination to picture Satan and Beelzebub lying on the fiery floor of hell (after being thrown there nine days earlier) as they plot their revenge on God. To listen to their twisted conversation and perceive Satan's arrogance and desire for dominance and power over God and all his creation causes my skin to crawl with goosebumps.

Yet according to the text, Satan acknowledged God's supremecy to Beelzebub when he told him, "But what if he our Conquerour, (whom I now/ Of force believe Almighty, since no less /Then such could hav orepow'rd such force as ours)."

In other words, Satan understood as soon as he and his army were tossed out of Heaven they were no match for the power of God and His army of angels, and he never will be. God will always be the victor over the Evil One because He is mightier.

Both the Bible and Book I of Paradise Lost remind me, I have free will to follow God or to follow Satan.

I have the opportunity each day to improve the quality of my life through positive thinking or not. As Milton wrote, I can create my own Heaven or Hell on Earth by my thoughts.

Which way do I go? Each day the battle begins again. I must remain steadfast in the Lord.
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Thank you Lord for your faithfulness and power over the Evil One. 

Seventy Times Seven

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Matthew 18: 21-22 NIV
"Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, 'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?' Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.'"

Six at-risk students stood around my Smartboard studying literary terms preparing for a graduation test. In the process, I learned more about the holes in their hearts than I think they learned from me that afternoon.

One senior boy had so much pain inside him he couldn't focus on the literary terms we were working on.  His friends consoled him by adding fuel to his hatred.

"He had no right to do you like he did." 

"Don't you talk to him if he calls you."

It's tough to know how far to go into the lives of students and their personal problems, but as I observed the hard lines on this boy's face and the girls who were advising him, I realized they had all been hurt by adults.

Finally, I could hold my tongue no longer.

"You know. Until you forgive him, you won't have any peace inside you," I spoke quietly, uninvited. I was the adult in the room. The outsider.

The students turned on me. They glared at me assuming I didn't understand pain, betrayal, rejection, abandonment, a knife in my back.

"You don't understand the problems our generation faces.
We have serious problems. We can't just forgive. We have to get even."

I held my ground.

"If you don't forgive, you will only make yourself a bitter person. Over time, the hatred you possess for that person will taint your life. You must let go of the hurt and the hate and forgive. It's the only way you will be free to live your own life. Everyone in the world has a broken heart. You are not alone."

The boy listened quietly to me. I think he was almost convinced in the truth of my words. The girls refused to pay attention to me.

The boy spoke quietly when the girls moved away from us.
"It's too soon. The hurt is too great. I don't know how to forgive him."

I whispered to him. He looked me in the eyes for the first time that hour. "I don't know what he did to you, but I'll pray you'll be able to forgive him one day for your peace of mind."

The bell rang. They left for their next class.
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Lord, help these children learn to forgive the ones who have hurt them, so they can be free of the pain and move forward with their lives.

Letting Go Is Hard to Do

Indiana Woods

April 2010

John 14:27 NIV

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Fear.

Real or imagined fear paralyzes me.  I have a friend who reminds me to live the words I write. Life is such a work in progress. I try so hard to live my words.

I think after the kidnapping and divorce, in 1988, when I emotionally broke down, I discovered how fragile I was. John helped heal so much of my emotional pain when I met him, and I leaned on God, too, but in the early 1990s, I still was weak in my walk with the Lord.

It wasn't until April 2, 2005, when John, Allison, and I were hit head-on in an automobile collision, that I faced a new level of fear.  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I became acquainted with each other.

Although I went to excellent psychologists, I couldn't even follow through with that process. I learned how to treat the symptoms of my fears when they overwhelmed me--drink more water, exercise, breathe DEEPLY, but I just didn't have it in me to talk to a psychologist.

I talked to trusted friends, and at a church retreat I gave many burdens I carried to the Lord.  However, I still occasionally find when I am blindsided at work or home with unexpected stress, I melt down.

I mentally kick myself, and then the negative self-talk starts, but I try to pick myself up. "You just need to give it over to God, Lori!  You've been in worse spots than this before!"

Even though I know Satan is behind the seed of fear planted in me, I have the hardest time on my own fighting him off, which is when I shoot off a quick email to those I know will pray for me. 

I request prayers, and they help!  I am a firm believer in the power of prayer.

I hope with time I will find a way to cope with fears. Eventually I want to just hand them over to God once I feel them overwhelming me. It's so much easier to give God my worries than to hoard them.

What did FDR say? "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself?"  There is so much truth in his statement. I spend so much time being afraid of what I am afraid of, that when the moment arrives, it is anticlimactic compared to my fear of it.

I am a work in progress. I turn to God more and more each day. I need Him so much. I am trying to give Him all my fears, real and imagined.
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Thank you, Lord, for helping me get through frightening times in life.

2011 Spring Break



Turkmenistan Booth
SCAD International Students Festival
April 2, 2011

                                                 

Genesis 2:2 NIV

"By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work."

Spring Break ended tonight.

While I enjoyed the fleeting sense of living for myself for a week, it's time to face the world of work and bosses, parents and students again. 

With roughly six weeks of classes left, my seniors will be more focused on grades and passing my class, while the sophomores may decide they want to make it out of 10th grade English the first time they take it.

Crunch time. I feel the stress of it already as I sit here contemplating the week. It stands in stark contrast to the lazy days of Spring Break.

What did I do? Nothing of significance. I wrote a little. I rested a lot. I enjoyed naps during the refreshing rains we received in South Georgia. Wildfires raged a couple weeks ago, so rain was desperately needed to get those under control.

Yesterday my family and I played "dress up" to help my friend, Akmyrat, at the Savannah College of Art and Design for the International Students Festival. Akmyrat is the only student at SCAD from Turkmenistan, so we dressed up to help him in his booth. 

I took several items I had brought back with me from my trips to decorate his booth, and we educated tourists and locals about Turkmenistan.

Ah--Spring Break. Nice rest.

Even God took time to rest after making the world. It's interesting Genesis mentions God rested after all the stress of his work week.  Nothing like a day or week to recover lost energy and motivation.  

And now--it's back to work.
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Help me, Lord, as I reenter the workforce. Let my mind and spirit be strong and sharp.

Spring Color Pollinators

Spring Colors in Brunswick, Georgia
March 2011

Genesis 8:17 NIV

"Bring out every kind of living creature that is with you--the birds, the animals, and all the creatures that move along the ground--so they can multiply on the earth and be fruitful and increase in number upon it."

Honeybees mesmerize me.

After the initial shock of their buzzing and flying fast and furiously overhead, around, and what seems like through me, I realize they don't see me. They are after the hunt of pollen or the return to the hive. The girls work themselves to death for the sake of the colony, and I am not a part of their world.

The production of honey is all the bees think about. The queen bee lays eggs to keep the workforce plentiful as the life span of the average worker bee ranges from a few weeks to a couple months. Drones usually die once they mate or when they are expelled by the girls when winter arrives.

They coordinate their efforts inside and outside the hive to protect the queen and to raise their young.

Scouts use sophisticated communication systems to inform the colony where to search for more pollen to produce honey. Bees can travel over miles of territory in a day to reach their destinations.

I admire the hard work of bees and their dedication to each other and the colony. When the colony is attacked, they all try to protect the hive and defend their precious larvae and honey reserves.

Honey bees around the world are struggling to survive due to natural predators and chemicals in the environment. The University of Minnesota Extension Office reported in February 2011 that in the Sichuan Province in China, villagers have to hand pollinate apple and pear trees since bees and other pollinaters have disappeared in the region. (1) 

How horrible if the world had to hand pollinate crops and backyard gardens if honey bees were eradicated!

Everyone I know has a bee story. Most are scary, and, yes, I have been stung myself. But since 2007, I have learned to appreciate the joys of beekeeping.

I am not a beekeeper. I am a "wannabee." 

However, two friends in my life tend bees. One lives in the states, and the other in Turkmenistan. They both are doing their part to keep bees alive.

God placed all creatures on Earth for a reason.

Honey bees pollinate plants, and in spring, the world awakens to the multi-colors of a rainbow in part to the handiwork of bees. 
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Lord,  thank you for the honey bee and all your creatures, even the ones I haven't figured out a practical use for yet.  :)
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Source
  (1)  Hand Pollination of Apple Trees?