Still Standing

I wake at first light and rapidly scan the tree tops outside my bedroom window to see who endured the tortuous night on their feet. I passed anxious hours of darkness in my bed at Adytum, my fourth November here, bracing myself against the raging wind whipping through the ancient fir, maple and alder outside my window. I pray over and over as I wake throughout the night that God will protect Adytum and keep the aged trees, who have become our old friends, on their feet this night.

They willingly cast their lesser branches to the torrent as a sacrifice, hoping that more of themselves won’t be required in this season of fierce storms. It is akin to lightening the load of a ship to increase the sail, I think… If they must give way altogether to the icy blasts delivered in hurricane gusts; I pray that at least they will fall away from the house. The word “widow makers” has a hard reputation behind its sinister implications. This year, a traveler a little further East near the mountain found his Land Rover an unexpected tomb when an old tree made its descent to the earth. I try to sleep in trusting peace, like Jesus in the little storm tossed boat, in the midst of yet another stormy night.

Adytum, The Castello Sanctuary, is three stories of glass and turrets thrusting up into the sky, high on this hill overlooking Lake Mayfield. She is the essence of transparency with her 56 windows and a heart of vulnerability despite her strong construction. Like a lighthouse pummeled by rough seas, she stands a beacon on this hill taking the force of intense seasonal storms. Alongside the deep green of ancient fir and gnarled maples that surround her on all sides, they position together against the legendary annual storms of November. We are nearly to Thanksgiving and it’s been raining with accompanying high winds the entire month. The air is fresh and chill.

We live alongside them all, gazing into the upper canopy of these old trees from our perch in the Gothic library on the third floor. Up high, in this rarified Tower atmosphere we are one with them, their bird guests and the clouds rolling past. We are pilots without planes, viewing this spectacular landscape from the cockpit of the Tower Room with its 44 windows now blanketed with rain and debris. Startled out of our daydreams, another torpedoed branch hits the glass. We pray the windows resists breaking under perpetual assaults of limbs, some small and some quite substantial.

Such a seemingly thin membrane protects us against the elements we’d be hard pressed to survive in for even an hour. How the tiny birds continue on day after day, hunkering down against increasing winds at night is beyond me. All around me, I am witness to great power. The humble vigor of small creatures exposed to the full force of nature day by day. The sentinel firs outside the Tower wall, Castor and Pollex, named after the constellation Gemini twins are reeling like drunken sailors in their upper branches, but they don’t give an inch at their base.

Their roots cling with stubborn tenacity to unseen support far below the surface. They have learned to roll with the onslaught of terrestrial forces and to bend without breaking. They travel light, casting branches here and there that hit the roof and walls of the house with menacing thuds. Pared down to a core of beauty and might, they celebrate their antiquity and the lessons they’ve learned that leave them standing despite all attempts to send them crashing down like great, fallen wrecks.

These grand trees are our comrades and our friends. Their reassuring presences enrich and encourage our own lives more than we’d ever have imagined prior to coming here to live our lives out alongside them. We need them. We grieve their loss when they go down. The skyline is forever altered by their passing. The remains left on the forest floor is no small matter to contend with. The scars left on their comrades who lived in the path of their falling bulk, their own limbs lost to the slicing power of the descent, will take years to heal.

A ghost maple older than the oldest man I know hasn’t fared as well this season. The tree died years ago and was left as home to woodpeckers and countless squirrels. From the safety of the house, I am now confronted through pouring rain with its massive roots, taller than a house, instead of the considerable girth of its trunk that was vertical just a few hours ago. Sometime in the night, it fell while I slept on.

Some fall with a canon shot, bursting in mid air before the thunderous crash to earth. Others simply tip over and are laid relatively quietly to rest in the still of the night. This maple’s root system is so massive that it gives pause. We just stare out the window, stunned, and longing for the storm to let up enough to walk out to see it close up. Later, when we do, we see long root fingers wrapped around boulders providing invisible support that allows them such incredible longevity. They are rooted and grounded upon rock seeking a firm foothold and foundation to live life upon.

Living here yields a constant Voice if we have ears to hear. Nature instructs us in her own language about how to live long and victoriously on this earth. We “hear” that a life founded on anything less than solid rock will not stand for long. We must have a firm foundation from which to thrust ourselves upward into the world. Grasping firm truths, holding to strong principles and enmeshing ourselves in the great Identity of the Creator will enable us to soar high without losing our heads or toppling over at the first challenging season possibly taking others with us.

These old friends show us that they are realists, willing to accept things as they are and adjust to changing times without giving up their foundation. They are pliable and bend with amazing flexibility to the brute forces that seek to take them down. They don’t give up at the first sign of turbulence or change. They are fighters and tough, resilient survivors. From amazingly small beginnings, they have gone from strength to strength and endured.

Along their own journey, our companions and friends of the soil have learned to let go of dead wood and excess weight. They succumb to the pruning of nature, which seems severe to us at times as we survey their sharply hewed forms. But they are left with pure, tensile resiliency unencumbered by lifeless weight. Their purpose is clarified.
Holding on too long, being unwilling to release the past, living on in our former glory will never allow us to achieve the deep groundedness and settled calm in the face of adversity we need to be survivors. Being humbly willing to be stripped and laid bare for a season is the deep wisdom of the forest and the lesson for us to emulate and embrace. What is left is pure essence combined with increased intensity and intent; a life lived with intension and pointed direction.

At some point in the November torrents, I sense their rejoicing at the gains of strength of the years. Once they were young and small raised under the shelter of a parent tree. The heat of a parched summer could take their lives in an instant. But they learned to entwine their tender roots with the successful companions around them joining with them in a community of power and trust, safety and growth.

It’s those that stand alone that are so prone to falling. Displaying strength and encouraging others to do the same is how Castor and Pollex have lived to their great ages. The roots of lesser Fir join them under the surface forming a strong and communal defensive line. We need one another and we need grounding in the Great Source. This is one message of their silent Voice to those that have ears to hear.

We need also to dance, to play and rejoice. Like young warriors testing strength and skill upon the battlefield, these Ancients know they are faithful and true. They are assured of their value to the world and all they give to all of nature. Most days, we see them dancing and dipping in the thermals engaging passing hawks and eagles in the dance; teasing them to light on their moving targets.

Like King David noted, they do “clap their hands” and sing Halleluiah! They worship, they praise and they joy. That much is clear to us who live in their community. They take their pleasure while they may, soaking up the sunshine and building up solid resources for days ahead. They live in the moment and truly, no one moment seems better than the others; only different in the good that will emerge from it.

Our friends of the wood are “home” to so many. When one falls, or several as this season’s stormy yield has revealed, there are many left without a hole or perch to call their home. We met a little owl once who had been injured when he fell from his own falling tree house. Today, there are unusually large flocks of nuthatches and juncos casting about in the wind. I brave the elements to give them some extra food while they make their own plans about where to set up housekeeping next in the face of their loss.

A squirrel talks incessantly to me, not stopping when she’s fed as she usually does. It reminds me when we had to board our old cat at the vet’s for 11 days when we took a trip. He’d never been boarded before. They caged him the entire time and it nearly killed him. He talked the same incessant way when we finally got him home, releasing all his fear and trauma at what he perceived as his abandonment and ultimate demise. This squirrel has lost her home, perhaps her nut store and her family this past night. She has chosen to share this with me I assume, by her uncharacteristic behavior.

It is a reminder to me that many, in this season of tremendous unemployment and foreclosures are in need of a place to settle in. We should always be willing to open our doors and provide hospitality to those passing through our lives when we are called to do so. Like the great trees of the forests, we spread our welcome and are willing to give of ourselves sharing what and who we are freely. This is the way of nature.

The great fallen in our wood family this morning are finding grace in the act of falling. They have begun a new evolution emerging as a nurse tree and will become home to countless varied species from their place on the horizon. Their death and decay will prove a heritage and a gift not only by their memory of proud greatness, but by what they leave behind.

Their giving continues for years to come after their heads cease to soar into the clouds. Some might say their courageous life pales in comparison to the work they do in death. Their spirit goes on and many are fed at their feet for years and years to come. The young seedling that is nurtured from its decaying bark can only hope to attain to the greatness it tastes.

What will we leave behind that those we have never met will be nurtured by? How can we leave a bequest that will help our heirs learn the deep truths taught by God through nature? How will they be fed by our life, in death? Investments made during life must carry forward in death. That is the lesson of nature.

I think of John Muir. He understood the Temple of Nature and the constant instruction that was offered to those who had ears to hear and eyes to see. Every day at Adytum is holy and full of growth for those who see deeply, to those that take time to ponder the lessons being offered. The music of the spheres plays continually here. Tree choirs join in creating string symphonies with the wind. All is one and for one purpose - that God, the creative Source, is honored and glorified in His creation. We live as novices in a huge community of teachers here at Adytum, Donn and I, humbled and inspired by the profound wisdom being taught on and through this sacred land.

Ephesians 6:13Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.

The Care and Feeding of the Spirit

Weekends come and go and we haven’t done anything. Haven’t taken the kayaks out, or dusted the cobwebs off the mountain bikes to hit the trails. It begins to feel like all we do is work at the office, and then come home to work at Adytum, our supposed “Sanctuary”.

“Would you like to go kayaking now”, Donn asks after we both cap off a new walkway with a Moon Gate metal arch and flagstone pathway cutting through what will soon be lawn. Ryan, the eldest Carroll son, created the idea in me to connect a new path he cut through a dense group of young crooked willow trees with the Moon Gate arch and stepping stones.

Ryan’s imagination and fresh thinking made a natural path where it was most needed and now it is a silent invitation off the courtyard patio to the Koi and bog ponds below. Since the lake is the obvious draw, this move on his part creates a sense of suspense and mystery despite the enormous competition of the incredible view…. To top it off, visible through the arch of the moon gate is a stone bench in the distance that beckons one to another viewpoint through the woods.Creating this drama is everything I’ve learned watching every single episode of Gardens of the Trust, and he knew it instinctively…

Just as iron sharpens iron, creativity and fresh thinking in one sparks it in another. Years from now, we will all remember how this came about where there was once just forest and brush. There is a latent power in our creative acts, but they must be brought to the surface and not simply remain as ideas…

Answering Donn, “No actually this was good. It was just what I wanted to do today even though I know I said we need to have fun… now I’m ready to relax – inside.” Our old definitions of weekends, of activities we do on weekends to make them feel like we had one, are changing.

I watch Donn, at 61, creating beauty inside of form and function. It reminds me of seeing the concrete stairs he laid at 18 through his mother’s sloping lawn. His work still stands even though the house has now been sold. For me to have seen his youthful work was a blessing. When Ryan reflects in his 90’s that his pathway was made by hand, hewing a space for a flight of fiddlewood maple steps out of rocky earth, he will feel the same sense of delight that his creative acts live on.

I am redefining what weekends mean now, in my late 40’s. I need to create beauty and order in our Sanctuary more than I need to discover a new hiking trail or bounce over old roots on forest single track on my bike. It’s not that I’ve lost interest in those things, but fleshing out Adytum’s secret places and desires to “become” are far more compelling now than how I used to spend weekend hours.

When we get tired of it all, someone will come to spur us on and remind us why we are creating from a live palette. We are sculptors and painters from nature, working in our studio on this sacred hill surrounded by water music, birdsong and woodland beauty so intense we lose ourselves in it. The lake sparkles and we catch occasional sounds of revelers on their jet skis or water skiers. But we desire to leave the car in the garage, to work awhile, to sit under Adytum’s signature orange umbrella on the deck and simply watch. Then, refreshed, we are back to creating; sculpting with shovels and painting with a gloved hand in the soil.

In the space of a month, we have sod, courtesy again of Ryan. We have planted half a dozen Japanese maples of intriguing varieties, not the run of the mill nursery stock. We have witnessed the completion of recaulking the house, which necessitated repainting it. We have the concrete finally 100% done, including what I will always refer to as “The Courtyard of God” because it was He who gave the design at the 11th hour with the concrete truck on the way. I’ll never forget the contractor, Mark, taking a step back, chin in hand pondering the suggestion proposed to create symmetry by matching the seated planter box on one side of the French door patio with another instead of just laying the typical little pad at the door as he planned. I distinctly recall excusing myself for a minute “to feed the birds” because something just didn’t feel right about his plan. I’m no architect but I listen to my gut. “God”, I asked quietly as I walked to the feeder, “what do You want there? Oh, and God, we’re out of money….” Instantly, He flashes the answer in my mind in the form of the picture that we now know as our Courtyard of God.

Mark loved the idea and, in a strange act that I felt was not often performed, he said, “I’m just going to throw it in because you’ve done so much with me…” Inside, I am beaming at these words. Not only God’s design, but fully paid for by some heavenly account. I quietly pray for Mark to be blessed…

God has created much of the house because we involved Him, asked Him continually and deferred when His choice was different than ours. I have many stories of His decorating prowess, but for today as children in His household, I realize how much like our Father we are. He didn’t stop creating on the 7th day. He is creating now, through those that “have an ear” and in those that allow themselves to be shaped by His potter’s hand He creates growth and potential. Can you imagine how it feels to inhabit a sacred space that He has had so much involvement in?

If you read the Old Testament at all, you will see how precise He has proven Himself in the past in creating temples and sanctuaries. He is detailed to minutiae and will put any good designer to instant shame; not because that’s his desire, but because He’s just so incredibly spot on. He has the eye. He has the touch. And since we are His blood, so do we! It feeds our spirits to create. It is when I feel my happiest...

So weekends that used to be defined by relaxation away from home are now giving way to relaxation being delivered at home through creating beauty. Hard work? Yes. Exhausting and grimy? Oh yes. But somehow, our spirits are fed every bit as well as if we were deep in the forest discovering waterfalls and reveling in nature’s purity and innocence.

Maybe it’s because we never really took ownership of Adytum. We know we are but stewards and caretakers, much like the Native Americans, even though our name is on the deed, the garden is God’s. We nurture her and encourage her into coming into her own now, and she will nurture us in turn later in her maturity.

In my own maturity, I am learning that things change. Definitions change. Ideas change. Just as Ryan cut a fresh path in an area I would never have considered cutting one, I must cut new paths into old habit patterns and ways of being. Just because weekends in the first decade of our marriage involved “away” doesn’t mean that, halfway through our second decade it has to mean the same thing.

My friend, Jerry, would call that being a “realist”. “If the winds change,” he says, “adjust your sails!” In other words, stop fighting life. It might surprise us to know that when we do, the greatest satisfaction comes rushing in just in an unexpected form.

We are discovering how very much we need to create. Monet had his canvas. Hart, his sculptor’s tools and studio and chunk of bronze. Other’s had the makings of famous cathedrals which stand today as a testament to man’s creative genius. Donn, I and others serve here at Adytum creating a Spiritual Retreat out of virgin forest land where arrow heads of obsidian still allow themselves to be unearthed from time to time. Working the land into garden rooms, ponds, walks and vista spots revitalizes us. How she does it, we don’t have a clue. Give to the land and she gives back to us fulfilling us like a weekend in the sun at a far off locale.

God is here. He’s been invited and His angels. This land is truly our bit of heaven on planet earth. We’re all in it together, making a garden and a place of peace. Even the animals feel it. “Donn, do you know I have a squirrel that likes me to water him? And some hummingbirds who call all their friends to play in the spray when they see me out watering the garden?” He laughs. Some call it Snow White’s garden where fawns come in close to nibble on the new grapevines…Well, there’s always next season for grapes...

For this season, before we put the land to a long winter’s rest, I am going to appreciate the refreshment these weekends spent working the land and sculpting her into a landscape worthy of a fine Monet. I am appreciating all the souls who have come to give labor here, and know they left with full heart and a mysterious spring in their spirit despite bodily fatigue. There is a hierarchy in the complex of body, mind and spirit. I think I am discovering the care and feeding of the spirit in these weekends at home.

ELEMENTS OF A SUCCESSFUL PARTNERSHIP On the occasion of my parents’, Wayne and June Edwards, 50th anniversary July 17, 2009.

My parents are celebrating a rare achievement in today’s world as they mark their 50th year of marriage together. It can be compared to those that conquer great mountains or complete grueling triathlons in its commitment and difficult patches except that those events are transitory in nature and a marriage is a daily event. It is also comparable to the contented feeling of coming home as the love of one another IS home regardless of the setting. Marriage is an enigma in that it is both at times a grueling contest of endurance mixed with a sense of great peace and comfort knowing that some things in this life are certain; that is the unconditional love of the partner and sense of a secure place in this world.

When I think of my parent’s marriage from the perspective of my history with them- 49 years out of their 50 – I think of the elements that allowed them this great achievement and ultimate overcoming victory:

First and foremost: unconditional love and commitment to their vows. True, there were times we wished they weren’t so committed when they were traversing rough patches, but they never give up on each other…

Secondly, serving each other adds to their success. Dad spoils her in little ways to this day…coffee in bed, a gardenia picked fresh from the garden every Sunday when we lived in Bakersfield, CA when they were in season and given her to wear to church…Mom always thinks of his needs and makes provision for them. I saw his breakfast laid out when he had to leave the house at 4a.m. to fly his crop dusting plane. His clothes were always in order, handkerchiefs ironed… This service to one another translated to us kids, teaching us to respect and honor each parent. They first taught by example then expected us to do the same.

Thirdly, my parents invested in each other to achieve their highest and best self and they do to this day. Sometimes it was an active investment like when they both agreed to join Toastmasters, and sometimes behind the scenes. Always these investments held the element of prayer: building qualities, character and achievements into one another’s lives by the power of vision and committed prayer.

They simply choose to keep believing in one another, even in times when most would move on. When one was too weak to work on their life, the other’s commitment to see them through to victory created that victory. Their maturity and Christian example is the result of each partner working with God and each other in a persistent, committed fashion. They pray for one another many times a day, and they both pray for their growing family. We have witnessed the melding of two people into one flesh with Christ.

They cultivated a sense of humor to counter the inevitable daily irritations. When fighting did erupt, they cultivated and practiced forgiveness and forgetfulness. I don’t see bitterness, grudge holding, bringing up past failures to each other in my parent’s lives. They aren’t perfect, but they are always trying.

Life is often in the little things. My dad would say in the presence of us kids, “Your mother has the best legs….” He’d swoop her up in his arms and kiss her hard right in front of us. We knew our place with them both. They were first and we were second. We got security knowing that the house had the right pecking order. (pardon the pun!) We watched them stay slim and attractive for one another their whole lives. The general physical state in which they fell in love was maintained their whole marriage. Mom understood about women being “the glory of man” and taught us to keep our figure and take time to freshen up before the man of the house comes home. In that act alone, we were demonstrated the honoring of one another. They make each other feel seen, known, loved, honored and special.

Mom and dad are both hard workers to this day and they passed that work ethic on to us kids. It’s served us well. They also taught us to love God, nature, to care for the birds, to find peace in the Redwood forests or beaches as we were taken a few weekends a month for picnics to “our hill” or other remote places. Our family didn’t focus on fun and we rarely had formal vacations or dinners out. But we had this natural balance of hard work and restoration in nature.

In retrospect, one of the biggest things that creates success in their marriage besides their intense loyalty and commitment to each other is the fact that mom lets dad be the head of the house. She is a very strong accomplished woman who has the power to challenge his authority. They are both strong individuals, but someone has to lead…She practiced deferring to him and taught us the same. Even when he was dead wrong and she knew it, she turned to prayer and let God handle it. She has made it clear that he is the spiritual leader of our home. Consequently, they have been greatly blessed as they live out their lives flowing in the order God ordained.

It hasn’t always been comfortable being a part of them working out their marriage. Sometimes I personally wished they’d have thrown in the towel. But at this 50th year junction we can look back and see clearly the elements that allowed our family to remain intact when so many fail. They are a shining example of creating a life individually that grows in its surrender to God and a shining example of melding into One Flesh with God at the center of this mysterious Union called Marriage.

We salute their persistence, their patience and determination to hold fast to their word. We take pleasure in witnessing love and appreciation growing stronger between them daily. They are the epitome of valiant and victorious overcomers and an example to us all, by the grace and power of God.

Editing

Walking the familiar paths over the labyrinth of Adytum’s 15 ¾ acres that has come from patient pruning, mowing and carting away to the compost piles, I ask God how much longer until we are ready for guests at Adytum? He often speaks on top of my thoughts. I think He does this so that I know there are two of us communing in the temple of my spirit. I can’t think two thoughts at once. I know His voice. He says, “soon, very soon”.

All my thoughts seem to focus on one point lately as we are four and a half years into our project: when will it be done? We expect concrete in a week and called in a truckload of topsoil today to lay down a lawn that will snug up against it.

All the other lawns here laid themselves down, so this one is a planned event with rock removal and grading involved. Donn handles that and I begin to work with what has evolved into a jungle; the tree plantation and planted beds.

Pacific Northwest rains, nurtured by a few hot days and exponential growth explodes. Late spring has that effect of putting a bit of stress on me in the attempt to stay at least a tiny bit ahead of it. I mowed grass today that was over my head as I sat high up in the tractor seat…then came to prune a large area we’ve been shaping under ancient Fir and Maple.

Now we’re in after a day of work on Adytum. How many days will it take to get her there- ready to invite others into the experience we cherish every day? As the end of the tunnel begins to be slightly illuminated we grow impatient. This has been a very long labor of love with other’s appreciation of the gift we’ve created for them ever in view. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of the B&B aspect of this sacred space…

Earlier this week, we returned from the Huntington Library and Gardens in California with great inspiration from a classical Chinese Garden. I took the pruning shears to all of our Japanese maples, as they had done at the gardens. We learned how to train the branches with wire, almost like creating a bonsai. Cutting off the lovely red branches of the Coral Bark Maple seemed a bit wasteful and a bit scary, but the end result was pure light and freeing up air to move within. It revealed the essence of the lovely young tree and its promise. Suddenly there was a new maturity and beauty that comes with age and experience in the trees. A sense they’d endured wind and rain and could actually stand tall in much worse. The blessing of sun and warmth evident in luxuriant delicate lace leaves.

I thought as I worked on tree after tree how much editing benefits us all; how the tasks we perform are a metaphor for our own lives. Why do we feel compelled to carry so much “dead wood” or wood that is simply not really contributing to the trajectory of our life which should be our chief end and matrix that will form the nucleus of our days?

We practice editing. We are giving away things daily to whoever seems to need them; an oak file cabinet today to our son who is a businessman in Nicaragua. Today we edit our meal, deciding we are too tired after all that work to really make a dinner and have apricots and nuts instead. Hopefully that will edit a bit of weight off the mid section.

When I work to shape the tree, tidying up the excess, I see in my mind’s eye what the finished product will look like in ten years and it excites me and animates me to push on even though I am tired. The potential released by my loving care, concern and vision is noteworthy.

God has pruned us lately, forcing us to pare down and focus time and energy on what adds to our core values and goals. We refine our time and place our energy directly to the things that last or bless others. Moses captured the essence of editing well when he recorded, “teach me to number my days so that I may present to Thee a heart of wisdom.”

I know our God sees our potential and gets excited about how helping us to leave off “dead wood” and less than important tasks and thoughts will create the masterpiece of a life He is aiming for. He is the penultimate gardener of the soul…

We know that less is more. When I release something, the thing I need comes in to fill its place with remarkable speed. Nature abhors a vacuum and seeks to refill itself. Editing simply prepares the way for more benefits and abundance with things appropriate for my need today as I change and grow more toward the perfection I am intended for.

I look to nature more and more for instruction as God speaks so clearly through Adytum just now. These lovely delicate maples will be living art- sculptures one day soon – which all those intended to come here will enjoy. My work this afternoon is a gift and it is a lesson. A gift to others. A gift to me from my Creator.

Editing is a way of life here, represented in nature. The way of nature is to pare down and live lean and to the core. We arrived home from our California trip to massive maple limbs that had self pared in a windstorm. All my lessons from Adytum this week are on paring down for that is the secret to more, to plenty. That is what I continually pray for as I realize we are stewards of this land, trying hard to multiply what God has given us and to care for it exceedingly well.

Editing releases the land of carrying excess “dead weight” and it releases me so that I create space to receive what I need for today. Cutting activities out of my day, purging my drawers so that order is achieved and maintained, giving away something daily that might be better enjoyed by someone else, eliminating thoughts that don’t lead to what I want…these are the things that God wants me to practice editing daily.
It isn’t like I didn’t already know it; agreeing to put extra effort to implementing the lesson is the goal. It is the path to more, and as we see from the Psalms 68 verse 19 ~ Blessed be the Lord, who daily loads us with benefits…

Empty, edit, and make space for these benefits….

Birthday Wishes

I asked the Lord what He was going to give me for my 49th birthday this year and He said, “Peace”.
One year, I asked and He gave me “Joy”. It came in the form of my mountain bike and reconnecting with the sheer joy of flying down hills with the wind in my hair.
The word “peace” came so quickly into the ear of my mind that I could tell He’d been plotting what to surprise me with. It is the perfect gift so that I can truly relax and enjoy this awesome life He’s blessed me with.
The flip side of “peace” is “trust”. If I am to experience perfect peace, I am free of fear because of one thing: I trust implicitly.
From the all about God website, I see that the Lord is giving me each year more of the fruit of the Spirit:

Fruit of the Spirit - Visible Growth in Jesus Christ
"Fruit of the Spirit" is a biblical term that sums up the nine visible attributes of a true Christian life. Using the King James Version of Galatians 5:22-23, these attributes are: love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance. We learn from scripture that these are not individual "fruits" from which we pick and choose. Rather, the fruit of the Spirit is one ninefold "fruit" that characterizes all who truly walk in the Holy Spirit. Collectively, these are the fruits that all Christians should be producing in their new lives with Jesus Christ.

This is so meaningful to me because I long to squeeze every ounce out of my experience here while I can; to “suck the marrow out of life” in a non vegetarian vernacular but vividly meaningful. He is giving me ways of achieving the desires of my heart.
If I end life fully endowed with the fruit of the Spirit, I will have gained all. Like the Apostle Paul says: "Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ" - Philippians 3:8
I am in a phase where God is blessing me with all things so Paul’s words aren’t an exact match for my experience. But his bottom line is: gaining Christ; which is at the core of my matrix.
As God continues to give me, year by year, a more complete understanding and possession of the fruit of the Spirit so that our union becomes stronger, deeper, and closer I will gain Christ, who is the Pearl of Great Price the Spirit of God is helping me to seek.

I want the words of my heart when I worship You

I want the words of my heart when I worship You
to be the mark I leave on this world.

I ask that my words of praise be recorded by an angelic scribe for all eternity
as King David’s words of praise will live forever in Your sight.
I thought today of how short life is as I feather dusted needlepoint pictures from a grandmother long dead.

“What mark will I leave?” I thought as I worked. I am nearing 50. A year away. ..Life here isn’t long at all, even if I live long I will be fortunate to reach my years of nearly 50 once again. 100 is not common really…”Teach me”, Moses said, “to number my days so I may present to Thee a heart of wisdom”. Well, I, Katherine, want to present a heart that knew You and loved You intensely. Praise, true love- like a man for a woman love…admiration, respect, awe….these things I want to present to Thee – plus a heart of wisdom….


I looked on my garden, which gives me such delight. It’s nothing compared to the great gardens in England; the ones that people travel the world to tour.
The greatest endeavors of man, like intricate English gardens, are soon relegated to the back burner as the new fascinates us, whatever the “new” is.
So I will bypass man and the thrill of the “new” altogether as I seek to leave my mark.

I will, instead, leave my mark for eternity with my voice.

I ask, God, that my words of praise be recorded.

You say we are judged by our word. So my word will be of praise.
When I look at my garden, and the delights it affords, I think I’d rather be here than anywhere on this sacred mountain called Adytum, The Sanctuary, that you have given as my home.

Looking at Your creation and the beauty, the intricacy of it all moves me from praise to tears of joy and appreciation. We both love making others happy, but You, Lord, have gone completely over the top in so doing…

Don’t think I don’t see it and know what You were thinking when You were busy creating all this for us, for me who love You so... I feel Your ancient joy. I see it now, the thoughts of love translated into beings. Plant beings. Bird beings. People and animal beings….

Your heart was full of love…IS full of love still for us and I see it, feel it, know it. I love you back Lord God with my whole heart, mind and spirit. I know You feel it too. I see Your smile. I see Your eyes…The eyes of the spirit have that ability to see into the spirit, as You so wisely enabled the enlightened to do.

I think of the Great Mind that created all this for my pleasure. How I love You for doing that. Giving me flowers everyday from spring to late autumn- that is the Lord that loves me and how You think.

And the beauty of them…the colors, the form, the variety and the ability to withstand cruel storms and still stand strong. Just amazing that You crafted them that way.
The birds…the gentle gray breasted doves, the cocky robins, the pheasant who has come to call this “home”, the shy nuthatch, the elegantly singing song sparrow and the feisty blue jay…countless colorful evening grosbeaks who wake the dawn in their praise of Your great Name. How they enchant me. I can sit for hours watching them. The great owl who precedes the dawn by an hour to give rise to his voice of praise to You.

All creation praises You, Great Father. Only man is unaware, unenlightened man….

The soft breezes lift the branch of the Elderberry, soon to bloom, so lightly that it appears to dance for You. The Grand Fir waves its arms in pure rejoicing. King David said they clapped their hands, and so they do, in time to unheard music. Only the evolved hear with the ears of the heart.

You are the breeze, the softness that caresses All in All. You are everywhere and inside of me, all at once….How I love You tonight.

Every day, Holy Spirit, praise God through me. I have no voice to speak of for singing…but I hear You praising God in my heart singing so beautifully….I know that one day, that perfection will come pouring out of my mouth in song…but for now, I am, as Rumi said, the reed for Your Breath.

There is nothing I can do in this world more important than appreciating the Magnificent One who created it, heaven and the world to come. You did it for us, for Your great pleasure. I am secure in Your love. I want You to feel mine and my respect, admiration and devotion.

It is the mark I will strive for ~ to leave the mark of one who knew God and praised Him.

If You do great things through me that bless and uplift mankind, so be it. But the greatest thing I will be remembered for in heaven throughout eternity, for my time on earth is this one thing:

Katherine loved God Almighty to the point of her voice of praise continually breaking into the heavens, joining with sacred angels in their worship and admiration and love of the One True God.

BLIND TRUST

I’ve been so driven to create my future; so actively involved in writing it out and imagining it, desiring it. I have mentally lived a dozen future lives in other countries, warmer climates, doing real estate development, or only writing and some swing trading, have less responsibility, no more…having multiple homes, then only a windswept cottage and next an Irish castle that is part B&B…In these creative dreams I’ve had no dogs, huge Irish wolfhounds and even horses again. The truth is any one of these lives would work.

My mind has been on a mission to know. My body is reflecting the pain of the tension of not knowing where to aim next in my creative process of actively sculpting my life. I am clearly not peace- full. We are in a fast moving stream of life. If we are not plunging forward we will be regressing, swept back only to have to regain ground once again. Right?

Lately, I question if all that active creation is indeed, “right”. I have a friend who chides me and encourages me to “only live in the now”. I argue that there are two sides to every coin; that he is failing to create his life actively and will have to be content with where the “now” takes him – if anywhere. They used to call this “drifting”. We all know many people whose lives appear no different than when we were involved in them a decade or more ago. What a waste, I think. We only have one life. To fail to actively create it and live it with a purposeful intensity is to have squandered the stewardship of our precious gift called “our life”.

The truth is there is a tenuous balance between living in the now and creating the future. The tightrope we balance upon is trust. There is a trust even deeper than the usual concept of trust. I call it “blind trust”. God shows me the source of my angst lately about which of these imagined “futures” I’ve drummed up mentally and then posted to the page as a possible focused pursuit is linked to a lack of trust…I feel like I don’t want to waste time so I want to know which one future dream to plan for and focus on. He wants me to relax, to trust life, to trust Him. I thought I did…

He shows me a mental image of the essence of blind trust. Jane Shanley, a childhood friend, and I are lying on our backs on a summer’s day on a picnic blanket in her front yard under the most immense Mulberry tree. I clearly recall this day. Our backs one with the earth, we looked up into the tree from the underside and saw it from a new perspective. The veins of each giant leaf stood out from long, sinuous branches as bright sunlight streamed through the tree to bathe us in patches of illumination below. We were 8 years old and I have never been wiser.

We were accustomed to living totally in the moment. No one had to teach us to trust. We didn’t even consider that “trust” might be needed in life or even what it was. We simply lived it like we breathed the warm summer air that day and knew the ground beneath the Mulberry wouldn’t fail to support us. It was unspoken fact and we took it completely for granted. I am learning that I had more figured out in my unknowing 8 year old heart than I do now at 48…just joy, just see, feel, be and do. Just live and share, laugh, move, rest….great wisdom resides in such simplicity of being; in the heart of a child.

God tells me this morning in this memory picture He drew up from my stores:

“This is blind trust. It is the deep trust of a child”.

Jane and I didn’t stress at age 8 worrying about life. Think of all we technically might have worried about….whether our parents would stay together and allow us to keep living side by side as good friends. Whether we would do well in school and the kids would be kind. Whether we’d make something of ourselves and become productive citizens. Whether we’d survive school at all, stay well, not be killed like so many kids are in high school after parties as they drove home drunk. Whether we’d be accepted at the college of our choice and if we’d know what to major in. Whether we would marry, have kids, be able to have kids….at age 8, all those decisions were really not so far off and most would have been life changing. We didn’t give them a moment’s thought. We just practiced living as a child.

As children, we were proficient in “blind trust”. We possessed a “wise old woman” type of knowing that we were just great as we were, doing exactly what was best and certainly not worrying about anything that was life changing. We just wanted to have fun, to play, to be happy. A few years later and magically this “blind trust” would begin to disappear and give way to concerns we never should have entertained bringing with them the accompanying friends, “worry and stress” that have somehow managed to survive to this day. The founding Fathers of the United States understood about pursuing “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” That last phrase, “pursuit of happiness” is becoming more of a focus to me. It makes more sense now than ever as I try to actively participate in creating my life, yet long to shed the stress of not knowing either where to actually put my efforts or if they will turn out at all…

Pablo Picasso said, “I spent the first half of life learning to be a man. I will spend the second half learning to be a child.”

God is asking me to return - in apparent regression yet actually rising to a higher level -into the blissful state of “blind trust”. It is the depth of trust that doesn’t even know trust is required because is just a given that He will take care of everything. The animals, who are often displaying a higher evolution, portray it more successfully than man. Their blind trust peeks out in play, even when circumstances would warrant some serious concern like an impending cold front or storm. It demonstrates itself in just plugging away at the task of the day, which for the animal world usually involves feeding, grooming or preening and resting. They don’t have to know how it will all turn out. They don’t live in fear that they will lose their life that day to a predator or freeze to death that night in extreme cold that most humans couldn’t bear. They just get busy doing what they can, and then trust which I think is another word for “live”.

When I am moving into angst because I am not feeling enough guidance to latch firmly onto the dreams I’ve recorded, when I don’t seem to have a way to sort through them to find the right ones, I am called to a little child’s practice of “blind trust”. God says into my heart’s ear, “Watch the birds. Learn from them. Live the life of a child as they do well, in blind trust that their needs will be met and that they will migrate into their best life at the best place at all times in the perfect season. Just carry on today and don’t strain so hard.” It hits my Type A right where it hurts. The tension and strain in my body suddenly makes itself felt.

Inevitably accepting God’s direction results in a sigh and release. He has shown me, once again, that being co-Creator doesn’t mean running ahead in exuberance and enthusiasm. It means a lot of listening, observing- just as I did with Jane under the Mulberry tree that summer’s day. It means living at times without obvious creating…just living and being in love with the life that is mine now. Just being in the now.

God is right. I have been asking to get more guidance, to not waste time and energy pursuing dreams and visions that seem to present themselves with remarkable ease lately piling up on top of each other so that it’s clear, one person couldn’t possibly fulfill all these different life options. Being co-Creator with God is good. Stressing about it is not. Living like the child, in the moment in blind trust is God’s call to me. I will trust that life will all turn out okay, even when we are in a deep recession with no end in sight and retirement funds have been diminished so greatly and the world is not in peace and I fear for my grandchildren’s world…there are a million other cares I could record. We live in stressful times in an increasingly uncertain world.

It is these times I flee to the world of nature (which is at its heart, the world of a child…) and the deep peace it embodies despite the constant threat from predators, from man. Life synchronized to God’s heart is full of images of blind trust. The evidence of it is ultimately joy, laughter, lightness and living in the moment with all senses serving as ministers to our souls. Our eyes are open. We hear, and everything speaks; the resonating blade of grass as it responds to the rustle of a slight wind. We smell freshness in the air and taste the tang of a salt breeze. We feel the release of tension, of fear, of the man-made responsibility of having to know where we’re going. For a moment we understand again how it is to be 8, and feel the lightness and joy. We feel our immense inner knowing, our great childish wisdom as we practice without even realizing it…blind trust.
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When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

~From The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry.