Breath is Spirit. The act of breathing is Living.

~Author Unknown

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Time for a family reunion! The Ryan clan will be assembling, and we are so excited to host both of our children and their families at our house. My seven siblings and families will be coming to town and staying at a local hotel, or with family. Can’t wait!

Because of the festivities to come, I’m going to take a blog-break for two weeks. I need to clean the house, shop and cook and get ready for the family to land next week. If you would, please pray for safe travels, as most of the family lives out of town.

I’ll see you back here on August 9th. Until then, I’ll pray that you’ll feel the soft presence of the Holy Spirit in every breeze, and that it will carry you safely in his will.

Blessings!

Ceil

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Can you think of times in your life when you were truly happy? It’s a wonderful feeling. Pharrell Williams describes the feeling as “a room without a roof” in his song “Happy”. The joy of the moment expands so wide and so high it seems like nothing can contain it.

My own perceptions of happiness has changed a lot through the years. As a child, happiness was being able to stay up late to watch a special television show. In high school, it was getting an “A” on a project, and being asked to the prom. As a young mom, happiness was a day that didn’t involve 57 bandaids; but did include cooking a dinner that everyone liked.

There aren’t any proms for Nana’s that I know of, so happiness comes from very different places now-a-days. Its a day without knee pain, time to exercise, or having coffee with a friend. My husband and I recently saw James Taylor in an outdoor venue on a beautiful summer night. That was happiness. Oh, and one more thing. I’m starting to recognize that some of the things I thought made me happy, really don’t.

Let me explain.

I like quiet, I’ve written about that. My husband goes to bed at ten p.m. every night. You can set a watch by it. When he climbs the stairs, the first floor settles into a silence that is intoxicating. I can’t leave it. Before I know it, it’s midnight. I’ve enjoyed my mini-retreat so much that I’ve lost track of time. So…I get to bed very late.

Falling asleep is never a problem for me, even that late at night. It’s the waking up six hours later. Oy. Ask anyone who knows me, I struggle to rise out of that comfy bed even after eight hours of sleep. I have decided that although staying up late makes me happy, the feeling doesn’t last. I’m going to be one cranky customer come the morning.

One more example. If I get frustrated by someone or something, I’m just hard-wired to tell you all about it. The filter in my brain rips, and complaints start flowing like Moses’ water from the rock. Oh, it feels good to let it all out. I’m happy when I can unload it. But what about the people around me? I don’t think I’ve made them very happy.

So now, part of my happiness plan includes tossing out those habits that really don’t end up making me, or the people around me, very happy at all. It’s funny isn’t it? Sometimes the programs that I’ve written for my own joy end up backfiring, and I’m anything but happy. Time to jettison those pesky, unworkable programs.

I guess they really never worked, but at the time, I thought they did. I wonder what else I’ll find, as I start peeking into the corners of my happiness map? One things for sure. If it doesn’t work, it’s got to go.

“Happy” by Pherrell Williams

(I defy you to watch this and not smile!)

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Of all the people I have ever known, those who have pursued their dreams and failed have lived a much more fulfilling life than those who have put their dreams on a shelf for fear of failure.

~Author Unknown

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Linking today with: The Weekend Brew

I like answers to my questions. I guess mystery clashes with my scientific ‘nurse mind’. My family is the same way. Posing a trivia question is like yelling “Draw!” to a cowboy. It immediately launches smartphones from pockets at lightening speed.

So isn’t it fascinating that in order to have a relationship with God, I have to get comfortable with mystery. I’ll never fully understand the concept of the Trinity, or how the Lord can be fully present in each of us at this moment. And heaven? No idea what that’s like. Even St. Paul says:

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.   1 Cor 2:9

Although he could try to explain it all, the Lord knows my mind can’t fathom the answers he’d give me anyway. He asks me to believe, even if I’ll never figure it all out. I guess I can relate to that, because there are many things in this world I don’t understand either. But I believe in them.

Electricity . If you asked me how it works, I wouldn’t know where to start. All I could say is “Here’s a plug. Here’s an outlet…oh, and don’t put your finger in there.” That’s the total of what I know about electric power.

Gravity . Thank goodness there’s something holding me down to the ground, but if you want an explanation, I’m not your girl. I know it exists, I know we are all affected by it. Um…next question?

Combustion Engines . Now there’s a mystery. If you told me the gerbils in my engine belt needed replacing, I’d be forced to agree with you. I have no idea how my car engine works.

Airplanes . I’ve ridden in plenty of them. Please don’t ask me how this huge and heavy tin can is able to roll down the runway like it’s been launched from a slingshot, and lift off the ground. It sounds crazy doesn’t it? But it happens every day.

I don’t fully understand any of these things, but I use and experience all of them. And I’m very comfortable in my ignorance. I need to use these examples to lead me into a peace with the mysteries in the love and power of God. I can’t fully explain the nature of God. I can’t adequately describe the strength he gives his children. But I can still use that power and experience that love.

I’ll need to rethink my whole approach to the concept of mystery. I might still want to know the city with the highest population in Oklahoma (see the title), or why there are gerbils in my car engine (there aren’t any), but that’s really not all that mysterious. I can easily locate that information with a few keystrokes on the computer, or on a smokin’ hot smartphone.

True mysteries, like the nature of God, is a whole different story. That requires faith. And faith says: “I don’t understand, but I believe.”

So now, when I plug in my coffeemaker, and watch the lights come to life, I smile and silently nod my head. Mystery…maybe it’s not so hard to live with after all.

I saw this image on the web and it just sang to me.

Yes my friend, you are an artist, and so am I.

Think about all the ways we can express our talents and gifts. Maybe you can throw a pot, wield a mean glue stick, bake cakes, tune up a car, write a meaningful blog post or sing along to your favorite song. It’s all artwork in the class called ‘Life’. The important thing to remember is: No one gets to judge your talent. Not even you. Maybe you singed the cake, maybe you can’t D.I.Y. at A.L.L.. But do you love to do it? Then you have been called, and you are an artist.

Max Lucado writes: When my daughter was small, she wrote a song for me. From a musical standpoint, everything was wrong with it. The lyrics didn’t rhyme. The rhythm was off. Technically the song was a failure. But for me, the song was a masterpiece. Why? Because she wrote it for me. What dad wouldn’t like that? What father wouldn’t bask in the praise of even an off-key adulation?

Too many times, we judge our efforts by the results. And not only how it turns out, but how it’s perceived by others. What we should be doing is singing and baking and writing our hearts out for Our Father. He gave us the talent, and he gave us the desire. That’s enough reason for anyone to keep going. Just like Mr. Lucado, our Father loves to bask in the praise of his children using their talents.

When I moved to Arizona, I was in a new town, had a new job and an apartment for one. I was lonely. Reading over a listing of classes in the local paper, I noticed one that sounded like fun. A pottery class. The teacher, a master potter, held the classes in her home. Hmm… Well, why not. I like to create things, and maybe I’ll meet some people.

I had a great time and I made some really terrible pottery. I still have a 6″ by 6″ tile decorated with my rendition of cactus and a big yellow sun. It’s awful. But I love it! It’s been a spoon rest in my kitchen for about thirty years. My husband dropped it a while back, but he immediately glued it back together. Now it’s an ugly, cracked and chipped spoon rest. But I still love it. And I’d take a pottery class again too.

So let’s not spend a lot of time worrying if our art is ‘good enough’. Let me just tell you, it is. Do you want to get better? Then by all means, work on it. But don’t tell God that what you have now isn’t enough. Don’t peek out from behind your heart, wondering if anyone will notice or care. Have fun. Express your God-given talent. If it doesn’t sell, look perfect or make people clap, that’s okay. We don’t care about that do we?

We’re artists, and we only care that we are creating.

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I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Jeremiah 29:11

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For over five years, I have joined four women for a summer study. Sometimes we read books, or study the bible. Whatever we do, we have a wonderful time because we enjoy and respect each other. And we want to deepen our faith.

This summer we are reading The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen. It’s a study of the Prodigal Son parable through reflections on Rembrandt’s painting. The author had an opportunity to spend several hours gazing at the original work in Russia and has incredible insights to share about all the participants of the story. I was able to see this painting at the Hermitage Museum last year, so I was excited to dig deep into the richness and drama of the parable.

Two sons live and work in their father’s house. The younger son decides he’s had enough and asks for his share of the father’s wealth. He gets it, leaves, and squanders all his money. Hitting rock bottom, he ends up feeding pigs on another man’s farm.

He decides to return home, hoping his father will take him back. He even practices what he will say. “I will set out and go back to my Father and say to him: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you…”

His father joyfully takes him back. Party time! But not everyone is happy. The older brother who never left his father, becomes angry. Because he never left, he thinks he is owed a party too. He cannot understand why his father is taking this ‘deserter’ back. His father pleads with him to be happy. But he can’t do it. Every word he hisses slaps the face of his father. “All these years I have slaved for you…but for this son of yours…you kill the fatted calf.” (Luke 15) The corrosive self-pity of the older son is as sad as it is cold. There is no love, insight or understanding in what he says.

What if the older son had responded in a different way?

One of the women in the group found this article, and brought it to our meeting. I wanted to share it with you.

The Prayer the Older Son Should Have Said to His Father

“Father, one of the servants just told me that my brother has returned home. At first, I was upset that he came back. He acted so selfishly, thinking about no one but himself. Oh how he betrayed you! But now I’m being selfish, because I know how much you’ve missed him. I’ve often seen you watching the road in the hopes that you’d see him coming up the pathway. So, Father, I think it’s wonderful that he’s back. God has granted your prayers for his protection, and I can’t wait to see him. I know how worried you have been, not knowing where he was or if he was even alive. I know you have to be thrilled to know that he is safe and back home again. I can’t blame you for throwing him the biggest party this family has ever seen. Once again, the love and forgiveness that is so much a part of who you are is being demonstrated…

It’s been a blessing to remain home and to work alongside you, and I am so grateful for the closeness that has developed between us. I can’t wait for brother to share in that love. He’ll never want to leave home again. I love you Papa.”

I think all five of our jaws dropped after reading this. Isn’t it beautiful?

This book is helping me see the ugliness in jealousy and resentment. And this prayer helped me to see the beauty in love and forgiveness.

Linking today with: Thought Provoking Thursday

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Some of my blog-friends have chosen one word to guide them through 2014. Sharon and Beth chose ‘Joy’. I chose ‘Surrender.’

To start my ‘Year of Surrender’, I decided to dedicate time every day to Centering Prayer. Sometimes it’s called Contemplative Prayer. Thomas Keating has dedicated much of his life and writing to teaching this type of prayer. It’s all about surrender.

This is prayer of the quiet. It’s making a conscious decision not to think or say anything to the Lord, only to be present in the moment. It’s opening my soul to what God wants to say or give. Centering prayer is wordless and intention-less. I’m sitting at the Lord’s feet, surrendering my mind and heart to the one who made them. It’s a silent ‘yes’, so he can flow into my soul without obstacle.

Waiting in expectation is the foundation of the Spiritual Life.         ~Simone Weil

It’s harder than it sounds. I’m a bit of a chatterer when it comes to prayer. Like King David, I talk about my problems, hopes and dreams. It’s wonderful and necessary. But it’s also limiting. My constant stream of words block any listening. I’m so intent on letting God know what I need, I don’t give him any time to communicate his heart to me.

I also find that mentally slowing down to a crawl opens the door to a lot of interior noise. I think my overworked and crowded brain can’t believe it finally got a minute of silence. So excited to have the floor, it starts rapid-firing it’s repressed messages. “Make that phone call! Pay that bill! Light a candle! Did you turn off the oven?” If my mind were a firework, it would be a Roman Candle.

The goal is to let the babble run at a low volume so I can get back to quiet. My friend Amy told me that at the moment of distraction, she asks Jesus to pray for that thought. Then she forgets it, because it’s covered. I liked that strategy, and began to use it.

Even though this is a new practice, I have seen evidence of new graces. Situations that bothered me before are met with more peace. I have a new practice of talking less and listening more. Oh and…ahem…I’ve discovered a pretty big-sized ego that needs some work. Turns out my life isn’t all about me.

We have to pitch our tents where we shall always have quiet times with God, however noisy our times with the world may be.             ~Oswald Chambers

I hope that all who have chosen a word for the year are being graced with renewed strength in them. It’s only midyear, and there’s much more ahead. I’m looking forward to what God will show me. I’m hoping that Jesus will calm all those insistent voices too.

I think Amy is on to something. If I give myself to silent prayer, and then give my distractions to Jesus, I am surrendering twice. I think the Lord likes that.

I know I do.

The door to the soul’s surrender, and the key to the voice of God.

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