The sacredness of paying attention

How many times do I pass by things without giving them a notice at all? Just the other day, I was heading home from an errand on a commonly used road and missed my turn. Why? I was lost in my thoughts. I wasn't paying attention.

Last month, my husband and I toured Buchenwald Concentration Camp near Weimar, Germany. This was on a weekend between business meetings and we went here at my request.

When I passed through these grounds on foot, where thousands of people once suffered and many died, I was paying attention. I wasn't just passing through nonchalantly. 

standing in a concentration camp barrack space I looked down and saw 2 hearts

Everywhere I stepped foot in this place, though many of the original buildings were long gone replaced by rubble, I felt I was walking on sacred ground.

There was a peace there that is hard to describe to someone who hasn't been to a place like this. A place of suffering, and yet there was an eerie peacefulness there, a hush. A holiness that I can only describe as God's presence there. 

God in his grace and infinite mercy, present there to honor the memories of those who suffered. Those who were tortured and killed just because of who they were. They hadn't done anything wrong.

Before we left the grounds, we took a meandering path that led to an "ash grave". Supposedly where ashes from the ovens were buried.

The birds were singing the most beautiful songs in this place I've ever heard. I stood in my silence and looked up at the treetops. I saw no birds flying, or sitting on branches. Yet there was loud singing.

Could God have sent heavenly birds there to sing as an everlasting memorial to those who had gone?

I believe so.

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Blessings to you, 

~Anne


Thanks for stopping by today, friends! It's been awhile since I posted for Five Minute Friday. I'm happy to be back! Joining a flash mob of writers over at katemotaung.com for five minutes of free writing. No fancy edits. Head over there to see what everyone wrote on the prompt, "pass". 

When mercy looks like five stars

Today, I'm linking up with a community of encouraging writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is "mercy". Writing for just five minutes straight. From the heart. No need to be perfect, just sharing our hearts through words.  Won't you join in?

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Finally. The morning air is crisp-like and not smothering.

I awoke really early this morning. Not my desire, but it happens. I slip on my orange slippers and walk to the kitchen to flip on my tea kettle. At 6:09 a.m., I see the first glimmers of light coming through the window.

Morning twilight. 

So I decide that I’m gonna see the sunrise. Or at least the pre-dawn sunrise. I step out on my porch with some dry cereal crunching in my mouth. I’m secretly wondering if the neighbors can hear me crunching, but I stand there anyway.

It is silent.

The sky is this clear blue that you only see in the wee morning hours before the sun rises. The dawn is approaching, but there is still enough darkness to make out the faint glimmer of five stars.

Just five. 

I stand there more, and stop crunching on my cereal to listen to the silence. Oh, the sweet silence of morning.

I look up again. And, I see a couple more stars.

Then three more.

I think to myself, I’ve allowed my eyes to adjust and now I see more clearly. I see that there are more and more stars that I don’t normally see during the day.

I think to myself that that’s the way God’s mercies are.

Mercy after mercy He showers on me, but I have to take time to let my eyes adjust to His.

I have to allow myself to be still and silent to see His mercies.

Filled up and poured out

Today, I'm linking up with a community of encouraging writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is "red". Writing for just five minutes straight. From the heart. No need to be perfect, just sharing our hearts through words.  Won't you join in?

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 Filled up and poured out. 
Filled up and poured out.

Daily, in the morning and in the evening she waits for this ritual to present itself. 

She cannot do it on her own. 

She has to be cleaned out (she’s still a little bit stained, but that’s okay), rinsed out and filled up again. 

But, she is faithful. She is available to be filled to be sure. 

She wants to be.

She enjoys this daily ritual of being filled up, only to be poured out again.

*************

My thoughts percolate on this one small gift I was given about three years ago.

 I long to be filled up and poured out, filled up and poured out, daily. 

She is showing me. 

She’s showing me what surrender looks like. What trust looks like. What availability and willingness look like.

She’s not fancy. Doesn’t really care to be, but she’s there. 

Morning and evening.

She’s seen tears and laughter. 

She’s seen the sun rise and the sun set. 

But, still she never tires of being right there. By my side. Ready to serve me. Ready and willing to be filled up and poured out. 

Again and again.

Who would have thought a little red teapot could hold so much wisdom?

A Subtle Shift

Today, I'm linking up with a community of writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is "worship", and we are to write for just five minutes straight. From the heart. No need to be perfect, just sharing our hearts through words.  Won't you join in?

It took me well into my adult years to realize that worship wasn’t something only synonymous with a church service.

I grew up going to “worship”. No blame intended, but it seems that in my circles, many Christians refer to a church service as "worship". I think that is true, yes. But, in the past few years (and yes, it has taken that long), I’ve finally begun to realize (I’m a slow learner sometimes) that worship is so much more.

In fact, it raises mostly questions within me.

Couldn’t worship just be a subtle shift between focusing on me and my desires to focusing on what God desires?

Noticing the pollen on the wing of a butterfly, or geese flying over the pond at dusk?

The ducks that come in for a safe and smooth landing on the same pond, and the swallows that dart around gathering food for their young?

Worship is so. much. more. than church.

Worship is my attitude toward myself, God and others.

Worship links me to the God in me, the Holy Spirit.

My attention is the only thing standing in the way between worship of self and worship of God.

Oh, Heavenly Father, I turn my attention to You. I am attentive to all You have made and all You have done. And All that You are.

I worship You.

Just what it means

Today, I'm linking up with a community of writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is "last", and we are to write for just five minutes straight. From the heart. No need to be perfect, just sharing our hearts through words.  Won't you join in?

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I saw what you did last night. I saw the way you rang the doorbell in that special way when you stopped over unannounced.

I love when you do that.

I saw the way you came through the door and threw your arms around me and gave me a big hug. Oh, how my mom heart relishes that! {I hope you don't read this!}

I saw the way you came through the door and said to your dad and your brother, "Hey, want to throw the frisbee around?" Then, came the three minute search for the sister's frisbee.

I noticed, as you tossed frisbee with your dad and younger brother, how you subtly encouraged/challenged your younger brother in his elusive job search.

I'm so proud of you. I'm proud of the man you have become and I'm so proud you're my son. It hasn't always been easy. You would say that too.

But, now, as you are in mid-twenties {how?} and living only a couple miles from us....and you love to stop by.....it warms my heart more than you know.

As darkness came near last night and it was too dim to see the frisbee, you crouched on the driveway to talk a little more. It's hard for you to leave a good conversation. I see that, too.

And when your sister saw you eating that fresh tomato from our garden just like it was an apple? Her words were priceless and just what I'd been thinking. 

She said, "I keep thinking, would you have been eating that tomato when you were seventeen?"

And, we all laughed at that together. 

What the Mourning Dove taught me

April 17, 2013. Two mornings after bombs went off at the Boston marathon, I was sitting in my chair, drinking tea and listening to the rain hit my windows. One lone Mourning dove was singing somewhere just beyond my curtained window. These words came to me as I was thinking about the lonely song of the dove and the fear and sadness our nation was feeling.



mourning dove outside my morning window,
why do you sing?

do you know there are tragedies to mourn,
worries to worry,
tears to cry?

why do you coo outside my rain-soaked window?
don't you know that sun-lovers pine today for sun?

you sing in the rain as the wind rustles the chilled, bare branches
you sing your songs as more thunder rumbles in the distance

why do you sing?

do you dance in the rain?
do you see beauty?
do you know your Creator has fed, watered and clothed you
like the lilies of the field?

mourning dove, your coo is soft and low
your morning song awakens me to beauty,
stirs me to ponder,
reminds me to joy.

mourning dove, keep singing your songs.
and I will keep singing mine.

eyes wide open: the present moment {day 24}

I want to become a  better noticer of what is going on inside of me and around me. That was my quest at the beginning of this 31 days of blogging, but I'm not sure I'm really hitting on what I want to hit on yet. I want to live in the moment I am in. To become more present.

Last night my husband said, "C'mon, we're going to see the sunset." So we hop in the van for a drive to a lake that is not too far from our house. Saylorville Lake. 

As I sit here tonight, I'm thinking of all the things I noticed last night at the lake.

The mini-waves lapping at the beach.
The gorgeous round orange sun getting lazy and closer to the horizon.
The crying sea gulls gathering on the warm parking lot, maybe for the night?
Three sea gulls flying silhouetted between us and the sun. 
Sun shimmering over still water. 

I don't remember what we were talking about on the driveway after we got back, but I remember really looking at my husband's eyes when he was talking. I noticed how blue they were. And, he smiled and chuckled at something I said. He was genuinely happy. 

It was one of those rare times that I just really looked and my mind was with the looking. I wasn't  thinking of what I was going to say next. I was not thinking anything except for that very moment.

I want to do this more often.

Living in the present moment is to be fully aware of what is going on inside me and around me. I believe this is part of the abundant life that Jesus meant for me. To be a noticer. I'm going to keep practicing the Present Moment.

see day 1 for a list of all 31 posts

eyes wide open: beauty and purpose {day 14}

Leaf

Disconnected from its life-giving source,

beautiful in its vibrant color

it is nevertheless dying.

Yet floating.

As if on outstretched wings,

trusting in God's purpose for it.

Even though its earthly purpose is now past, 

it did not live in vain.

For a season it gave life to the tree from which it came.

And, even in the dying there is beauty.

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May I be like the leaf.

Beautiful.

Trusting.

Carried.

For the season that is my life.

Realizing my ultimate purpose;

to glorify God in my body

to rest in my Father's care.

see day 1 for a list of all 31 posts

eyes wide open: falling leaves as teachers {day 5}

Two years ago right now, the trees were just like they are now. Full of colorful leaves that were just beginning to make their seasonal descent to the ground. I left in my van on an errand. The wind picked up and literally picked up a whole bunch of leaves. You know, like when you were a little kid in the fall. Outside. And you scooped up an armload of leaves just to see how many you could hold in your tiny arms. Then, you threw them up in the air to see the wind make them dance.

That was me that day in my van.  I felt like I was floating on air. Suspended with the leaves that the wind had just thrown from her hands. It made me think of God carrying me, in the fickleness of my emotions, just like the wind carrying the colorful, falling leaves. 

God, 

yesterday as I drove my van to my appointment

leaves danced around me.

yellow, gold, orange.

Your fall beauty.

I felt as though my van and I were floating...

being carried by the dancing leaves as they 

rose up around me like wisps of smoke from a chimney.

in these dancing, twirling leaves I saw You.

sometimes my emotions are like those leaves.

dancing.

swirling.

darting at the whim of the winds that blow in my life.

 through those same winds, though,

You carry me.

like a beautiful fall leaf

in the wind.

see day 1 for a list of all 31 posts

eyes wide open: 31 days to see with new eyes

I came across an awesome quote last night in a little book called The Mindful Writer. 

The real voyage of discovery consists

not in seeing new landscapes

but in having new eyes.

~Marcel Proust

That is what I long for. Not just being stimulated by new and better, things, but in having totally new eyes to see what is right in front of me.

I am challenging myself to blog every day in this month of October. Actually, I am excited to join a community of bloggers invited by The Nester. She has done this for two years in a row and invited other writers to join in on a topic that they'd like to share on. I have never done anything remotely like this. (I have just spent over an hour fretting over the fact that I don't know how to make a really cute "linky" (a term I just learned in the last month), to link these posts up to The Nester. But, plain jane linky or not, I'm going to take the plunge!


I'm choosing the theme eyes wide open: 31 days to see with new eyes. 

God has got me on a quest lately to really start seeing the small things. The God moments. The ways He intersects my life in big and small ways on a daily, no, moment by moment basis. I've also been forced, lately, to slow down. Three weeks ago I strained my back doing yoga!, of all things! For two of those weeks I pretty much laid low, meaning sitting on an ice pack. It gives a girl lots of time to think, journal and pray. And to ponder my world, relationships and God. 

I don't have a folder on my computer with the next thirty posts neatly and conveniently planned in advance. I am looking forward to seeing how God's Spirit will lead me. I hope to share with you things that I have seen with new eyes. I'm keeping them wide open! I hope you'll join me!

day 2 caught with my eyes shut

day 3 eyes wide open to abundance

day4 one way to clear soul clutter

day 5 falling leaves as teachers

day 6 sing yourself happy

day 7 Dad and the old folks

day 8 breathing lessons

day 9 every day grace

day 10 how I became my own best friend

day 11 taking the scenic road

day 12 heating pads, adult diapers and chai

day 13 the space between

day 14 beauty and purpose

day 15 open hands or closed fists

day 16 to see beauty

day 17 to discovery

day 18 when God puts you in school

day 19 every day is new

day 20 to hope

day 21 all things new

day 22 when you miss the kiss

day 23 President Truman and me

day 24 the present moment

day 25 when a tree whispers

day 26 nice cars and Jesus

days 27-29 baptism, batman and elvis

day 30 a diamond in the snow

day 31 to a renewed spirit

What to do while you're waiting for new feathers

My little yellow canary, Gideon, has stopped singing. He's lived with me for two seasons now though, so I have learned not to be alarmed. Along with his lull in song, his downy feathers have started littering the floor beneath his cage. He is molting. 

The first year I had him and his feathers started to fall out, it freaked me out! I went online to read about canaries and learned about their yearly molting. I also read that the canary either sings very little, or quits singing during this time of growing new feathers because it takes a lot of energy.

I am happy to report that during this two month window of no songs bellowing from his little chest, he happily tweets and chirps daily. Especially if the dishwasher or washing machine are running. His cage sits right by my living room window so he can see the other birdies outside. He loves to chirp at them when they dart past his little black eyes.

Gideon's got me thinking. Again. There are times that I want to break out in full song because life is full. It's going well. Things are clicking along like the keys on my keyboard as I type. But then, there are other days when I only have the energy to get out a few chirps or tweets. I'm friendly and happy, but just....resting. 

Gideon needs time to rest from singing to grow new feathers. I often need time to rest while it feels like I'm growing new feathers. I really do want to "fly" in life. I want to have the energy to soar not only into my destiny, but to do the laundry cheerfully. To clean out a closet with joy. 

While I wait for my new wings, I choose to pause, rest, and enjoy the view.

Sky Blue

The sky blue curtains I just hung

sweetly echo the sky of blue just beyond.

Why did I wait so long to whisk away

the beige, colorless ones that stood 

in their plain-clothes plainness?

'Sky blue' even has a sweeter sound than

'beige'.

I will remember.

Next time, I won't wait so long

for the sound of color.