Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Backwards Tuesday : KEEPER

I almost always write first, then find a pic or photo to accompany the text. Today I decided to go through my graphics collection, pick one, and then write a paragraph or poem about it. There was a catch, though: if I selected the picture first I would definitely compromise the point of the exercise, which is spontaneous writing. So I called on my DH to do the dirty work for me. Here's what he randomly chose from the 5000+ images on my hard drive, followed by what it inspired:

 
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KEEPER

Many bleating voices call
All at once and in apparent need--
We sound alike. How is it he,
Amidst all this,
Distinguishes the primary
From the merely urgent?

Foolish, fragile things we are,
Apt to follow random butterflies
Over cliffs we do not see;
Inclined to wedge a leg beneath
Boulders camouflaged by daisy clumps;
Lagging behind at wolf-time.

Strong he comes, with crook in hand
To extricate the most recent stray
Without recrimination,
Without expecting thanks or understanding
Surpassing the wisdom of sheep--
Too well he discerns our limitations.

Yet we, despite our foolish tendencies
And stubborn, recidivist ways,
Still know only one voice: that of our Keeper.
We will not go after the call of a stranger
We will not go after the call of a stranger
Or heed
The pretender's sly seduction.


©2009 Sharon L. Shannon All rights reserved

Monday, April 27, 2009

Update on Dinah


The young lady I spoke of a couple of weeks ago is out of the coma and communicating a little. She is really despondent about her condition, however. I hear she's having panic attacks and must be restrained from pulling out her IVs and throat tubes. There is still brain damage and swelling as well.

How can anyone deal with this apart from the grace and comfort found only in the Lord? After going through many hospitalizations with our son and his eventual death, I cannot conceive of trying to do it on my own. There is something about a suffering child which makes the entire world seem askew, reality turned on its head.

I am so thankful that Dinah is still alive. Her mother Selena and her sisters Corina and Marta will need much strength to help her through the long, grueling rehabilitation to come. Dinah's brother Carlos is really having a hard time dealing with it all. Please remember them in your prayers.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

How can it be Sunday if I haven't gone to bed yet?

And I haven't, so it's still Saturday.

So there!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

He sees you when you're sleeping


He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So conform before you break.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Love o' Scotland, love o' Earth











I'm quite proud to have Scots ancestry via my mother's family, the Bells, and have several times represented Clan Bell at various Highland Games and related activities. In honor of Earth Day, here is a lovely poem I found on Leslie's blog. It speaks to those things most important to the traditional Scot: God, family, societal order, true beauty. (Okay, it doesn't mention Scotch whisky or caber tossing, but you get the point.)

If there is righteousness in the heart,

there will be beauty in the character.

If there is beauty in the character,

there will be harmony in the home.

If there is harmony in the home,

there will be order in the nation.

If there is order in the nation,

there will be peace in the world.

So let it be.

~Old Scottish Blessing


I'm really inspired by that. It's really a prayer, isn't it? "So let it be"...in other words, Amen.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Caving


Blame it on the 99-degree weather (insane for here in April) and say my brain was sun-smacked. Works for me. There is a direct correlation between the thermometer shoving past 85 degrees, and my inability to function at a level much higher than that of a three-toed sloth after a sugar crash.

Or say that I was just lazy and allowed myself to be manipulated.

What is it about convenience stores that turns me, the normally proud pennystretcher, into this alternate personality who thinks it's fine to fork over 2 bucks for a 12-oz. Diet Something? I mean, I was only a half block from home, and cold water costs nothing. That buck-seventy-five could have gone into the babies' Christmas coin jar, or even scored a couple of pieces of cool scrapbooking paper. But no. I was definitely lusting for a cold, fizzy beverage and the store was just...there...so conveniently.

Heading to the cooler where my poison of choice is kept, I noticed another bottle that looked familiar-but-different, and it caught my attention. A new flavor, another variant of one I've enjoyed many, many times--and what's this? The label trumpeting "Amazingly Smooth!" (Or was it "Amazing Smoothness!" I forget...but it's one of those two.)

I don't know about you, but I don't normally associate the word "smooth" with soda pop. After-shower powder, maybe...400-count Egyptian cotton sheets, yes...Dove dark chocolate, certainly. But a carbonated drink...?

And behold! Not only was it smooth--but amazingly so! They promised!

For the briefest of moments I pictured bathing in the stuff, like Cleopatra in her asses' milk. This set off the kind of giggle that one rarely releases in public, particularly when wedged in between a clackety-loud corner store cooler and unopened cases of Seagram's and Cup o' Noodles. Then the knee-jerk reaction so obviously sought by the ad exec who first pitched the idea kicked in. I wondered how a smooth ice-cold one of these would taste and how it would be smooth going down my throat.

I had to find out.


Back in the days of Tyrannosaurus Rex and before color TV--the 50s and early 60s, when I was a child--cigarette commercials were aired frequently. I remember hearing how one's throat could be relieved by a certain brand's "smooth" properties. It was pre-Surgeon General's Report, and every adult I knew smoked except my Methodist grandma and my Sunday School teacher. Didn't They tell us that smoking was a normal adult activity, and could even help a sore throat feel better? All totally absurd now, of course, but what did we know?

And now, all these decades later, I am faced with an icy-cold but strange bottle screaming "I Am Amazingly Smooth!I'll be good to you, you'll feel so much better! Buy me! Drink me! Now!"

You know the rest. I plunked my money down and got my amazing cold drink. Because nothing tastes as good to me as extra-chilled soda on a hot day, I really did enjoy it. There was extra cherry flavor and no sugar, so how could I go wrong? It was even pretty good...pretty darn good!

But I'd been had. Smooth? SMOOTH? Where in Jumping Jack Flash was the smooth?

Somewhere a little New York ad agency weasel is laughing his/her fool head off at us yokels out here who bought into their campaign; which is, in the great tradition of advertising, most likely nothing more than a big hoax anyway. "Gee, I wonder if anybody's amazed yet...'I'm amazed! I'm amazing! Look upon me, and be awed by my great smoothness!' BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahaha!"

And I fell for it. I knew it was coming, and I caved anyway--with nothing in the least amazing or smooth to show for it

So now there's nothing left but to pitch the mocking empty bottle in the recycle bin, laugh about how silly I can be sometimes, and wonder...will I still respect myself in the morning?

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Disguised


I've never been one of those rather creepy religious people who go around claiming that God speaks to them all the time. I figure if the Almighty, the Creator of the Universe really did decide to talk to me, I'd be too dumbstruck to casually blat 'n' chat about it. He knows that, too, so very mercifully doesn't send me voices, inner or otherwise. Once in a great while, though, something will come into my mind that I think of as a little text message from Heaven. It's never wordy and is not accompanied by flowery language and technicolor 3-D angelic visions. It's just a little impression dropped down deep that stays with me.

Many years ago I received one of these. I had just been through a very painful experience with some Christian people who had clearly wronged me, but adamantly refused to admit it, let alone ask forgiveness. In fact, they stubbornly insisted that they were right. Soothing my wounds, I retreated and pondered how these things could be. Truth is, I was having quite the little pity party, complete with funny hats, balloons, and noisemakers.

Then the "text message" came. (Okay, it was way before texting; I called it a telegram in those days--underscoring my age.) Here's what I "read": "Would you still be willing to be a blessing to people, even if they don't recognize it?"

That shut the party down.

I really had to think about it. Would I be? It's one thing to be the person whom everyone loves and appreciates as a gift in their lives. The sunshine! The sweetness! It's quite another to be the undercover blessing bearer. It means the recipient of the blessing doesn't always see it as such until much later, and after pain is involved--if indeed they ever do.

I'm not talking here about all the times I totally blunder, elephant-like but all too humanly, and say or do something stupid for which I need forgiveness--and there have been plenty of those. I mean the occasions when I had to do something that was most unpleasant at the time, but was an instrument of growth or help for someone else. It's always humiliating, and it always hurts. But God isn't so interested in our happiness as He is in our holiness, and He's working in these situations as much for my benefit as for anyone else's.

A few times over the years I've had the joy of the person contacting me later to thank me. These have been rare, but are such treasures! And I myself have been the "recipient" at times, too--the one who finally sees that what I thought was meant to hurt me was sent to lift me above myself. That gem is no less valuable.

Sometimes I was that blessing without ever knowing it--as others have been for me.

Today I am grateful...I am loved, I am truly blessed. I am a blessing, and so are you--whether or not we see it right now. Together and with large doses of grace and mercy, we'll get through this thing called life.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Susan the Magnificent



Susan Boyle is Queen of the Week. Shoot, she's Queen of whenever and wherever and whatever she wants from now on. I think she's absolutely phenomenal. Her performance touched me profoundly, in a way that many technically flawless professional singers I've heard never have.

YouTube won't let me embed the video. Just in case you're one of the 5 people who haven't seen it yet, here is Miss Boyle flattening the pompous judges and hooting audience at the Britain's Got Talent audition last weekend.

And she won't let "Them" make her over, either! I love this lady!

Sometimes good things really do happen to good people. If Susan never sings another note, she has achieved her dream. She's also given millions of people their possibilities back.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Things that really matter

A young lady we know is comatose and in critical condition after wrecking a car she had no business driving in the first place. It's bringing back a lot of the horror we went through when our own child was in a similar situation many years ago. This girl will have a long, difficult recovery...if indeed she recovers. She may have severed her spinal cord. Unbelievable. Just saw her at our grandson's birthday party, vibrant, lively, smiling. Now she lies wired together in an ICU up in San Jose with her life in the most fragile balance. Her family are completely freaked out. Their suffering is only beginning, as Irish and I know well.

If you pray, please remember the young woman I'm calling Dinah. The Creator of all knows her and exactly what she needs.

UPDATE:
Praise God, it appears her spinal cord is intact. Her hip is crushed, though, and she is still severely swollen all over her body. Still not awake yet.

Rotten Monday to me, rotten Monday to me...

Friday, April 10, 2009

Before the Glory: A Good Friday poem




Before the Glory is revealed
There is suffering and scourging
Spitting and cursing and untold shame
Bloody betrayal and no companions who remain
Not overcome by presumption of misspent faith
And terror of complicity.

Before the Glory can be seen
Before lilies can burst open, rejoicing
And transformed men forget their own lives
And disconsolate women see past their own pain--
One being no less miraculous than the other--
Life must turn its face away
And disinherit all hope.

A grave-lust must be satisfied
The seed fallen in darkness and forgotten
And shadows, prematurely triumphant,
Swallow Light alive
And crow in celebration
At the presumed victory.

Before the Glory sunrise brings,
First comes the stone
Of Reckoning.


© 2009 Sharon L. Shannon All rights reserved

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

What I give is what I get is what I give is what I get

Goodreads mini-review : The Shack

The Shack The Shack by William P. Young


My thoughts:


Rating: **** 4 of 5 stars
Many of my fellow evangelical Christians who pan this book because it does not satisfy their strict orthodoxy are the same folks who object to The Chronicles of Narnia since it contains fauns, centaurs, and other fantasy and extra-Biblical characters. This is an allegorical work of fiction, not a theological treatise; imagination highly recommended for maximum benefit.