LOVE WILL FIND A WAY...: 3/1/14

Mar 31, 2014

Mar 29, 2014

The earth has moved around the sun in such a way that it is now in a position to receive more sunshine and warmth in our hemisphere. Something mysterious happens, not just to birds who begin building nests and looking for a mate, but to womankind. A mechanism begins to churn and burn in them, throwing them into a frenzy of feeling they must air out the house by opening windows, shake rugs, dust flat surfaces, wash, wax, even reposition furniture. The age-old ritual of Spring Cleaning has arrived: the old must be thrown out, the new replacing it; the house-bound, dead-looking chrysalis is transformed into a butterfly of purpose and movement!

Not to change the subject too drastically, but have you ever thought of doing a "Spring Cleaning" of your face? Now don't be offended, I'm talking about the removal of dead skin, cleaning out those pores, bringing a shine to your sweet face. There is a quick and easy way to bring about this transformation: all you need are a couple clippings of rosemary, a medium-sized pan to hold them in, some water to cover, and a stove to bring the mixture to a pre-boil stage. Oh yes, and a nice clean towel.

Once the mixture of water and rosemary are steaming, turn off the burner, place the pot on a front burner and stand over it with the towel making a tent to hold the steam in--be careful not to stand too close!, just to where it's comfortable--have your timer set for 2-3 minutes and close your eyes, no peeking. Breathe in the fragrant and warm moist air, think of picnics to come alongside a rushing river with birds singing, and ding! the timer goes off.

Now remove the towel, wash your face with lukewarm water and pat it dry (no harsh rubbing). Do you see what I mean? This process has brought the blood to the surface, the warm moisture has washed your pores clean, and you are ready to greet your day with a glowing face!

This is not the last step to this marvelous cleansing process, because you do not pour out the rosemary-tinted fragrant water. You take a sieve and pour the liquid into a container. When this has cooled down, use it as a final rinse when you next shampoo your hair. Marvelous rosemary is not just good for stuffing your chicken, but it's oils will cut all residue from your hair that dulls it. The result? You will have a spring-cleaned face and hair to go with it!

Note: If you don't have a rosemary bush of your own, perhaps a friend would share from theirs with you; or keep an eye out in your neighborhood for one, and if you ask nicely, a neighbor just may consent to you cutting a couple branches…and hey! maybe you can do a "facial" together!

And in flower language,

"Rosemary is for remembrance",

and I'm remembering you, my friend,

as Spring descends upon the land.

Happy Spring Cleaning!

Mar 27, 2014

STRANGERS AND PILGRIMS

"These all died in faith, not having received the promises,
but having seen them afar off were assured of them,
embraced them, and confessed that they were
strangers and pilgrims on the earth…But now
they desire a better, that is, a heavenly
country. Therefore God is not
ashamed to be called their
God, for He has prepared
a city for them."

~Hebrews 11:13,16

Mar 26, 2014

FORGETTING WHAT LIES BEHIND...

Unless it is to remember

happy memories.

"Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended;

but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are

behind and reaching forward to those things which are

ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the

upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

~Philippians 3:13,14

Mar 25, 2014

FURTHER EVIDENCE OF SPRING

Mar 22, 2014

THE WOUNDED AMONGST US

There are husbands, brothers, sons, fathers, sisters, daughters, mothers…these veterans are all around me here at the Portland VA Hospital. I love to accompany my husband when he must pay a visit, because these men (and a few women) are honored and given dignity here. Their physical and mental wounds are attended to--wounds incurred when they said "Yes", or were drafted, and walked into the unknown horrors of war to serve their country and to protect it.

Many came home shattered, often to cruel remarks from shallow-thinking individuals. Some were so deeply "knifed" by sharp tongues and bitter attitudes, that they went into hiding, unable to face another "war" at home where they found themselves the "enemy" of those they had fought for. We see them still, wandering the streets of our cities, homeless castoffs of a society that never learned it is shameful to kick a man when he is down; a society that is not truly thankful for the freedoms we have enjoyed, nor aware that freedom is a fragile privilege that can be lost. These very men paid the price; some no longer amongst us paid the ultimate price.

Today I sit in the vast lobby, humbled. Most of these bodies are no longer young and strong, some are hollow-eyed, many walking with difficulty supported by canes and walkers, others gliding along in wheelchairs, often being pushed--they are weary, and some look harassed. And yet, in the midst of pain, there is a deep camaraderie as they sit and wait, sharing a word of understanding with each other, a pat on the back, speaking a language foreign to us who have never "been there".

Many from World War II have passed on now--they have been called "The Greatest Generation"--but a few survive, stooped and frail, their years of suffering stamped on their frames. I ventured over to talk to one of these "Greatest" in a wheelchair and grasping his cane. He smiles, shakes my hand and tells me his name is Ken. I was drawn to the sweetness in his face and wonder what his history might be. Almost before I could ask, he tells me he was part of the Bataan Death March. Leaning closer and grabbing his gnarled hand, he speaks so gently and softly I can barely hear, "We just kept walking and walking and walking…" For six tortuous days these men from various countries were force-marched by the Japanese through terrible heat, with no water, food, or shelter. Some have said, "War is hell", and I believe there is profound truth in those words.

Those who survived saw many fellow soldiers die and witnessed atrocities beyond description; but they plodded on, the will to live carrying them forward, needing often to lean on each other. Remembering this part of history, I had to acknowledge that there was something in Ken that hadn't been extinguished in the face of those frightful days.

Chuck, a Vietnam Vet, stayed by Ken, sensitive to his needs. There was that closeness between them of shared private pain, experiential knowledge of a land I could not enter. I counted it a privilege to shake their hands and thank them for their service to our country, and then I moved on.

As happens with every visit to the Veteran's Hospital, I became aware it was hallowed ground, hallowed through sacrifice, through gallantry, through love of home and country. These words and what they represent are seen by some today as old-fashioned, sentiments for sissies; but after my experience here, I know I could never agree with them. Anyone even entertaining the thought of burning the United States flag, or bringing harm to these veterans in any way, would not feel comfortable here…the presence of these men (and women) would shame them. And, the absence of others, not forgotten.

Mar 19, 2014

FINALLY, IT'S SPRING!

SPRING COMES TO THE LAND

HERE in a quiet and dusty room they lie,

Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand,

Forlorn as ashes, shriveled, scentless, dry--

Meadows and gardens running through my hand.

In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams,

A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust,

It will drink deeply of a century's streams,

These lilies shall make summer on my dust.

Here in their safe and simple house of death,

Sealed in their shells a million roses leap;

Here I can blow a garden with my breath,

And in my hand a forest lies asleep.

THE SEED SHOP:

Muriel Stuart

YOU come to fetch me from my work tonight

When supper's on the table, and we'll see

If I can leave off burying the white

Soft petals fallen from the apple tree

(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,

Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea),

And go along with you ere you lose sight

Of what you came for and become like me,

Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.

How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed

On through the watching for that early birth

When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,

The sturdy seedling with arched body comes

Shouldering its way and shedding the earth.

PUTTING IN THE SEED:

Robert Frost

And a garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all, it teaches entire trust. "Paul planteth and Apollos watereth, but God giveth the increase." The good gardener knows with absolute certainty that if he does his part, if he gives the labour, the love, and every aid that his knowledge of his craft, experience of the conditions of his place, and exercise of his personal wit can work together to suggest, that so surely as he does this diligently and faithfully, so surely will God give the increase. Then with the honestly-earned success comes the consciousness of encouragement to renewed effort, and, as it were, an echo of the gracious words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

A GARDENING CREDO:

Gertrude Jekyll