perchance to dream…..

I have been dreaming vivid dreams lately. Not like creative genius I should patent  this dreams. Dreams where I wake up and think, what does that mean?

So I bought a book that interprets dreams. I have no idea how they came up with these meanings and I read the definitions rather loosely. So far none has been bad though, at least not according to this book.

For instance I had a dream where something in a bathroom overflowed. In waking life this would be reason for panic! But apparently if you dream about clear water it means happiness, prosperity. And dreaming about bathrooms is a good omen. Go figure.

I had 2 dreams about driving. One where I was a passenger which indicates finding some way through difficulties. Good to know. Another where I was driving with my dogs in the car. This apparently foretells staunch friends and successful undertakings. Because of the dogs, I am guessing.

    now, where is that lizard…

I say I consider these meanings loosely because it seems how a person interprets these things themselves needs to be taken into account. Doesn’t it? I mean, are these things tested somehow? Some of these definitions make some sense like seeing muddy water in a dream, or standing in it is not a good thing. Problems arise. So some of these things are just common sense.

I know my son has very strange and convoluted dreams but then he is an extremely creative person. He is a graphic designer, working for a company that makes video games. So I can see why this might be reflected in dreams.

So even though I don’t remember dreams every day evidently people dream every night. I always thought dreams reflected waking life somehow but not always.

I don’t believe in fortune telling, horoscopes or divination. Dreams come from my mind. So it likely does have meaning. But even though I do not eat them, if I ever dream of a tortilla it means prosperity.

Better that than indigestion.

dreams and reflections

“For in the multitudes of dreams and many words there is also vanity. But fear God.”   —Ecclesiastes 5:7

favorite quotes: last day

The year my dad’s company transferred our family up north was the hardest year of my life to leave. I had great friends, I had made the jv basketball team (likely because I was leaving). It was truly the happiest year.

The year before I’d been suspended from school. For 3 months. Doesn’t matter why, especially since classmates later came and said they’d done the same, just got away with it. Little consolation. But that suspension changed my life.

Public schools were not the moral soapboxes they are today. They actually taught Latin. But people, though maybe not rough around the edges behaved rougher. There was definite lack of restraint.

Yet even so this was where I met a girl my age who to this day is likely the best friend I ever had. She and I were so much alike. We laughed at the same things, got mad about the same things, hated snobs of all kinds, we were total free spirits. She accepted me despite my tarnished reason for being at her school. Even though I’d never said why gossip in middle school is like wildfire. I was tough and Betsy didn’t care why I was there. We were friends. Basically the only difference between us, I smoked back then and she did not. So I didn’t, either while we were friends.

Anyways, even after my suspension and I’d resumed my academic pursuits at the school that threw me out we remained friends. Short-lived because the following winter my family moved away. My heart broke, not just because I would lose my first real, true friend but my life would change. There was an event horizon I could not avoid, like a black hole and I was going to reach a point of no return.

Betsy gave me a small soft-cover gift book before I left, “Friendship Is…”, compiled by Gilbert Hay. I practically memorized every poem or quote in that book. The quote from this book, my last in the challenge–

“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.   –Walter Winchell–

It did not matter to her what happened, why I’d been tossed out of school, what I’d done. She was the only person I met who could genuinely see past a mistake to the person. Oh I made other friends while I was there, mostly people who enjoyed the thrill of association with a renegade. But Betsy showed me that real friendship sees past everything and only sees what’s real.

We did lose touch. We wrote for a few months but in the maelstrom of transitioning from pre-adolescence to becoming driving teenagers, high school, dating, college we lost touch. The last I’d heard she’d achieved popularity status sufficient to being elected mayor of the town we grew up in but before she could be pigeon-holed she was whisked away by her knight in shining armor after a whirlwind wedding to Pennsylvania.

And this time I was the one left behind.

“It is not how many friends you’ve won in life that counts, but how many you have left. That is the acid test. For it is easy to make them, harder to hold them.”                                                          — Unknown

“A man who has friends must himself be friendly,
But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”   –Proverbs 18:24

 

favorite quotes: Day 2 of 3

3-day Quote Challenge, continued

“To thine own self be true….. ”      –Hamlet, Act 1 Scene 3: William Shakespeare

I don’t think there is much of anything more basic than this. I know my growing-up years were complete turbulence. I was the first-born of 3, the screw-up, not a mistake so much as mistake-maker. I learned everything the hard way. Sometimes those lessons took more than one pass. Eventually I learned in order to not keep everybody mad I could do and say funny stuff. Make them laugh, usually at me. This worked as long as I didn’t look too hard on the inside. Because people pleasers sometimes make others happy, or avert the argument or throw the barbs off. But even if we do, our lives, while doing all this performing are so hollow inside.

So this was my truth for years. My valley of darkness. It became such a conditioned activity I had no idea that it was within my power to stop. But just like Dorothy I had the power all along.

Just stop. I didn’t even need those ruby slippers to get back “home”.

It made a lot of people angry. I was called all sorts of horrid things– cold, selfish, thoughtless. And those words hurt. But then I remembered they were as much talking about themselves as they were about me.

It took practice. My valley of darkness became a valley of decision…. up until then I did my best at second-guessing, perceiving feelings, fortune-telling outcomes. I doubted, restructured, doubted again.

Basically unanchored, so other-focused I had no perspective of my own.

“But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind.” (James 1:6 NKJV)

And here I began to find my real truth. For someone who’d become so strong-willed, independent, self-reliant it took a long time and many losses. A marriage ended, parents passed away, yet one Constant helped me, each day, each moment become stronger, more discerning, more faithful. He has never disappointed me. He always hears  my prayers. He has proven Himself true over and over. And I know without doubt that He is the only way, truth, life. (John 14:6)

I am nowhere close to finished. But without losing compassion, empathy or kindness my perspective has strengthened and become more realistic, more self-controlled. I take more time to listen. Life is less frenetic. Yes, I am much older now but wisdom is far more valuable.And thankfully more available. Or at least wisdom’s voice is clearer.

 

favorite quote: Day 1

Normally something like this would reduce me to quivering puddles of sweat but I so enjoy the blog written by *Not Easily Broken* (aka unbreakableyetfragile.com) that I am honored by the invitation. The rules are as follows:

THE RULES & MY NOMINEES

My Quote for today, Day 1:

Consider occasionally the suffering of which you spare yourself the sight.                          —Albert Schweitzer

I always attributed this quote primarily to the treatment of animals. Even before I knew who said it. Schweitzer, theologian, prolific author (The Quest of the Historical Jesus, Civilization and Ethics among many others) was a medical missionary in Africa founding a hospital in French equatorial Africa and later being sent with his wife to a French internment camp in 1917. Upon release he returned to Africa and expanded the hospital and lived the remainder of his life there.

 

Excerpted: (https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1952/schweitzer-bio.html)

Nominees: Angelagriffin.wordpress.com, unshakeablehope.wordpress.com, Uncletreeshouse.com

weeds

So the past couple of weeks I have been happily tearing out shrubs and nondescript bushes around my house and replacing them with plants that I feel have real character… native plants. Plants that will do well here once established because, well because they grow here.

I do not understand why nurseries and big-box garden centers persist in stocking (and selling) flowers and plants that grow well in zones where there is no humidity (that’s not here), or the night temperatures never exceed 60* (not here, either). I fell for that. I’d see an exotic or beautiful plant and snatch it up, carefully reading its little happiness parameters– whether it liked sun or shade, dry or damp soil, but completely ignored that it could not survive in sandy soil (definitely here). I would be deeply saddened as I watched this lovely flower slowly succumb to its inevitable demise.

So I planted many things, tiny presently but which will, in only a few years, I hope grow into their natural mature states. Carolina allspice (sweetshrub), clethra (I cannot find a common name for this fragrant little shrub). Elderberry, sweet bay and red buckeye which are all understory trees, or trees that do not grow much more than 10 feet or so.

Then I planted native flowers– echinacea, blackeyed susan, butterfly weed (aesclepias), fennel which swallowtail butterflies love. That’s the wonderful thing about native plants. There are often insects or caterpillars that have a symbiotic relationship with them. A milkweed (aesclepias) plant can be completely denuded of leaves and blooms by a monarch caterpillar.

(not my picture)

After it has eaten its fill it happily goes away to make its cocoon and become its beautiful butterfly self  (also not my picture) while the host plant grows back.

I planted gaillardia (blanketflower) because I love its warm orange and yellow and red colors and because it is probably the most native of all coastal flowers here. And it spreads (hence its name)  (public domain image)

I also planted some hibiscus which you never know what color their flowers are until they actually bloom for the first time. Anything from pink to red to white, purple or blue. And oxeye daisies. I recently learned these are considered weeds. How anyone could call a daisy a weed I’ll never know. But there they are, nestled among the hydrangea and wildflower seeds I scattered- zinnias, among other annuals.

So we’ll see. I live in a neighborhood that prides itself on its homeowner’s association’s perfection. Well, they can have their perfection in my front yard. But the backyard is mine.

(Jack-in-the-pulpit)

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; ²⁹ and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. ³⁰ Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?”   –Matthew 6:28

inspections

So this week my car’s annual inspection was due. This never takes long and I brought a good book for my wait. I’d not read a full chapter when I heard someone whispering my name which was strange because whenever my car is serviced they holler my name like an assembly line. So I turned and said “That’s me,” and a young man turned and gingerly walked toward me.

Uh oh. Car failure? No. He smiled sweetly, leaning in very close like they do at nursing homes when they ask the residents what they want for lunch and said quietly, ” I understand you’d like to discuss a new car?”

“No.”

I remembered someone calling the day before to let me know I’d be given some literature and they’d like to discuss this even though I’d declined this offer then, too. “I think I’ll keep this one a while longer.”

He smiled, nodded and disappeared.

Somehow when there is an apparent vast age difference the older person is either treated as though they might break or are impossibly hard of hearing and difficult to deal with. I remember my dad, well into his 80s, ordering a pizza for my son when we visited one day.

I have no idea what the delivery guy said to Dad but it threw him into a rage and I came running when I heard my father yelling at this kid who was totally unaware of what he’d done or said to set Dad off like that.

So I begin to understand why that happened. We are not old! Our bodies do not in any way reflect who we are. I understand there are many who, though young at heart and mind do not appreciate who they see when they look in a mirror. Looks change. Metabolism changes. Science tells us incessantly how our bodies stop or start doing certain things “due to advancing years”. Botox, body sculpting, face lifts, plastic surgery. Who wants to look like a Barbie doll at the age of 63?

Yet we have younger people who see old people, not who our minds are or our hearts, but the effects of aging. They see grey hair, wrinkled brows, thin, dry skin on arms

and hands, age spots. They see watery eyes, baggy necks, slower pace.

 

 

But they don’t see wisdom. Understanding. Grace and patience that come from pushing hard through life, hitting walls, breaking them down, productive, fruitful years.

So rather than go off like a cannon as my Dad did I smile. I thank God that I have made it to a point in life I only saw before from the outside. I understand one day this young man will see through the looking glass from the other side.

I only hope he can appreciate what it took to get there.

 

“Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am.”    –Psalm 39:4

 

early

I can’t speak for every teenager but I was not a morning person those years. I relished occasional late night movies, “Creature Features”, “Thriller Theater”, anything that riveted my adrenal glands. So after the last one ended at 2 a.m. I toddled off to bed unless my dad had already gotten up to shoo me away from the television. So my mornings  started around noon or later.

After my son was born that all changed. Life was lived for a higher purpose and early mornings were part of it. Then I worked and until I became a librarian morning started where life’s mission was to get my son up for breakfast and in the car to get to school. Library days  started at 11 a.m. a couple of days a week when I worked 2nd shift till 9.

Now I am retired. I am managed by two rescue dogs, husky-mix Lily and terrier-mix Lulu. Mornings are the most important part of the day. The sleeping quiet of the pre-dawn, 4 or 5. Hearing each bird sing its wake up song. Walking our favorite paths before anyone or anything has made its mark– people, cars, even the sun. So this morning we saw in the earliness a primordial mist clinging to a nearby field

and Lily and Lulu take note

It’s early too for woodland spring flowers, these being ones I do not know what they are before they open

   

except wintergreen. Easily identifiable for its tri-leafed form, and a tiny flower bud at the center that will become a brilliant white 5-petaled flower, which will then become the brightest red berry

Later a different trail turned up wild blueberry bushes absolutely loaded with blooms which will soon be luscious, sweet berries

Payback for a long, very cold winter… an abundance of spring, newness, refreshment and food. If I am lucky I will be early enough to have some before the birds eat them all.

“Faith is the art of holding on to things in spite of your changing moods and circumstances.”   –C.S. Lewis

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, forever and ever, amen…” –Ephesians 3:20, 21

dog hair and dryer lint

So when I was little my dad commuted every week to New York from our sleepy little southern town, and sometimes out of the country. One trip took him to Scotland where he bought for me a West Highland puppy. This was way back when airline travel was considered pretty fancy and before the nightmares of rushing, impatience and danger for animals. I don’t imagine animals traveled overseas much back in the 60s, if at all.

Dad put this little puppy in his overcoat pocket. When the stewardess saw her she melted. So Dad kept the puppy with him the whole flight home.

I was a very shy person. I did not have a lot of friends when I was growing up and loved reading books. Piper became my dearest and closest friend. As we got older I took more responsibilities for her and grooming, though not a favorite of Piper’s, became one of those responsibilities.

“Leave the hair clippings in the backyard,” my mom told me, “The birds can use them for their nests.” So I left this puffy blob of white dog hair in the yard.

Dad came home later that day and looked at the fluffy pile. “Did Piper eat something?” he  asked, absent-mindedly. Well, no she hadn’t but his comment must have put some sort of dark juju on that pile of hair because the birds didn’t touch it.

So now finally we are coming to spring here. Nature’s cruel joke of an early spring back in February is almost forgotten. Though people up north are still fighting off winter and we are even warned that temps will once again plunge into the 30s overnight I truly believe (silly me) this is the swan song.

Husky-mix rescue dog Lily has been shedding enough fur to fill several pillows or a small sofa. I brush her hair to try and stay ahead of the dust bunnies.

many little piles like this are drifting around my backyard

Somebody also once told me birds like dryer lint to make their nests soft and comfy. “Won’t they object to the human smell of it?” Silly me.

dryer lint stuffed in the notches of a crape myrtle

Birds don’t much notice a human smell apparently. So when people find baby birds out of their nests and thoughtfully replace them the babies won’t actually be abandoned. This is good to know. Besides which, when babies are out of their nests they generally have not fallen but are fledging and learning to fly. The parents know exactly where they are and are watching.

I know this from experience. My dad also had an English setter when I was little. She was too smart to actually be a hunting dog (you can fetch those dead feathers yourself, she’d often say, so my dad said), but one spring she did find and eat a baby mockingbird out of its nest. From that point on I understood the word vendetta very well. That mockingbird pair would sit in a nearby tree limb waiting for Runt every morning when she’d be let out for her daily ablutions. As soon as she appeared the birds would dive-bomb her, forcing her to race from the back steps to under Dad’s old buick, from there into the unsafe open garage. Somehow she would accomplish what she needed to do then dash back into the house, hoping someone was standing with the backdoor open and not leave her vulnerable to the assaults of angry birds.

Dad loved mockingbirds. He claimed their song was the most beautiful song of all birds. I once challenged him that they really did not have a song of their own, they could only copy other birds’ songs. “Oh no,” he said. “You have to listen carefully to hear it, if you are fortunate enough, you will.”

I do not believe I ever saw Runt (or any other dog) eat another baby bird.

 

“He will cover you with His feathers; you will take refuge under His wings. His faithfulness will be a protective shield.”   –Psalm 91:4

 

surprised by grace

Joyous Easter

  he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
    from all faces;
he will remove his people’s disgrace
    from all the earth.
The Lord has spoken. (Isaiah 25:8)

 

absolute horror, hatred           unimaginable beauty, love
defeat, shame           humility, victory
despair, darkness           brilliant light, hope

 

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)

He nourishes
He strengthens
He guides
He heals
He loves
He is risen
He is alive

Alleluia

eventually, life

We’ve had a few false starts to spring this year. More than once I’ve been fooled into running to the garden centers to see their latest flats of bedding plants, herbs and vegetables. And when I put them outside sure enough there’s a cold snap, even a couple of nights of late frost burning the tender edges of the leaves.

There are many plants that come up year after year bravely through the snow. Crocus, daffodil. This year I had a periwinkle that bloomed.

Some of the little flowers seem so fragile, delicate and tender it amazes me that they are completely unaffected by such a forbidding chill

The bracken fern emerge very gradually, at first tight-fisted, their little fiddleheads clenched against the cold

gradually then the sun’s warmth unfurling those little green fronds that grip so closely to stay alive

 (rescue dog Lulu patiently waiting to the right of the fern)

When I was little Sundays and church were a big part of my week. I looked forward to the friendliness and warmth, the bustle of families drifting into their respective Sunday school classes.

Children generally accept most things and question very little but I tended to be distracted easily so I can clearly remember some time after a particular lesson wondering why my teacher told us about somebody wandering around in the desert. Only later did I realize he meant Jesus’ 40 days being tempted by the devil.

And that was about the time I also realized that the ecumenical calendar was the same year after year. We spoke the same prayers, celebrated the same events of Pentecost, Christmas, Easter and the years were not flat, repetitive. It is an upward spiral.

The truth of those lessons and prayers reflecting the life and love of Jesus becomes clearer. I  paid attention. I hear His admonitions, His instructions, the meaning of taking up my own cross. The cross of humility, of selflessness, of love.

I hope one day those prayers take precedence over whatever smallness remains in me. Eventually.

“When they had brought their boats to land they left everything, and followed Him.”             —-  Luke 5:11