My hero, part two

Once again, my dear husband Mark has surprised me with his simple grace, wisdom and beauty. He is truly one of the few people I have met that is without guile.

I never would have guessed that he would enter blogworld, much less blow me away by what he offers here.

I like surprises.

Thanks, Mark.

Through the looking glass, darkly

I used to have a recurring dream as a child that was terrifying and incomprehensible at the same time. I still cannot properly explain the content, except to say that, like Alice's tumble though the looking glass, it involved my becomming smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner, until at last I was about the size of a single piece of spagetti, and I knew that it would only be a matter of  time before I would cease to exist and there was nothing within my control to stop it

I had forgotten all about the dream until a few months ago, and I'm not sure what triggered the memory, except it was something in a discussion with my friend Terri about being invisible, and how close we have sometimes gotten to achieving it. The problem with trying to be invisible is (at least) two fold. Number one, you might suceed. Number two, you might become invisible to yourself, a very strong possibility for me.

An introvert by nature, my growing up years projected me into the spotlight in ways that I didn't choose. My family was somewhat conspicuous in our community, my mother was in a wheelchair, and my father was teaching in our midsize church-run school. (Comet Dust, Time after Time) We had few material resources when many around us were wealthy. Toss in the added attention that came with a gift of music, performing and being complemented on this regularly. If that sounds like it might be fun, it was not. It felt like an invasion of privacy for strangers to be giving compliments, when they didn't KNOW me at all. Just as it was an invasion to have casual acquaintances pry into the circumstances of our lives, or give a look of pity for our family's difficulties. I realized that I was in some way invisible in that moment. I noticed I couldn't seem to project who I was beyond and above being part of a particular family, part of a particular tragedy, more than talent, beauty or intellegence just handed to me through my dna.

There is one thing I have struggled to achieve all my life, and that is to get the inside and outside to match. Maybe feeling like I was invisible outside, I tried to be invisible to myself on the inside. I have almost succeeded many times.

I am aware that I will never really match the inside and outside perfectly, that what people see will always be through their own filters, how I imagine I am projecting myself will never be completely accurate. My dream, with the help of God and others, is to have the looking glass become more of an honest reflection, until there is less distortion between who I am and what I 'be.'

I invite all who venture here to be part of that process. If you notice me trying to be invisible, maybe it will help to know you still see me.

My hero

My husband, who is my best friend, favorite companion, and my go-to guy (among other attributes!) has ventured into blogland. He is a man of action and not a lot of words, but the ones he shares are choice. His first post is up, so give a welcome to Mark if you have a minute -


















http://www.jusbeinginthemoment.blogspot.com/

There are angels on earth

My three angels, 2008 April, Isaiah and Peter

Anyone who knows me for about 15 seconds will learn that I have the most beautiful and intelligent grandchildren ever born. I am so grateful for them, it is hard to explain. When my April-precious was born, it was like a clean slate for me, a message that God still had faith in me somehow, after all the mess ups, all the failures, all the pain I had inflicted and suffering I had caused, here was another chance. That could be seen as really, really risky on His part, as indeed it is. To entrust me, even at the once-removed post of grandparent, with a child as beautiful, spiritually in tune and magnificent at this little girl was a gift that changed me forever. I think I was born then. I awoke again.

Of course I adore all three and each are equally wonderful. But the initial wake up call I was graced with upon the birth of April Rose is forever lit in my memory with a incomparable glow. She is my twin flame and she, along with Isaiah, Peter and my fantastic daughter, Lauren, are one of the most important reasons I was born. I guess God loves me after all.

Snakes in Sheep's Clothing

I have a lot of dreams. Very interesting dreams. Sometimes they are random neurons firing through whatever stimuli my brain has encountered during the day. More often, though, I find God is able to get my attention while I am asleep much more efficiently than when I am awake. He is very, very creative, let me tell you. And funny, too. Since He made my brain, He gets how it works and how I think and process things in ways that are extremely difficult for me to articulate, finding even the best language limited in its usefulness.

Which brings me to the title. I had a very typically wild dream a couple of nights ago, and one of the interesting occurences was that several folks I encountered in the dream had pet snakes on a leash. The snakes themselves didn't look normal, even for a snake. Their heads were sort of hollow and folded over, kind of like a cobra only more extreme. They were all black. They kept "jumping' up on me, like a dog. (Don't ask me how a snake jumps, I have no idea and indeed if they ever figure out how to do it in real life I don't want to know about it!) I kept insisting to the snake owners that I hated snakes, that I didn't want them in my house, leashed or not, that I didn't want them near me or jumping on me. The owners paid no attention, other than to look at me with bemusement. I finally left the house, only to find folks on the street with their pet snakes, but now it was sort of like a "Project Runway" for snakes. They were all dressed in elaborate outfits, hats and feathers and what not. Someone told me that their snake was dressed in "jealousy." Its outfit was all in red, silk and felt and sequins. Finally, and with relief, I woke up. (I hate snakes! hAAAAAAAAAAAAte them.)

When I came out of my sleepy fog, I suddenly got the revelation that the pet snakes were representations of temptation. All dressed up and paraded around, presumably under the owner's control (the leash), but snakes nevertheless.

And I will leave you to your own editorializing. As for me, I had to laugh. God got me a good one.

Well, Hello there, part two, or: June, we knew you a little

I spent three hours today in the company of June Russell Dickinson's son, Russell, and part of his family. I got a call on Thursday from Russell, Jr., a quick response to the letter I had sent him. We made plans to meet today and I printed out some info and pictures of his great grandad and grandmother, packed up my computer and camera, and drove the short distance to the home he rents to his lovely daughter, Julie, whom I also met.

Many mysteries still remain about June Russell's life, but Russ Jr. told me a wonderful story that took place about 30 years ago. Russ Jr. was living in Oregon at the time, and had his father on his mind and heart. He felt impressed (had to be God, he says) to take some time off and go see his dad and re-connect. He drove to Minnesota and had to take a leave of absence from his work. Once here, the duo decided to take a trip to Pine Island, our ancestral home in Minnesota, so June could show Russ Jr. around his old stomping grounds. June agreed on the grounds that they 'wouldn't look anyone up.' Well, after a bit June's curiosity got the better of him, and they did go to his half-sister's farm (Ora Mae.) She opened the door, and was shocked to hear who was knocking - it seems she had been told June was dead. She asked him a sort of 'test' question - the name of the horse they had as kids, which was "Selum" - not a name one could easily guess! Of course June remembered it and was welcomed in. They spent a couple days in town, catching up, meeting some of June's nephews, and generally allowing some healing to happen.

June passed away two weeks later. Russ told me that June accepted Christ shortly before he died. I believe that maybe the healing that occured on that trip was a way for God to comfort June and help him find peace.

Now I have another little mystery - one of Russ Jr.'s brothers has been out of contact for several years. I think I know where he is. ..