sweet corn

Ah, it's that time again every Midwest summer when sweet corn is a staple on the table.
Butter dripping, salt and pepper, lip smacking stuck in your teeth corn can be made by boiling, grilling, microwaving, or I have even heard of frying it. Caught my mom tying a bag of some to my door two days ago. It's already gone. My favorites are peaches and cream, and super sweet.
The farmers markets and grocery stores are busting with corn this time of year.

Today, I was reminded how much I take getting corn on my plate for granted.

I have been helping the Riverbend food bank out this summer. We've been fortunate to have some good produce to give away. Watermelons, cucumbers, squash, apples, and potatoes have been put in the hands of the hungry. This week John Deere donated all their sweet corn from their test plots to the foodbank. It went out to the folks in Clinton at the mobile site that was on the news.
We packed up the rest today and took it to low income places in the QCA.
It went to the disabled, seniors, and those struggling to make ends meet. Each hand today that was given a bag of corn was very grateful. They thanked us, but the thanks goes to everyone who planted the seeds, who nurtured the growth, to God for the sunshine and the rain, to those who harvested the fields by hand, who then packed it and delivered it to the foodbank. Feeding the hungry literally takes so many people. It can be exhausting and it can be challenging in so many ways.

Today seeing that corn in a needy person's hand challenged me to remember to be grateful.
To be thankful that I can go buy a sack of corn or find one hanging on my door.

The folks I helped today were helping me see that something as simple as corn on my plate has a sweetness to it that is beyond just food.  I'm thankful to God and to all those who grow this wonderful  tasting treat that I look forward to every year.  This treat brought joy to a lot of faces today, and it radiated to me.

Author Joseph Campbell wrote “find a place inside where there is joy, and the joy will burn out the pain". That feeling of utter joy today burned out the pain of hunger.

There was a “sweet sweet spirit" surrounding us as we delivered food today.  And I know for sure it was the “Spirit of The Lord." Gotta love a good Southern Gospel song, and gotta love
when you get to live it out.

go out and play

“Say, say, say playmate, come out and play with me
And bring your dollies three
Climb up my apple tree
Look down my rain barrel
Slide down my cellar door
And we'll be jolly friends, forevermore."

I've been racking my brain for a week now for these lyrics for this childhood song. My computer friend Siri was no help. But finally tonight, the beginning came back and Google brought me the rest.

My apple tree as a child was actually a weeping willow with a treehouse. When you grabbed the willows from the treehouse floor, you could soar into the air.

My dollies were seven, not three. One kisses you when you raise the left arm. Chatty Baby still says Mama and Bye bye.

I actually used to have a cellar door, but alas no rain barrel.  I didn't slide down the door though, probably because I used to jump off the house roof instead.  I did however sled down the snowy alley hill in the winter.

Playmates were the neighbor kids just like me that liked to go outside and swing, jump, slide and play with dolls.

I still try and play when I can grab some time. Whether it's hiking in the woods, or catching a ball in my glove, playtime is essential for feeding my child within. I don't think I've ever outgrown my childhood. It stays with me urging me to get off the couch, put down the phone, and turn off the TV.
Go out and play, my inner child says, and I do.

Going up to Wisconsin over the 4th of July, I could see that I am not alone in wanting playtime.
Boats, canoes, kayaks, four-wheelers, and vans full of kids and adults alike went with me North.
Escaping to the outdoors is refreshing. Pools and lakes can revive us. Trails lead us out and back.
We find treasure that we cannot name, but it's gold and silver to our spirits.

Don't bury the treasure that you find, share it with your "jolly friends" and then go back out to play again.

.

A reflection on change

I am one of those people who need change in my journey. I get complacent and don't feel like I'm moving if I do the same thing day after day after day. Whether it's in my personal or work life, I need to try something new. I'm not a thrill seeker so jumping out of airplanes is not in my future, but I need adventure to live.

I love to take the “road less traveled" and find something unexpected. Looking around the next corner without knowing what's there gives me the thrill that I crave. It's in the unexpected that my soul springs forth and thrives.

It can be simple things like my Rose bush blooming when I thought it didn't survive the harsh winter.
It is watching my new patio come to life and imagining the joy I will feel when I get to use it for the first time. It is being privileged to see a new baby in the arms of a mother for the very first time.

Change can come suddenly or it can come slowly, but change always comes. Change can bring me joy or difficulty or it can make me very sad.  Unexpected change has happened that has turned my life 180 degrees. Yet, goodness and mercy has always helped me through. Trust is the key for me in any change, that God is with me and walking with me through it.

My journey continues.  Around the next corner, I don't know what is there, but I have an open heart and mind, and I am again moving.  My soul is awake and I anticipate newness again.

Ophidiophobia

Okay, I'll admit it. I hate snakes. I'm scared to death of them. Mice, spiders, bees I can deal with, but snakes are evil. First there was that snake that caused us all to get kicked out of THE Garden, where we all ran around joyously naked. Well, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, but....
I go to zoos and walk around to see everything, but I suddenly get very tired when the reptile house comes up. See, I don't mind lizards or things that run fast and look green. Just don't make me look at a slithered snake.  I'll be happy sitting on a hot bench sweltering in the hot sun waiting for a friend that is brave and fearless and crazy enough to go into the abyss of the snake house.

I am in good company as that adventurer Indiana Jones hated snakes too. However, I would have never jumped into any pit to find the Ark of the Covenant like he did. No thank you Indy, even though I like all your movies. I close my eyes at that part. Covering my ears and singing loudly helps too, or if I am in company...mute is a wonderful button. Snakes on a Plane will never be seen. I would not survive.

I come by it naturally. My dad is afraid of snakes. He used to run them over with the mower. Thus the  saying, the only good snake is a dead snake. Okay maybe that's not a saying. My daughter on the other hand can pick them up. She rescues people like me from the danger of a snake 3 miles away.
She couldn't have come from my womb. I wonder if she was switched before birth????

Wikipedia has a name for that phobia fear of snakes. You can see the name in the title. I could only write it once as it gave me the "willies" to do that. A full third of us have that phobia. I am not alone.

This writing came about because I was having a wonderful time at the river, and stopped to take a picture of a little tree growing in the water.  See I am reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn right now and I thought “aw, a tree grows in the Mississippi. " Then what I thought was a branch slithered .... SNAKE!!


So after my heart rate slowed back down from beyond infinity, I came back home to my safe couch, drank some soothing infused raspberry water, and kept a careful eye on the door. My daughter lives too far, I need to be ready to run.

slow down

I've been reading Notes from a Blue Bike by Tsh Oxenreider. The premise of her book is living a simpler life in the midst of a fast paced world. It's about being intentional in slowing down.

We all live now in a world where everything is fast from our internet connection to our food. We drive instead of walk cause it's faster. We text instead of call cause it's easier. We have bigger and better televisions to draw us in and take us away. Times flies when you get caught up in HGTV.
Yes, I'm guilty of all three.

We have lost connections to our friends and family. We have lost the dining room table- mine is usually covered with piles of stuff. Sometimes I don't know if I am coming or going aka the piles of stuff. We have lost who we are in this technical world we have created.

Tsh has it right in saying we have to be intentional in getting back what we have lost, but moving towards a slower and simpler life can take time. It doesn't just happen.

One of my intentional choices right now is slowing down with my food. Food defines you, and is the sustenance that gives you energy. I am also back walking after such a long cold winter. Last night, I pumped up the tires of my bike. I'm heading out today to enjoy a quiet ride by the river. I'm reading more good books. I'm making intentional choices at work and saying no more when I'm feeling overwhelmed. That's the beginning for me in my effort to slow down my life.

I am returning to the written word slowly. I have always wanted to write. I journaled for years, and then I quit for the last seven. I have been caught up in many other things, many important, some not so much. The Disney Frozen song of "Let it Go" resonates with me as I need to let go of baggage that is too heavy for me, and lighten my load.  Jesus said to let him take on our burdens, but I think even Jesus would throw some of mine off.

One of my favorite hymns has the words “tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free."*
Freedom comes when we live a simpler life. The joys of sitting down to eat dinner at a table can still be before us. Hearing your friend's voice instead of seeing words on a screen is wonderful.

Letting go of my HGTV...hmmm, I will have to think about that one.

*18th Century Shaker Hymn “Simple Gifts"

flat tire

The sound of a tire on a steel rim went by me the other night. I wanted to yell at the driver to pull over, but they were soon too far ahead of me and then gone. Thoughts went through my head about the cost of damaged tires.

I have been feeling that way for awhile. Simply flat. The air was gone. I hadn't had any time away from work, and the stress was getting to me. The stress of nursing can be overwhelming at time.
Everyone wants something or needs something from me. A baby cries, a mother is exhausted, a doctor is angry, and a co worker needs a listening ear. It is costly to my soul.

Who takes care of me?

This past Lenten season for me was trying to stay away from exhaustion in people form.
They are in everyone's life. Those that just take, take, take and dump, dump, dump.
They push me off Humpty Dumpty's wall.

So putting myself together again is hard. Something I have learned is that I can't do it by myself.
I need divine intervention when I get like that.

I received it in a quick trip to NC where a pastor said a simple prayer over me, and I felt the tears come.
My soul was found from a tired and stress-filled lost place.

I heard a story this week about a baby that had so much air around its heart that it wasn't pumping. The nurses did CPR until the doctor could get the air out. When that happened, the little heart started pumping and the baby started to breathe.

I feel like that at times. I need CPR so I can start to breathe again. I need renewal. I pray and hope and wait for it to come. It comes sometimes by someone saying a prayer. Other times, when a friend speaks hope to me, or I get out in nature and feel the earth under my feet. It's never the same.
I can't recreate when I am not the Creator.

Serving has a cost to it. Renewal brings my soul back to a centered place.
Keeping myself in the balance of life is hard, but in order to serve well, it is a must.

I don't like that sound of screeching steel on the road.

the story within

Flying back from a quick weekend to NC, I boarded the plane to find myself sitting between two young men. One was 22 and returning to Seattle for his last 45 days in the Navy. He had been deployed twice serving in Operation Enduring Freedom and was winding down his 4 year service to his country. I was amazed at his dedication, his manners, his commitment to his country.  He spoke with pride about his work in the Navy. He spoke with love for his wife that had sacrificed living apart for those 4 years.

On the other side was a 13 year old young man with a Delta wristband which indicated he was flying on his own. He had asked to sit in my seat by the window and since I am not a fan of looking out at 10000 feet, I gladly let him have my seat. He said he felt better by the window. I wonder if he felt safer there. Traveling on his own relying on Delta staff, he remarked how he had never had the same staff escort in all his travels. How often does a 13 year old boy fly alone? This young man who was sitting by me traveled between parents about 11 times a year. He had been doing it for three years, and was looking forward to being 14 when he would be able to fly alone without the wristband. He spoke of his love for his little brothers and sisters on both ends of his world, and his love of sports.

I was privileged to be between these two young men. One was on the brink of moving on in his life, and the other lived in constant motion. Everyone has something to say..they have a story within them.
A simple seat arrangement brought us together, and in two hours of sharing I had a new understanding of two very different lives.

We all have a story within us and sharing it with a stranger seems to expand our world just a little.

Just something to think about.