Playing with purpose

There is wonderful freedom when recognizing GOD’s place in each life. I may feel all kinds of bad towards you. It may be well deserved. But at the end of the feelings, I am required to consider what a person means to GOD.

It relieves me of the need to see or experience certain behavior from others. It relieves me of the need to “fix” other people. To fix a child. I consider it my “safe place” because there is such freedom and shelter in allowing GOD to have His way with each of His children.

Each day I am striving to live with respect and consideration for the ownership of GOD. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether we live like we belong. In the end, it doesn’t matter if we ever acknowledge our Creator. It remains an undeniable and factual truth. People belong to GOD.

That does not mean that the law is not for the lawbreaker. That does not mean that we don’t reap what we sow. What it does mean is that you are GOD’s problem. I can always return you to the sender. I can be assured that the warranty of GOD’s love means the repairs are ongoing. It is His desire that none of us be lost; all souls belong to GOD. However, the soul that sins will die. (2 Peter 3:9 particularly & Ezekiel 18:4 particularly.)

There is something to be said for love that keeps reaching for us until the reaching is no longer warranted. That’s grace and mercy I covet for myself and for you as well. Brought and paid for we belong to GOD!

Dreams are a communication extension. If you learn to listen.

Probably my favorite dreams involve being inside the home I own. My home, I have learned signifies my spiritual state of well-being. More importantly, they provide insight into the conversation between the Lord and my heart. They can announce blessings or dangers. Sickness or health.

Probably as only a child born with seven sisters and one brother would understand. My homes always come complete with a separate bathroom attached to each bedroom. Each home splendid in its size and amenities. Nothing lacking, everything provided.

But sometimes I have encountered powerful hateful spirits. If invoking the name of JESUS CHRIST seems ineffective, I have been known to distance myself from those spaces or awakened still engaging in warfare. It is one of the ways I understand that I am doing things by rote, rather than sincerity.

My homes hold unending discoveries. I have learned if I see someone resting in my home, or in one of my beds; special prayer is needed. If I am moving to a new job or home, it means GOD is calling me to deeper depths and new lessons. I am happy as the years have passed; my homes are becoming grander.

In 2017 I went to the second floor of a sophisticated apartment I occupied. Huge. But I had not utilized the rooms on the second floor. I had not told anyone about the malevolent spirits I had encountered in two of the rooms. Because this home had been inherited it was stocked with possessions that belonged to the previous owner. I was always intending to sort through those rooms and retain the valuables for my use. But those spirits had made it a task I continued to avoid.

In 2018 I found myself in that home again. Determined as never before. I decided not to sort through any of the possessions. I would instead empty out every room of every inherited possession, and began to use those neglected spaces. I was not repulsed by the spirits; I understood they were tied to the old possessions.

Now I occupy a larger, redesigned, and redecorated home. I am still learning how to operate all the upgrades, but earlier this year my Aunt Lonnie appeared there and insisted that I not rent out such a grand home as I had planned to do. “You were meant to live here,” she told me.

I am learning to discard my habit of assigning natural symbolism to what is meant to convey spiritual symbolism. I am no longer of the habit of awakening and looking for natural remedies to the dreams. Some things have a natural context, but most do not. Let me say I prefer the stuff of the spirit. It is much more substantial.

I feel like a gambler betting on a fixed race. Or a stockbroker with inside trading information. I cannot lose. No one does, sleeping or awake when you listen for the heart of GOD.

I think while I inhabit this temporal state, some lessons will be ongoing. Temporal living when treated as permanent can rob you of what you already know to be true. So, thank you Lord for the keeping power of your SPIRIT.

One such lesson is the one about time. My childhood was marked by a doctrine of timeliness. We were taught that even church attendance must be done in a timely manner. To do any less was an indicator of your true feelings regarding GOD! If we dare not arrive at a natural job consistently late; why would we be less timely in our efforts towards GOD. Therefore, I am guilty of experiencing the anxiety and weariness brought on by such expectations.

I have told GOD about the situation; because He so needs that from me. I know that He is aware of me. But why oh why doesn’t He answer?

I am learning to take the human stopwatch off GOD. We know already how time exists with GOD, wraps our concept of timing into oblivion. Hint: “a day is as a thousand years and a thousand years is as a day.” (2 Peter 3: specifically verses 8 and 9.)

Nine to Five is for the order of our world. Man invented to help organize our living. To help mark the spot so that we can know we have been there. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years are from us. The past, present, and future; us again.

But when in relationship with GOD put the stopwatch away. Time obeys GOD. When I remember this, trust becomes the reflection of my living. While on this Earth I will always speak from my perceived desires and needs. But I will trust GOD.

Timing that fits my need. Timing that customizes my relationship with GOD. Timing that is always, always on time.

This is a biggie for me. A lesson the Lord has given to me that I find it necessary to return too. Like keeping eggs in my basket. Life has a way of flipping this egg out of the basket. But if nothing else, the presence of the Lord remains steadfast. His lessons true. The revelations to my soul, ongoing.

This is the year I learned something about prayer. Prayer should be the highest form of communication. But often we resort to it after we have tried to orchestrate solutions for ourselves. That’s human. That’s predictable. But as the highest form of communication, it is wiser to listen than it is to talk.

Conversation with the alpha and omega of life, and you are doing all the talking?

When I consider the prayer of JESUS in the Garden of Gethsemane, I find an obviousness that tends to allude me. In Christendom, we are quick to declare the benefits of being co-heirs with Christ. We assume that a 100-fold in this life is in evidence when our lives reflect affluence. When we have GOD given life mates and children as our legacy. But that boils down to more talking than listening.

Three times JESUS prayed, “Father remove this bitter cup!” Twice he enlisted the help of those who loved him. His posse. He prayed until sweat like blood ran down his brow. But the cup was not removed. Surely the Son of GOD had the authority and right to not just ask but to declare. But He did not. (Matthew 26, Mark 14, Luke 22, and John 18.)

He concluded; “not my will but thine be done.” For someone who faced unimaginable persecution. Through no fault of His own. (2 Corinthians 5 emphasis on verse 21.) To face such horror on behalf of a world that often rejects His efforts, that represents for me perhaps the single greatest act of faith in GOD. To choose the path most detriment to the human body and the human mind is trust beyond trust. I know what I would like Lord. I know what I deserve, but I trust that if it faces me; it is the very best for me. I trust you GOD no matter what faces me.

I found that trusting GOD included times of discomfort as well as blessings. That trusting GOD did not necessarily equal opulence, affluence, wealth or health. That trusting GOD means no matter how it translates to my humanity, it represents something for me. One hundred-fold in this life means everything works together for my good. Everything! And the good, well, that’s the success of my fellowship with the Creator.

Seeing GOD’s face in peace is the journey and purpose I share with my Creator. The noblest and highest calling upon my life.

I am determined to live in view of what comes next. Enjoying all this world has for me. But living in expectation of the next. I have the breath of life within me, you think I’m not smart enough to allow the giver of life to lead and guide me? I’m listening Lord speak to my heart.

I find that lessons I am willing to receive from the Lord determine the greatness of my journey. In many ways that is a relief. The expectation for growth in GOD is not self-directed it is received. And each time I am willing to learn I grow and blossom. There is truly no end in sight.

I have been the benefactor of such lessons every year. This year so prevalent and ongoing I am intimidated by the telling. Because some of those stories and lessons are in flux.
One such lesson was the danger of becoming complacent and comfortable in physical, emotional and spiritual limitations. For example.

When I moved into my current home in 2016, I discovered that there was an imbalance in the distribution of electrical currents. But the house is more than 100 years old and I just assumed it was a condition that should be expected. In May of this year after a severe storm, the condition worsened.

I had a practice of only doing laundry during the day because the lights would blink in rhythm with the agitation of the washing machine. I could wash without the need for lightening during the day, so, for three years I had skirted this issue. But in May if I tried to wash and run the dryer at the same time, one of them would stop working. Then it became worse. By the end of May, I could not use the microwave oven while using any other machine or something would shut off. The oxygen compressor would shut off in the dead hours of the morning. Startling me awake with its alarm.

My house was in full revolt and I had no money nor any anticipation of monies to consider having someone come in and make repairs. I told the Lord about it. I determined in my heart to wait and believe in His faithfulness.

It was while talking to the Physician during a regular visit that the answer came. During our conversation, he stopped and wrote a name and number on his prescription pad. “I have known this young man since he was a boy,” he said. “He’s a pretty good electrician. Tell him I recommended him.” My heart sunk because I saw the man lived in Limon, Colorado. I had met with some of the most dishonest and hateful attitudes when dealing with people in Limon.

But at the urging in my spirit, I called that afternoon. The guy said he would come tomorrow morning. He did. But could find nothing wrong with the electrical outlets. He gave me an estimate of the cost to replace the wiring and outlets, but he did not do that type of electrical work.

Something is wrong he concluded; contact the electrical provider and have them check. I did and surprisingly they came that afternoon and begin looking. They soon concluded that there was a problem they just could not find the problem. They tested the microwave, all manner of machines; they still could not figure it out.

In desperation, they went out to the alley and lifted high above to their transponder. I heard the electrician yelp with joy! There were two of them and brother, were they excited.

My home they discovered was not completely connected to the transponder. So, they connected it. Guess what. No money needed. No more jumping lights when washing and drying. No more alarms in the night from machines shutting down. My small griddle no longer had the ability to shut off other machines when I used it.

For three long years, I had assumed I had a problem that I had no way of fixing. Or no one who would fix it if I found the money. In a matter of one-half day, the Lord had sent the fix at no cost to me!

It has been like that all year long. One fix and resolution after another! These retellings are not as poetic or profound. But I remain the benefactor of GOD’s grace. And every day is living proof that I stand enshrouded in His care.

There, right there sitting on the driver seat of my car set a horrific creature. A grasshopper! Don’t give me “oh that’s nothing!” For someone raised in the city. Someone with city sensibility and consciousness; it is a very big deal. They hop and they are quick. Which places them in a category of just one more thing I can’t control. Unless I can kill it before it jumps.

I stealthy approach it, my walking stick extended and “whack!” Nothing. No attempts to evade my stick. My aim so suspect that I’m not sure I ever hit it. Nothing looks smashed. So I try again. This time hitting it or forcing it to hop I am not sure. It now lay sheltered between the metal of my seat’s floor brackets.

Is it dead? Must be I tell myself. But I can’t force my mind to accept this assumption. I can not sit in the seat and drive away. So I keep trying to poke my tormentor from its hiding place. And though it appears to be on its back, I am not convinced. Just as suddenly it hops high into the air. Clearing my seat, my car door and me in one jump. I jump into my car, slam shut my door and drive away.

Truly these are the moments of my days. Should I laugh or cry? Is it more silly than threatening? Probably depends on what personality I am channeling at that time. The Kansas/Coloradoan or the Ozark-ed Missourian. Whichever sensibility is forefront, I want to maintain my joy. I want to always find the humor in being human. In being me!

Like sitting across from my home health aid whom I have learned will pick her nose almost unconsciously if she is not the one talking. So, I am learning the art of allowing another person to verbally ramble. If it will keep you from rolling dried mucus between your figures and dropping it sneakily upon my floor. Than speak child! Just let the Lord use you!

Just the other day I lifted my eyes upward while finishing my statement and caught her finger just entering her nose! And she froze. Finger hanging at the entrance. There is enough mischievousness in my soul that I held her gaze, her finger locked in that pose for as long as I could. My lips animated in some mundane conversation. I was both repulsed and wracked with laughter within. Only an adult would think their behavior is invisible.

What I like about little children is their ability to own their repulsiveness. With honesty and laughter. A little kid would have plopped a mucus beauty out and proceed to show me their prize. Howling with laughter the whole time I “icked-out!”

She reminded me of the times my little people have fallen asleep while eating their lunch. Little heads drooped over in defeat. Shallow breathing inhaling through cold noodles and congealed spaghetti sauce. Little people don’t care. The nap is on! Pick me up and lay me down. Clean my spaghetti covered face or leave me in my high chair. I don’t care until my nap is over!

Adults will yank awake and begin to lie. “Un huh! I wasn’t sleeping! I was just trying to eat my noodles without a fork!”

I say being human is more funny than sad. Yank your head up so quickly that cold spaghetti gets slung over on the person closest to you. Then laugh with abandonment. I’m going to try to keep my car free of grasshoppers, but when I don’t I’m going to giggle with joy. I can be human I am agape loved and that covers my imperfections.

Lately, writing has been somewhat overwhelming. Not in the recording of the words, but in the ability to successfully transcribe them from my mind on to paper. Today is no different, but the memory of my friend Lucinda Self haunts the halls of my thoughts. I miss her.

My friendship with Lucinda is one of the mysteries of my life. Nothing about her should have meshed with me. But it did. She was intelligent but homegrown; schooled by the experiences of a less than perfect childhood. She could hold her own in conversations with schooled, unschooled. Liberal and Conservatives. Male and females.

She had an uncanny knack for seeming to float when she walked. Which few big women are able to accomplish. I know of few heavy women capable of such grace. My Auntie Curly Mason, Mother Phillip Porter I, and Lucinda. People truly liked Cindy. That smile and her kindness could be disarming.

I was assigned the desk located in front of her desk. I can’t remember when but we begin to form a fellowship. Giggling about the same moments and eventually sharing tidbits of our lives. I discovered painful memories of the father she felt had abandoned her while prattling on one day about the comfort that I knew from the Lord. How GOD had balanced out the unevenness that came with my upbringing. I turned to emphasize what I was saying to discover tears rolling down her cheeks. Without thinking I went back to her seat and wrapped my arms around her.

Kindness and honesty are such prerequisites when being with others. You can never know, fully know, the burden of another person’s heart. But years after her death at 42; I remain blessed by her presence in my life. And in my heart. Lucinda is the best friend I have ever had. The older sister I had never experienced. A meshing of hearts that defied all social idioms, age, economics, education, beliefs, physical size, and race.

One day while training Lucinda fell fatally ill. She complained of a persistent headache that had ridden her for three days. We had just returned after a holiday weekend, I believe Memorial day. Our Department Supervisor had taken more time off, and I insisted that she go into his office and try to sleep. She did for around two hours and then returned to my training. I was to cover her desk during an extended vacation she had planned with her husband, Steve.

Though I was already acting as her back up and support, Cindy wanted to be sure I could perform all the work in her absence. So, I worked by her side as she watched and offered suggestions. I knew that her headache had only abated but not ended as I had hoped. Suddenly she leaned forward her head in her hands and said, “I think I just had a stroke.”

Looking into her flushed face I insisted. My mother had suffered strokes I told her; “but you look too pretty and healthy, I don’t think you have had a stroke!” Suddenly rising from her seat she declared she was going to be sick and rushed out to the Ladies restroom down the hall.

Because it was about 3:30 p.m., and time to pick my Kassie up from school. I rushed to our assistant Supervisor and told her Cindy was sick in the bathroom but I needed to leave.

When I returned and had settled Kassie in our lobby to wait until 5 pm, I returned to our office to discover Lucinda had been rushed by ambulance to the hospital. After work, I found where she was located and made my way there. I had been told by the assistant supervisor that Cindy’s husband was discouraging visitors, but I was confident that it did not apply to me and so I went.

It was at the hospital I would discover that she was in ICU; the plant I had brought was confiscated at the nurse’s desk. True enough when I entered the room I saw irritation flash briefly across her husband’s face.

He updated me in muted tones about her condition. In the bed, my friend’s body thrashed and flipped back and forth. Steve explained that she was in pain and could not find a position of comfort. We set silent, witnesses to the despair.

I did not linger as I did not want to add to her discomfort or his. He had told us she would not want to be seen in her condition. I had almost exited the room when I turned back and asked if I could hold her hand for a moment. He agreed.

As I held her hand I begin to silently pray. And as I prayed Lucinda’s thrashing subsided and then ended. As if she was listening to the words of my petition to GOD. After my prayer ended, my friend’s body still and quiet. I left the room. I would never see her alive again. Two days later her husband called and told the Supervisor she had passed.

Unbeknownst to me; her death would be a catalyst in my life. But that’s another story for another time. Today, I just want to honor the gift of her life to me. I want to testify to the amazing union between me and my sister who came via a different father and mother. Thank you, Lord; I really needed that!

Do you find that no matter how many times the Lord has proven His faithfulness; when the next situation arises trust is not always your “go to spot”? Truly it pays to be watchful in prayer. Sometimes it takes me a “beat” to settle down and remember; GOD has it all in control. My very human response is to search and destroy. Stomach twisting, heart beating wildly. I am fully engaged in a battle that is yet just an assumption and a 2:00 am afterthought. By instinct, I look for the person to blame. The person to defeat and destroy.

Sitting in the loo is usually where my sanity begins to return. Just a place of simple but necessary existence reminds me of how I got over the last time. That remembrance allows me to step away from my anger, resentment, pain, and revengefulness. The mind of CHRIST makes itself known and I settle down into the confidence of His presence. I know whatever may come my true treasure, my true value remains intact in JESUS.

I just want to remember to not fight battles that the Lord has already won for me. To not wrestle against flesh and blood. Even if I am the flesh and blood. To allow vengeance to belong solely to the Lord. Nobody and I mean, nobody, can get it dripped and dried like the Lord.

“I trust in GOD I know He cares for me. Upon the land or even the stormy sea. Billows may roll, he keeps my soul. My heavenly Father watches over me! ” Paraphrased, William C. Martin and Charles H. Gabriel,1910.