Help! Somebody's Turning Tables on Me! More Intergallacting Rewiring of the Screwed up Motherboard

As the church bells ring inside my head, the complements of the aforementioned hammer, another teensy little thought, perhaps just the ‘ught’ part of the word ‘thought’ rises above the subsiding noise still bouncing against the walls of my battered brain…

If God wants me to love Him, choose Him, want Him far more and above anything and anyone else, and He is
NOT a psychopath, a bureaucrat and a tyrant…

In fact, He is
the smartest,
most brilliant,
impressive,
most powerful dude in the universe of which He is the sole title holder/owner…
plus
He is outrageously creative,
hilariously funny,
AND,
He also has superpowers like
walking on water,
apparating,
raising the dead
in addition to being
the surgeon general specializing in fixing broken hearts….
Plus so so much more...

If all this is true, then…

WHAT KIND OF AN IDIOT AM I TO TURN MY BACK ON SUCH AN OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD PROPOSAL?!!!

Suddenly I can feel this queasy sensation rising inside the pit of my stomach, telling me that I am not going to like the answer to this question… not one bit!

Could The Old-Fashioned Be The New Cool? Rewiring of the Intergalactic Communication Motherboard

We left off with a question:

If God is NOT a self-absorbed psychopath, or the communist-era birocrat, or hard-hearted tyrant enjoying a vacation somewhere far away, then WHY the heck is He doing or not doing all this stuff that makes us think that He is (even if we might never put it quite into those words or publicly acknowledge those thoughts)?!!! What in the world is He after with this strange, unconventional, outside-the-box, even crazy approach to His straying humanity?

Here's a little thought... perhaps just a 'tho' from the word 'thought'...Could it be that just like any human lover, He, too, wants us to… love Him… as He is… ?

Not because of how smart and brilliant and impressive He is…

Not because He is the richest guy in the world…

Not because He is the most powerful dude in the universe…

Not because of what He can do for me…

…Or the lavish gifts that He gives me…

But because… of who… He is... just loving Him because there is so much to love… in Him…

No bribes, favors, prenuptial agreements, haggling, manipulating… NO prostituting???

Just simple, old-fashioned, unadulterated, unstained, uncorrupted, no strings attached, no envelope under the table… love…

Could it be… is it … is it possible… that God… wants… us… to come to Him … and… love…Him…just because… He IS?!!!! Because, perhaps, He could be… because He IS… worthy… even deserving… of our love… because of who He is…?

Could it be that He wants us to choose Him, decidedly and unequivocally choose Him and Him alone, over and far above every other lover vying for our heart, energies and attention, including our own deluded self?

I don’t know about you, but this little thought scares the spit out of me… Crazy as all this may sound, I wonder if we might have just about hit that nail right on the head. Except that the head that is ringing is the one attached to my own neck.

A Special Thank-You from Your Intergallactic Communication Center Team

After last posting, if you are still reading this blog, I thought you deserve a special recognition and a personal thank you from the Intergallactic Communications Command Center.

If this is the first time you are reading this blog, you can stop now. What follows will not make any sense to you, since it is kind of an insider joke.

First of all, thank you, you two Russians who have stuck out with me. Do hold onto that bottle of vodka (and perhaps send one my way!), for we might be needing it in the pages to come - as a disinfectant, of course... what else?? In story-telling, just as in life, sometimes it has to get worse, before it gets better. Our Slavic soul strings must recognize and resonate with each other...

To the outside-the-box German reading this blog - I salute you swimming against the flow up this narrow stream. You are in the great company of some other amazing Germans who have also resisted the pull and the pressure of culture around them and followed Jesus when everybody else turned around and went down the easy path. Too bad the 'other' German got all the attention... at least in this world.


To the lonely Indian, I so empathize with you, my dear friend, and I love your warped sense of humor... Thank you for hanging in with me.

To the three Americans (my good friend Susan who I can always count on, being one of the three) - you, my dears, might be living in a wrong country... or perhaps on a wrong planet. You are my true crazy heros! You are a daily reminder to me that, despite all the propaganda stating the contrary, our God is as involved, and active and mightily working in the USA as in all those other places we only hear about...

Self-Absorbed Psychopath, Communist-Era Birocrat, Hard-Hearted Tyrant or …? Crossing the Intergallactic Communication Wires...

Of course, some of us, who like arguments for arguments’ sake would object,

What kind of self-absorbed psychopath would expect me to shelf everything, put my cell phone on vibrate – or even turn it off altogether, God forbid! - and twiddle my thumbs for eternity waiting for him to shed his pearls of wisdom?!!! Get a life! Which planet do you live on?!!!

Fair enough. Either God is a self-absorbed psychopath, or, as we have already ascertained regarding His ways, there might be a method to His madness. Which also might explain

His often inexplicable silences (for I don’t think He is deaf, and He certainly couldn’t be snoozing with all the clamor in His front yard);

His callous disregard for the shopping list I most respectfully submit to His desk on semi-regular basis (this, in particular, reminds me of dealing with communist-era birocrats!);

His seemingly hard-hearted refusal to answer our earnest, even desperate prayers when it is clearly in His power to do something;

His strangely hands-offish approach to governing the world He created that is precariously spinning out of control while He is taking vacation in some perfect galaxy far, far away…

I could go on and on and on… but, I won’t because I know that the Complaint Line in front of God’s main gate is already too long, and I hate waiting in lines.

So, if we try again… I know I am pushing the envelope here asking some of you twice in two days, but please bear with me just this one last time…

What if we are to give God the benefit of the doubt and say that He is...

NOT a self-absorbed psychopath satisfying some sick need within Himself for the dried out crumbs of our approval and attention;

NOT some cosmic communist-era birocrat making us jump through millions of hoops in an impossible quest for satisfying some mindless, anal standard of perfection;

NOT a callous-hearted tyrant enjoying His vacation while the rest of us go to hell...

I know this is a mental yoga stretching exercise for some of us that might pull a muscle or two, so be careful and try it at your own risk (this is probably the only warning/ disclaimer I am going to give you - if this is too much for you, take courage, it was never meant to be for you! Go back and enjoy your Pinterest).

The rest of us may take deep breath and resume now...

But, if God is NOT that, then WHY the heck is He doing it?!!! What in the world is He after with this strange, unconventional, outside-the-box, even crazy approach to His straying humanity?

A Method to the Divine Madness? Even more thoughts on the Intergalactic Communication

With my proven track record, I know I am not qualified to assess anybody’s mental health, especially not the mental capacities of the Lord God Almighty. My psychiatrist would attest to that. But I admit that sometimes I do get a little worried about God’s reputation. If He doesn’t keep His blog and FB status regularly updated, how many 'likes', or 'followers' does He think He is going to get?!!! Not to mention all the crap He allows and tolerates in this world! If I were God, I wouldn't let that kind of stuff happen in my house!

So, it seems that this is where God and I part our ways - again! For unlike me, He doesn’t appear a bit concerned about His reputation. Or the numbers – whatever the numbers are – approval ratings, ‘likes’ or 'followers' on His Pinterest account. When God does algebra, greater numbers don’t add anything to Him, nor the lesser numbers take anything away. In fact, sometimes one can conclude that in God's economy less is actually more! Now, I think that is really weird. Weird but cool. I wish I could be more like that! Especially when I look at 10,000 books sagging my bookshelves.

So, having established that He is quite different, utterly unrepeatably DIFFERENT from anybody or anything you and I know, we can't be definitive about His mental state, namely we can't say that He is crazy just because His ways differ from ours. Considering all that He has given and continue to give to us, I think we owe it to Him to at least give Him the benefit of the doubt.

I know that this is extremely difficult for us who are the sceptical types, and it might take a little baby step… or perhaps a giant flea leap of faith for others (By the way, did you know that fleas can jump 200 times their body length – and that without wings?!!! I think it would be fun if humans could do that, although it may represent dangerous highway hazard, especially if jumping is not strictly regulated ... just a thought...)… Anyway, where were we? Ah, giving God the benefit of the doubt… That’s right…

So, let’s just dream together… What if… what if God turned down the volume so sooooo incredibly low, down to almost – just almost – an inaudible whisper, to ensure that only those who really, I mean, really really want to hear Him would lean in, and take pains at tuning out all other distractions and noises and on top of that be willing to wait as long as it takes to hear His voice?

And the rest of us can still have all the excuses we want to keep on ignoring Him?

Now, that might be a thought worth a consideration... perhaps even serious consideration…

The Glow-in-the-Dark Bibles - More Thoughts on Intergalactic Communication

In addition to our screwed up conditioning that trained us to expect God to always come to us yelling like a madman armed with a baseball bat (if you are confused, you need to check out the blog entry The Bible and the Bathroom Scale - The Forgotten Art of Reverence), another problem we have in hearing Him could be the packaging.

I look at the many Bibles neatly arranged like sardines in a can on the bookshelf behind my back. Then, I look at the rest of my library. There is an estimated 10,000 other types of sardines, equally neatly (or NOT!) stacked next to and on top of each other on the bookshelves all around me. Looking from the outside, one can distinguish absolutely no difference between GOD's word and an average human blabber (some quite impressive blabber,I must say!). If I evaluated exclusively the attractiveness of the binding and cover, I would have to cast my vote for Encyclopedia Britannica or even The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius (please, don’t ask any questions, I can see you shaking your head!). I probably have at least a dozen cheap (I apologize, God, for nothing about You is 'cheap' unless we make it so!) flimsy paperback Bibles with the coverpage graphics that don’t come even close to commanding the kind of respect God’s Word deserves! Not a single copy of the Bible I own glows in the dark! What’s up with that?!!! If I were God, I would make sure I catch people’s attention any way I can… I think it would be really cool if all the Bibles in the world had glow-in-the-dark covers. That would certainly ensure that people won’t get confused and pick Oprah or Dr. Phil as their main or even only source of soul food (nothing against Oprah or Dr. Phil!), right?

But, since I am not God, and my ways are not His ways, I have to scratch my head a little as to why He chooses such unpretentious ways of speaking to us. He is THE Almighty (capital A!), all the resources of heaven and earth stand at His beckon and call. He has the most important message in the universe to deliver to His doomed humanity. He has the RIGHT and the MIGHT to do whatever He wants. And He restrains Himself to an old, dusty, silverfish eaten pages of an ancient book?!!! That can be... BURNED! Using the words that can be twisted, misunderstood, taken out of context and worst of all – IGNORED! He might be God, but He must be crazy!

Unless, of course, unless… there is a method to His madness...

Who's Your Tuner?

A couple of days ago we acquired a used but well taken care of Korg tuner. It was a step up (or so we thought) from the ancient pitch-pipe I’ve been using to tune my son’s violin for the past four years. It was also a more simple solution to our everyday tuning needs relative to the DaTuner app on my tablet, since it eliminated all the distractions that numerous other apps expose us to during the violin practice hour. God knows that more distractions is something we definitely do not need in our household, especially during the practice time!

The first morning of tuning with the help of this new tool I relished the simple and clear feedback I was receiving from Korg as to the sharps, flats and naturals. Pleased with myself, I handed the perfectly tuned violin to our son and when he started playing, he sounded exceptionally horrible. He might not be a pro, but I knew he was not that bad. I (unsuccessfully) tried fine-tuning the violin but other obligations of the day crammed the violin tuning and playing out and I wasn’t able to troubleshoot the problem further. The afternoon didn’t yield better results – we were all tired and grumpy from the long week anyway, and tuning and playing the persnickety instrument when you are tired and grumpy is simply a very bad idea.

Today we had plenty of time for tuning and practice, so I was at it again. And again. And AGAIN. The more he played, the more horrific he sounded. We checked the tuner again and again, and the little green light kept smiling at us, but Beethoven had to be turning in his grave listening to his cannibalized piece. The longer I listened, the more I could feel my internal temperature rising. First I blamed it on the ‘stupid’ violin. Then I blamed it on the careless way my son handled the instrument, causing it to get un-tuned as it got transferred from my hands into his. On the verge of throwing the violin through the closed window, I decided to try one last thing. I fired up the tablet, pulled up DaTuner and started playing. I was shocked to discover that although two strings were right on target, the other two were completely off! I looked at the Korg and noticed it says Guitar and Bass Tuner - not violin! We were trying to tune the violin with the wrong kind of tuner! No wonder the music sounded so jumbled and screechy! We laughed and laughed (and I cried a little) as I tuned the violin back to the correct pitch.

As I reflected on this, I thought how often I try to ‘tune’ my heart and mind to other people – what they say, think and do; what's in or cool; or, what I think others think and say about me or what is important to me. Every once in a while, this may strike the right cord, but when I use others as my personal pitch pipe, the overall music of my life sounds more like jumbled screeching than a beautiful melody. Regardless of how impressive their resume might be, other people’s experiences are not meant to be a standard I should strive toward. When I do, in the heart of my heart I know the music I am playing, the stories I am telling don’t resonate properly. They are a waste of time at best and terrible, irritating noisy distraction for those who are trying to listen.

There is only one pitch pipe given to mankind to tune our hearts to – His name is Jesus Christ. When our hearts are tuned to His life-giving Word and His life-giving Spirit, He will produce heavenly music through each of our lives no matter what instrument we are playing. And His music, and His alone can truly refresh and restore the souls and spirits of all the weary ones who have ears to hear His song.

Fighting the Imaginary Stay-at-Home vs. Working Moms Dichotomy War

The most recent war between stay-at-home moms and working moms proves yet again that we seem to be enamored with fighting needless battles and fueling false dichotomies. Regardless of what Hillary Rosen and Ann Romney say or tweet and the media, blog and FB frenzy that generates, we all know that there are both stay-at-home mothers and working moms who have either made that choice or that choice was made for them for all the right, courageous and noble reasons.

Likewise, there is plenty of insecure, cowardly or hurting women who have chosen the insulation of their homes from so-called evil and ungodly world we live in for all the... well... not so noble and right reasons. There is probably equal number of insecure, cowardly or hurting women who have chosen the reprieve and escape the workforce world offers from the, at times, unbearable strain and pressure of parenthood for all the... well... not so noble and right reasons.

Implying that a choice – one or the other – is intrinsically right or wrong, is, if I dare say, wrong. We can’t justify or condemn either in its own merit. And since we don’t know what is in the heart of another human being nor are we equipped to discern their internal motivation, we need to refrain from judging, justifying or condemning altogether, and if possible, from meddling in other people’s affairs.

What we can and perhaps, should do, however, is examining our own hearts and making sure that what we choose to do is done with courage, humility and nobility of heart before God who sees and knows each of us, and entrust all judgment we want to pass on to others into His loving, faithful and just hands.

Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ and behold, the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. Matthew 7:1-5

The Bible and the Bathroom Scale - The Forgotten Art of Reverence

Even though we live in an age that worships and idolizes so many things, it’s really hard to find something that comes even close to giving us an appropriate definition and understanding of the word reverence. The word and its synonyms have been so thoroughly contaminated in wildly irreverent world we live in (which, BTW, I don’t mind at all, because most comedians are not laughing at the REAL thing but at our warped perceptions of it and accompanying screwed up idiosyncrasies). Because of this, I won’t even try going to a on-line dictionary in search of the definition.

The closest I could come to a better understanding of the meaning of reverence in our every day use is the way we approach bathroom scale each morning. There is hope. There is a little (or a lot) bit of trepidation. There is a realization that no matter what we may want it to say, it will reveal the truth. The scale doesn’t lie. However, how we hear and interpret a simple digit, 62, for example will largely hinge on the frame our minds and hearts are in, on the way we have been conditioned to listen to feedback messages in our families, peer groups, educational institutions and our societies at large. (BTW, number 62 stands for 62 kilograms, if you are living in a metric world like I do. For those of you who prefer to be pounded, here’s the link to a converter

http://www.infoplease.com/pages/unitconversion.html?qty=62&fromopts=kilogram&toopts=pound&unittype=weight&grp=&convert.x=27&convert.y=12

Back to the conversation with the bathroom scale. So, the scale may say 62 kg, but what I hear might be,

You big, fat ugly pig! I knew you have no self-control. I have given you warnings time and time again, but you, you weak-willed, wretched glutton…. And so on, and so forth… If this is how your scale talks to you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you have already thrown it across the room… several times. And if you haven't, maybe you should. It might do a little bit of good to your soul.

Now, if you’d like to know, the way my bathroom scale talks to me is more like this:

Good morning, precious. Aaaah, you are absolutely gorgeous, my darling…. At this, I usually look around the bathroom to see if there is anybody else there, for not even my husband talks to me like this every morning. Once I ascertain that I am all alone, and that the scale is indeed talking to me, I bend my ear a little bit closer to make sure I don’t miss a word of what else this lovely scale has to reveal about how she sees me.

I love the shape of your body. I love those dimples you have. But, if you care to hear what I have to say, that second helping of the blueberry pie with extra serving of ice-cream on top you enjoyed so much last night is carrying some consequences this morning, if you know what I mean. … My eyes pop out at this, as I remember the pie and the ice-cream. And do remember that that second helping the scale is talking about wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as the first… So, I look back at my friend and respond,

Well, thank you so much! I do appreciate your honest feedback... and everything else you said, even though I find very hard to believe. Next time our neighbor Bob brings that awesome blueberry pie I’ll certainly take everything you said to me this morning into consideration. See you tomorrow!

Of course, I am always free to forget or ignore the loving feedback of my wonderful scale. But, I am never free from experiencing the consequences of rejecting the truth and believing a lie.

Sadly enough, most of us have been bludgered silly by clueless people acting ‘in the name of God’ who use the Bible (or rather their personal pet interpretation of it) as an assault weapon - to judge and condemn, to criticize and point out all that is so horribly wrong with this world. In fact, if I want to be completely honest with you, I’ve done that myself many times over. If you've ever experienced this side of me, I am sorry! I mean it. Please, don’t count it against God. Count it against me and my own cluelessness and ignorance! However, improper use of God’s Word doesn’t invalidate the Word of God. It only shows that there have been, there are, and there will always be a lot of ignorant, clueless people around wielding it stupid like some cosmic baseball bat.

The Bible and the Baggage… Just admit it, we all have it…

Not to make any excuses for my lackadaisical treatment of God’s Word, but I must give myself some credit for entering into a rather complex family history with tons of skeletons in the closet, cultural fall-outs and associated baggage.

Numero Uno: When I entered into this intergalactic communication deal, the movie has already been well under way. It’s like starting at chapter 27. I have no clue what had happened before I jumped in, I have no clue who is the main guy, how it all started, the lovers and the traitors, the adulterers and the murderers - the whole nine yards. I have a ton of catching up to do! And, as if this is not already enough homework, I need to find out how do I fit in this unfolding, living, breathing, tragic, comic, out of this world, deeply personal love story. We could stop here but there is more….

Numero Due: Throughout history, some people have seen the Bible for what it is, God’s self-disclosure statement to His straying humanity, and were smitten by the sacredness of it. So, they treated the Word with such extreme reverence (now, some of you, like me, need a dictionary to find out what this word means, but I’ll come back to that in a sec) – namely, they sealed it like you seal a bottle of extremely rare and expensive perfume and tucked it away in a museum (or a bookshelf, or a nightstand). Now, the bottle itself is beautiful, and everybody knows that the perfume inside it very expensive and rare. But, God didn’t send His word for us to seal it away and stick it in a Museum of Rare and Expensive things to collect dust and silverfish. His desire is for us to crack the seal open and splash it all around, making our lives fragrant with it, so people can sniff it out and want to know where in the world we got it?!!

Bible - Important, Boring and Irrelevant - More Thoughts on Intergalactic Communication

Having worked on my Masters Degree in Ignoring the Obvious most of my life, it shouldn’t surprise me that my shotgun approach to prayer, e.g. me having prolonged, repetitive monologues launched in the general God-direction, spilled over into my ‘listening’ to God through His Word.

Judging by the number of copies of the Bible I have in different translations, including some that showcase the languages I don’t even know or recognize, one would think I am quite an expert on the subject of listening to God. But, my 'expertise' has been largely focused on ferreting out a single verse, ripped out of its context that ‘speaks’ fireworks into my darkness. The same God who spoke Light into darkness, I gather, aims this little laser at me, fires it, and, Ka-boom! - the light switch is suddenly turned on, my ears tingle and I am mildly dizzy from the intensity of the revelation.

Wow! Cool! Do it again, God!

Now, I am not saying that God can’t or doesn't speak and encourage us through this laser gun approach in communicating with His children. In fact, sad as well as embarrassed to admit it, but most of my Christian life has been sustained through such fireworks display. The array of verses has grown over the years, of course, but they read more like a Webster dictionary rather than a compelling, intriguing, heart-wrenching and sometimes hilarious true love story. If watching 24 doesn't seem like a lullaby in comparison, and Jack Bauer's life doesn't illicit an occasional yawn, could it be that there is something terribly wrong with the way I approach God's Word? Could there be a better way to listening to God speaking instead of playing this celestial laser-tag?

Need a Doc?

It took us only less than five minutes drive from our house to get to experience a total cross-cultural immersion. It pounced on us unsuspectingly out of the one of those birthday party invitations. The parties I drag my feet to, bracing myself for the impact of the mind-numbing conversations, the obscene level of materialism shoved down our children’s throats, hurrying them to grow up faster and faster (as if that's what they need!) and the decibel assault on my ears that leaves me partially deaf, immobilized by a splitting headache for the next several days.

We were greeted in three languages spoken from three different continents, at least six different types of beer (I did ask for a dictionary to assist me in navigating these unfamiliar alcohol laden waters but they assured me of their personal expert guidance), a table sagging with unbelievable, indescribable amounts of food… with more and more coming by the minute. The ceiling was caving in on us from all the stomping and jumping and dancing going on upstairs.

The guests swapped their arrest stories while the host’s brother, a policemen off duty working for OPD kept shaking his head, each shake punctured by uproarious laughter of the rest of us. I confessed my only run-in with the law so far – the infamous speeding violation – which immediately spun into a spontaneous contest, Who Paid the Biggest Speeding Fine punctured by more and more laughter. Nobody was surprised that in this competion I was left in the dust.

I don’t think it is humanly possible to pack in more fun, food and racket in one short afternoon with complete strangers. As I reflect on it, I realize that after today I understand a little better why Jesus was called a friend of credit-card debt collectors and sinners. I can totally see Him having a great time with a bunch of misfits and lawbreakers like these friends of mine coming from four corners of the world. I can hear His laughter. I can imagine Him having the second and the third helping of that awesome lamb, and another stuffed grape leaves roll, and another serving of that heavenly layered cake. And a refill or two of the sweet wine.

But, He would also see beneath the makeup and the tattoos, beyond their rambunctious behavior into their pain and loneliness and fear. He would read between the lines of the book on child’s out-of-control behavior a deep sense of powerlessness and hopelessness to deal with life and all that life throws at you. He would hear amidst the loud noise makers celebrating children’s birthdays a desperate cry of a beautiful woman for love and permanence, even as a wedding dress and a walk down the aisle keeps slipping through her fingers with each child she conceives and births out of wedlock. And His heart would ache because of all their roadside choices, and yearn for the day when they will return home. For the day when they would finally recognize His coming and see that all their hungers and thirsts are fully and completely satisfied in Him and Him alone.


The Pharisees and their scribes began grumbling at His disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with the tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus answered and said to them, “It is not those who are well who need a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. Luke 5:30-32

Entering into Rest...

When He had made purification of sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high… (Hebrews 1:3)

“It is finished!”. (John 19:30)

So there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God. For the one who has entered His rest has himself also rested from his works, as God did from His. Therefore let us be diligent to enter that rest, so that no one will fall, through following the same example of disobedience. (Hebrews 4:9-11)

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28, 29)

Safe? No... Good? YES!

"Safe?... Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But, he's GOOD. He's the King, I tell you." The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis

The ultimate risk-taking God stepped out of His royal, heavenly safety into the royal mess of human existence. From the day He was born, they sought to kill Him (Matthew 2:7-18). On Good Friday the evil seemingly triumphed... at least for a short while. The White Witch and all her cronies had a field day.

But, the greater mystery, kept hidden in the heart of God before the foundation of the world was set in motion that day. And no evil to this day can conquer this unfolding mystery. One day the whole world will know, truly know that He is good. That Jesus is THE King, to the glory of God the Father.

A Speeding Ticket that Yields Eternal Dividends

So, how many times do I need to slam into a wall before I start slowing down?

Calculations based on my daily average would predict more times than you can count.

But, eventually, even the undersigned recognizes that this is not working so well for her and her family.

It may also take one outraged policeman, flailing frantically in the middle of the road and $150 slap on my wallet to notice those SPEED LIMIT signs along the side of the road. Funny how I always thought that they were posted there just as suggestions observed mostly by partially incapacitated and/or elderly drivers. For it’s really up to me to determine the most appropriate driving speed for my vehicle based on how late I am running for my next appointment.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit here that I had considered disputing my speeding ticket even though I had announced many times that I would never do that since I have been speeding so much all my life without ever getting caught.

Of course, the moment I get caught my human nature kicks in and wants to argue, dispute and protest the consequences and summon every lawyer who would help me find more excuses to prove my ‘innocence’. I am a mother of two young children - I am good at telling people what they should do! I am certainly not a reckless driver. Didn't you see that inconsiderate jerks yakety-yak-yaking on their cell phones while driving - they are the real road hazard!

Now, even though such ‘interferences’ with my running my own life can be quite painful, I think the lesson is worth every penny of those $150 speeding fine. Perhaps what I really need to do is write a ‘thank you’ note to the Florida Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles. And while we are at it, maybe God won't need to use the megaphone as much in His attempts to get my attention.

Could we turn down the volume please?

“Can I put You on Hold for a Sec?” Plowing Over God while Busying to Do His Will

I know it sounds weird, but God is easily shoved aside because He chooses such unassuming ways in how He deals with us. I’ve done it countless times without even realizing. And many more times, knowing full well that God is trying to get my attention, but I choose to ignore Him… or rather, postpone Him. I have things to do. Stuff to accomplish. Check off my ever-growing TO-DO list. I’ve done it today at least half a dozen times! So, I bulldoze over the Holy Spirit with only a faint suspicion that I might be missing something… But, before that suspicion settles into anything concrete, I quickly reassure myself that whatever it is I am missing, it can’t be terribly important, since it is so easily bulldozed over.

I am so driven to accomplish God’s will that His presence in my life sometimes feels like, well, imposition. It is much easier for me to do what I think I’m supposed to do without needing to collaborate with God about it. What if He has an opinion that differs from what I have already determined to be my agenda? So, nine times out of ten, I skip the collaboration part, put the pedal to the metal, and… usually crash into a wall on the first turn. When that happens, I expect Him to come alongside, pick up the shattered pieces and tell me, “I told you so.” Well, He doesn’t. At least not that last, rubbing-it-all-in part. Even though He sure has the right to do it.

As I dust off my sore bottom, I ascribe the wall-crashing to a freak accident and move on with my life, as deaf as a post to the voice behind the thunder... the voice behind the megaphone…

Concerning Him we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. Hebrews 5:11

God's Prefered Mode of Communication - Intergalactic Communication 101

So, what’s the problem? Why aren’t we hearing from God?


Part of it might go back to God’s aforementioned preferred mode of communication.

If I were God (which thankfully I am not), and if I wanted to get my message across, I would be on every network and cable channel, I would interrupt all the regular programming and saturate Facebook and blogosphere with THE LINK. I would use thunderous clouds to spell my messages in the sky to ensure total coverage.

All this to say, my ways are NOT God’s way.

Instead of all this, He chooses a gentle whisper, a soft breeze (I Kings 19:12) to convey His important message. He chooses to refrain from all that is at His omnipotent fingertips and allow us to choose to listen to Him. Wow! Now, that’ s different. So easily overlooked. So easily ignored. So easily misunderstood and misinterpreted.

A Brief History of Intergalactic Communication - Those who don’t learn from history are bound to make its mistakes

Now, I really can’t blame God for failure to communicate with us. He spoke to Abraham. He spoke to Moses. He spoke to kings. He spoke to and through the prophets. But, throughout human history to this very day, most of us, most of the time have managed to either ignore or misunderstand His message.

So, God gives us this one last shot – He puts all His eggs in one single Easter basket – He becomes a human! I know I am mixing metaphors here combining Easter and Christmas. But, in reality, without Christmas there would be no Easter. And without Easter there would be no purpose to Christmas. Christmas would be just a brief alien visit similar to Santa's that happened long time ago with no relevance to you and me today or any other day of the year. Anyway, back to communication. In Jesus, God becomes human, flesh and bones, hungry and tired, mocked and misunderstood, beaten and crucified human. Everything we ever need to know about God is presented to us in this one package – fully God, fully Man, perfect Interpreter.

You would think now we have it all figured out – the intergalactic wires that got crossed back in the Garden of Eden finally repaired and we are ON. Well, not so fast, my friend. No matter what anybody else says, Jesus already said everything we need to hear and know about God. Jesus did everything that needed to be done to repair the broken wire. Jesus also promised the Power Cord that would keep us charged and tuned up to the right channel. Jesus sent the Power Cord aka the Holy Spirit 50 days after the first Easter, so now we have this built-in two-way HAM radio with direct line to God the Father. How cool is that?!! But that’s not all! He also made some people back then write all this stuff to make sure the message doesn’t get screwed up and compile it in a book. Now, I am on my turf and can relate to these poor writers trying to keep up with God and scrambling to do everything they can to stay out of His way and not screw up the message with their own little spins.

So, what’s the problem? Why aren’t we still hearing from God?

Intergalactic Communication - Help, I Need an Interpreter

As you can imagine, intergalactic communication has its own unique challenges. If God speaks thunder for example ten out of ten of us would be left speechless shaking stupid in our suede boots. Without an interpreter who is fluent in both languages, it’s really hard to translate lightening or tornado into human language without inducing hair-raising fear (John 12:28,29).

The presence of fear is not conducive to communication, intergalacting or human. But, if I know that the person behind the voice of thunder is my Dad, who is crazy about me, who loves me to pieces and would never ever do anything to harm me, I can actually relax, knowing that He is in charge, no matter how bad the storm might be.

Thunder, or lightening, or earthquake is not , I am repeating, is NOT God’s preferred mode of communication (I Kings 19:11,12). He has to use it sometimes to wake us up, because if we remain asleep, He knows that something much worse than a hurricane, or tsunami, or earthquake, or cancer is coming and unless we hear His voice and take the cover He provided, we will be swept away by it. It is His love that is trying to wake up the sleeping world.

But, for some people, that’s all they hear – a thunder, a tsunami, a tornado (John 12:29a).

Few, more discerning will recognize it as a voice of an angel (John 12:29b), carrying a special message to some specially initiated insiders. Personally, I would interpret the angel's message as calling people back to their Creator and Redeemer, because that’s what the worshiping angels are supposed to do for us humans, but what do I know?

And then there is a child of God, who knows the Father, who in the hour of fear and confusion, when the world is caving in on him, recognizes is Dad's reassuring voice and clear message (John 12:28)…

It’s O.K., My child… just as I have been with you all these years, I am certainly not going to leave you now… I am with you… I will manifest My presence through you… I will put the fulness of My character on display through you for all the world to see...Do not fear…

Important, Boring and Irrelevant... thoughts on Prayer

Important… boring… irrelevant, would have been my answer if you’d asked me what I honestly thought about prayer several years ago. I might have added that it was good for older ladies (no offense) who have the time for it and no energy for anything else. Definitely not me (at least not back then when I was young, busy and had tons of energy to waste)

I’ve bumbled through most of my Christian life with a shot-gun approach to prayer. When the crisis hits, I aim at God and shoot at Him a bunch of rat-tat-tats that can be summarized with three simple words: yelp for help. He helps, I get my adrenaline fix – Cool, God, You are so awesome! - enough to keep me going until the next crisis. And, so my prayer life trotted along my ‘regular’ life going from emergency to emergency, from crisis to crisis, from disaster to disaster… C.S. Lewis did say that pain is God’s megaphone to awaken the sleepy world (or something along those lines). Well, I admit I am a deep sleeper difficult to wake up. So, the megaphone strategy definitely worked very well in my life… but I started wondering if there might be a better way….

So, instead of thinking of prayer as an emergency alert system, I begun to see it more as a conversation. A two-way conversation, to be more precise. Most of my prayer-ing consisted of presenting my shopping list to God and pretty much telling Him what to do. Since I didn’t really expect Him to have much to say, I kept going through my shopping list again, and again, and again… And, even though it was my shopping list, eventually it got boring… For monologue is not a conversation. And no matter how good the monologue is, even Shakespeare gets boring if you keep repeating ‘to be or not to be’ ten million times.

I clearly remember the day when I told somebody ‘I’ll pray about it’ in my usual platitudinous way, and when I actually did, I told God I don’t need to really pray about it since I already know what He is thinking. … … Well, I didn’t put it quite that bluntly, but that day God got His point across. And the point is,

I don’t know what He is thinking, and if I really want to know what He is thinking, I’d better ask. And when I ask, I need to prepare to listen to what His answer is.

I think that was a turning point. Suddenly my prayer life went from a monologue, to a dialogue, to a full-fledged drama with many players and many parts and many episodes. Boring suddenly became something I wish I had more in my relationship with God.

That also took care of the irrelevant. In fact, talking to God and listening to Him became the most relevant aspect of every detail of life. I admit it’s a little freaky to be known to the level of detail that God knows me. And then to think that He desires to speak to me and offer feedback relevant to those details feels like something coming out of the Sci-Fi movies. That He would bother to listen to me and actually pick up the phone when it rings with my name on His caller ID?!!! Who does that any more?!!! Maybe only our moms and dads!

And so I learned that God, in fact, has a lot to say to everyone who cares to listen to Him – to me personally, to us as a family, to us as a community. It seems to me that it is important that when God speaks I/we take time to listen to every word He has to say. Once we engage in an ongoing dialogue with this living, active, engaged God, there is one thing for sure… actually two… it’s not going to be boring. And it’s not going to be irrelevant.


For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. Hebrews 4:12

Spiritual Formation For Dummies 101 – The Spitting Image

I decide to proceed more cautiously, actually thinking about choosing my words before I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind. I even put a little bit of my heart into it, because I realize now that I really want to know the answer rather than just grab an opportunity to vocalize my opinion about how stupid somebody or something is. I take a deep breath before I try asking again:

So, why is rest so important to your dad?

I think he can tell there was a slight shift in my foundation, for I am squinching my toes and he smiles.

My Dad has invested so much of himself into our landscaping business. He loves the people that work for him and he loves the people we help with their landscaping needs even though some of them are real butt-heads.

There is not even a trace of reproach in his voice as he says this, and that actually makes me feel worse.

But, you know what, he is so much more than EVERGREENGOTS. We work hard, but we are so much more than what we do. We love just hanging out with each other and with all our friends and family. We sure are a motley bunch. He is into everything. He is very artistic – you might have seen some of his amazing watercolors… He has his artwork on regular display all over the place. He is also crazy about animals... and sports, but not because he is competitive... but just for the fun of the game.

Of all things, music is his passion - any kind, rock, hip-hop, classical, even country. He can play more instruments than anyone else I know. Strings are his thing, so much so that sometimes he calls me The Pitch-Pipe – but that’s our little secret. He never misses church - whether there are two or two thousand people gathered together.

I can feel my jaw joints loosening but I pay no attention to it. I know nothing of the life he is describing and feel almost spellbound as he continues,

I like to take naps with my dog on the leather couch in our study on my day off, but he's never been much into naps.I think he just loves to sit and watch us. He gets this look in his eyes...

Father loves to feed people and everyone in our family LOVES to eat. Every time we are together, there is food – LOTS of it, from every imaginable cuisine of the world… plus the wine… Aaah... I can tell you story after story about our wine, but you really need to taste it - just one sip... But...

I can feel cascading waterfall of saliva flowing out of the corner of my sagging mouth.

I.. I...I would LOVE to meet your d-d-dad some time, I interrupt, suddenly stuttering while I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

You will one day. Everyone who knows my dad says I am his spitting image. You know me, you pretty much know my dad. That’s probably as much or more than you can handle for right now.

I can’t help but agree. Knowing him has at times felt much more than I could handle. But, I am still here. And loving it. And dreading it. All at the same time.

Spiritual Formation 101 – How Can Something So Good Turn Out To Be So Bad?

I stand there looking at him as if for the first time. I wonder how in the world did I find myself in this place. What started as seemingly innocuous decision to participate with millions of others in Lental fast by abstaining from whining, which I really believed was better suited for my children then me, snowballed into this colossal mess where my yard looks like a rabid squirrel habitat, our property is exuding manure smell in the 10 mile radius, and I am faced with a guy who doesn’t even apologize for calling me independent (as if there is something wrong with it), opinionated, controlling, disrespectful, perpetually whining workaholic. What is he thinking?!!! How’s this going to look on my performance review?!!! And as if that is not enough, he promises me an eternal future in Sleepy Meadows retirement home, watching the clock and looking forward to the highlight of my day, the next game of dominos. I am just thrilled to death.

And yet, somehow I am having more fun than I ever have had in my entire lifetime just hanging out with him. And I am learning so much, and despite being so blunt, there is no doubt in my mind that he accepts me as I am and really cares, and my yard is growing something really green for the first time since we moved into our house. And he is so stinkin’ joyful, and hopeful, and at home in his own skin, unencumbered with all the crap I am dealing with, as if he, or what he would say, his dad, has it all under control, and it's going to be alright without sugarcoating the hard stuff. As if the worst news are actually the best news.

I wonder if somehow, somewhere some intergalactic communication wires got crossed and I need to find a line-repairman or an interpreter, or both?

Spiritual Formation 101 – Who Knew that Resting Could Be This Difficult

Sir, I think this is going to be a lot harder than it looks… How is it possible that something I intend to be so good, turns out to be so bad?!! This is going to be really hard. It's like turning my whole world upside down

I think you are right about that. Except, maybe, about the upside down, part... it's more like, right-side up. I look at him petrified of the fact that he actually agrees with me. Seeing my ashen face, he adds,

No worries – I got you covered. Remember, all-inclusive, no termination contract?

I get that now. But, what kind of loser needs a life coach to learn to rest?!!

Is that a rhetorical question? I realize that he laughs a lot.

How did you learn to rest?

I told you, I learned it from my dad. And, to be honest with you, that’s all I care about – what my dad thinks. Some people get all tangled up in what others think, others are all in knots about what they think and how to ensure that everyone else around them thinks in exactly the same way. It's amazing the amount of energy that takes - you could power the entire international space program with it. Plus, it only muddles up the real issue. So, I don't care much for either. But, if dad says, Go!, I go. If dad tells me to sit, I sit. If dad says there is an emergency, I drop everything and I am on it. It’s not a rocket science.

How do you guys keep in touch?

Got an always open direct line. Unlimited calling plan – calls, texts and data. No dropped calls. We love our provider - better than Verizon. The best thing of all, I can always add another line for free, since it's a family package

I know I told you this already, but I never heard of anybody having that kind of relationship with their dad.

I know I told you this already, but maybe that’s your problem?

Hmmm… I’ll have to think about that… It’s just that I am so stinky independent… and opinionated.

As I said…

Alright, I got it.

So, why is your dad so stuck up on this rest business?

Do you mind rephrasing that question – I don’t really appreciate when people use that tone when they talk about my dad, especially since he is the only person I know who is not stuck up on anything.

Sorry… it’s just this habit that I’ve developed…I mean no harm…

I know. It’s O.K. It’s hard to show respect to somebody you don’t really know.

Spiritual Formation 101 – The Hard Work of Resting

Except that I might not live long enough to see this LIFE bursting all around, I mutter to myself, but say out loud,

So, what do we do now?

We rest. And wait. And watch. Rest some more. I roll my eyes as I visualize the rest of my for-e-ver spent in a Sleepy Medow retirement home, resting, waiting, watching the clock to see how much longer before the next domino game…

I am not a rester, sir. I am a DOER!

I know that… that’s why I am here… to teach you to rest, relax, chill out, loosen up...

Last time I rested was when I broke my leg in fifth grade…

If that’s what it takes… I detect mischief in his voice and take one step back. He laughs, picking up on my precautionary motion.

I am not going to do it unless absolutely necessary.

I look at him unsure whether he is serious or just messing with me.

I've never met anybody so serious about this resting business.

Yep, I learned that from my dad. It’s a very high value to him.

So, what’s so important about being a couch potato? He again shakes his head in that now familiar even-though-she-gives-every-evidence-about-being-a-hopeless-case-I-know-she-is-not way.

It’s not about being a couch potato, or a slug, or a lazy bum, or whatever else you might label it… Rest is so much more than absence of activity, especially physical activity. You can sit on your bottom all day long and have no rest in your mind and no rest for your soul…

O, I know exactly what you mean!

That’s the rest I am talking about… The rest that fills your mind, and heart, and soul.. and refreshes your body.

Oh, sir – I want that rest!

Alright. But first you have to resign from your job of running this universe, including the quantum level micromanagement position executed on your children, husband, relatives, neighbors, friends and unsuspecting Wal-Mart shoppers. God doesn’t really need your help. He got it covered.

I never saw it as... as playing god-in-chief… I was… I am just trying to help…

Spiritual Formation 101 – I Want Patience and I Want It RIGHT NOW!!!

I roll out of the truck hitting the pavement like a cannon ball. In the palm of his hand there are several individually labeled small plastic bags, each one containing seeds of a different kind.

You gotta be kidding me… I groan, … This is going to take FOR-E-VER! Why can’t we just go to Home Depot and get some of their ready-to-go, instantly blooming perennials…? , but he doesn’t seem to hear any of it, lost in a world all of his own.

He picks up a seed and looks at me,

You want a miracle…? Here’s a miracle, right in front of your nose.

It’s just a seed…

Yes, that’s what you see… but inside this seed… hidden… inside this tiny, lonely, easily ignored and trampled upon, seemingly insignificant seed, there is packed away an entire universe bursting with life, and energy, fruits and flowers and more seeds… ready to explode, creating more universes all around ...

For a few moments I forget to breathe, just listening to him, feeling I was awarded a front row seat featuring the Creation of the Universe…

But, before any of that can happen, he pauses as if remembering something, the little seed must fall into the ground… and die.

Die? I gasp, suddenly transported back to reality.

Yep, he sighs simply, no other way. Sometimes I wish there were… but, from the way he sounds, I wonder if he might be talking about something else other than zucchini and tomatoes.

Unless the little seed is willing to lay down in the ground and die... He suddenly interrupts himself, and motions with his hand,

Let’s get to work… I follow him slowly in a funeral procession for the bunch of little seeds. He turns my vegetable garden into a small burial plot for broccoli, squash, basil and cilantro and proceeds with the flowers… My face is so long it drags along the grass as I drag my feet behind. We make small signs and put them next to the neatly sown rows. For some reason, I feel like crying. How can something that's supposed to be happy and festive turn into something so depressing and sad?!!!

What’s up? He lifts his head and looks at my morose body parts sprawled all across the lawn. I am a dirge incarnate. He shakes his head and bursts into laughter,

Cheer up, you silly goose… this is not about death… at least not all about death… This is about LIFE, real life… this death is just a passage into life … that is Life indeed.

Spiritual Formation 101 – The National Planting Day

I am so taken aback by his statement about insipid gardening that the next few days I just follow him around without asking any questions. We pick up broken branches, pull a weed here and a stray crocus there, he replaces the rotten wood and fixes the sagging backyard fence.

We always take a lunch break – after my seven-year long manure fast I find all my taste buds are wide awake and eager to celebrate food in all its flavors, textures and delightful varieties. He asks me to teach him some Serbian phrases, so I make him conjugate verb ishchachkati person, gender, number and tense and threaten to make him go through all seven declensions of the word komarac – singular and plural. We laugh together as he butchers the grammar and pronunciation of my mother tongue. He fails to convince me of the value of country music and we talk politics for hours without getting mad at each other. It feels as if my life has entered some kind of a time warp and I’m shocked to discover that I actually love it. I am getting used to his pace – he is always working, and yet never rushing and somehow always resting. Even though he doesn’t wear a watch, he just knows the right time… for everything. At first it’s really hard to wake up each morning not knowing every dot, ampersand and underscore of my day. But I am learning to wait on his cue. Sometimes they are as subtle as the truckload of manure dumped on my driveway. Other times it’s as loud as the footsteps on the St. Augustine grass.

One day he taps on the window and announces,

National Planting Day! I jump out of bed like a firecracker, decide I don’t need coffee and bolt out of the front door. This is the day I’ve been waiting for! In my book, the sole purpose of gardening is summarized in one word – planting. I hop onto the passenger seat of his white truck and wait for him to fire up the engine. Field-trip to my favorite place on earth – Home Depot!

What are you doing there? He asks, and clarifies it with another question,

Where do you think you are going? I look at him through the rolled-down window, thoroughly confused.

What do you mean, ‘where do you think you are going’? You said it’s the National Planting Day…

Soooo…

Well, we need things to plant. I am getting a little impatient. When I want to plant something, I go to the place where miracles happen every day… our neighborhood Home Depot! He shakes his head and if I didn’t know him, I would think he thinks I am hopeless.

We don’t need to go to Home Depot. We already have everything we need to make your garden a place ‘where miracles happen every day’ – I can’t tell whether he is mocking me or not - right here. With that, he taps his denim shirt pocket.

I squint, still firmly planted in the passenger seat of his white truck, half-expecting to see the blooming perennials in his front pocket.

Spiritual Formation 101 – Organic Gardening, Organic Worship

I feel like I will be shoveling manure for the rest of my life. The pile does seem to grow smaller and I wonder whether it’s all a matter of perspective. One day I hear a sound of shovel scraping against the concrete and it’s the most exquisite Chopin to my ears. After spending eternity with my nose in the manure, I look up and the mountain is - gone! All that is left is a few scraps of dirt that we hose down, leaving the driveway sparkly clean. I can hardly believe my eyes. I look at the space gardener and he smiles back at me. I am sore all over and so relieved, but I have to clarify the issue, for I never ever want to deal with this mountain again.

Next time you want to provide some food for my garden, would you mind finding some less olfactory offensive alternative?

Maybe next time you plant the tomatoes, they might actually surprise you and smell and taste like the tomatoes are supposed to. Last time they were so insipid even the pinworms refused to eat them. I vividly remembered the deep sense of humiliation at the sight of my bloated roma tomatoes and even the bugs, not to mention my own family, turning their connoisseur noses on them.

Gardening can be a rather messy business at times. He continues softly. It’s not for mysophobiacs. By disinfecting, sanitizing, deodorizing life silly you scrub the life out of it. Your nose is given you for a reason, as well as your taste buds. You should use them to distinguish between what tastes good and what doesn’t. To enjoy, delight in and celebrate the amazing gastronomic and olfactory variety, as well as eliminate, spit out or refuse what can make you sick. Keep everything comfortable and - nice - He paused at the last word - all the time, at all cost, and your life turns into a bland concoction of tasteless veggies where you can’t differentiate a tomato from a squash, cilantro from St. Augustine grass. What comes out of your anesthetized garden – devoid of manure or anything else equally ‘offensive’ - becomes as insipid as your worship on Sunday morning... or the rest of the week, for that matter.

I don't want to sound stupid, but what I think I heard him say throws me off balance completely. I never thought that you could put growing tomatoes, a pile of manure and worshiping God in the same paragraph… much less the same sentence.

Spiritual Formation 101 – When Life Delivers a Truckload of Manure on Your Driveway

It takes him only about thirty-two seconds to unload the truck onto my driveway. We spend the next seven and a half years (or so it feels) shoveling it up. I am too mad to speak, so we spend the rest of the day shoveling in silence. I take three consecutive showers that night, rubbing the epidermis off my body in futile attempt to remove the stench. I smother myself with Channel 5 perfumed body lotion trying to cover it up and collapse in bed, too tired to read. My husband grabs his pillow and blanket and torpedoes out of the bedroom, choosing to sleep on the couch in the library. I don’t blame him. I would do the same thing if I had a skunk sleeping in the same bed. He swears it’s the perfume that bothers him more than the manure.

Even though we peck at the mountain all next day, we hardly put a dent in it. The space gardener stops by Subway and brings pastrami and pepper-jack cheese on Italian Parmesan for lunch, but my appetite is gone. I shake my head, No, to a piece of key lime pie and a strawberry cheesecake the following day. I can tell by his look that he is very concerned. Still, I don’t understand how he can eat leaning against the side of a cow-dung mountain.

I try to pawn out some of the manure to the neighbors, but they tell me they have enough crap of their own to deal with and politely refuse. After the sunset, I throw several shovelfuls across the backyard fence, but a little later hear the neighbor yelling at his dog for rolling in it.

Every square inch of our entire front and back yard is covered out evenly with a foot and a half of cow manure. I eat, sleep, dream and wear the cow manure. Everywhere I turn, that’s all I see.

The sheer energy required for shoveling takes most of the feistiness out of me. Even though I can’t help but resent the one who designed this truck delivery, I also appreciate the fact that he is right there with me, day in, day out, shovel in hand. When it starts raining, we are both drenched, both knee-deep in the river of doo. I know he must be tired since he always works at least twice as hard as I do and finishes up all the cleanup at the end of the day. His hands, in addition to having ugly scars that seem to have flared up, are now developing some nasty blisters, despite the gloves we both wear. One day it crosses my mind that he doesn’t have to be here – it’s my driveway, after all, and yet, he never fails to show up. I wonder why?

Spiritual Formation 101 – Some People Learn From the Manual, Some People Don’t

With the egg still dripping down my face, I see the white truck roll around the corner, with a large trailer hauling a medium-size mountain behind. Seconds later the overpowering smell catches up and settles over the entire residential district.

You are late! I bark at the space cowboy, who gives me a quizzical look, scanning the dogs, my dripping face, and Bob holding the home-made pie all in one glance. I take the pie from Bob’s hands, mumble an apologetic ‘thank you’ and watch him walk back to his house.

What just happened?

I try to describe my morning and find the words pathetically deficient. Eventually, he is able to piece together the story and bursts into laughter.

So, you think that’s funny…I growl.

Some people just have to learn the hard way… you could have spared yourself some embarrassment and grief if you’d read the manual…

The manual? The manual talks about the microscopes and neighbor’s mutant weeds? He nods a silent ‘yep’. Now I am positively rabid.

Why didn’t you tell me?!!?

Would it make any difference if I had? I pause.

Probably not… I guess you are right, some people just have to learn their lessons the hard way…. I feel a bit tired of learning everything the hard way. If there is an easier way to learn, I am in the game. A huge sigh escapes me as I ask,

What else does your manual say?

Well, if you really want to know, you’ll just have to find out for yourself. Right now we have a work cut out for us… He points to the reeking mountain inside the trailer, grabs a couple of shovels and hands me one.

What on God’s good earth is that smell??

Cow manure. Premium grade. I got a great deal on it and since your yard hasn’t eaten anything in years, thought you could use a little extra… you might want to put some rubber boots on before we start shoveling…

I look at the mountain of cow dung towering over our house and know that in an instant I have become the one neighbor in our subdivision everyone loves to hate.

Spiritual Formation 101 – MYO BeesWax

Since it’s really hard for me to love what I can’t see, as soon as my kids trot off to school the next morning, I sneak into my son’s bedroom and grab an old microscope off a dusty bookshelf, sagging under the weight of cracked, dismembered and beheaded kindergarten art projects.

He really needs to clean out his room, I grumble (which, of course, is different from whining and complaining when used by a mother talking about her own children), wondering where in the world did he pick up his housekeeping habits, and step outside into the blazing sun.

With all the weeds popping up left and right, focusing on anything desirable growing in my yard is next to impossible. I swing the microscope around and am blinded by the sprawling emerald-green of the thick lush lawn of the honorary lifetime member of Better Homes and Gardens Yard of the Month club – AKA my next-door neighbor Bob. The sight generates waves of nausea interspersed with a desire to leave this world and attend to the greener pastures thereafter. With the microscope still attached to my eyeball, amidst the aforementioned sprawling green suddenly, Ka-booom! I spot an enormous mutant weed – and flowering weed at that! I am horrified and strangely pleased at the same time.

Hah! I knew it! I knew there were weeds in his yard!

I drop down on all fours and start inspecting his turf. Sure enough, there are about eleven superhumongousy enormous mutant weeds – located mostly next to my property line - and the total of three about to bloom and spread their nasty seeds all throughout the neighborhood.

I must not allow this! My noble sense of neighborly duty interspersed with an irrepressible urge to point all this out sweeps over me. I consider making large signs with pointing arrows and posting them next to his driveway. While still preoccupied with both inspecting his yard and crafting the best course of action to eliminate the threat of weed contamination it represents to our neighborhood, I feel something wet and slippery all over my face.

Whatcha doing here, neighbor? Bob tilts his head curiously examining a strange sight of a middle-aged woman with her butt sticking up in the air, standing on all fours holding a microscope attached to her eyeball in the middle of his front yard, being licked to death by his equally curious dogs. I clear my throat with a nervous cough as I straighten out.

Well, Bob… it is my neighborly duty to inform you that I found some weeds… eleven weeds to be more precise… growing in your yard. And three of them…

Before I could continue, the look on Bob’s face tells me that he might have something to say.

I appreciate yer attention to details… but don’t ya’ have ‘nough stuff to do in yer own yard before you bother inspecting my grass, with amicroscope, and count my weeds?!!! Then he adds,

By the way, my puppies were sick and I was a nervous wreck all day yesterday, so I baked a dozen chocolate cream pies. Would you like one?


That day, my great neighbor Bob taught me that minding my own business is lesson number one in all yard-work.

Spiritual Formation 101 – Love and Hate, Truth and Pain

I feel tectonic plates shifting under my toes so I do what I do best when I sense tectonic plates shifting under my toes. I change the subject.

How do you know the difference?

The difference? Between true love and ‘looooove’?

Nooo! I laugh at the way he says loooove. I mean how do you know which weeds to pull and which to leave in the ground? Yesterday you told me to leave the weeds alone. Today I caught you red-handed pulling weeds in my yard. What am I supposed to do – pull them or leave them? Is there a manual I can read?

I heard you don’t read manuals. And I know that following instructions is not your strong suit. That’ why I came. Your very own personal manual.

You are kind of hard to read… and follow.

Only if you already made up your mind what you want and don’t want to do.

Guilty as charged. Call me 'Opinionated'. Anyway… we were talking…

Your favorite subject – weeds.

Help me out here.

You need to love growing plants more than you hate weeds.

Hmmm… that sounds vaguely familiar… once I heard somebody say that we need to love the truth more than we fear pain.

Same difference.

Same difference.

Spiritiual Formation 101 Family Business

The next morning I wake up and something tells me it’s almost noon. I jump out of bed – I don’t even need my coffee - and open the blinds. The sheer volume of photonic activity causes fireworks to explode inside my brain sending shock-waves throughout my body. When all the noise subsides, a thought finally crosses the threshold of my consciousness,

There was no tap on my window this morning, immediately followed by a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I remember the tiff the space gardener and I had yesterday and I know he’d left. Never to return again. Despite the fact that he called me Opinionated and Obsessive Compulsive Weed Exterminator; despite his unorthodox approach to gardening; despite the ugly scars on his hands that make me feel so uncomfortable (why can’t he just have a plastic surgery or something?), I can’t bear a thought of never seeing him again. All the motivation to do anything evaporates before my eyes, except perhaps a desire to go back to bed and sleep through the rest of the week… or a month… or .

Then I hear a soft rustling in the bushes in the front. I look out of the window and there he is! I am so relieved to see him I want to hug him and punch him at the same time. I linger undecided as I watch him quietly behind the window. He walks slowly around the yard bending here and there, picking up a dead branch, pulling out a weed. He pauses frequently, looking, listening. He swings around the house and enters the back yard. He makes his way towards the far corner and crosses over into the garden.

You don’t need to go back there! I shout, mortified. Several years ago I saw a snake’s nest there and I haven’t gone back there since that happened…

Ah, you are up! He waves at me. I thought you might sleep through this entire glorious day.

Why didn’t you wake me up?!

I thought you needed the rest.

Well, I guess I did. The early afternoon sun seems to agree with him. I hesitate for a moment, then add … I thought you’d left… never to return again. … You scared me.

I thought we had an all-inclusive no-end contract deal, he winked. I guess you are stuck with me. … And I with you.

I close my eyes and sense a soft rumble from deep down bubbling up… It smells like rain and grass and jasmine… and …a ham sandwich!

Hey, I stopped by Subway on the way here… I am kind of hungry. It’s already after noon. Wan’na eat?

We sit down on the grass under the tree and unwrap the sandwiches.

Have you ever thought of starting your own business? I ask between the bites. He looks at me like I have just landed from a different planet.

Why would I ever want to do that?

Spread your wings. Branch out. You are good at what you do. I see there is a method to your madness. You could become successful. Independent.

I like working with my dad. Everything I know, I learned from him.

Now, see… that’s weird. It’s like being ‘daddy’s boy’.

Something wrong with that?

No woman is going to want to marry you.

I already have a fiance.

You do?!!! I try to hide my shock. Against my will, my eyes are drawn to his hands. I wonder what kind of woman is willing to put up with that sight. Maybe she is blind.

I guess there is a price to love,… I mutter under my breath.

Yes. There is. There is always a price to true love.

Spiritiual Formation 101 Sir, We Got a Problem

I am amazed that the tiny trickle from the old garden hose can affect so much change in our landscape in such a short time. Having suffered through years of severe drought, I thought that even the Niagara falls wouldn’t be sufficient to quench the thirst of my parched lawn. But, today I begin to notice a discernible difference, for there are little soft tufts of genuine green popping up throughout our yard. The sight makes me more ecstatic than winning a Better Homes and Gardens Yard of the Month award.

I am a real gardener now! I am so absolutely beside myself that I can’t wait to get on line and share my most recent success with all my Facebook friends. I take carefully framed pictures of my yard and upload them as evidence. While standing precariously on my head, looking for the best angle to capture my astonishing feat without disclosing too much of the rest of the story I see something that threatens to pop my bubble.

Sir, we GOT a PROBLEM! I announce in an expert voice. Having just grown my very first green thing I officially crossed over into the murky waters of the certified know-it-alls.

We do? He tilts his head sideways, trying to look me in the eye as I am still in my awkwardly contorted position holding the camera for that just-perfect shot.

Yes! Can’t you see this?? THIS? I point at the green stalk growing right out of my nostril. This, Sir, is a WEED! Genus -Digitaria Haller. Family Poaceae. Order Cyperales. That water of yours presumably can't tell the difference between a weed and a plant!

I see… He doesn’t seem impressed.

So, what are you going to do about it? I demand, finally straightening out, cracking the stiffness out of my neck.

What do you suggest that we do? He answers the question with the question. I hate when he does that.

It’s a no-brainer. We deal with it as we should with all the weeds. We kill, destroy, uproot, annihilate… There is a whole big-buck industry devoted to...

Leave it alone.

Excuse me?

I said, Leave it alone.

I heard what you said. Remember, you just cleaned my ears.

I just started cleaning your ears. You have a long way to go…

What kind of gardener are you?!! How can you put up with all these weeds?!!

I thought you’d never ask. Well, let me explain to you if you care to hear it…He says the word the way you would hit a nail on the head. If you pulled the weeds right now, you would uproot the good grass along with it. You must leave it alone. Your problem is not this poor weed. Your problem is that you have reduced the art and the mystery of gardening into an obsessive-compulsive weed elimination. There is more to gardening than having a weed-free lawn. Gardening is about entering this amazing world you didn’t create with your mouth shut and your shoes off your feet. It’s about listening and surrender and yielding of control rather than imposing your puny tyrant will.... it’s about rhythms and seasons and climate and dirt…And most of all, it’s about friendship…

My jaw, having been almost restored to full health is at a danger of hitting the pavement again. I never heard him say so much in such a short time. I've never ever heard anybody fight with such intensity and passion and grace for the life of a... weed! Part of me wants to take notes of every word coming out of his mouth. The other part wants to sit down and soak it all in by osmosis. I want to hear more about this outer space gardening even though I understand only about every tenth word he utters.

I rub my jaw gently, thinking I might need braces.

There isn’t a tiniest doubt in my mind that on the planet where he came from, they do gardening a little different than over here. A lot different.

And I am not quite sure anymore whether I have a stomach for it.

Whining Fast 101 – Auditory Detox

For the next couple of weeks I am awakened at the crack of dawn by a gentle tap on my window. Some mornings I find myself awake before the tap comes and actually wait for it. Even look forward to it. Others I bumble into the morning unprepared, my head looking like a heron’s nest, my eyes squinting unaccustomed to so much light so soon in the day.

The space gardener and I have a little routine going. He always waits for me to get my second cup of coffee. Then, I grab the hose, and he opens the valve. After that we listen.

As my ears go through an auditory detox, I slowly begin to hear things I never heard before. Even I know the difference between an airplane above and four-wheel drive below. I can tell apart a riding mower from a weed-whacker. But rustling of a lizard’s feet in the dead leaves?!! The scampering of squirrels little claws as they race each other up a trunk of our huge oak? A woodpecker in our neighbor’s backyard tree?! There IS a woodpecker living in my neighbor’s back yard!

Some mornings I feel like I walk in on a congress debate going on in the branches of our maple. Others it’s so quiet I can hear my own thoughts. I swiftly avoid those and eavesdrop on a good-natured marital banter between Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal. Then the neighbor’s lawnmower drowns all other sounds and we shut off the water, put away the hose and are done for the day.

I feel like somebody took a plunger unplugged and deep-cleaned my ears and I can hear, really hear for the first time in my life.

Whining Fast 101 – D day

The next morning I wake up with a massive headache. I remember I have a crack-of-dawn date with a crazy gardener from outer space who expects me to baby-sit the garden hose for five hours. I wish somebody would turn off the lights and I can go back to sleep and wake up in a perfect world where there are no weeds and no need for crazy gardeners from outer space. There is something else I wish I could eliminate from this world but I can’t remember right now. So, I roll out of bed like a dead log, except for groaning. I fix myself an extra strong cup of coffee and take it intravenously.

How did I get myself into this pickle? How did it all start?

Suddenly, with intense clarity I remember that somebody suggested a whining fast. The whining fast that I didn’t think I needed but sure would have appreciated if my kids adhered to. I remember the weeds, the prayer, the white truck, and the guy who wrestled with the combine… What started as a whining fast has turned into a whining fest, for now I see clearly that in the past 24 hours I’ve done nothing but whine and complain! Is that just a coincidence?

Have you had your second cup yet? A familiar voice jerks me out of my ruminations.

How do you know about the second cup?!!

It’s public record, silly… C’mon. just grab it and bring it with you. You can finish it while we are watering…

You know… I start, I think there was a big mistake. I appreciate your offer, you showing up here at crack of dawn… but I think you got yourself a wrong person. I don’t have just a brown thumb. Every finger and every toe and every bone in my body is brown. I have killed, mutilated, and murdered every green thing that ever dares putting its root down within our property lines. Get it? It’s hopeless. Leave while there is still time…

He hands me the hose, apparently quite deaf, in addition to being crazy.

I’ll turn on the water… He walks behind the fence and opens the valve. The hose coughs and sputters for a few seconds and then the water begins gushing out.

I stand with the garden hose in one hand and coffee cup in the other.

How in the world can this do any good…?

If you would be a little less opinionated, we might actually get somewhere…

He called me, Opinionated! I find that very offensive.

True or false?

Well… I admit… I can be… sometimes… Alright, … most of the time. But, still…

Now we are getting somewhere. He chuckles and takes a deep breath. Without realizing, I do the same.

I love mornings.

What’s there to love?

He closes his eyes. I want to close my eyes, but I am afraid I am not coordinated enough to juggle a hose in one hand and a coffee mug in the other with my eyes shut.

You hear it?

I hear nothing, other than the shhhhh of the water…

Just listen…

It’s very quiet. I finally say. It’s actually… nice.

We stand there a while. No words between us. Just the stillness of the early morning.

This feels… good. I could stand here forever. I mutter, feeling mildly intoxicated by all the fresh air. I hear the shuffling of his feet in the grass.

We are done for today, He says and shuts off the water.

Done?!! Already?!!! I gasp. I thought…

I’ll be back tomorrow, Miss Opinionated. I open my mouth in protest but he has already disappeared.

Whining Fast 101 – No Better Time than … Next Week

When do we start? I ask, doing a quick mental scan of my schedule. Perhaps tomorrow? Or maybe next week – that’s definitely better, My schedule is pretty full….

Today… we start today… in fact, right now. He answers matter-of-factly and walks toward the trailer.

Right now?!!! But… but… I stammer suddenly at a loss of all the brilliant reasons why this is not a good time. I can’t…

I thought we had a deal.

We DO. But, right now? This is not the most convenient time…

Who said anything about convenience? He reaches into the trailer, grabs a small toolbox and looks at me. I look at the box. Then I look at the trailer with all the cool apps and widgets and power tools. Then I look at him.

I thought you were going to use some of your power tools…? Isn’t that what the pros do?

Nah... I use those only when absolutely necessary. They raise a lot of dust and make way too much noise. I prefer working in the quiet.

He sets the toolbox on the driveway and flips the lid open. A couple of small trowels, more pruning shears than I think necessary, a stainless steel double-edged kitchen knife which opens up a whole new can of big, fat wormy questions, and a pair of gloves.

Gloves? With the hands like yours I didn’t think you use gloves.

Sometimes they come in handy.

Speaking of hands… if I dare to ask… What happened to your hands? Did you have a wrestling match with a combine and lost…?

Sort of…though, that’s just a part of the story. One day you’ll be able hear the rest. But now, we have another business to attend… Shall we…?

If you insist…I sigh for I would much rather listen to a good story.

I think we should start with repairing the sprinkling system. I keep running over the heads with the lawnmower…my husband can’t keep up with the repairs. For every one he fixes I manage to break two. And, as you know, it’s impossible to have a lawn without a sprinkling system…

It is?!! I didn’t realize that. Don’t you have a garden hose?

Of course we do. At least four.. maybe six.

One is usually enough.

For what?!!

For watering the garden.

And who is supposed to stand there with the garden hose and water the garden every day?!!!

Who do YOU think?

Certainly not me!

It’s YOUR yard.

You are crazy! I don’t have that kind of time on my hands!

We always have time for what we love… In fact, this is my prescription for you for the next several weeks. Do not use sprinkling system. Just the garden hose. Every morning… or evening. He added, If you prefer. I’ll be here with you.

Now I know for sure that you have landed here from a different planet! For no person on this planet has this kind of time to waste on such frivolous activities. I fume under my breath.

It’s not going to be wasted. He says. I promise.

There will never be a better time than now.

Whining Fast 101 – Small Talk

Sooo, how long have you been in this business? I ask, feeling a bit strange, fearing if I don’t keep him occupied, he might change his mind and go away.

Awhile…it’s a family business.

So, you are the owner? I raise my eyebrow, quite impressed.

The owner’s son.

Same difference.

Yep… same difference. I would love to introduce you to my dad some time. He is pretty awesome.

Hearing him talk about his dad in such a way makes me realize I miss my dad. I swallow hard.

I miss my dad. I say, tearing up. You know, I am not from here. When I left home, I left everything and everyone behind.

I know… I am not from here either. We stand silent for a while. I feel the breeze cooling my face. Sensing the ground shifting under my feet, I change the subject again,

You guys must be doing pretty well to be able to afford this kind of special. Do you run it often?

All the time. We enjoy giving gifts.

Wow! People must be all over you…

Actually, you would be surprised. Most people seem to prefer earning their own way… paying their dues...

It IS weird being on the receiving end of such an extravagant gift… Part of me feels that now I am indebted to you… and nobody likes to be a debtor.

A simple thank-you would suffice.

Thank you.

You are welcome. Our pleasure.