Oh! YouTube

 My thought today is that I truly believe YouTube scans your entire video to find the absolute most awkward pose possible for your thumbnail. This is a very humbling experience for me. I am not fond of being in photos and in the last few weeks I've been forced far out of my comfort zone to post silly photos and endure the YouTube curse. Yet, in the wake of wondering who may or may not be mocking my physical appearance I have cared less and less what people may be thinking and caring more and more that God doesn't make fun of my wrinkles or ridiculous faces. He is just pleased that I am doing what He has asked me to do! We may be out of our normal comfort zones right now, but lean in and be open to listening to what God is asking. I know the reward will be far greater than we can ever imagine!

Woah! I'm Awake!

 Woah! I'm awake! Just had a gnarly nightmare where a friend of mine was lying on a bed possessed by a demon and there were several of us (including a priest) laying our hands on her to drive the demon out. True to Hollywood style, it came out like a vine of fiery light, seared a hole in the house wall, rumbled around, and then was gone leaving the room bright and cheery as if nothing had gone down and my friend happy but tired. We all left the room feeling puffed up and pretty proud of ourselves. I left the house only to be confronted by her dog, Vanessa, who obviously was on the receiving end of the demon just cast out. Now the cool part is when the dog grabbed me and lifted me off my feet as it stood up like a large human, I just said, "Help!" one time and God had me outta that dream, wide awake, heart pounding.

Even in a nightmare, God comes to our rescue! 2 Thessalonians 3:3 NIV says, "But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one." Yet, as I tried to concentrate on prayer to calm me physically and mentally, I realized I kept thinking about the dream. I kept telling myself, "Stop thinking about it!" I said it over so many times that it started to feel like a mantra I would teach the preschool class! That cool show and tell plane is safely in your cubbie until recess, "Stop thinking about it!"

It makes me wonder, how many times do we surrender an addiction, a bad relationship, an unhealthy choice only to pick that baggage up again because we simply keep thinking about it! So, "Stop thinking about it!" I know, easier said than done! Maybe this is one lesson a demon could actually teach us. When it was cast out, it had to go somewhere else. Matthew 8:31,32 teaches us, "The demons began to entreat Him, saying, 'If You are going to cast us out, send us into the herd of swine.' And He said to them, 'Go!' And they came out and went into the swine, and the whole herd rushed down the steep bank into the sea and perished in the waters."

If we, "Stop thinking about it!" then where is that thought going to go? What will fill the air space? So how about we start thinking about God? God called Samuel in the night, a quiet time that Samuel could actually hear God instead of God fighting over the din of a busy day. When do we start beating ourselves up over what we think are bad mistakes, failures, or regrets? Of course, in the quiet times. Otherwise, we are too busy to hear those thoughts! "Stop thinking about it!"

Genesis 50:20 NIV says, "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." Now there is something to think about! In the quiet, start thinking about why God lead you through a certain season and what does He want you to do with the knowledge gained? Stop thinking about it as bad or negative and start listening for God's positive directions instead! I know right now I am grateful for God's peace, my heart is calmed and I'm sleepy again so I stopped thinking about it and followed God's direction to write this moment down. Colossians 3:15 GNT says, "The peace that Christ gives is to guide you in the decisions you make; for it is to this peace that God has called you together in the one body. And be thankful." I AM SO VERY THANKFUL!

Deconstructing a Bully

 Deconstructing a Bully by Mary E Ryan

My heart aches for a mother’s loss. A mother that had a near miss of losing her son at the Las Vegas massacre, lost her son in a California massacre. But it was her plea that I found the most heartbreaking, “I hope to God no one sends me anymore prayers. I want gun control. No more guns!”- mother of shooting victim Telemachus Orfanos. Her quote itself shows the disillusion that is compounding problems in today’s society. My own dear cousin asked, “How do we stop the killing?” Anne Graham Lotz has said, “For years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?" Therein lies the solution, not gun control, but a renewed faith and devotion in God and with the faith will come a respect for persons, unborn, young, old, victim, and perpetrator. To breakdown the first quote, she said, “I hope to God no one sends more prayers. What an incredible discombobulation of emotion. I hope to God by definition is, “the confident expectation of what God has promised and its strength is in His faithfulness.” Yet, she is denying the only way to communicate with God which is through our ceaseless prayers. Again, referring to Anne Graham Lotz’s statement, we want the protection and providence of God without committing ourselves to a relationship with God.

Is it possible, we don’t want to commit to God, because then we feel the full weight and responsibility not of the victims, but of the actions of the perpetrator? Because we failed to protect “him” from the viciousness of the world that created a person so misunderstood and desperate that he found the only option was to give in to evil and lash out in senseless violence. My cousin also asked, “Why didn’t God at least protect the innocent?” Perhaps, He did. If you are a believer in Christ, then being called home to Heaven is a glorious day for you. It’s interesting that if a person has battled cancer and lost that earthly battle, we rejoice that they are no longer suffering here on Earth. We reassure our grieving selves that, “they are in a better place” and so true that is!! Yet, in actuality, if the victims were also believers they too are in a glorious place with no tears or suffering and far better off than their best day here on earth. For a Believer, dying is certainly not the worst thing to happen to you no matter how untimely it may seem to those, the grieving, that are left here. We are the ones that intensely feel the loss. In a way, we are the victims, because it rattled our grasp on earth. It is hard to let go of people because we think they are missing out on life. We cling to the earth as if it were our true home instead of focusing on the real glory that waits for us. In truth, the best and ultimate protection of that innocent believer is to be called home to that glory. Yet, here we are still stuck on Earth and faced with all the ugliness and we cry out, "Why?" and "Gun control!" All the while another perpetrator is in the making, because we are ignoring the needs of our fellow man while demanding vengeance for the departed which in truth are far better off than we.

So, where does a killer come from? No doubt filled with evil unchecked, but when did it start? When did we drop the ball? When did we let that person down? When did we turn a blind eye to their hell on earth? Rightfully so, we focus on victims, but do we do it at the neglect of those crying out for help? Is our focus too late? A bully, so often the recipient of abuse and neglect is begging to be noticed in a most convoluted way. Isn’t a shooter no more than a bully with a weapon? If we are loving our neighbors as ourselves, how is neglect and abuse possible? If we can’t provide adequate mental health to our adults then we have to start earlier, at the source, childhood. We devalue children from their very conception and spend more time worrying about accepting the children from other countries while the babes under our very own care are slipping through the cracks ignored and unloved. We are more interested in coexisting with whatever anyone wants to identify as or with because we want to paint the exterior of our personal protective force field with the facade of love and caring. But God was pretty clear...Love your neighbor and I’m pretty sure that love was used as a verb! The definition of neighbor according to Webster’s is, “1) one living or located near another 2) fellow man.” Webster’s actually refers to Matthew 19:19, (NIV) “honor your father and mother, and love your neighbor as yourself.” Is it possible we put more emphasis on detained children separated from their illegal parents because we know we won’t be asked to babysit them? If I love my neighbor, will I have to actually speak to them?! Caring will take so much work!

After coming home from a 12 hour day at school of planning, teaching, nurturing, caring, and loving, I sat down to read the news. An article talking about the government’s plan to shore up the troubled education system boldly showed a comment stating, “Preschool is a joke!” Boy, I certainly don’t feel that way! Eighty-five percent of brain development in a child is before the age of five. How many times has a child been exposed to such negativity before they even make it to preschool? And we wonder where our killers are coming from? Children model our behavior. They hear what we say, they do as we do. What message are we sending? Is it of real love? The verb love? If we are filled with the same Holy Spirit that had the power to resurrect the Lord Jesus then we have the power to deconstruct a bully before a killer is born. Are we willing to take on that responsibility or wait for a government agency to do it? I say there is less of need of gun control and more of a need for self-control and all the rest of the fruit of the Spirit that God has given as a guideline for us to live by. Do you live by Galatians 5:22-23 (NIV) “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

PCT Man

 PCT

Today was my day off because I work on Saturday. Always open for an adventure, I planned to take the dogs on an outing. Because of my new found love hate relationship with the book I am reading, Wild by Cheryl Strayed, I thought I would log a couple of steps on the Pacific Crest Trail as some sort of reader homage. Since it was a day off during regular people business hours, I did have some obligations to fulfill. God has been trying to teach me to listen more closely to His will. As I hung up after a frustrating phone call with the family law lawyer or should I say former lawyer, I knew it was time to go!

As I drove through town trying to suppress my seething inner self, I could hear God telling me, “I have a plan Daughter. Enjoy My beauty.” It was hard not to agree because it was a magnificent day today. The dogs were happy to be on an adventure one to each window, head and tongues out, smiles wide. I decided I wanted to picnic by a lake. A lake on the other side of the McKenzie pass just so I could mentally think I’d been “on the other side.” I pulled over in the miniscule parking area, put on my little day pack, filled out my wilderness pass, no easy feat with two exuberant doggies, and headed down the path.

We hadn’t gone far, maybe a half mile, when a couple came up the trail. I dutifully pulled the dogs to the side to let them pass. The fellow stopped and greeted me. He told me that just a short way down the trail he and his wife had been accosted by a big (bigger than Liko, he indicated) off lease dog and that there were two others in that group. He talked about growling, and snapping. I thanked him for the news and wished him and his wife a great day.

As they passed out of sight I stood there wondering if I should continue. I was irritated by the prospect of a forced change in my day. I wondered how valid the man’s tale was. Perhaps it was just an over friendly lab? But he seemed to be seasoned and a credible source. I would put him and his assumed to be wife in an old, old category, but with their sinewy legs and tandem hydropacks, I was fairly certain those two had logged many miles and seen quite a few dogs on trails. I turned around.

By then I was ready to stop just about anywhere that didn’t have people! I was supposed to be hiking today not driving! I saw a historical marker sign. I love reading those, but passed on and around the corner was a nice turn off. A drive through kind, but there were no cars and I took it! Again I donned my pack and set off with the dogs to find anywhere to eat my lunch before hooking up with the PCT. To my surprise, through a clearing on this micro trail we were following was a lovely little lake.

The dogs happily plunged right into the clear water. There was a nearby log that I used as a bench, after inspecting it for inhabitants, and we ate our lunch in solitude and beauty, just as I had hoped only better. I thought about God’s earlier message, He always has a better plan. If those dogs wouldn’t have been at the more well known lake, I wouldn’t have discovered this secret hideaway for me! And I thought of the frustration I had let wash over me that morning and realized, maybe a new lawyer will be a needed change and FINALLY wrap up this custody mess. I let out a heavy sigh and it felt like the breeze picked up my troubles and wafted them across the shining water.

Refreshed by their swim and food, the dogs were ready for more exploring. I thought perhaps if I back tracked we would come across the historical marker that was indicated on the road. As we crested a rise, I noticed a boulder that seemed human placed. Sure enough, the other side held a plaque dedicated to John Templeton Craig. Actually, this boulder was dedicated to the cabin that had once stood there and was where Mr. Craig had died in 1877. Who was John Templeton Craig?

I paused at where a cabin once stood and thought of the hardy people that had built and tried to live up there. What a beautiful place to live, but death making it so inhospitable too! I noticed a rock lined path up ahead and went in that direction and saw a grave, John Templeton Craig. He was a postman trying to carry the Christmas mail from the McKenzie Bridge to the good folk of Camp Polk (near Sisters.) The grave marker read that he was caught in a terrific storm and froze to death in the cabin located at the other marker. 56 years old, poor Mr. Craig, trying to do such a nice thing as bring the Christmas mail had died trying. In the end though, he did leave quite a mark on Central Oregon since it is the mail route path he created that the State used to make the McKenzie Highway. I was thinking of Mr. Craig and what he would think of all the cars, bicycles, and hikers that go by his unknown resting spot in the wilderness.

At the point, I was startled out of my reverie by the deep throbbing of V-twin engines down shifting for a hasty stop. I hadn’t realized that below the short cliff I was standing on was the actual turn out for the historical marker. Four men on Harley’s had pulled off the road and one was frantically removing gear. I wasn’t sure they saw me from my higher vantage point, but I could clearly hear the saga of the frantic rider being stung by a bee! I melted back into the forest with the dogs and said a little prayer that the rider wouldn’t have a bad reaction and shortly heard the v-twins loudly echo off the rocks and trees, back on the road.

And so was I, back on the road for the PCT. Only four other cars were in the trailhead area of this section of the PCT. Wilderness pass in pack, we were headed down the PCT. Only a couple of miles, I said to myself, max. It was such a nice day, so inviting, so quiet. Each corner and bend in the trail begged for us to keep going and the dogs, in their glory, didn’t object. I was thinking about the book Wild. Thinking about how similar and how completely opposite I was from the author. She from Minnesota, me from Iowa, a year apart in age wearing POW/MIA bracelets, married at similar ages, child of divorce at six, both losing our mothers far too soon in life. I thought, here I am, walking in her literal footsteps, she had been here, she had hiked this very spot and I am reading all about it years later. I want to like her, I really do. We had been living in Portland at the same time. I think what she did was both brave and very stupid. But fact is, it is a love hate with her book. Love the trail, hate that at the time I was turning to God, she turned away. I’d like to think if we had met at Powell’s Book store that we would have been friends, but I doubt it. Still, I haven't finished her book yet either.

At this point of the trail, all thoughts of Wild, of lawyers, of bills, of cranky library patrons, of cell phones disappeared. We stood on the edge of a lava field looking or more listening to the vast spread of trees that stood on an island surrounded by lava because they were singing to us. The wind had come up so abruptly creating a song so loud, even the dogs stopped to listen. It was mesmerizing like a siren song begging for us to come. I had no intention with the dogs to cross any lava fields, but when the song faded the dogs forged ahead and I didn’t say no. That in my mind is why people should be on the PCT, not to escape reality, but to truly live it.

And around another bend is when it happened. PCT man. There he was on a switchback in another lava field. A real, PCT Thru hiker! His pack towering over his head and his clink clink of his hiking poles in the lava. I actually heard him before I saw him in the vast expanse of lava. I’m sure he must have heard us too. The ting ting ting of the dogs’ tags, the mechanical clunks of their retractable leashes keeping them on task. I wanted to run ahead. I wanted to catch up to him and ask him so many questions. It’s August, had he started in Mexico? Was he going all the way to Canada? Where was he from for real? I thought he was older maybe late 50s? but maybe he was just that trail worn and he was really young.

Instead, I stopped in my tracks. I knew it was time for us to turn around today. I didn’t want to intrude on his journey. Had we met in the parking area, I probably would have gushed my questions like the spring water in the falls, but not here. I watched him climb slowly up and up and up into the lava and out of my sight. “Come on doggies,” I whispered and turned to head back. I was deliberately slow, savoring this masterpiece of God. I took some photos, a record of my first PCT, as if I would brag at the water cooler, “Yeah, I’ve been on the PCT” (for a day…snicker snicker.)

On my way back down in the car, I pulled off and looked at Three Finger Jack and the massive lava flow. Somewhere out there was PCT man. I knew soon enough, I’d be back in cell service land, and tomorrow I’ll go to work with the inevitable cranky patrons, and eventually find another lawyer, but I will also know that PCT man is “out there.” How cool is that? Thank you God for refreshing and glorious day and God Speed PCT man.