Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Christian Faith

July 6, 2017

an untethered life

Annie J. Flint, Poet (1866-1932)

I like being in control. Or at least thinking I’m in control. Yet the older I get, the less control I have over my world, much less yours. I don’t relish feeling tethered by circumstances beyond my control.

Annie J. Flint, composer of the well-loved song below, lived a tethered life in her later years due to severe arthritis. Her ability to work or function as an independent adult was limited. She experienced what it means to ‘reach the end of our hoarded resources.’

Yet she still touches us with grace-filled lyrics such as these. Here’s one of her most-loved songs, unedited.

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials he multiplies peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

Words by Annie J. Flint (1866-1932)
Found at CyberHymnal.org

Today, six months into this year, I’m tempted to despair. I struggle with discouragement about national and international issues. I don’t know what I can do, or who I’m to be in the midst of growing chaos gone crazy. The options seem tightly restrictive.

Happily, these lyrics don’t lull me into spiritual make-believe land, as though I could escape all this. Instead, they invite me to keep an open mind and heart, stay engaged, and loosen my hold on that tether I think is binding me.

After all, Flint’s lyrics are about receiving, not about giving.

I’ve lived most of my adult life as a giver. Though it’s exhausting, I confess some addiction to it. Especially now that I’m not able to feed the giving habit as regularly as I might like.

Perhaps I’ve reached the end of my giving tether, and need to cut it loose. Annie Flint would likely agree. In fact, when her options became severaly limited, she picked up her pen and began writing her life in poetry. Not primarily for us, but for herself.

How selfish? No, how wise. I can’t think of a better way to receive gifts than to unwrap, admire, and use them.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 6 July 2017
Image found at CyberHymnal.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Tether

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July 5, 2017

born yet again

born yet again
loving and leaving
peeling growing itchy
skin too tight

between lurches
a hatched pattern
unfolds
creases rise edgy

birth canal angular
made to order
a fearsome adventure
unrehearsed

a snail’s pace
catapults me
inch by sub-inch
toward light

***

And that, my friends, it what this plucky woman felt when I woke this morning. Keenly aware of my age and of the many times I’ve said goodbye to ‘me’ and hello to the new, exciting (?) unknown ‘me.’

Today nothing is set in concrete except this: I am God’s beloved daughter-child. Along for the ride, and learning to relax my way into it.

Happy Wednesday!

Elouise♥ 

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 July 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
Daily Prompt: Pluck

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July 4, 2017

Dear Clouds,

Forgive me for interrupting you
On this sunny, slightly cloudy holiday
When you’re extra busy above the scenes.

I don’t have a speech,
Just a breezy note
In passing:

Thank you!

You show up day and night
Working in earth’s atmosphere
A massive, moving panorama.

Highlighting, lowlighting, hovering,
Dancing, rippling, undulating
Before and around the sun and the moon

Darkening, thickening, showing your muscle,
Announcing impending flashes of lightning
and thunderous torrents of rain.

I wonder, do you feel affirmed and needed?
Or do you dream of sailing off into the sunset
And never returning?

Please know you’re loved and respected the world over
And that every living thing on this planet
Counts on you to show up and do your thing.

Also, if you’re wondering,
Some of us down below are doing what we can
To make sure you live long and prosper.

From a Fan

~~~

All creatures of our God and King,
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou burning sun with golden beam,
Thou silver moon with softer gleam!

Refrain:
O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Thou rushing wind that art so strong,
Ye clouds that sail in heav’n along,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou rising moon, in praise rejoice,
Ye lights of evening, find a voice!….

St. Francis of Assisi, ca. 1225

***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 July 2017
Photo found at carlwozniak.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Sail

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June 29, 2017

far from home

 

Through hazy unknowns
life tumbles, turns
I wake far from home
not knowing how or who
I’m to be

I search for long-gone milestones
landmarks north stars
The sky an empty void
of echoing questions
no answers
no explanations
no solace

I wander between knowing what I
think I know and fearing this
could be true
Truth so fragile —
easily pierced by life’s urgent
need for me to be
someone I am not

Life itself a great puzzlement of
interlocking pieces
leading somewhere
or nowhere
I’m never quite sure
A little light
a little meaning
a little distance
from the void of not knowing

Will this come round right?
Every book every scrap of history
every letter every pain
every sorrow every shame
every secret
wells up in me
competing for attention
Pick me!
I hold the key to golden answers

Can you help me find my way home?

***

I first published this on the occasion of reaching 500 posts — 30 July 2015. Since then my life changed in ways I didn’t expect. Yet true North is still true North. I am God’s beloved daughter-child. I am not that letter I wrote, my pain, my sorrows or secrets.

Life isn’t about what I do or leave undone; it’s about who I am. Not just on sunny days at Longwood Gardens, but on days when I feel anxious, uncertain, weary or lost. I am God’s beloved daughter-child, blessed with sisters and brothers the world over. Women and men just like you.

Today I don’t feel lost or anxious. Instead I’m grateful to be alive, growing and enjoying meeting you in this strange world I call Bloggy-Land.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 June 2017
Image found at gizmag.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Magnet

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June 27, 2017

Wheels within Wheels or…

Why I have hope for my children and grandchildren.

I know. It sounds presumptuous. The world seems to be going to you-know-where in a handbasket. Whatever that means. I think that means going downhill fast. Possibly exploding into smithereens at the bottom.

I’m no Doubter. I fully accept the reality of climate change and, in particular, the reality of our abysmal human contribution thereto. Yet we seem honor-bound to look the other way, or helpless in the face of measurable warning signs.

Nor am I a Pollyanna, as we used to say way back when. I don’t wake up, see the sky falling and smile cheerfully, whistle a happy tune, or go about my business in denial. Everything isn’t chirpy, cheery or going to be all right.

I’m a pragmatic, realistic, down-to-earth woman who also happens to be intuitive, imaginative and energized by a challenge. I’m also a woman of faith, though I don’t expect God or a Higher Power to swoop down and rescue us at the last minute.

Life—past, present and future—is complex. Wheels within wheels spiral up, down, in, out, all around. In no way capable of being fathomed,  controlled or predicted.

I’ve seen yesterday’s disasters lead to today’s unpredicted miracles. And vice versa. Not because they were good or evil in themselves, but because they contained within them the possibilities for both good and ill.

Wheels within wheels are already turning this way and that, moving in directions we may never experience in our lifetimes. The future is unknown. And yet…the unknown already contains the seeds of tomorrow’s brilliant solutions and horrifying disasters.

I live in a world my grandparents and my parents didn’t expect. We haven’t self-destructed. Nor are we heaven on earth. We’re still made up of wheels within wheels, finding ever-new ways to accomplish good and evil.

I can’t guarantee things will turn out well for those I most love. Nonetheless, I have faith in our Creator who offers multiple opportunities to exploit wheels within wheels for good, not for ill. I also support and applaud human creativity that turns complexity into brilliant, often simple solutions that turn out right.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 June 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Wheel

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June 21, 2017

Tough words for tough times

Words are actions. Written, spoken or springing to our minds, they aren’t make-believe. They convey intentions. They can’t be taken back, whether delivered flawlessly, flippantly or in jest. The large or small grain of truth has already been fired from the well-aimed barrel of a well-oiled tongue.

This morning I read Psalm 12. It invited me to ponder not just my tongue and what it reveals about me, but the cacophony of words flying about us on any given day.

  • Cutting. Slicing. Insinuating.
  • Demolishing. Killing. Maiming.
  • Flattering. Deceiving. Boasting.
  • Lording it over others.
  • Maligning the needy and the poor.
  • Decrying the rich and the famous.
  • Strutting. Preening.
  • Poisoning the air with intent to kill, maim, prevail at any cost.

Truth is difficult. It takes an effort. A clear head and a clear heart. Self-knowledge. Honesty and humility.

Here’s the full text of Psalm 12. The psalmist speaks passionately, with hyperbole, so great is his despair as well as trust in the Lord. His despair is not an exaggeration. Neither is his faith.

Psalm 12 (New International Version)

Help, Lord, for no one is faithful anymore;
Those who are loyal have vanished from the human race.
Everyone lies to their neighbor;
They flatter with their lips
But harbor deception in their hearts.

May the Lord silence all flattering lips
And every boastful tongue—
Those who say
“By our tongues we will prevail;
Our own lips will defend us—who is lord over us?”

“Because the poor are plundered and the needy groan,
I will now arise,” says the Lord.
“I will protect them from those who malign them.”
And the words of the Lord are flawless,
Like silver purified in a crucible,
Like gold refined seven times.

You, Lord, will keep the needy safe
And will protect us forever from the wicked,
Who freely strut about
When what is vile is honored by the human race.

Tough words for tough times, yes. Though not without hope for all of us. The damage doesn’t fall simply on the poor and needy. It falls on all of us–those who use their tongues and pens as weapons of war, or those who prefer firing bullets in the privacy of their minds and hearts.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 June 2017
Image found at pinterest

8 Comments
June 17, 2017

blossoming like a rose

Today’s prompt brought back an anthem from my college choir days. It’s been playing through my head all day–one of the most beautiful anthems I’ve ever heard.

The lyrics are based on Isaiah 35, a poetic passage that foresees a time to come when all will be well for the blind, deaf, weak and weary. For all who are discouraged, afraid and convinced they’ve been forgotten. Holiness will reign and injustice will be a thing of the past.

And what about this earth? It will also change in ways we can’t imagine. The opening lines of the anthem set the tone. From my memory…

The wilderness and the solitary place shall rejoice,
And the desert will be glad, and blossom like a rose.
For in the wilderness shall water break forth,
And streams flow in the desert.

This is Isaiah’s poetic vision of coming peace with justice. To some it may seem naïve or even make-believe. Yet doesn’t each of us harbor a wish, if not a vision for a better tomorrow?

The account of creation, the fall, and the resulting impact on all generations can sound heavy if not heavy-handed. Nonetheless, the God described throughout Hebrew and Christian Scriptures never gives up. Over and over opportunities are offered for turning around and taking another path. One that leads to justice with peace.

The God who created us is angered by injustice, moved by the plight of those who pay dearly for the decisions of others, including rulers of all kinds. Some leaders work with every intention of doing what’s best for everyone. Others seem intent on doing what’s best for themselves and their own, not for the people they serve or for strangers within their gates.

A beautiful anthem doesn’t solve our problems. It does, however, remind me that our leaders are not God, no matter how committed they are to doing good, and no matter how much we the people may want them to be God.

The anthem also reminds me that I’m not God and you’re not God. No matter how good or right we think we are, we can’t ensure that all will one day be transformed, much less pull it off.

I can, however, take one precarious step forward at a time, and trust God to do right, as the only Judge of all the earth.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 June 2017
Photo found at emeralddesert.com – Desert Bloom in Palm Springs, California
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Blossom

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June 12, 2017

In this short life

Here’s another wise comment from Emily Dickinson, found in a volume of poetry for young people. I think it’s for us older folks, too. My comments follow.

In this short life
That only lasts an hour,
How much, how little,
Is within our power!

Emily Dickinson: Poetry for Young People
Edited by Frances Schoonmaker Bolin
Illustrated by Chi Chung
Sterling Publishing Co., 1994

Not much here for me to love. If life is short and only lasts an hour, and since I’m nearer the end of my hour than ever before, my time to make an impact has come and almost gone.

Or so it seems. How do we assess the impact of one human life?

It’s easy to understand the quandary Emily describes. I want to make an impact. I want to make things better. I want to do volumes of good. I want my life to count for something. I don’t want to do it all, have it all, climb every mountain or ford every stream. I just want to make a measurable difference. For good, of course.

Yet life as lived is almost unbearably repetitious and often filled with poor decisions.

Emily Dickinson spent most of her short, painfully private life taking care of others, enjoying nature, reading, scribbling words on paper, and stuffing them away unseen. Today they’re everywhere in collections and volumes. The gift of a short life now gifting us with insights into nature and human nature.

St. Thomas Aquinas suggests we can’t judge the power of one person’s life narrative at the time of his or her death. The full, true meaning of a human life can’t be known until it plays out in the lives of others. Thus our good looms longer and larger than our lives; so does our evil or neglect of the good. What we do and what we don’t do matters.

Emily’s words ring painfully true. We’re faced with an exasperating quandary. Each day the seconds tick away, presenting us with limited options, limited time and limited power.

Because of this, we can’t pronounce final judgment on ourselves, much less others. Not just judgment about the meaning of our lives, but about the meaning of any one day, hour or minute.

Instead, I choose to focus on loving God, loving myself, and loving my neighbors. Not just my next-door neighbors, but those who live on the other side of this globe or the other side of the road.

Further, I choose to do this as a woman loved in all my glory and ignominy by my Creator. Every second of every day. And yes, I still choose to make a difference for good. Even though that means making a difference for ill from time to time, regardless of my best intentions.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 June 2017
Image found at alphacoder.com 
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Volume

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June 3, 2017

Is it my imagination?

Competing headlines
Fly through air
Thick with alternative voices
Screaming for my attention–
Concentration on things that matter
Forced to wait breathless
As the next raw-meat morsel
Is bandied before my eyes
Each tasty morsel bait
For the lioness in me
That loves to roar
Calling further attention
To the next high drama
As precious minutes slip away
Never to be repeated

Part of me wants to know what’s happening. Now! After all, I don’t want to be an ostrich with my head in the sand. Things aren’t going well. We seem to have hit more than a rough patch for the foreseeable future. There’s a lot to think about. Now!

Another part of me warns that time spent attending to news reports quickly becomes, for me, a colossal waste of precious time.

When I give away time I lose investment opportunities. The kind that don’t arrive via headlines or monetary gain. Rather, they’re hidden in the faces, comments and stories of family, friends, neighbors and strangers.

The graphics at the top help me make choices about what I’ll spend time reading. I appreciate it. Yet in the end, I still have to choose how much time I’ll spend looking at this ‘big picture.’

The big picture that matters most for me is discerned slowly, piece by piece. One person and one conversation at a time, beginning with those closest to me—family, friends, neighbors, people I meet in the blogosphere, and strangers who live just around the corner.

My life and yours are real, not imaginary. They aren’t measured or summed up by polling information or by our participation in protest, resistance, governmental or even charitable movements.

Rather, they become real to us within the safety of face-to-face, or one-on-one listening. That’s what fires my imagination as a follower of Jesus Christ who first listened to me—long before I knew anyone cared.

I’m no Pollyanna. Not everyone wants to be noticed. But those who do, including myself, are the women, men and children I want to get to know. It can’t hurt to begin by looking up, smiling, and asking, “How are you doing today? Would you like to tell me about it?”

So how are you doing today?

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 June 2017
Image sent to me by DAFraser, source unknown
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Imaginary

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May 20, 2017

from a nearby tree

from a nearby tree
a catbird sends waves of song
spilling to the ground

Have you ever heard a catbird? If so, you already know their song is unmistakable. Loud, almost hyper mimics, they punctuate their unending songs with sharp ‘catcalls.’ Sort of like the sharp ‘meow’ of a cat. Unlike other mimics (thrushes or mockingbirds), they don’t usually repeat their songs.

We hear them every day. Especially now, when birds are nesting and nests need defending. They crank up their musical contributions before sunrise, and continue past sunset. We heard one yesterday evening when we went out walking. It was perched in a tree just above our heads, well past sunset.

Catbirds don’t seem worried about running out of songs. Instead, they’re worried if you come too close to a nearby nest. When that happens, they aren’t shy about dive-bombing around your head, descending from a nearby thicket to cajole you into leaving the area. They don’t give up, and they aren’t bashful.

God doesn’t swoop down from heaven to defend us or to scare intruders away. Still, there’s something god-like in a common catbird’s defense of its nest and determination to frighten off or redirect the attention of possible intruders.

My real-life intruders are often discouragement, fear or loneliness. Sometimes God descends to my aid when I listen to music I love and let it fill the airwaves, spilling into my heart and tense body. A sign that majesty and power are present in ways I don’t understand.

This doesn’t solve my problems. It simply makes things bearable, and invites me to relax, knowing I’m never out of the range of God’s care. I think another way of naming it is Sabbath rest.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 May 2017
YouTube video found on Google
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Descend

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