Tag Archive | 10-Minute Tuesday

Faith in an Ocean

Nov6

I’ve been in the fiction writing mode for the month of October, so I set aside my regular Tuesday and Friday posts for the month, but I’m back! Today’s 10-Minute Tuesday post prompt is “Ocean.”

IMG_1856I grew up in Oakland, Calif. The Pacific Ocean was always a part of my life. Our house had a view of the San Francisco Bay, but just beyond the Golden Gate Bridge, on a clear day, we could just see the ocean.

Some of my favorite sites are the craggy shores of Northern California. I loved the tide pools and the jagged rocks. The ocean was a peaceful, powerful place to see.

Then I moved to Florida. Bleh. The beaches just didn’t have the same appeal. The waves still ebbed and flowed, but the water was way warmer and the landscape was much less dramatic.

I used to say that I was more a beach person than a mountain person, but I came to realize that it wasn’t the beach itself that drew me—here in Florida I get way too hot and sunburned and sandy—but it was the power and the peace of the waves. I like watching them and hearing them. I know of their danger, and I am fascinated by the creatures the oceans hold.102_1116

I don’t get to spend much time at the beach. We live about 45 minutes away from the nearest shore, but we just don’t make the trip out there very often. I miss it. I miss being able to look out my window and see the vastness in the distance.

There is a popular Christian song called “Oceans” by Hillsong United that I like, even if it is overplayed. The idea is that we can rely on God even if the oceans rise. These words soothe me:

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now.

Through every trial and hard season, God is there. My soul can rest in His embrace. He is my anchor. He won’t let go.

Rest in Him as you listen.

Sweet Summer Memories

Sep26

Today’s 10-Minute Tuesday post (a day late) is on the prompt “Summer.”

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The day had been its normal hot in Bakersfield that late summer day in 1968 when I was approaching 7 years old, the thermometer topping out at 100 dry degrees. My older sister and I had gone to bed in the cool back bedroom of my grandparent’s ranch house on Wible Road, anticipating a phone call about the birth of our new sibling.

I’m not sure where my brother was, but I don’t remember him being with us.IMG_9994 2

It felt right that that’s where I was awaiting this announcement, because I loved that ranch. I loved everything about the house and the grounds. I spent many days playing in the irrigation ditches among the cotton or alfalfa plants, whatever happened to be growing that season.

The smell of cut alfalfa still takes me back.

It always seemed to be summer when we spent time there, so hot was something I was used to. I clearly hear my grandmother “Mimi’s” voice yelling, “Close the door, the refrigeration is on!”

The kitchen of the ranch house was huge, the eating area separated from the cooking area by a bar. The windows looking out over the back yard with the brick walkway and covered outdoor kitchen area that I never remember being used as such. My great grandmother Nona’s house sat just feet away. The rose bushes in their neat rows bordered the side driveway where visitors often parked.

From the old wooden storage shed that held remnants of tractors and other paraphernalia of ranch life to the long rows of growing plants, everything about the place spoke of family history. And I loved it.

IMG_9993I remember one particular summer when I was either in junior high or high school. I went to Bakersfield to stay for a week. I spent most of it that summer at my great aunt “Zizi’s” apartment.

Zizi was my grandmother’s only surviving sister. They had lost my mother’s namesake, Ada, when she was young. Zizi, Zia Emma (“zia” being Italian for “aunt”), had never married, though she had been engaged at one point. We never really got the full story, only that she had moved back with my grandparents when she suffered a nervous breakdown in the aftermath.

That week I spent with Zizi, all I wanted to do was read. She tried to get me to go to the pool, but I only wanted to read. I don’t think she quite knew what to do with me.

Three years ago, my aunt—my mother’s sister—and her son—my cousin—made the decision to sell the house and land. It broke my heart. Never again would I spend any summer days in the stifling heat and lovely memories of that Wible Road home. My grandparents are gone. My great aunt is gone. No more card games with my Nona at the kitchen table of her little green house just a few yards from my grandparents’ place.

My heart yearns for them, those lazy summer days and my precious Italian family.IMG_9995 2

Oh yeah, and my newborn sibling was a girl. Not that she’s a side note; it just happened to be this memory that first came to mind at the word “summer.”

I have so much more to say about this place, but my 10 minutes are up :-). I will touch on this again in a future post.

 

Seeking the Silent

Sep18

Today’s 10-Minute Tuesday post is on the prompt “silent.”

IMG_3060My brain is running at full steam.

What if? Why not? Would it be so bad?

I try to stop. I try to quiet it. I try to sleep.

Not going to happen.

There is no silent night in my thoughts. There’s always something roiling and boiling.

Sleep eludes me as I search for ways to shut it down.

Let it go.

Think about it tomorrow.

My brain doesn’t listen. It refuses to be silent.IMG_4424

It yells. It sings. It reviews or previews every conversation.

Could I have said that better? Did I say something wrong? What if I say something wrong?

Be still, my soul. Be silent. Rest.

The hum of the air conditioner. The chirping of cicadas. The croaking of frogs. Lots of frogs. The crash of ice from the ice maker into its bin. The snoring of the dog on the floor of my room.

Nothing is silent in my house.

Breathe. Deep, slow breaths. Out. In. Calm your thoughts.

Pray.

IMG_6175Ahhhh. That’s the ticket. So many people to pray for. So many concerns in the world. If my brain is not going to shut down, might as well put it to good use. Put my cares in the hands of my Creator.

He hears. He knows. He cares. He’s got this.

Finally. Sleep. I know He’s got this.

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Toddling Along

Sep11

Today’s 10-Minute Tuesday post is on the prompt “Toddler”

xy+NaiZ5SBibbrRWXUJb0gToddlers have a bad reputation. They’re said to wear out their mothers, challenge anyone in their way, and be impossibly hard to keep up with. They’re just learning to explore their world, so they wreck havoc wherever they go.

I have an 8-month-old grandson who has just started pulling up on everything and is beginning to cruise from furniture piece to person’s leg to couch, figuring out where it is he can go next. And, maybe it’s because I’m Nana now, but I think it’s the best thing ever.

Babies need to explore their world. It’s what has to happen in order for them to figure things out. They need to face challenges, they need to overcome those challenges on their own, and they need to test their boundaries.

325xpAUERdKaBNwe257SpABecause I have my grandson 5 afternoons/evenings/nights a week, I get to help him navigate some of those challenges and learn to respect the boundaries. My 16-year-old daughter, who helps a lot with him, is fond of chanting “Choking hazard! Choking hazard!” if there is the slightest small thing that might end up in his mouth.

We are all aware of the dangers.

Before he even became mobile, we hauled the pool fence out of the attic, just in case someone should forget to latch a door and he would make his way to the pool deck. Having barriers and boundaries in place is wise, but cushioning his every tumble would just set him up to expect to never encounter a difficulty.

I keep him from pulling the cats’ tails while teaching him how to treat them nicely.

I keep a fence up around the pool, but take him swimming to allow him the joy of the water on a hot day.

I move games with small pieces while allowing him to touch and taste and explore those things that he does not yet know how to open.

IMG_0142Freedom within guidelines. This will help him grow and learn and develop in a safe environment without making him fearful that there’s danger around every corner.

God gives us guidelines as well, not to keep us from having fun, but to keep us safe while growing and learning and developing.

If the Son has set you free, you are free indeed (John 8:36), but do not use your freedom as an excuse to sin (Romans 6:15).

When I put up the pool fence for my grandson, it wasn’t so that I could say to him, “Ha! See that refreshing water? Looks fun, doesn’t it? Well, sorry! You can’t go in it!” No, that would be very mean of me. I put it up to keep him safe. He is a baby. He doesn’t know how to swim. If he were to wander into that water, he would drown. And that would be a tragedy for us all.

In the same way, God’s guidelines are not to keep us from having fun, but to actually give us a chance at abundant life.

We, like toddlers, want to move and explore and learn new things. It’s a joy to watch. But when we get close to those things that could hurt us, God is there to move us away. It’s the loving thing to do.

GZ9wojPiR+uwCUeIxWm7CAWe diligently watch Zayne whenever he is with us, because at this point, though he is not yet a toddler, he is crawling around as quickly as he can, seeing what there is to see and what he can explore (read “get into”) next.

I will never stop watching him, because I love him to the moon and back and want him to be safe while still desiring that he experience as much of his little world as he can.

Your Story Matters

Sep4

Today’s 10-minute Tuesday prompt is “story.”

I have a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on my Discover Card, so I get to see it often.I’m typing this on my iPad today because my daughter is using my laptop for schoolwork while her computer is being upgraded. In the mobile version of the WordPress site, there is a space for a blog post title, and then under that the words “start your story here.”

Made me think for a minute. Where did my story start?

Several years ago, the staff of Cru was challenged at a staff conference to write out an essay that was called “I am from.” It’s a look back into your personal history to learn what it is that has made you what you are today. It’s not to give an excuse for our shortcomings because “that’s just the way I was raised,” but instead to give insight so that we know where to go from here.

fullsizeoutput_6badTherapist Adam Young talks about giving our parents too much of an out when we say that they did the best they could. I know I’ve done that. But if that were true, then my dad would have stayed with AA and found a way to curtail his drinking. My mom would have tried to learn how to be open hearted and really tried to know her kids. And their parents before them would have read and practiced and learned how to do better.

I have copied my “I am from” poem here, just to share a piece of my story. Consider writing one yourself, because your story really does matter, more than you think it does. I would also encourage you to listen to Dr. Young’s podcast, “The place we find ourselves.”

I am From

I am from the Golden State
I am from the winding, hilly roads overlooking the San Francisco Bay
I am from mountains & beaches, rocky shores & tide pools waiting to be explored
I am from sunshine & foggy mornings with the tips of the Golden Gate Bridge just peaking through.
I am from the country, the smell of alfalfa & the lowing of cattle
I am from searing heat & shimmering highways
I am from the Old Country, where garlic & olive oil permeate the air
I am from family, from privilege, a name & a reputation to maintain
I am from the land of bagpipes & brave hearts
I am from clan Grant, an unknown entity in my life
I am from a popular mother & a father who wasn’t sure who he was
I am from the affects of alcohol & disappointment & dying dreams
I am from generosity & volunteering & friendships that lasted through decades
I am from a love not sure about how to be expressed
I am from acceptance & forgiveness & new life
I am from purpose, from words knocking at the door, waiting to be let out
I am from unconditional love
I am from the heart of God, written on His timeline before it began