What keeps you from hearing?

The question this morning was, "What blocks you from hearing God's voice?

It dawned on me that the clutter of my life-my house-my body stand in the way of my listening and hearing. The mess around me and the body image that I carry with me keep my focus here...on myself...selfishly...disallowing my thoughts to be focused on God. This is a frightening confession because it requires action.

I wonder if this strikes a chord with anyone? Does this ring as truth? If you stop and give this thought some time...what have you built into your life that keeps you from hearing God's voice? Do you see it as selfishness or helplessness? Could it be that holding one to the things you despise most about yourself is actually an act of selfishness instead simply a weakness or character flaw? Do we purposely, yet subconsciously, hold on to circumstances, surroundings, thoughts, images, beliefs or weaknesses in order to isolate ourselves from God's voice? To play God...

I believe that often we are the biggest road block in our relationship with God. Is the fear of action greater than the desire for acceptance... Is the fear of failure greater than the hope of living in Truth...of knowing who we are as God's daughters?

Authenticity

The most visible creators I know of
are those artists whose
medium is life itself.
The ones who express
the inexpressible--without brush,
hammer, clay or guitar.
They neither paint nor sculpt--
their medium is being.
Whatever their presence touches
has increased life.
They see and don't have to draw,
they are the artists of being alive.

J. Stone

Early Blooms

The crocuses may not be pushing through the 8 inches of snow that is in my front yard yet but there is no reason to put off enjoying their beauty. Isn't God's attention to detail marvelous?

I've been on a search for the compass of purpose and direction. Wrestling with God, asking so many questions, wanting so many answers...wanting solid ground under my feet. In my quest I've come across a wonderful book by Judith Couchman, "Designing a Woman's Life" In it she wrote,

"When we're willing to wrestle with our disbelief and eventually embrace a God-based significance, when we push beyond an intellectual understanding into the knowledge of the heart, it poignantly influences how we view ourselves and manage our lives. Instead of questioning our worth and berating our imperfections, we can consider ourselves magnificent works of art in progress, filled with meaning and the freedom to be who God created us to be.

Even more, we could accomplish nothing or everything admired by humanity and keep peace within our souls. We hear the Creator's affirming whispers and know that our significance does not fluctuate with the circumstances. We stay God-centered and internally free. We find ourselves rooted in love and confidence instead of tossed by the wavering winds of accomplishment.

We also lovingly respond to God."

This book is filled with so many insights that seem to speak right to my heart at this moment. I'm struck by the words..."poignantly influencing how we view ourselves and manage our lives"...I wonder what that would look like for me? And what does it really mean...what does it look like...how does it act...to find ourselves staying God-centered and internally free? I'm not looking for answers...they would probably only lead to more questions.

Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. Psalm 84:5

More Stuff heard around my house

Wesley: "Mom, can we go swimming when we get home?"

Me: "No it's too cold out."

Wesley: "But I really want to go swimming, can we go swimming when daddy gets home?"

Me: "No, the swimming pool is full of snow, it's frozen like an ice cube."

Wesley: "MAAAAAAMMY, when will the snow go down so we can go swimming? I don't want the snow any more!"

AMEN!

Stuff heard around my house...

Wes: If you're happy in your nose...clap you hands!

Me: If you're happy in your nose?

Wes: Ya!

Now I didn't know it went like that, did you?

Grandma

I dreamed of my Grandma Christine this morning. I could see, hear, touch and smell every detail in the room and we laughed together for so long. The kind of laughter that hurts your stomach because it is so sweet. I'm still amazed by the detail of the experience...I saw a room I didn't even know that I remembered. And she looked so beautiful...all old and rosy...full of life...full of love. The urge to crawl back down the rabbit hole back to a place of safety and youth and relationship was overwhelming...I don't remember in color while I'm awake.

My grandma was old the entire time I knew her. She was 42 when she had my mom and by the time I came along she was 64 and by the time I remember her she was in her 70's. She would babysit us all the time because my grandfather passed away when I was 2 and so she devoted her life to us. That sounds wonderful but I remember not always liking her. Simply because she was at our house so often she would discipline us more than my other grandma(and it was always a competition of who was nicer to me...and Grandma Aardsma never won.)

Grandma Christine was not a push over; she was a survivor. The most amazing kind. In a world that did not respect woman, let alone single women, she persevered and was self-sufficient. Qualities that I admire now as an adult, but wasn't too fond of as a child. She was not afraid to say no but was always gracious to say yes. She took care of everybody...even her "old friends." And that is how she would describe them, which was hilarious because she was just as old or older than they were. But Grandma was not afraid of her age and never let it be a handicap. When her friends were shutting down with frailty she was bursting with energy. She never judged them but was kind to a fault. As a child, I was jealous; as an adult I'm in awe.

Grandma was always smiling, she was not a gossip or a complainer. I remember her smiling and laughing. I remember her hand on my head...this morning more real than it has ever been.

I remeber her belly, which as a child I thought felt like a real bowl of jelly...I remember telling her that...she would just laugh and let me lay there...resting. I think that is my favorite memory of Grandma...the times I would get to lay in bed with her early in the morning and we would just "be" together. Ordinarily, she was always doing something, always busy, always on task, but in the morning before she got up from bed she would grant me the most valuable gift of all, her time.

I never got to say good-bye. I was too busy being a new mom in a different state. Too busy to take time to visit her when she was ailing, too wrapped up in myself, my family, my problems to go and say good-bye. Too afraid to see her frail.

But this morning, I woke up in her living room, laughing together with her. It was so wonderful. She is my hero...I am her namesake...I am so thankful.

Love you Grandma.