The Spring Council

The re-entry to my home after a three week trip, was a little more intense than anticipated.

I so missed posting my usual Monday post.

I have not put a post together for this week, but I was working on a different project.

Turns out, I can’t use it for it’s intended purpose, so I thought I’d just post it here.

Kind of a filler, if you will.

I was researching why starlings/black birds, swarm, or murmurate, in the spring.

Some scientists believe it is because there is safety in numbers. Some think they meet together to exchange information, such as locations for good food. As quickly as they gather, they take flight, their movements as one, and their wings making a murmuring sound. Murmuration.

These birds gather behind and around my house during the first part of Spring.

They are raucously noisy. Wonderful to watch, and gone in as little as two days.

I have to wonder what their very loud “Spring Council” is all about!


I missed being there when they decided to move.

Please use the following link to see what happens when these noisy little guys decide to move all at once. (Linked because I did not obtain copyright permission)

I hope you find them as fascinating as I did!

Click here for → Starling Murmuration video clips.



Part Three – Growing Up Churched (3/3)


The Men People Trusted.


In the church I grew up in, and in all churches, military, businesses, families etc, there is a hierarchy.

There is always the boss, followed closely by an assistant. There are scribes, and treasurers, and event planners.

Churches have Pastors, Assistant Pastors, Executive Pastors, Teaching Pastors, along with secretaries, treasurers and then Deacon Boards.

All of that being said, one must know that if you are to hold one of those positions, you have proven yourself to be trustworthy and upstanding, as a child might even think; Holy.

After church service, there was a Sunday school class. Adults went to a different part of the building than the kids. I can still see it in my mind, all the people passing in the hall to go to their respective classes.

There, going the opposite direction as me, was a deacon who locked his eyes on me. I was around 12 or so, so I just thought he was being friendly. Each week, as we passed in the hallway, he would lock eyes on me and began to walk a little closer. I had no vocabulary for it, but I knew it felt weird. It felt scary, even creepy. He then proceeded to touch me where he shouldn’t. Every time a bit more aggressively.

My stomach would roil, and my heart would threaten to come out of my throat when I saw him coming. I knew he was a deacon. Someone the other adults looked up to and even trusted. Who would believe the words of this child, who in her wrongness didn’t fit in anywhere?

I never told a soul. Several months and several incidents passed. I made up some story about not wanting to go to class any more, even though I really did want to.

So I wasn’t in the hallway anymore, the terror and the feeling of even more wrongness stayed with me. I will always wonder if I was the only one. Statistically speaking, there were probably many more..

That was “Back in the day”, when secret things were secret things. The problem with secret things is that they tend to tarnish their container. I was tarnished, through no fault of my own, but acted out tarnished for the next several years.

Until much, much later I found out a few things; it was not my fault, God did not see me as faulty, people are people, whether they be in high places or low, even little girls and boys should talk about any secrets that adults make happen, that make them feel awful and anxious and scared.

In a previous post, The Cartography of Our Scars I addressed the fact that our scars, our landscape, makes us who we are.

Sure, I can wish it never happened, but it did, and so much more. But now I have only to use that rutted road to hold on to someone else’s hand, to help them find the way out.

Remember when that woman I barely knew said it wasn’t my fault?

The truth that she spoke to me set me on the twisty road to freedom.

Part Two – Growing Up Churched (2/3)

Thou Shalt Not

There was one thing I heard clearer than anything else during those early morning church services.

Thou shalt not.

I heard the words the Pastor was reading from the Holy Bible kept on the pulpit. I heard the Thou shalt nots, and that the payment for sin is death. I believed those words.

I still do. But he was telling me the thou shalt nots, without a word about how not to. Basically, he was telling me what to think, without teaching me how to think. What I never heard was just how to not do the Thou shalt nots, or how to receive forgiveness for my ill doing.

Surely, God didn’t punish little girls with the death penalty, right? But how could I know? Since they never told me (or I never heard) I only knew for sure that I was a wrong-doer.

I heard the words God so loved the world, but to me they were overshadowed by all of my wrongness. How could He love someone who was just so wrong?

Fast forward again, to when I was that young mother, going to that different church with my children, without their daddy.

It was there that I began to understand my Father’s (God’s) love for me. How it extended much farther than I could have ever believed.

The story of my earthly father is for another day. Suffice to say that our relationship made it very difficult for me to understand that “love” could be any other way.

John 1:12 (ESV) but to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God. All God wanted was for me to receive Him.

The wrongness of my childhood was nothing in His eyes. It only mattered that I look to Him for guidance.

The choice was mine. Wait. I get to choose? I had never even known that there were options. My wrongness, just was. It was what it was.

I had an encounter with a woman at this time, which I barely knew.

Here is what she said;

“When I see you, I see a chalkboard. This chalkboard says that 2 + 2 = 5. No matter what you do, or how many times you erase it, you cannot get the answer to come out correctly.”

What she told me next, totally floored me.

“God wants you to know that it wasn’t your fault.”

What? I knew at that moment that all my wrongness, was not my fault, I just had not been given all the facts.

On that day I received three things; Freedom from wrongness, choices, and a Father who loved me regardless.

It was then I realized that I would be in a totally different “classroom” being taught in a way that I could learn.

Oh what a glorious day!


Part One – Growing Up Churched (1/3)


Where Do I Fit In?

When I was growing up, we always attended one of the Lutheran churches in town.

Now I have no problem with the Lutheran church, per se. There are different kinds of people with different preferences, I get that.

But as a small child, I only knew that I would be required to sit, for an hour, and not talk. If I could not maintain stillness, I was sure to receive a painful pinch on the shoulder, or an elbow in my side. Even as an adult this sitting “still” is difficult for me. I can always sit, just not still, and I get to choose whether I speak or not.

Back in the day, every one really dressed up for church, but there was nothing finer than attending on a cool Easter morning, men in their suits and women and girls in all their finery. Springy dresses, bonnets, white gloves and the ever present white patent leather shoes.

None of which we had.

We wore the cleanest, not worn out clothing that we owned. I could feel the heat of the stares on my back as we walked up the aisle to our seats. It always seemed that we were less than, imperfect, those without.

Our dad never attended, even on those special days of Christmas or Easter. Often we would be dropped off, and picked up later. His absence was yet another thing that was my fault. My little mind imagined that in my wrongness.

I was often wrong at home. Every day I was wrong at school. Now here at the one place I should be right, I was wrong as well.

My hair was wrong, my clothes were wrong, our family minus our dad was wrong. Every church service simply proved more to me about my wrongness.

Fast forward, to when I was a young mother, going to a different church with my children, but not with my husband, where I felt the same burning heat on my back as we entered into a room with all the “perfect” people, all the “perfect” families all sitting perfectly still, in “perfect” little rows.

What on earth was wrong with me?

Was there anywhere I (and now my children) could fit in?

The Cartography of Our Scars

Last week, a word on “Word of the Day” was cartography.

If you don’t know, cartography is the science or practice of drawing maps.

Hold that thought.

Then in one of my online communities, the topic was “Embracing my scars”.

I took about five minutes to write about it. Here is why they go together;

Our scars are like a road map. One laid out by a expert cartographer.

Our scars show us not only who we are, but where we came from.

The hills, the bumps, the ridges, the pleasant peaceful waters, as well as the water hazards. Straight and curvy roads. Smooth roads, and roads with ruts. All of these make our lives more valuable.

We see that we have come farther than we ever imagined we could, and like a new, snowy landscape, we have before us a place to make a new trail. Fresh new tracks.

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What will your map look like? Will the cartographer use straight lines? Or will it be a more adventurous undertaking?

We need both the straight and adventurous to make our lives interesting, and inconceivably valuable.

Valuable in that we can show others that they are not alone in their wanderings. We can show them the way we took to reach where we are now, or, we can help others to find a whole new way of making it all make sense.

Either way, the beauty of that map, will be strictly owned by you.

As Mr. Rogers was fond of saying, “There is no one like you.”












5 for 5 Brain Dump – Momentum Monday

This 5 for 5 Brain Dump, was written on February 19, 2018. Momentum Monday.
First I’ll share what I wrote, then show you some of the steps I’m taking. Feel free to comment anything helpful for me to keep my momentum, and to help you to reach your goals as well.


Here is what I wrote, 5 for 5 Brain Dump style. If you don’t know what 5 for 5 Brain Dump is, Click here to find out more about it. 

(Note; The scriptures added later)

My biggest goal , all over seems to be that of helping people to access the quiet place inside of them. To help them disconnect from their fear, and and to have an understanding that the past is over.  It helped create who they are, for better or for worse, but it does not need to, nor can it, hold them hostage, unless that is a choice that they themselves make.

My approach my be different than some, but it is MY approach. Everyone is different, so this is not carved in stone. For ME, my approach has been 99.9% effective.

What it requires from me, is focus. It requires remembering who God says I am, what He thinks of me;

(Psalm 139:13-16 (ESV) For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

and keeping His goals for me, always in front of my eyes.

Jeremiah 29:11 (ESV) For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.

With Him, all things are possible.

Luke 18:27 But he said, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.”

(99.9%, because only He is perfect)

The way I keep what He thinks of me alive in my heart and mind, is to revisit this scripture, over and over. Whenever I sense the “overwhelm” moving back in, I return to my comfy chair by the window, and re-read (or even listen online) once, twice, three times, how ever many times it takes, until my heart lightens.

The way I learn about what He wants for my life, often takes place in the same physical space, quieting myself, reading my Bible, quiet music, (no words, they distract) and taking note of any thoughts that come to mind – big or small!

The way that we know it is possible with Him, is that the Word says so. My belief is that either God is telling the truth, or He’s a liar (or a mad man) and I do not believe the last two at all.

In the world that we live in, there is little or no place for quiet. We must carve out that space for ourselves.

Now, some are afraid or uncomfortable with quiet because they either are not accustomed to it, or they may even be afraid of what they might “hear”.

The world is running so fast, that even if we want to slow down, it is a most difficult thing to do.

Here is my shameless plug. Shameless, because I believe it works. Shameless because I want to share the value of what I call “Quietude”.

I’m sharing a link to a page I’ve created to help those of you who wish, to have a small space to begin their journey into Quietude.

May you find peace, and rest for yourself. You’re worth it.

A quiet place for your soul.

Thanks for reading.

Thanks for letting me share.