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Posts Tagged ‘spiritual journey’

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts.  Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts. Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Holly Mueller started this inspiring roundup of writing about out spiritual journey. She tweeted the theme: Patience.

It’s raining. Again. This happens almost every afternoon. It’s rather soothing if you don’t have to go to the bank, the grocery store, and the post office, but these errands happen. Rain happens. Patience doesn’t always happen.

Dance in the rain

Patience is a hard won skill. As a young teacher, I was not very patient. I got angry. I would yell. This embarrasses me now. Patience comes with age and for me, patience came after severe pain.

When I was 34 years old, I turned over in bed and blew a disc in my neck. The pain was unbearable, like a blow torch through my shoulder. Muscle spasms throbbed. I lost strength in my right arm. My thumb through my elbow became numb. An MRI showed a herneated disc at C-5. Surgery.

Having surgery of any kind brings death closer and makes it more real. I had three young daughters at the time. I cried and prayed. I lay in bed on pain medication and my mind would play with me. I felt crazy.

The spinal surgery worked. The herneation was removed. Healing came. In the process of healing, patience visited me. I somehow became calmer. Little things did not bother me as much. I found life had a deeper purpose.

I believe in the resurrection. In our lives, we experience many deaths and resurrections. Through each one, God teaches us a new lesson. The lesson of pain and surgery was patience. I may not be out dancing in the rain, but I can look to the wet grey sky and praise God. I know the importance of patience, of kindness, of love.

34887-Be-Joyful-In-Hope

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Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts.  Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

Click here to read more #spiritualjourney posts. Thanks Holly for hosting this roundup!

My dance instructor, Lou, dances with legendary Zydeco Joe.

My dance instructor, Lou, dances with legendary Zydeco Joe.

I have been maddened, saddened, and frustrated by the happenings in Ferguson, Missouri. Could this happen in my own home town?

I asked this question to the line of people at Solomon House on Tuesday morning. Solomon House is an outreach mission that distributes groceries once a week to the poor in our community. I go every Tuesday morning around 7 AM and greet the clients. This Tuesday our Executive Director was out of town. She usually gives the devotional. I was asked to do it in her absence.

Clients wait for Brown Bag give out at Solomon House.

Clients wait for Brown Bag give out at Solomon House.


I was a bit emotional and nervous to address this mixed crowd. As I looked at the group, I saw white men and women as well as black men and women, young and old. Poverty does not know race. Neither does God.

I continued with my talk.

My husband and I love to Zydeco dance. We are two white people who didn’t know how to dance until we started taking lessons three or so years ago. Now we enjoy going out to dance. Zydeco dancers come in all colors. There are black men dancing with white women, old dancing with young, and women dancing with women. God wants us to be like Zydeco dancers. He wants us all to dance together no matter how old we are or what color we are.

I am also a teacher. I teach young elementary students. In the cafeteria yesterday, as the kindergarten students are getting accustomed to school, I asked an older student to take a kindergarten student to class. They held hands without hesitation, a black child and a white child. Children do not know prejudice.

Let us be like Zydeco dancers and like children. Let us hold hands and dance together.

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Spiritual Journey thursday

Holly Mueller invites us to reflect on our spiritual journey every Thursday. Today’s theme is Joy. Please visit her site to link up and read more posts about Joy.

joy-quotes-pictures-3-f2ad07ee

Sometimes when I’m not looking, and even on those days when frustrations abound.

Joy finds me.

In the morning, the sun shines a beam on the bayou.

Joy finds me.

A child’s eyes light up and smile.

Joy finds me.

A favorite song comes on; I sing along.

Joy finds me.

A cloud looks like Tilly, the wonder dog.

Joy finds me.

A friend sends a text, “You’re a gift.”

Joy finds me.

A cup of coffee when the bones wear thin.

Joy finds me.

A wagging tail and a slobbery lick.

Joy finds me.

The setting sun shines orange, purple, red.

Joy finds me.

The moon rises full; Pleiades sends showers.

Joy finds me.

Where does Joy find you?

Bayou morning photo by Margaret Simon

Bayou morning photo by Margaret Simon

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Join the Poetry Friday Round-up at A Year of Reading with Mary Lee.

Join the Poetry Friday Round-up at A Year of Reading with Mary Lee.


sunset 1

Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

This post is serving dual purposes. Since it is Friday, it serves as my Poetry Friday post, an original poem I wrote this week after a typical trip to the grocery store. The second purpose is for Spiritual Journey Thursday. Holly started this blog roundup a few months ago. Her theme this week is wonder and awe. I was filled with wonder and awe at this sunburst in the sky. Holly’s post is about her mission trip to the Czech Republic. It is worth a read.

Yesterday was a wonderfully busy day filled with school orientation, seeing my students, and our anniversary. Jeff and I danced the night away to our favorite zydeco band, Geno Delafose and the French Rockin Boogie. Thirty-two years and we’re still having fun! (Sorry, Holly, for ignoring your tweets, but I was a little dizzy busy.)

Chasing the Horizon

Driving from an evening grocery stop,
I chase the dramatic horizon
drawing me home.

The cats look forlorn
at my passing car,
oblivious to the sun I seek.

I drive to the cul-de-sac
snapping images with my phone
that fail to capture
the brilliance.

Setting sun peers over
white-tipped clouds
bursting with blue water.

I stop my car,
jump out to the field
as to pursue an escaped kite.

The only bystander watches her dog
as he marks every bush and cluster of weeds.
She talks loudly on her cell phone.

I want to shout, “Look up at the glorious sky!”

But I stay silent,
climb back into my car,
turn toward home,
satisfied that God
just handed me
a daisy.

— Margaret Simon

sunset 3

Images informing writing: Join the photo-a-day challenge.

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Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

Holly Meuller invites us to reflect on our spiritual journey every Thursday. Today’s theme is mindfulness.

Mindfulness is like the weather.

Here in South Louisiana, the summer daily forecast is the same every day. Clear sunny skies in the morning turning to clouds and thunderstorms in the afternoon.

weather

My mind is like this weather pattern, clear in the morning.

Take a walk.

Sing Praise.

Open my mind to a new day…

Morning clear sky over Bayou Teche

Morning clear sky over Bayou Teche

As the day rolls on, heat rises, worries cloud my vision.

But even as the storm forms and lightning flashes, I keep my mind on the sky.

Find the rainbow.

Watch the sunset.

Find the beauty in the ending as well as in the beginning.

Storm cloud sunset made with Painteresque app.

Storm cloud sunset made with Painteresque app.


And don’t forget to wonder along the way.

Made with Canva using my own image.

Made with Canva using my own image.

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Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

I love the connections I have made through blogging. One of these wonderful bloggers is Holly Mueller. She wrote last week on Thursday about wanting to start a link-up, round-up, meme thing for Thursdays on the theme of the spiritual journey. I told her I was in, so here we are, another writing adventure. Please go to her blogspot using the link above and read.

Heron in flight by Beth Gibson Saxena

Heron in flight by Beth Gibson Saxena

I am at the lake. My parents moved here 24 years ago. It is not where I grew up, but they are here, so it is another home for me. When I come, I am immediately soothed by the calmness of water and the love my parents have for each other and for me.

Listen

to the banter of the birds.
They chatter and flutter for the feeder Mom sets out and tends to with her mothering hands. This morning, a red-headed woodpecker squished his long body up and stuck his pecker beak into the mesh of the finch feeder. Mom says he comes every day. “No finch has ever come to that feeder.” The sparrow waited its turn while Mr. Woody wriggled his beak in and out for a tasty treat. I watched and listened to the other birds. I love this sound, symphonic, syncopated, soothing. Silence is never really silent. I could close my eyes to meditate here and listen for the joy in my heart. It’s there waiting to be heard, like the laughter of my mother as she talks to an old friend on the phone.

We are called to be listeners. We should not chatter like the birds wanting to be heard. We need to listen. Listen to the wisdom of fathers. Listen to the song of the wind. Whatever is there…listen.

Sometimes we get so deeply involved with our own thoughts, worries, concerns to listen to others. We practice our own counter-story rather than listen to our friend’s story. On this spiritual journey, I vow to be a better listener. Then I may become a better hearer. In the silence of my heart, God speaks.

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