Mustard has been quite a topic over the past week. An odd thing, really, since we really only ever say the word mustard when we have hot dogs. And we haven't had them since summer, that I can remember. Earlier this week, we had meatloaf for dinner, which involved putting it together the night before, and then having one of the boys turning on the bread machine, and then adding a glaze. (Yes, the meatloaf is cooked in the bread machine, and it is soooooo good!) Son #2 helped me with the shopping list before he mixed together the meatloaf. (Raw meat is something I try to avoid whenever possible. Maybe someday I'll work through that.....) Combing through the recipe, he asked, "What's 'prepared mustard?'" I explained that it's mustard like we put on hot dogs; mustard that is made into the condiment, rather than mustard seeds or mustard powder.
In the morning, I told Son #3 and Son #4, individually, that we would need them to help out by turning on dinner, and making the glaze. Each of them asked, in turn, "What's 'prepared mustard?'" I explained to each of them, getting the same result from each of them: "Ah. I see."
I thought nothing of it. They had never seen the term before, and I always chuckle a little when I see prepared mustard listed as an ingredient. I would only think that I was using mustard powder or mustard seeds if they were specifically listed--unless I was making pickles. Then I would know that I need mustard seeds.
Last night, I was at the vespers discussion group at church, and somehow the discussion came around to depth of faith. As we talked, and I told about the faith I viewed versus the faith I felt, pieces started to fall into place. Talking about the promise I made to learn about my faith, to ask and seek answers to the questions I come across, I pointed out that I always knew my faith was there; it just seemed to me to be smaller than that of my father, my husband, some of my friends--all people whose faith I had always admired. People whose faith, in all honesty, I envied (ironically!). Suddenly, I saw a connection to last week's Lenten struggles, and the mustard questions of the week.
"My faith was always there; it was just small--Like a mustard seed!" Grins and nodding all around. And I realized I'd had the gifts I needed all along.
Those questions I have are questions I should ask. Asking questions, seeking knowledge, is something I work toward in my secular life. Why I would resist asking, learning and wondering in my spiritual life is something I don't yet understand. My husband and I are exploring that together, though. Nine months or so ago, I made a promise to God that I would put my faith and future in His hands, and that I would, therefore, learn. And I have learned so much, but most of all I've learned that there is far more to learn than I ever will.
And that's a beautiful thing. One of the most beautiful things about faith.
Then this morning, I was reading my book (The story of a soul, by St. Therese of Lisieux), and she mentioned her mustard seed faith. And tonight, the meditation I read on the Luminous Mysteries mentioned mustard seeds.
Coincidence? I think not.
Showing posts with label rewards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rewards. Show all posts
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
day by day
After dropping our oldest off at school today, and making a quick stop at a friend's house and Dad's grave, and having no co-pilot for the drive home, I had a chance to mull over the words that have been swirling in my head for days without synthesizing enough to come out well.
On Friday, I tried two or three times to express what was in my head. The best I could do was my last post, which looked exactly like what I wanted to say, but looked far different, and had a far different feel than that which I usually write and post. Oh, well, that happens, and is a part of who I am; how I create, balance, flow.
Today, though, the key to tying the swirling words was the visit to Dad. I don't always stop when I'm in the area, and there are arguments for and against in my mind and my heart every time. Honestly, I'm not interested in what other people think I should do. I stop when I feel the need.When I do stop, it's not because I have any feeling that he's "there" more than he's anywhere else. It's more that I need to be in a specific place in my history in order to find something there. Clumsily, I could equate it to a pilgrimage: I'm going there to feel a connection between past and present, and only his headstone can be the portkey. On the pedestal, I found an ornament: a cross, with the words "Prayer Heals," left by someone since the last time I was there. Peeking behind the headstone, I chuckled that there is still a circle of dust where the bottle of wine left by my sister (who later asked me to remove it) had been hidden by the caretaker.
Prayer Heals.
Over the past week and a half, I have been participating in a Consecration to Mary, and Wednesday, this question was posed: Why are you here? What made you decide to do this? I've been thinking about it ever since--truthfully, I had been wondering before the question was asked aloud. I'd been struggling with an answer, because the quick and easy answer is that I am doing it because Mom is. I know that's not entirely true, because I had decided to get the book before Mom said she wanted to go, too. So, why? (The questioner, incidentally, was not looking for an answer; this is for my own benefit.)
After my visit, listening to Jeff Cavins (I highly recommend), Jason Mraz and David Cook (favorite song twice) while driving from the top of the state to the bottom, I was able to put together many of my thoughts. First of all, I've always had lots of questions. For a long time, I equated having questions to a lack of faith. Over the past few years, I have come to believe that what I really lack is understanding and knowledge--two things that bug me about anything I'm involved in. Therefore, my questions must be connected more to a desire for understanding, a thirst for knowledge, and a desire for a deeper faith. That's why I'm there: I want to see if I can find some answers, if I can get closer to goodness, faith, sainthood.
Lofty goals, but what better way to be a better person? Shouldn't goals be lofty? I have nothing to lose. I've worked on and developed balance in myself, in my life, and I've been getting this close all the time. So the next step is to focus on my spirit, my soul. Having life crises will do that for you: it makes you look at where you are, analyze it, take stock of the good, the bad and the ugly, and rearrange, reprioritize and reorganize. I'm opening, blooming, growing, developing.
A little late, maybe, but better late than never.
On Friday, I tried two or three times to express what was in my head. The best I could do was my last post, which looked exactly like what I wanted to say, but looked far different, and had a far different feel than that which I usually write and post. Oh, well, that happens, and is a part of who I am; how I create, balance, flow.
Today, though, the key to tying the swirling words was the visit to Dad. I don't always stop when I'm in the area, and there are arguments for and against in my mind and my heart every time. Honestly, I'm not interested in what other people think I should do. I stop when I feel the need.When I do stop, it's not because I have any feeling that he's "there" more than he's anywhere else. It's more that I need to be in a specific place in my history in order to find something there. Clumsily, I could equate it to a pilgrimage: I'm going there to feel a connection between past and present, and only his headstone can be the portkey. On the pedestal, I found an ornament: a cross, with the words "Prayer Heals," left by someone since the last time I was there. Peeking behind the headstone, I chuckled that there is still a circle of dust where the bottle of wine left by my sister (who later asked me to remove it) had been hidden by the caretaker.
Prayer Heals.
Over the past week and a half, I have been participating in a Consecration to Mary, and Wednesday, this question was posed: Why are you here? What made you decide to do this? I've been thinking about it ever since--truthfully, I had been wondering before the question was asked aloud. I'd been struggling with an answer, because the quick and easy answer is that I am doing it because Mom is. I know that's not entirely true, because I had decided to get the book before Mom said she wanted to go, too. So, why? (The questioner, incidentally, was not looking for an answer; this is for my own benefit.)
After my visit, listening to Jeff Cavins (I highly recommend), Jason Mraz and David Cook (favorite song twice) while driving from the top of the state to the bottom, I was able to put together many of my thoughts. First of all, I've always had lots of questions. For a long time, I equated having questions to a lack of faith. Over the past few years, I have come to believe that what I really lack is understanding and knowledge--two things that bug me about anything I'm involved in. Therefore, my questions must be connected more to a desire for understanding, a thirst for knowledge, and a desire for a deeper faith. That's why I'm there: I want to see if I can find some answers, if I can get closer to goodness, faith, sainthood.
Lofty goals, but what better way to be a better person? Shouldn't goals be lofty? I have nothing to lose. I've worked on and developed balance in myself, in my life, and I've been getting this close all the time. So the next step is to focus on my spirit, my soul. Having life crises will do that for you: it makes you look at where you are, analyze it, take stock of the good, the bad and the ugly, and rearrange, reprioritize and reorganize. I'm opening, blooming, growing, developing.
A little late, maybe, but better late than never.
Monday, December 10, 2012
because I can
"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."
~Dr. Seuss
Yesterday, the question was presented: "Why bother?" Indeed, the question was far more complicated than it looks, as there was plenty of background to go with it. The important part, to me, though, was the simplicity of the answer--which, of course, uses far more words in answer. The simplest answer would be, "You're right," followed by giving up the action.
I've learned so much, though, that tells me that if the question is "Why bother?" there must be lots to think about.
Why bother?
Well, because if I keep doing the rote, follow the forms, act out of habit, I am still getting something out of it. IF, that is, I allow myself. I myself sat, week after week, out of habit, until that little bit of faith -- that mustard seed, if you will -- found a reason to start working its way through my heart.
Yoga is a practice. In order to find the benefits of yoga, which include, but are not limited to, flexibility, mental and physical balance, and strength, one must keep at it. Keep pushing limits, keep breathing, keep learning. I never thought of all faith as involving similar practice. Like the muscle memory we need to do well in athletic contests or games, and that only comes with continuous drills and repetition, so is faith. In training at my new job, I am practicing the elements I have already learned, and I have already begun to do some of them without needing to refer to notes or call over a co-worker.
Why bother?
Because it might make a difference to me, in me.
Because it has made a difference in me. It just took a while.
Yet I totally understand that without the possibility there to begin with, the rote easily can become not only dull and boring, but also mind-numbing and unfulfilling: useless. That was the point of the question, and I know that. Ever the debater, though, I must find some other angle; especially in applying lessons to my own life and experience. It's my nature; what I was made to be. It makes people (including me) crazy sometimes, I know. But it's also how I learn, how I grow.
Why bother?
Because in the end, provided the heart and mind are open, the reward is great.
~Dr. Seuss
Yesterday, the question was presented: "Why bother?" Indeed, the question was far more complicated than it looks, as there was plenty of background to go with it. The important part, to me, though, was the simplicity of the answer--which, of course, uses far more words in answer. The simplest answer would be, "You're right," followed by giving up the action.
I've learned so much, though, that tells me that if the question is "Why bother?" there must be lots to think about.
Why bother?
Well, because if I keep doing the rote, follow the forms, act out of habit, I am still getting something out of it. IF, that is, I allow myself. I myself sat, week after week, out of habit, until that little bit of faith -- that mustard seed, if you will -- found a reason to start working its way through my heart.
Yoga is a practice. In order to find the benefits of yoga, which include, but are not limited to, flexibility, mental and physical balance, and strength, one must keep at it. Keep pushing limits, keep breathing, keep learning. I never thought of all faith as involving similar practice. Like the muscle memory we need to do well in athletic contests or games, and that only comes with continuous drills and repetition, so is faith. In training at my new job, I am practicing the elements I have already learned, and I have already begun to do some of them without needing to refer to notes or call over a co-worker.
Why bother?
Because it might make a difference to me, in me.
Because it has made a difference in me. It just took a while.
Yet I totally understand that without the possibility there to begin with, the rote easily can become not only dull and boring, but also mind-numbing and unfulfilling: useless. That was the point of the question, and I know that. Ever the debater, though, I must find some other angle; especially in applying lessons to my own life and experience. It's my nature; what I was made to be. It makes people (including me) crazy sometimes, I know. But it's also how I learn, how I grow.
Why bother?
Because in the end, provided the heart and mind are open, the reward is great.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
taken for granted
My niece, Danielle, is a personal trainer (a mighty good one, at that!) and writes a blog of her own (Fit It In Fitness). On Saturday morning, my Facebook status was this: "Best part about going to my kids' sporting events: contagious enthusiasm!" Danielle commented that it sounded like a great idea for a blog post -- for her, of course -- and I agreed. Tonight, she asked for my opinion on contagious enthusiasm. What follows is my response to her.....
OK. Contagious enthusiasm. For the most part, I think that as long as it is channelled, directed and controlled, it is a great thing--not only for motivation, but for appreciation, as well. The tricky thing is that it can tip over into a mob mentality (how many times can you think of soccer championships in Europe turning into crushing mobs??)
Saturday morning was our first meet with the new swim team; the first home meet of the season. This team is uber-organized when it comes to meets, I found out. They had people there to train every volunteer, and by train, I do not mean "this is a stopwatch. Now go to it." The team has also grown quite a bit with Uncle Guy there, and following the Olympics, so it would have been easy for the kids' excitement to tend toward unruly. Before warm-ups, waiting at the end of the pool, I could literally feel the love of the sport radiating from the kids. I'd never felt it so strongly before [now, there are a whole bunch of nuances to that statement. Suffice it to say, this was awe-inspiring in me]. That same kind of feeling is what carried me through my first 5k. And I'd say pretty related to the "umph" that participating in a group training/class gives.
For the first time in a very long time on Saturday, seeing the kids excited, and the coaches excited, I couldn't wait for the meet to START. All because I caught their enthusiasm. I hate to admit that for too many years, that moment had given me a very different feeling: Uncle Guy would walk onto the deck, the pool all ready for the first splashes of feet first entry, and say that was his favorite sight, and all I could think was, "When will this be over??"
Maybe because I had a different function this time, too. But I really, really think it's more related to the happy anticipation of the boys, and being with this team.
OK. Contagious enthusiasm. For the most part, I think that as long as it is channelled, directed and controlled, it is a great thing--not only for motivation, but for appreciation, as well. The tricky thing is that it can tip over into a mob mentality (how many times can you think of soccer championships in Europe turning into crushing mobs??)
Saturday morning was our first meet with the new swim team; the first home meet of the season. This team is uber-organized when it comes to meets, I found out. They had people there to train every volunteer, and by train, I do not mean "this is a stopwatch. Now go to it." The team has also grown quite a bit with Uncle Guy there, and following the Olympics, so it would have been easy for the kids' excitement to tend toward unruly. Before warm-ups, waiting at the end of the pool, I could literally feel the love of the sport radiating from the kids. I'd never felt it so strongly before [now, there are a whole bunch of nuances to that statement. Suffice it to say, this was awe-inspiring in me]. That same kind of feeling is what carried me through my first 5k. And I'd say pretty related to the "umph" that participating in a group training/class gives.
For the first time in a very long time on Saturday, seeing the kids excited, and the coaches excited, I couldn't wait for the meet to START. All because I caught their enthusiasm. I hate to admit that for too many years, that moment had given me a very different feeling: Uncle Guy would walk onto the deck, the pool all ready for the first splashes of feet first entry, and say that was his favorite sight, and all I could think was, "When will this be over??"
Maybe because I had a different function this time, too. But I really, really think it's more related to the happy anticipation of the boys, and being with this team.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
simple pleasures
Ahhhh, this feels so good! I promised myself that if I attacked the dining room, I could sit down and play with some words. It took quite a while, as I allowed myself to indulge a few pleasant distractions and to make dinner, but it's cleaned, neatened, and minus another 3 square feet of carpet (thankfully!!). Of course, I hadn't factored in the cleaning up after dinner, so there is someone home, rather than my planned solitude. No matter: he likes to read, and when I'm finished here, we'll read together and snuggle for a while. Everyone else is at some practice or other, and even the dogs have decided to stop wrestling for the time being. Radio on, candles lit, smile on lips.....what more could I ask for?
Today was one of those days when I realize just how blessed I am. Despite our visit from Sandy, we had no real issues here, other than being home bound for two (rather pleasant!) days--our power stayed on, no water in the basement, nothing larger than twigs off the trees. We are exceptionally grateful, and have said so, again and again. Our friends and relatives all came through the storm with similar stories, although one dear friend had to evacuate his mother, and still doesn't quite know how her house fared. His car suffered a direct tree hit, but they are safe. I continue to pray for those who didn't fare as well.
At work, I was exceptionally productive--whether because of the extended weekend break, or just the knowledge that we'll be lucky if we can finish our projects by the end of the school year, I don't know. What I do know is that it felt great to get so much accomplished in my half day. So much that I am really looking forward to tomorrow. Another blessing. [smile]
Chatting with a couple of friends topped off my afternoon. Through the magic of Facebook, I was able to "visit" with a friend in Maine, a friend in Harrisburg, and another in Tennessee, as well as my husband; all while making the dining room pretty and presentable! Gotta love it! Just another blessing (as if "just" could ever describe a blessing), showing me the amazing power of bona fide friendship, truth and honesty. I really do have some of the best friends I could ever hope or ask for: they are as much family as friends, and fall into that special category of people that could be mixed together in a room without me, and still get along like they've known each other forever, simply because they are the cream of the crop, the real deal, the best.
Let's see, what else shone through as a blessing today? Texting with my sister on her lunch break...homemade applesauce, and rice that didn't burn a grain...green tea with honey....the last of the pudding with lunch...this adorable picture of Guy that I put in my coaster last night...some of my favorite songs on the radio....the word "impeccable"....joyful greetings as everyone arrived home....a phone call wherein I was asked if I am proud of my son ("Oh, YES! So proud of him!")....a smile on my face all day long....wearing my new pants...simply everything about today. My life is just where it should be. From time to time, I've tried to pull the tiller--HARD--in one direction or another, but following the current without fighting it has led me to a wonderful, blessed place. Thanks, God, for a beautifully simple day.
Today was one of those days when I realize just how blessed I am. Despite our visit from Sandy, we had no real issues here, other than being home bound for two (rather pleasant!) days--our power stayed on, no water in the basement, nothing larger than twigs off the trees. We are exceptionally grateful, and have said so, again and again. Our friends and relatives all came through the storm with similar stories, although one dear friend had to evacuate his mother, and still doesn't quite know how her house fared. His car suffered a direct tree hit, but they are safe. I continue to pray for those who didn't fare as well.
At work, I was exceptionally productive--whether because of the extended weekend break, or just the knowledge that we'll be lucky if we can finish our projects by the end of the school year, I don't know. What I do know is that it felt great to get so much accomplished in my half day. So much that I am really looking forward to tomorrow. Another blessing. [smile]
Chatting with a couple of friends topped off my afternoon. Through the magic of Facebook, I was able to "visit" with a friend in Maine, a friend in Harrisburg, and another in Tennessee, as well as my husband; all while making the dining room pretty and presentable! Gotta love it! Just another blessing (as if "just" could ever describe a blessing), showing me the amazing power of bona fide friendship, truth and honesty. I really do have some of the best friends I could ever hope or ask for: they are as much family as friends, and fall into that special category of people that could be mixed together in a room without me, and still get along like they've known each other forever, simply because they are the cream of the crop, the real deal, the best.
Let's see, what else shone through as a blessing today? Texting with my sister on her lunch break...homemade applesauce, and rice that didn't burn a grain...green tea with honey....the last of the pudding with lunch...this adorable picture of Guy that I put in my coaster last night...some of my favorite songs on the radio....the word "impeccable"....joyful greetings as everyone arrived home....a phone call wherein I was asked if I am proud of my son ("Oh, YES! So proud of him!")....a smile on my face all day long....wearing my new pants...simply everything about today. My life is just where it should be. From time to time, I've tried to pull the tiller--HARD--in one direction or another, but following the current without fighting it has led me to a wonderful, blessed place. Thanks, God, for a beautifully simple day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)