Love Letters From God... From February-into-March's Moon

Blessed New Moon!

This post is a bit later since the new moon fell on the Sabbath this time. And it really means something perhaps that it did fall on the Sabbath... this past moon-th after all has been including Lent, which is a time of quiet and withdrawl in some very real ways.

This past moon has brought for me some 'reconciliation' with Lent (see posts on the bluebird blog). What i am cherishing so much about Lent now is its understanding--rather than denial--of our pain and grief. The humanness of these things, the part-of-life-ness of these things. These things that even our Savior shared. He was left alone in that garden of Gethsemane, humanly alone anyway. Yet in Lent we learn to not be alone in our suffering in a sense, by learning we "all have something broken", and this has been moving something.

Yet it being Lent, i guess i shouldnt be surprised that this has been a rather difficult moon for me really. Physically i've had a lot of flare ups and migraines, and also spring allergies kicking in. And inwardly i've been kind of depressed and tired a lot. And i've noticed in many others also some real challenges or sadnesses, or simply a need to withdrawl more. And again i'm realizing this shouldnt be a surprise, Lent is about not running from things like this.

There definitely has been some real co-in-see-dancing looking back this moon-th, and it's something i sense i will be treasuring and am deeply grateful for. It is co-in-see-dancing through the gift of birds. As a "wendy birde" I'm slightly biased about loving birds, lol. And it was red tail hawks in particular that were here this moon-th. It all started the previous moon when my partner and i were speaking of when one of us passes, how that is just a "pause" before we hoped to see each other again. And right then, right as we were saying that, we saw a red tail hawk--rare for this part of the city, and also having special significance to my partner especially, as he has long loved red tail hawks.

And it didnt stop there, all through this past moon now we have been seeing them, kind of an affirmation it kind of feels like. Its so strange, we'll be out walking and see them and be standing there in awe and other folks will walk by and not even notice the birds. The week after the above encounter we saw (likely the same male) hawk perched on a pole, at one point looking right over at us, and then (as part of hunting something on the ground) flying over and coming down to the ground within about five feet of us (neither of us ever imagined seeing one so close). Later that day we saw him with his mate flying side by side and then hovering in place for several minutes right above some treetops (likely spotting something). And now this past weekend we saw the couple doing a mating type circling together, it was amazing. And something about this all has just really stayed with me. Maybe i'm wrong, but something about it feels like a promise, a you are loved and wont be alone promise.

There have been more "gifts of birdness" too. Finding sweet robin feathers this moon-th for one, and for another finding a single bluejay feather right by my door on a particularly sad day. The really moving thing there is i wasnt going to be going outside that day (high allergies) but something fell so i had to... and then i saw the feather (gotta love that little nudge). There has also been an inner gift of birdness through a dream last week where i was flying (more like hovering). And an artistic gift of birdness in the form of a very healing female musician (birds ARE music) picture that came just this weekend from Me (there is more in that, but i think it will unfold more later).

And speaking of Me (of Those Northern Skies, in the US), she is the first to share her moon-th, with her reflection on the simple and healing pleasure of naps. From her deep and tangible post:

" I write often on my blog about my poor ability to relax, to simply be. While, I don’t nap often, naps are a place where when I need to, I can let go. Naps are one of the most satisfying and simple of pleasures. Below I write about three types of wonderful naps.

Naps provide healing:

When I first went to college, I was as most freshmen – busy. I felt the need to be active and involved in every way. By the time Thanksgiving break came, I was exhausted. The family Thanksgiving that year was at my aunt and uncle’s house. I don’t properly recall but I think I arrived there the day of Thanksgiving. In fact, I recall little of that day. After lunch I lay down on the floor in a room adjoining the main room and promptly fell asleep and slept solidly for over two hours. By the time I woke up it was dark and the clock in the main room was broke and said it was seven at night. I was disoriented to say the least and I was the butt of some good-humored jokes, but I was well rested. I have a photo that someone took of me. I was lying on my stomach with my head on my arms. I was wearing a favorite pair of black shoes, stonewashed jeans, a black turtleneck and a red cardigan. My hair was short with big curls. I am sure my attitude glasses were somewhere nearby.

Naps provide dream time:

I got married while in college. After I was married, we moved into an apartment off campus. It was an old house that had five apartments: one in the basement, a first floor full apartment for the caretaker, an attic apartment, and the second level was split in half front to back so that there were two long, narrow apartments. We lived on the second level in the left hand apartment if you faced the front of the building. There were two wonderful things about that ugly outdated bowling alley of an apartment we lived in. First, the bathroom had a grate in the wall that was about a foot and half wide by about two to two and half-feet tall. Flip a switch and you had wonderful radiant heat. What a treat on cold winter mornings. If I ever build I will find out what today’s code equivalent is and have one!!

The second was the windows, our apartment was on the north side of the house. Altogether it had, ten windows. Two in the kitchen, two in the living room, and one in this funny little walk-in closet we had and five in the bedroom which faced the street (yes five). Two were to the street, one was in the angle corner (the house didn’t have square corners but about a six foot angle side before the next wall, and two on the north-side proper. Across the street from our house was a business that did something with metal so there was always lots of banging, clanging, and welding. It could be quite loud on summer nights (as they did, of course, have a night shift). On the other side of the business (less than half a block from our apartment) was the railroad tracks. A person, can get used to the railroad tracks. We lived there for two years and it go so that one didn’t notice the trains unless you were trying to talk on the phone (or something managed to vibrate its way off the wall or off a shelf). But back to naps.

When we moved hubby’s old bed from CA, we could not fit the frame into our vehicle so all we had was the box spring and mattress, so those lay on the floor in the apartment. Because the windows were tall and came down low, the box spring and mattress put us eye-level to the window sill. Yes, a nap is forthcoming.

One winter, we went to a wedding on a Friday afternoon, hubby came home from work, we attended the wedding, then we came home – it was one of those very dark grey winter days with a very thick snow falling silently. We went to bed and slept. It was a deep warm aware but silent sleep. It lasted for four hours and we didn’t wake until it was completely dark. We ate and went back to bed.

Naps provide security:

Just before I got pregnant with K, my MIL bought us a Sleep Number bed. While I was pregnant, I went to visit my parent’s. On the way home, C and I had a number of trials and mishaps. I got home and put her to bed. Then I crawled into bed myself. In a Sleep Number bed, you can set the mattress firmness so soft that you can sleep on your belly when pregnant or curl up in a hole like a dog. I was curled up deep in a hole. And nothing felt better.

Later after K was born, I napped with her. Nothing is warmer, sweeter, or more heart achingly tender than sleeping with your child lying on your chest. It is a deep bonding experience...

In Sleep we lie all naked and alone, in Sleep we are united at the heart of night and darkness, and we are strange and beautiful asleep; for we are dying the darkness and we know no death. Tom Wolfe"

Next from British Columbia, Krina (of QueenHeroical) shares another precious layer of her ever deepening circle of peace and quiet. From her very poetic post:

"The space within becomes the reality of the building.
~ Frank Lloyd Wright

Space:

An interval of time
Enough room
An area set apart
A region beyond Earth’s Atmosphere
A region between all astronomical objects
A three-dimensional expanse where matter exists
A blank area between type
An interval between the lines of the musical staff
Freedom to assert identity
Intervals in telegraphic transmission

His gifts:

Area rugs: setting apart an area, reshaping the space through which we move daily ~ making it a place now to sit and play board games, read books, do school and be

A portable music player with ear phones: to create a little “me” space while I move through the goings on, breaking up the tedium, filling my head with beauty and praise -- ultimately centering my mind and bring more calm and peace to the day

Book shelves: creating enough room and transforming my thinking space

His Word: taking me beyond the weighty pull of my own minutia, my pool of stagnant water, my broken cisterns and inviting me to play out in His space

Piqued Interests: calling me to set out and learn and to work towards, in an effort to spend this identity; this uniquely created being, to use it and not lose it


Space, I am learning, can be found in the chaos: looking down and down and down into and between the smallest of particles all crowded together to make that which seems solid and finding there is still -- still space-- space through which He moves freely, expectant, and eager; waiting for me to join Him."

Next from Britian, Tess (of Anchors and Masts) shares the reality of loss and the healing of memories. From her truly contemplative post:

"I am so thankful for so many good memories of people I’ve loved.
This month some of my friends (both face-to-face and blogging friends) have lost people dear to them. It’s difficult in the immediacy of loss to feel anything other than the “gummy arms” of grief around you.

I was thankful to be of service to a technophobe pal who asked me to scan in some photographs of her friend who had died after a long and debilitating illness. She wanted to take copies with her to the funeral. The photos helped the grieving husband to remember his wife as she had been before illness took her from him, long before death did.

The anniversary of my father’s birthday reminded me of his wonderful sense of humour. He died of a sudden heart attack many years ago. A neighbour brought round a cake she had kindly baked to help feed all our visitors. When we finished the cake, we saw that the plate she had put it on was from a charity advocating healthy eating to prevent heart attacks. She was embarrassed to realise what she’d done, but we explained how Dad would have roared with laughter at the irony.

I had my garden remodelled a couple of years ago with money left by my Aunt, and I’ve remembered her so much as all the new growth has sprung up the last few weeks. She was an indefatigable gardener herself, creating a beautiful green space from rubble when she bought her first (and only) house. Her visual sense, self-discipline and love of creatures was evident in that garden.

And on Mother’s Day in the UK yesterday, I thought of my Mum’s warmth, sense of duty and her wacky sense of humour. My sister and I sometimes think she is influencing us from the afterlife as we feel compelled to do the sort of weird and wonderful things she did to amuse us. I’m talking about being seized with a sudden desire to put a newly washed pair of underpants on like a hat and dance around the living room… No wonder I’m eccentric!!

My very earliest memory is as a very young child crawling through my parents’ garden eating chives that were growing there, convinced that because I was crawling, I couldn’t be seen. They say that as you grow older you remember more and more about the early part of your life, and I’m looking forward to that. I hope I don’t lose my loving memories completely.

Just a quick edit after first posting this: thinking about memory I’ve realised how evocative smell is in bringing back times, people and places. When I was very little we lived next door to a small tomato nursery and when I occasionally come across a tomato that smells as they should, rather than of nothing, I am immediately transported back to those tall fragrant plants with their furry stems. And the smell of freshly-ground coffee from the shop Mum used to wheel me past in my pram (accompanied by my imaginary friend, a pink pig called Henry!). The smell of the city the first time I visited New York. My first really sophisticated perfume: Guerlain’s Shalimar. Church incense. Cannabis smoke (well I was a teenager in London in the late 60s… and yes I did inhale). Frosty air. Roast dinners. Frying onions. Fresh-baked pain au chocolats. Oh yes, I’m on a roll here…"

And back to the US again, Melissa (of Tea and Milk) shares about the holiness of housework, and the need to really keep things in perspective by counting one's blessings. From her very wise and thoughtful post:

"I was using the following quote tonight with my Mother’s Hour group and this part of it just jumped out at me.

“It will not be a muddle of dreary duties that are mercifully interrupted every now and then by pleasures: it will be a related whole; it will have unity.”–Dom Hubert Van Zeller’s Holiness for Housewives

Every time I pick up that book, and I mean every time, I come away with the best feeling deep, down inside. Here he’s speaking of the life of a homemaker and mother. And while I can get in a grousing mood about my life in general, this author seems to have a wisdom about how the lot of a housewife tends to pan out. I always get lifted up after reading it. My mindset adjusts and I feel a joy for who I am and what I’m doing. Truly I could underline his whole book since it’s so full of treasures to mull over. But to look at homemaking not as drudgery, but the job the Lord has chosen for me, really tends to color my outlook in a positive way.

I guess this is one way the Lord has blessed me lately, and even in the last month. This writing is for the New Moon, and that’s a wonderful starting point. I’m so thankful for second, third and fourth chances when I mess up. Monday mornings are good for that, as is the turning of a new calender page…and this writing for Wendy’s group. Just putting this down helps me to stay focused. It can be so easy to complain. Life’s not fair, the kids needs are too many, there’s not enough money to go around—on and on I could go. But honestly, if the Lord’s in all of it, and if there are no coincidences but what the Lord allows, then it’s all good. I just have to stay on top of my attitude so that I reflect the person He wants me to be. Not always easy, but do-able.

And it's all too true...

(Image from here)