The Mountains

Have you ever felt "drawn" to something so much that you could feel the ache in your bones?
I know this may sound stupid, but I have been pre-occupied with one thought now for several weeks, and this week it is getting bad. That one thought?

The Mountains.

You know, memory is a powerful thing. The body can retain a visual memory, but it can also retain audible, olfactory and sensory memories.
Every time I start concentrating on ANYTHING, I start "hearing", "feeling" and "smelling" the mountains.
I hear birds, feel the cool air, smell the evergreens and douglas firs.
It is such an overwhelmingly calm experience that I find I want to stay there...which can be a bit of a problem since I have a normal life.

I wish that I could make others understand what physiological changes take place when I am in the mountains.
I never really realized that there was a physical change until a couple of years ago.

The Craftsman had an opportunity to head up to a camp facility in the mountains for a weekend "retreat". I rode up with Dan and Mary, so I was sitting in the back seat just watching the scenery. As we climbed in altitude, the horizon gradually became greener, the shade became darker and the air became cooler. And I felt myself become calmer. I became increasingly aware that my heartbeat was slowing. My arms and legs began to relax. I could feel tension releasing it's grip.
I was so amazed I could feel this, could actually watch it happening.

I love to camp.
I love to camp in cooler weather (the heat makes me miserable). I love to be in the mountains. I love the sounds of birds singing, a creek rushing by. The feel of a breeze blowing through the trees.
I love getting up in the morning and having trouble starting a fire because your fingers are numb with cold.
I love sitting and talking and playing board and card games with friends.
I love scooching up next to the camp fire in the afternoon with a blanket wrapped around me.
I love singing songs around a camp fire, and I love looking at a mountain night sky filled with stars.

I thank God that He has given us this most incredible gift of nature to enjoy, and I plan on doing just that this weekend.

A Clean House

I have started to clean my house.

I know that may not be a huge statement for most, but for those who know me, or by rare occasion have actually stepped into my incredibly humble abode, you realize how huge of a statement that really is.

Now, I was not raised in a dirty or messy home. Nor was I raised with bad cleaning habits.
Every Saturday was cleaning day, growing up. My room was cleaned, my laudry was washed, and we (my brother, sister and I)had to pick a portion of the house to pick up, wipe down and vaccuum.

Those particular duties have not followed me, however, as I have moved on into adult-hood. I am not comfortable in a spic-and-span home. I like a "lived-in" feel.
Yet, I taken that to extremes.

I can leave my dishes in the sink for extended periods of time, let my laundry pile up and let my living room become a virtual dumping ground for anything that happens to wander into it.

My excuse, as always, is that I am too busy to deal with it. I leave my home in the early morning hours between 7:00 and 8:00am and make it back to darken my doorway somewhere between 9:00 and midnight...sometimes later.

I was accused once by a neighbor of renting an apartment for storage, since I seemed never to occupy the space.

Interestingly enough, on my road to self discovery I am learning some things about myself.
One of these is the realization that my house is a direct reflection of my mental mindset.

I have found that when I harbor negative emotions, when I have things that I don't want to deal with, when I have trouble facing certain things, it is then that my house (not to mention my car) are the messiest.
I treat my house the same way I treat my mental/emotional/spiritual "home".
I ignore it. I keep it a mess. I choose not to look at it.

The problem with that logic is, well, it just keeps getting messier. These things don't just go away (duh), they just keep getting messier.
It starts to get inconvenient. I trip over things. I can't find what I am looking for, and it invites other things into the mess. Spiders, ants, mice.

In the "cleaning process" of my m/e/s "home", I am finding that I am losing tolerance of the mess in my house.
I notice things that I normally wouldn't. I take the time to pick up things that I normally let lie. I have a desire to do my dishes right away rather than "save them for later". And I am starting to open the door to let visitors in.

Now, my house is not spotless. I doubt it ever will be. Like I said, I like a "lived in feel". Yet I am tiring of old messes. I want to clean things up right away rather than let things lie. I want to catch and do away with creatures that sneak into my home, rather than let them lurk where they're not supposed to be.

This post, in and of itself, is a confession and an admission of the messes in my life.
When my car is so messy that I can't let one person in. When my doors stay locked and my blinds stay closed.
These are the times when I am messiest. When I refuse to look at the garbage that I have collected.

Thank you to those of you who have unwittingly helped me in the cleaning process. Those of you who have commented on my vehicle looking like a traveling yard sale. Those of you who have darkened my doorway, pounding on the door until I answered..even though the conversations took place on the porch or through the door's small window.

I will soon have an empty couch to sit on and a clean dish to eat from. And a welcome mat at the door.

You have been blessings to me in more ways than you will ever know and I love you.

Tag: Back'atcha Johno

A book that changed my life besides the Bible:
Hand Me Another Brick by Chuck Swindoll


A book I’ve read more than once:
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
by Douglas Adams


A book I would take with me if I were stuck on a desert island:
Camping and Wilderness Survival: The Ultimate Outdoors Book
by Paul Tawrell


A book that made me laugh:
Good In Bed by Jennifer Weiner


A book that I wish had been written:
As soon as I type this out, someone will let me know that
it has been written...


A book that I wish had never been written:
Another Roadside Attraction by Tom Robbins


A book I’ve been meaning to read:
Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis


I’m currently reading:
Deadly Emotions (&) What Would Jesus Eat (both) by Don Colbert, MD and
New Glucose Revolution Guide to Living Well with PCOS by a bunch of different people.

The dog that returns to it's vomit

"I will never be the same again,
I can never return, I've closed the door.
I will walk the path, I'll run the race,
And I will never be the same again".

The beginning words to this song are sad to me.
They are sad because they don't necessarily ring true.
Yes, you can NEVER be the same again. Once you have died to sin and been given the gift of eternal life, you really can't be the same. Yet I have seen someone I love dearly return to the bonds and chains that used to enslave him.

It physically hurts. There is real pain associated with observing someone else's bondage.
What hurts most, though, is knowing that you might have been able to help keep someone's freedom.

My brother is a Meth addict. He had been doing meth for almost a decade when he was able to hear God calling him to a better life. He took God up on His offer and gave his life over to Him.
What a change. What a difference. For the first time in my life I had a brother. A real brother. Not just a relative, but a brother in Christ. That was incredible. I talked to him about the spiritual bond we now shared. The gifts that we were both given.

But that relationship began to wane. My brother began to have problems that he couldn't, or didn't have the tools, to handle. He was overwhelmed.

What did his dear sister do? Nothing. Really, nothing. Oh I prayed. But what action did I take?
Not one. Did I go to him and confront him? No. Did I go seek counsil on his behalf? No. Did I stand up and take the arrows that the Enemy so precisely aimed at him? No.
I stood on the sidelines. I whined and complained. I was not what God has called me to be as a Sister. A Christian Sister.

Now, my brother is once again suffering from the active addiction to Meth. He has dug himself a hole I'm not sure that he can climb out of...without help.
I am here, forgiving my brother 70x7 times for the hurtful, drug-induced actions that he has taken against his family. This doesn't mean that I am not angry. I am.
I am hurting for my brother, who has allowed the evilness of his addiction to dictate some very bad actions.

I do not take responsibility for his actions, but for my In-action.

He is my brother. May he, and God, forgive me.