Lana Vaughan

Yes, this is my prayer list. Or a part of it. Years ago I found the admonition to pray without ceasing to be unrealistic. But since I adopted my prayer by association I find it has become part of my moment by moment day.

A friend who was frustrated with her life said she was ready to throw in the towel. I pray for her while folding towels.

A friend who sat and listened to my story after sharing hers ( a really rare thing) on a snowy day in Colorado (not such a rare thing) has a husband who’s medical condition makes it difficult for him to fly his plane. Living on the approach route to San Jose International Airport ( call me if you are coming to town. No, really, I’m 10 minutes from the airport.) I pray for them every time I see a plane coming in.

A friend I have never met, but hold dear, has a daughter who just got a very special dog. The Labrador has been trained as a seizure dog and the teenager who now relies on this dog has a better chance at a normal life. As I let my own, very untrained labs in and out of the back yard a dozen times a day to do their business or chase squirrels I thank God for the people who train working dogs and for the precious child who is watched over by loving puppy eyes.

A spatula, a rose garden, a pen, the coffee table, assorted coffee mugs, my tape gun, my glue gun, filling the van with gas and countless other touch points through out my day bring people and situations to my heart and mind. Each a nudge to lift them in prayer. My life is surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses masquerading as laundry and dishes and socks dangling from the mouth of a puppy who wants to go outside again.

Who is on your prayer list? Who is on your heart?

Ever stare at an optical illusion? You may see one thing and not the other. This one has two women. Have you seen them both?

What I love about this one is they are both wearing the same ruffled bonnet. I’d like to think they are the same woman. One looking forward and one looking back. Can you see memories of days gone by? Do you see the trust of innocence with her back toward you?

Is she beautiful youth or weathered age? Does she have it all ahead of her or have her days dwindled down to a precious few? Do you keep going back to her youth or her age?

There is so much of your story I do not know. You may think when someone looks at you they see all your flaws, all your failures, know all the words that you wish you could take back. You may think they know your story or know that they don’t have a clue how you came to this point in your journey.

Some people can stare at this picture all day and never see the other woman. I can look at you and never see the things you think are so obvious. I can look at you and see beauty and strength and virtue and wisdom while you look in the mirror and see failure, disappointment and flaws. Both wear the same hat. Both are part of who you are but so much is not visible. So much I just do not see.

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

I never got a job I didn’t apply for.
I never changed my mind because someone yelled their opinion loudly.
I never knew the whole truth.
I never walked a single step in someone else’s feet.
I have only one option for seeing and it’s through my own eyes.
I have only one life to live and I will live it as me.
I will never reach my full potential.
I will never have it all, know it all, or do it all.

I just wanted you to know….

At some point in my early education I was required to memorize and recite a poem. I can’t recite it in total anymore but the first lines have been coming to mind with enough frequency recently that this morning I found myself Googling them to read the rest.

I think part of the reason the poem stuck in my head and heart is because of a painting. For the first 19 years of my life it was a constant in our home. Even when I wasn’t living in the home I knew there was a huge sailing ship hanging over the couch in my mother’s living room. It was a great painting in my mind. The ship’s sails were full of wind and it spoke of adventure. It also spoke of my early years. We moved a lot when I was growing up. Houses and schools and friends and neighborhoods changed but the ship was always there.

I wish I could show you a photo of that painting but it sailed away. The artist gave it to someone outside the family and I have no idea where it is now. But on mornings like this, when the sun is bright, the breeze is picking up and there a just a few clouds in the sky I hear the call of the sea and yearn for the sight of full sails on the horizon.

I write a lot. That first sentence alone has been written 15 times today. Oh, not the same words. Different words every time. But the first sentence has been a struggle today. All of the other 14 first sentences have been backspace deleted one letter at a time until the blinking little cursor ( aptly named for the emotion it evokes in writers staring at it) returned to the starting position to wait another trip across the screen.

While searching my brain for coherent thoughts the news is running on the tv in the family room. I hear the assorted reporters trying to wring more of a story out of a simple birth announcement. They have three facts and a short quote to work with. But the lack of information or even unique perspective doesn’t stop them from rambling on and on and on.

I hope the reason I struggle with my blog is because I refuse to talk simply to fill time or silence. I like how time expands when paired with silence. I hope I only become a verbose, prolific writer when I actually have something worth saying.

That said I return to the silence and listen for the sound of the deep calling.

Hiking up hill I lean into the hill. I see the ground in front of me and looking up I see a goal to strive for.

The view from the top, the thin air and the burn in my legs remind me I have achieved what I set out to achieve.

The journey down is another story all together.

The goal is hidden somewhere below.

Instead of the solid ground in front of me is the open air.

Physical resources already spent in the accent are not as abundant.

A misstep here could lead to an avalanche of at least a personal nature.

I am more cautious. Less sure-footed, slower and more calculating.

Expectation has been replaced with inevitability.

I look back on my journey. I can see the uphill climbs so clearly. I wonder if the peaks where my apex or if there is still a summit ahead. Am I crossing a small valley or am I on the downhill stretch?

This looks like a good rock to rest on, catch my breath and consider the path ahead.

It’s Wednesday. I know, not breaking news.

But somewhere along the timeline of history Wednesday became the summit of the week. Striving to get through the uphill climb of Monday and Tuesday only to stand for a moment somewhere around noon on Wednesday before starting the momentum building rush back down to the weekend.

What a waste of precious time. Monday and Tuesday are not days to dread or “get through”. If you have a job they are days to use your skills, talents, body and mind to earn a living. Those searching for a job would love to have someplace to be next Monday morning. Mondays for me are my day to make rounds and get the known things done leaving room later in the week for the unexpected joy and challenges. Monday is a short day at school for my favorite teen. Personally, I think starting the high school week with a short day is a wise and kind thing to do.

Tuesday morning is the best time for grocery shopping. Most people are at work or school, the shelves have been re-stocked Monday night and the Senior Citizens buses don’t come until Thursday. Since the garbage is picked up on Tuesday morning, cleaning out on Monday makes putting things away on Tuesday easier.

Wednesday is a day to savor. A full day of school means six and a half hours to devote to whatever needs a good block of attention. Writing gets done on Wednesdays. Time in the craft cottage, planning, evaluating, meditation, and gratitude all have room to breathe.

And did I mention the view from the top of Wednesday? Looking at what I’ve already done and seeing the possibilities of adventure in the journey ahead gives me courage to head back to the valley of Thursday and Friday. In the valley family and friends are waiting to share a campfire and a good bottle of wine. Life takes place in the valley.

So, instead of looking at Wednesday as a hill or mountain to just get over I plan to stand on top, breathe deeply and soak up the amazing view.

There’s a wonderful organization  that helps connect more than a million children in need with sponsors.

This morning as I was driving my favorite teenager to school she was sharing with me some of the struggles her friends face on a daily basis. Without breaking confidences she was telling me how concerned she was and asking what I thought she could do to really help them. I was so encouraged to hear her heart for them and that she wanted to do something to make their lives better and to let them know there are people who really care about them.

In the craziness of December, sometimes we get so busy trying to meet obligations, both self and externally imposed, that we miss looking into the eyes and hearts of those around us with intention and compassion.

Today may you see and be seen with compassion and may your heart be open to love and be loved.