Lana Vaughan

Last night I found out a dear friend had sent me a Christmas present. It arrived on Wednesday but I had added the delivery box to my little stack of Christmas gifts to wrap that I had ordered for others. A message sent me searching for it and then the craziness began.

There were three perfectly wrapped little boxes with a ribbon and a note on each. As I read the notes I knew immediately where they were from and the messages penetrated my heart. So often God uses my friends to speak His words. This was one of those times.

The quotes are from the book/movie The Help. In that story the maid who also serves the family as a nanny is teaching a very young child that even if her circumstances don’t reflect it she is smart and kind and important. Through the movie it becomes evident that these are not just words but deep life lessons this woman of color has learned the hard way. But it’s not until the end of the movie, when she has written a best selling book, loved with a sacrificial love, and changed the world around her that you see she finally accepts these truths as truth for her, too.

These words “spoken” into my life and heart had a power I cannot explain. It doesn’t matter that they have been filtered through so many voices or that they were so familiar to me I knew the reference without Googling.  I’m not even sure how intentional they were selected. But the impact goes deep. It goes to my very core.

My first reaction was to identify with the tired woman who spent her life taking care of others only to find her true calling and expression of her gifts when she out grew the position she thought would be her whole life. But the words were spoken by her to a child who did not understand the decisions of the adults she depended on. It was the child in me that received the words, too.

Unpacking the messages in these three statements is something I will have to sit with a while and take in gradually. They truly are gifts to my heart.

Now I just want to open the boxes.

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.