Hearing Heart Blog

He was fatherless boy from Harlem, New York. A high school student 17 years of age. I was a woman in my mid forties, living on a tree farm with my family in Oregon. He knew everything about surviving in the big city. I knew everything about canning green beans and butchering meat. He was used to constant city noise, electronic games, phone calls. I liked quiet. He is black, I am white. He was social, everybody's friend. I was cautious with everyone I met. He was used to a tug-of-war of arguing and negotiating and protesting to make things happen. I believed that as a parent I should quietly listen and consider the facts, then carefully make my decision and stick to it! We weren't 100 percent opposed in every way. We knew how to respect each other. He understood that I was committed to him, to some degree. He was grateful to have the opportunity to stay in our home, so he attempted to work with us. It was definitely CULTURE SHOCK when he came with his mother and sister to meet

I've never been comfortable talking about myself, but I've learned lately that doing so can be a healthy thing. Jerry and I led worship with our team Sunday morning, and the dynamic was just awesome. We all in our weaknesses came together and made a strong statement of unity and worship to our God. All ages were intensely involved - in fact, my grandson Jackson wriggled away from his mother and did a little dance in the aisle before Aunt 'Nell snatched him up! Several of our youth "stepped up", along with many of our older ones (older than I). I could make a long list of all the things that I am not, and do not have. Together we were powerful! I wasn't feeling well, but somehow my voice remained strong for a much longer time than has ever happened before. It seemed like all of us were being careful to keep the worship pure and not let our thoughts dwell too much on ourselves. I remember thinking that the pastor was just going to skip his sermon and we'd

There are notes written to my sister... 1. It's been years since we dealt with fleas ! I'd forgotten what that was like... waiting for one to appear because I knew they were lurking invisibly in the carpet, then pinching him from my ankle and stuffing him into a piece of toilet paper to flush him! Or, I'd squeeze one between my fingers under the surface of soapy water and watch them sink to the bottom of the glass. (I never had strong enough fingernails to cut them in two like my mother-in-law could!) There was just no other way to deal with them! They could jump three feet in any direction, a little black spot you can hardly see, and then jump right back onto your vulnerable skin and get all they wanted out of you! You see that they still cause a rise of emotion from me (insanity?). I think my record was 30 in one day! 2. Remember when Dad got upset with us on a camping trip when we were little, and they'd put us to bed in the back of the station wagon? We were horrif

Just now I was finishing up my homework and realized that I was running my finger down my cheek. It was soft, and smoothe, and pleasantly relaxed . I can't think of another word for it. It was relaxed. Not agitated. Not hyper-sensitive. Not anxious to get "worked up" and hot. The hives are practically gone! Every morning this week I woke up with a swollen face. The first three days I puttered around at home. I didn't work out because I needed to keep my skin cool. I had to pull my hair back tight, because one little hair laying against my cheek would actually "hurt". And I was too conscious of my misshapen face to go out in public. Even my clothing was an irritation to me. And I scratched. And where I scratched my skin would erupt with displeasure and welts - and make scratch marks that wouldn't soon go away. Then they would itch! Then there were the questions: was it something I ate? is it stress? maybe the new vitamin pills? The research told me that

My husband had a wonderful day Saturday. It was a beautiful fall day, with golden leaves and wispy clouds coloring the landscape. He drove up the hill with his hunting buddy, Chris, to hang their tree-stands for their hunting trip next week. I didn’t go because I thought my slow pace would take some of the fun out of the adventure for them. He found a perfect tree with a great view of an area that was sure to attract his desired prey. As he approached it he realized that our dreaded enemy, a mature poison oak bush, was standing guard. Being a calculating man, he decided that the risk was worth it, and tore into the bush to get it out of his way. In the past when we have suspected we might have encountered poison oak (it grows all over our wooded property), we would shower as soon as possible and carefully lather up twice. Though it’s hard to prove, we believed it might be a good defense against the onset of the itchy rash. We would undress by the washing machine, so as not to spread th

Have you ever heard this line: "I just can't imagine bringing children into this world, as bad as things are now?" When I was newly married, and my ear was tuned to what was being said about having babies, I heard this more than a few times. How many generations before us heard the same thing? My marriage began shortly after the Viet Nam War and Watergate. I know it was said after World War II. I'll bet there were similar thoughts when the Black Plague was creeping across Europe with sickness and death, and when no army could withstand the advance of the Roman Empire. What did the first believers think when they saw Jesus hanging on the cross? Something like, "all is lost" and, "what's going to happen to us now?" And his own mother, who had to be more convinced than anyone that he was the Son of God... Imagine watching not only your son cursed, tortured and struggling to breathe his last breaths, but also seeing the " Hope of Israel "

In my bed Saturday night I was feeling regret that I had let another day go by without having spent my "quality" time being alone and quiet with God. As I meditated on it I tried to decide if I was just being hard on myself, or if I'd really blown it! I can be too hard on myself. I decided that I had sought to follow Him through the last few days, and that it wasn't wrong to be busy, necessarily. I just missed being with the One who gives me each breath and each heartbeat, and maybe He "felt" the same way! Crawling out of my warm bed, I snuggled next to the heater with my Bible. I opened to the book of Job for the third time that week. It's not my favorite spot in the Bible, but I read with an open mind and jotted some notes down in my journal. As I quieted my thoughts and started to get sleepy, I believe that I heard Him say that I would receive a promise. Now, I tell you, if I'd heard that ten years ago, I would have instantly hoped He was going to