communicating

“Wisdom cannot be imparted.
Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart always sounds like foolishness to someone else …
Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom.
One can find it, live it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.”
Hermann Hesse

“The speed of communications is wondrous to behold.
It is also true that speed can multiply the distribution of information that we know to be untrue.”
Edward R. Murrow

I think the great WWII correspondent, Edward R. Murrow had no idea as to how
prophetic his words would one day be…
that being the speed of communication having a direct correlation to the distribution
of information that is…untrue.

I think we currently call that Fake News.
Be it intentional or unintentional, the bottom line is that it is untrue none the less.

And yet we all know that we are born to communicate.

We come out at birth communicating…most often with wailing displeasure…
but a needed sound none the less. Because that displeased wail allows all to know that
we are indeed alive and well.

So in one capacity or another…we are born to share one with another…
communicating with our words, our thoughts, our feelings.

It’s what makes us,`us.

We touch, we see, we feel, we taste, we hear….all feeding our brains with various messages.

You see that little “ten commandments” sheet in the picture up above?
That is a little commandment sheet for a spouse of a person who suffers from hearing loss.

It is a lesson for a hearing spouse of a not so good hearing spouse…

In part because the nonhearing spouse either does not hear the hearing spouse
right off the bat or misinterprets the hearing spouse’s words…

“Who died???” my husband implores as I ask if wants me to make iced tea for supper.

“I don’t want any ice cream” my husband snaps when I ask if he needs a towel when he’s heading
to the shower.

“Turn there” or “Exit here” I instruct as we are driving someplace as he sails
right past the turn or exit all the while asking “What??”

Whereas the conversations are often humorous…they can also be irritating on
both sides…frustrating and even serious if I’m telling him to watch out as something
comes hurdling his way.

For my husband, his troubles began when he nearly had his head blown off years ago in a hunting accident.
His tale is one that speaks to the importance of really knowing who it is you go off hunting with…
really know them…their character, their background, their expertise, their years of hunting
and their knowledge of firearms.

Go with the wrong person…and bad things can happen.

In my husband’s case, it was his hearing and thankfully not his head.

He has had to wear hearing aids ever since.

If you’ve ever worn hearing aids then you know that we can put a man on the moon but,
despite costing thousands of dollars, we cannot make a decent hearing aid.

I’ve seen my husband’s hearing aids go flying across a room when they fail to help
make things clear, as they tend to make things worse.

There is deep frustration in not being able to hear…or to hear correctly…as well as
efficiently being able to communicate within a given conversation to another person.

He had thought hearing aids would ease and help all his woes but alas, that has not been the case.

The cat once ‘took’ one of the hearing aids…thinking it was some poor high pitched
squeaking creature.
The cat saw it on the counter while my husband was showering and made off with it,
throwing it up in the air and battering it all around…all over the house until
upon my investigation, I realized this mesmerizing “toy” was actually
a $3000 hearing aid.

One was once lost to the sea after a giant wave knocked ‘someone’ over who forgot he was wearing them.

And one just oddly vanished.
Never to be seen or heard from again.
He’s still blaming the cat…but this time the cat is off the hook.

He’s on his third pair.
A new brand and a new doctor.
Yet still not the wonder instrument one would hope.

At his last hearing visit, he explained the frustration with hearing me,
or make that not hearing me.

She hands him “the commandments.”
He, in turn, walked in the house and immediately handed me the commandments…

Hmmmmmm…

And so I say all of this about the importance of communicating, hearing, listening
as I labor to set aside the necessary time to digest the wonderful thoughts and input regarding
our collective blogging family’s prayer.

Prayer is our key means of communication with our Creator….be it audible
or silent…be it groanings or cries.

Yesterday morning, Fran reminded me about the notion of hymns…
which in turn made me think about the Psalms—
the early sung prayers of those who yearned, long before ourselves, to
communicate with their God, our God…
be they Psalms of praise, thanksgiving, petitions or lamentations.

This evening I listened to more “news” regarding this new form of abortion.
That being the surviving product of an abortion gone wrong…a now fully born child.
A baby needing immediate attention…yet the adults in the room fumble
all over themselves…let it die, let it live???

I am sickened, horrified, and utterly saddened.

What have we become?

However, it’s nothing new under the sun you remind me.
Atrocities have been committed since the original murder of a brother killing a brother.
It is our lot as a fallen creature…

And yet this does not assuage my heart.

And so as I labor to bring us around to a collective form of a unified prayer–
a means of a common communication to our Father in Heaven, I am continually
drawn back to those who have no free voice of their own…

I’ll ruminate a bit longer… while in the meantime I learn to turn off the kitchen sink and walk
myself into the den in order to stand in front of my husband who’s resting in his recliner,
when I need to tell him that he’s once again accidentally hit the alarm on his key
fob as his truck’s alarm is now blaring in the garage for all of creation to hear…
all of creation but him…

to be continued…

Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.
1 Corinthians 16:13

“do not seek the because”

“Do not seek the because –
in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.”
Anaïs Nin

(sea oats / Santa Rosa Beach, FL / Julie Cook / 2016)

My life is no different from anyone else…
there are both highs and lows, ups and downs…

We all experience both the positive and negative moments in life…
as neither one discriminates…
Yet it seems that the negative moments will often last a life time…

Just because we are Christians doesn’t mean that we are immune from getting…
sad,
depressed,
discouraged,
hurt,
angry,
sick,
or at times, even despondent…

For believers, simply put, are human just like everyone else…
Believers are humans who believe in God as father and Omnipotent Creator
and that His son overcame Death in His resurrection…

And as humans, we just do the best we can getting through the day to day living of life.

But it is because of the very fact that we are believers that the non believers,
those who are angry at God or those who are merely skeptical…
begin pointing the naysaying finger at us when our lives becomes bleak or tragic

It is the age old accusatory “where is your God now” sort of rhetoric…

And if the truth be told, there are times we wonder the same question…
because we are, remember, human…
falible
weak
foible
sinful

And as I was laying on the floor again this morning, as the pain in my back and leg were again
a bit more than I could bear…
as yes, tears, rolled down the side of my face in pain and in frustration…
as my heart was equally as heavy for what Dad and I
have been dealing with these many weeks now….

I recalled having watched a You Tube video yesterday of a young man
waiting out in Houston at MD Anderson, waiting to undergo chemotherapy.

https://www.youtube.com/shared?ci=j_wXcwI4IjE

I don’t know this young man—but from the video I gathered he has some sort of cancer,
he is a young husband and father,
that he’s from Atlanta,
that he’s been waiting for chemo
and that he is an ardent believer in the Risen Christ…

He shared in the brief video his spiritual journey as of late–
the prayers offered for and over him.
The words that have been shared in multiple settings, all by different individuals,
but all the same words none the less.
He mentioned a couple of Psalms that he’d been keying in on…
Psalms that I wrote down with the intention of turning to those same Psalms today….

I was encouraged by his own journey.
That he obviously wanted to be healed…prayed for such…
but that he also knew that God is a Sovereign God…
and no matter what the outcome…it is in God’s hands…

And I was stuck that he is finding gratitude in and for all sorts of things…
He is being grateful and thankful even while life is proving dire, frustrating and grim…

As we are reminded that in all things we are to rejoice, offering our praise and thanksgiving.
That in those moments of struggle, pain and suffering we are to utter the words—we may not
necessarily feel them, but we can still utter them, allowing God to do with them as He may….

I was also reminded that it is in our distress that we are drawn closer to God.
We don’t seem to “need” Him as much when life is golden…
as we tend to neglect the relationship…
It isn’t until we find ourselves in dire straights that we cry out,
like a frightened child in the night,
and always, He answers in our despair, He is there…despite our fickled ways…
He will always be there…waiting…..

And it is during those hard-to-grasp situations of life and death that
skeptics and non believers alike circle like buzzards…
as they look for a Lazarus or an empty tomb—
and when they don’t see such,
they collectively shout
“HA, we knew it…imposter, phony, sham!”

So after reading a few posts by friends this morning, after reading those Psalms that young man sited,
after reading the words of both Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Malcolm Muggeridge each regarding
both life, living, dying and death…
I again, felt a peace…despite laying on the floor in the midst of despair…

I may be hurting both physically and emotionally.
I may shed tears of frustration, depression and sorrow….
but I will not be broken nor deterred for I have the promise of a Sovereign God.

I was told that I should build a post around the following comment I left this morning for a fellow blogger…my friend Wally…
Of which I suppose I already had to some degree…

Here is Wally’s morning’s post as my comment follows…

https://truthinpalmyra.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/faith-in-action-why-be-joyful-over-trials/

“it is hard and is not easy…but we are told time and time again—
to look to God in all things—good and bad, painful and joyful–
for God is found not only in the good, the joy and the happiness but He is there,
even more so, in the hard and difficult, the misery and suffering…
and this is where those who are not believers or those who reside in the anger
and sorrow keep wanting to point the finger of “if God is a God of Love and Omnipotent…
then why the hurting, why the unfairness, why the suffering…”

and it is there Wally in your very words and the words of James, so led by the Holy Spirit, that because God IS in everything…then we may find our HOPE!!

The things of this world…those good and those bad,
are all but temporary and they all point us back to Him—in our lack of knowledge and lack of true omnipotent knowledge, we cannot know, we cannot see how all things…
That all things, work together in God’s plan and God’s time—
yes there is Evil very much busy and very much at work…
working so very hard to counter the Benevolence of a Loving Creator…
but the thing is…despite the dark one’s vain attempts to derail us,
derailing our faith, our hope—
he can’t, he never can—
for his is a losing battle…
for our’s is the Victory in Christ Jesus!”

All of this brings us back, almost full circle,
to the the beginning of this post with the quote byAnaïs Nin—
for there is no understanding, no explanation, no reasoning, no answers, no because…
to be found in the Love offered to us by our God….

A psalmist’s kind of day…..

Seek and deeply long for the Lord and His strength [His power, His might];
Seek and deeply long for His face and His presence continually.
Psalm 105:4
The Amplified Bible

(a bumble bee with a full pollen basket on his leg / Julie Cook /2016)

You will only look with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
the Most High your dwelling-place,
no evil shall befall you,
no scourge come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the adder,
the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.
Psalm 91:8-13

(bumble bee with full pollen basket feeding on tiny thyme blooms / Julie Cook / 2016)

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Psalm 34:4

En Masse

Resistance to the organized mass can be effected only by the man who is as well organized in his individuality as the mass itself.
Carl Jung

(an October Georgia evening as a flock of starlings seek a place to roost for the night / Julie Cook / 2014)

Their numbers are limitless.
Their sound is deafening.
Their precision is inspiring.
They are just a bunch of birds,
and yet. . .they represent so much more. . .

Upon first glance, it appears as if there is a giant moving, living, breathing black cloud undulating overhead.
It glides across the sky to and fro, with no particular rhyme nor reason.
It is not following the current of the wind as it sets its own course.
It defies any law of gravity as it goes where it chooses, when it chooses.
The cloud descends, en masse, onto power lines or within the tops of trees with a deafening din of chatter.
It is as masterful as it is precise.
It is greater and more artfully versed than any human could ever hope to choreograph.

To watch a flock of birds in flight, especially a large mass of birds such as starlings and / or blackbirds, is nothing short of mesmerizing.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of birds in one maddening swarm move in and out, up and down, shifting and weaving with such precision, it’s simply difficult to comprehend.

These birds, although individuals, combine to make what appears to be a single living and breathing mass or entity which for all apparent purposes appears to have a mind of its own.
They, these individual birds, must interact with such agility and precision as not to fly into one another as well as avoid colliding with trees and / or power poles. Their ability to work effortlessly in tandem is nothing short of humbling.

As I stand staring, as if in a hypnotic trance, gazing skyward–listening and watching the ethereal ariel spectacle, my mind fumbles for words. I think of the verse in Matthew, Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?

That the omnipotent one true God of all of Creation knows the birds.
That He knows each bird. . .
Each bird in this massive, confusing swarm of precise madness, and yet. . .
I am told that He also knows me.
He knows me even more so then He knows these birds.
Knows, as in an intimate relationship. . .
as in everything known and hidden, good and bad. . .as He is said to have formed me (knit me together) in my mother’s womb. . .
the same mother I never knew, yet it is He who knew me. . .even before I was formed, He knew me. . .
I am also told He cares for me more so than these birds.
These birds who are able to dance across the sky with grace and magic, soaring and diving in grand unison.
And yet, He is aware of me.
More than aware. . .He has a deep abiding knowledge which goes beyond acquaintance.
He knows, He sees, He loves.

And as I continue staring at a black cloud dancing across the horizon, a tremendous sense of well being engulfs a weary soul. . .

Snippets of Life through a couple of Psalms

I am like a pelican of the wilderness:

(pelican in flight, Destin, Florida / Julie Cook / 2014)

I am like an owl of the wilderness,
like a little owl of the waste places.

(Vienna Zoo / Schönbrunn Palace / Vienna, Austria / Julie Cook / 2012

I lie awake;
I am like a lonely bird on the housetop.

(pigeon atop roof of the Old State House / Boston Massachusetts / Julie Cook / 2014

When the wicked advance against me
to devour me,
it is my enemies and my foes
who will stumble and fall.

(praying mantis / Julie Cook / 2014)

For I eat ashes as my food
and mingle my drink with tears

(embers in the BBQ / Julie Cook / 2014)

Praise the Lord from the earth,
you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,

(seal swimming / Ucluelet, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada / Julie Cook / 2012)

(basking sea lion, Ucluelet, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada / Julie Cook / 2012

(the tip top of an orca, Ucluelet, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada / Julie Cook / 2012)

lightning and hail, snow and clouds,
stormy winds that do his bidding,


(Georgia clouds / Julie Cook / 2013)

you mountains and all hills,
fruit trees and all cedars,

(Watten, Austria / Julie Cook / 2012)

(espaliered apple tree, Mondsee, Austria / Julie Cook / 2012)

wild animals and all cattle,
small creatures and flying birds,

(neighboring Georgia bull / Julie Cook / 2014)

kings of the earth and all nations,
you princes and all rulers on earth,

(Web image of painting of Henry VIII)

young men and women,
old men and children.

(homeless man, courtyard of The Alamo, San Antonio, Texas / Julie Cook / 2014)

(young boy posing for mom’s picture atop the duckings in Boston’s Public Gardens / Julie Cook / 2014)

Let them praise the name of the Lord,
for his name alone is exalted;
his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.

(full moon over Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

And he has raised up for his people a horn,
the praise of all his faithful servants,
of Israel, the people close to his heart.

(web image of a rally in support of Israel)

Praise the Lord.

(happy flowers covering Boston, Massachusetts / Julie Cook / 2014 )

Two paths, two choices

(Photograph: Callaway Gardens Chapel/ Pine Mt., Ga/ Julie Cook/2013)

Psalm 1
Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree
planted by streams of water,
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.

The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff which the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;
for the Lord knows the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.
(RSV)

The above photo is of an altar located in the beautifuly quaint and very tiny chapel located within the botanical enclave known as Callaway Gardens. The chapel is located in the middle of a beautiful nature park situated in middle west Georgia, surounded by endless virgin woods, rhododenrens, a gently cascading waterfall, and a lovely small lake—representing the epitome of solitude.

The bible that was resting on the rock slab altar was open to the book of Psalms—one of my most favorite books of the Bible–as I so often relate to the angusih, the lamentations, the cries, the shouts, the triumphs, the joys—the wealth of emotions that make up these poetic songs. So naturally I thought I should mirror what was in the picture—Psalm number 1

And perhaps the whole two path thing was most appropriate for the location—I had come upon this tiny chapel, tucked away in the middle of a forest, by way of a wooded path. There was another path that lead away from the chapel, out around the tranquil lake whose still waters beautifuly refelcted this delightful respite from the world.

This was the kind of place that I could live—isolated, quiet, peaceful, tranquil…nothing but the sounds of the gentle waterfall, the croaking of the bullfrogs, the buz of the cicadias…..the gentle breeze brushing against my skin. But alas, it is not where I live—it’s not where many of us live. When I often find such a spot and wistfully mention that I could live in such a spot, my husband always quips “you’d get tired of it and bored”……would I? Hummmmm…maybe I’d like to give it a test try to see if that would be the case….

I had brought friends here who were visiting from England–she from Germany, he from Finland. I hope they too found the setting and the moment most rewarding and tranquil. Somehow I doubted it compared with anything in Finland, or any place in Barvaria…but to me, this little Georgia girl, this was beauty par excellence—-

Today’s Psalm reminds us that life is all about choices—in this case the choice being the walking on one path or that of another path. One path is about following the Law, which in this case is the Law of God. The other path remains to those who chose not to follow God’s Law. The idea of dried up chaff, just blowing away in the wind, only to become dried up dust is not very appealing. I like the idea of being planted by lovely streams of water—something like where this chapel sits.

God is gracious and a gentleman—always yeilding to our whims and desires. He’s not pushy, never wishing to force anything on anyone–it’s all a matter of choice—a simple choice. It does all seem so simple doesn’t it?—path A or path B—and yet this world is in such a terrible mess—which leads me to think the latter path is quite full—I want to follow on the former path—the first path, the one where I’m not walking in the counsel of the sinnful and wicked.

In order to do so, once again, I’ve got some choices—God’s choices for me and my life, or the world’s choices. When put this way, it all seems so simple—then why in the heck do we, do I, make it so hard and difficult?! It shall be my goal to focus on my choice of the right path—it’s a life long work but I tend to believe, most worth it………..

Beautify the place of my Sanctuary

(Photograph: The Pacific Rim Trail, a spruce’s pinecones/ Julie Cook/2013)

The glory of Lebanon shall come to you,
the cypress, the plane, and the pine,
to beautify the place of my sanctuary;
and I will make the place of my feet glorious.
Isaiah 60:13
Revised Standard Version

I hope that at some point this summer, you will be able to get outside, enjoying the wonders of Nature–it is restorative and soothing to whatever ails the spirit…..even if it’s just out around the yard–or sitting on the front porch…. If only to enjoy watching the birds at the feeder outside the kitchen window or the hummingbirds darting about.

I marvel at our almost seemingly dire need for Nature… as is noted by the rising numbers of urban gardens–the abandoned city lots transformed into agricultural wonders complete with raised beds of vegetables galore, the rooftops of apartment and business buildings transformed into urban oasis, the growing surge in chefs desire to produce garden to table meals providing patrons with that oh so fresh experience—which indeed does make a dramatic palate difference.

It seems to be something almost innate, a prewired component—is that why we see such an insurgence in the number of urban pet owners—the pets that require us to get out for a walk, as we decide to take them with us everywhere we go…are they perhaps a small excuse to head to the dog park, the city park, a drive out of town for some “exercise”… 🙂

No matter—the woods, the park, the shore, the mountains, the pasture, the backyard…are all calling—quit reading this and get going….just I must quite writing in order to get going myself 🙂
Happy Trials to you………

Under the Sea–and a marvel to behold

(Photograph: small portion of a hand blown glass wall mural/ Overleaf Lodge/ Yachats, Oregon/ Julie Cook/2013)

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.
Vincent Van Gogh

Isn’t this glass mural beautiful? I saw it, during our trip to Oregon,on a wall overlooking the Overleaf Lodge’s lobby —but only noticing it once I had made my way up to the second floor, never having noticed it when I was downstairs at the front desk. I think the colors, the images, the composition all very pretty. You’ve got to remember, this is the “old” art teacher talking.

Glass art, the blowing of such, has always amazed me. Having seen Dale Chihuly’s sculptural luminous and most often undulating glass creations as well as watching the documentaries on his studio and works in progress, plus having visited the island of Moreno in Italy where those famed “venetian” glass objects originate— I have just always marveled at this type of art….as well as having been a bit weary of it all. The whole molten liquid glass thing, working with furnaces, pipes, tongs, all that terribly unforgiving heat. Notice that Mr. Chihuly is minus an eye…….

I think it may go back to grade school and having watched the 1957 movie Johnny Tremain–based on events during the Revolutionary war. There was a scene when young Johnny was attempting to melt silver, as he was apprenticed to a silversmith (yes the one and only Paul Revere)–there was an accident and the molten silver severely burnt his hand. Ever since seeing that little scene, when I was most young and impressionable, has left me really nervous around “molten” anything….scratching volcanology off the career list early on.

The whole chemistry thing would be another kicker as science and math were never my forte, but with the knowledge of knowing what, which and how much of various chemical compounds must be mixed and heated in order to create the various colors in glass also amazes me. If you haven’t read the post of Vanilla or is Cookie a Lush, may I recommend that to you as it touches on my fascination with pretty shinny glass bottles.

I have two very old glass “goblets”/ canisters that were may grandmothers sitting on my coffee table. One is a combination of red and clear glass–very venetian… that I suspect she picked up in the 50′ or 60’s during a jaunt “across the pond”. The other one is larger, red glass but has a woodland forest scene “etched” around it’s surface that is an opaque white color of glass—I marvel over it several times a day when sitting on the couch—the whole “how in the world did they do that” running through my head.

So when I look at something such a this glass “mural”, I, once again, marvel. Marvel at the skill and craftsmanship—the patience and painstaking time spent making certain everything is just so….

Is it any wonder then that I too should marvel over something equally as exquisitely “hand” made?—“My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;” (New American Standard Version Psalm 139:15)

I think about a loving creator, our loving Creator, gently and tenderly assembling, crafting, securing…especially when things get out of whack with my body, I really think about the “assemblage” known as this body of mine and really marvel over how in the world, or why in the world are things in and about me, about anyone, the way they actually are??!! Think about food that goes in the mouth, then the transformation, the various needs it serves within the body, the nutrients, the fats, the sugars, the fiber that is all distributed, the grinding the pulverizing the breaking down, and finally—the elimination of what isn’t needed—-simply amazing!!

and trust me, when that particular system gets out of whack…it’s a bad bad thing…but let’s not go there shall we…..

I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around the making of any living thing—the complexity, the depth–not merely with what goes into the physical but to the emotional, the mental, the psyche itself—the depth of such is endless and incomprehensible!!!!

How can the skeptics say there is no God?!—did this intricacy that is known as me, even though all parts are no longer working as originally intended, just pop into being??? The whole breathing and processing oxygen? The whole blood thing– the pumping, flowing and coursing through my veins?? The mere fact that all of these “systems” converge in order to function harmoniously, simultaneously and relatively silently is, simply put, amazing.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
and before you were born I consecrated you;
I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”
(RSV Jeremiah 1:5)

Not that I’m to be any sort of prophet mind you, but just the mere knowledge that He knew me when—that He knew me before–that He knew me, that He knows me, and that He will always know me—that He will always claim me—even though others “down” here may not claim me—-oh to rest in that sweet comfort.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” (Deuteronomy 31:8 New International Version)

After the way this week has traversed—I am clinging to that promise—

O Divine Master

“O Divine Master, grant that I may not seek to be consoled, as to console. To be understood, as to understand. To be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”
― St. Francis of Assisi

Growing up, I don’t know exactly when or where it actually took place or how it all began, but I always seemed to knew about St. Francis. He seemed to be just a part of my young life’s knowledge bank. Not so much about his story or history. Not the sinner to saint route of passage. Rather it was most likely because he was always associated with animals. Every time I ever found a small wounded bird, baby chipmunk or the typical little garden shrew out in the yard (growing up in the city our “wildlife” was a bit limited), I would run in the house to find a shoebox all the while silently praying that St. Francis would help the little animal I was about to “nurse” back to health. Unfortunately not many, if any, of my patients survived.

Later in my life, when I was a senior in high school and active in Young Life (a nondenominational Christian Youth Group that reached across all local schools), I was introduced to the music of John Michael Talbot. My knowledge of Mr. Talbot, or Bother John ,was a sort of quasi understanding. I knew he was a Franciscan, but that he was married. He was involved with a “community” of like minded Franciscans…secular and religious alike, out in Arkansas. Seemed an odd place for a group of Franciscans as I thought that group was Italian in origin. So much for my limited Anglican understanding.

But it was the music, the hauntingly prayerful music that deeply spoke to my soul. Suddenly I was hearing a voice, along with the right inflection of tone, that reached down to my core and invoked my actual feelings of need—just how I felt and wished to express myself in that meditative type of prayer–but it was all put to music–a simple yet beautiful arrangement of music.

The album, yes the big vinyl wonderful scratched albums of my youth, the album that I most clearly remember was/ is “Come To The Quiet”–an album based entirely on the Psalms. John Michael Talbot was singing the Psalms—as the Psalms, in ancient Jewish tradition were intended to be sung. This 70’s something little city girl Episcopalian had no idea. To me they had just been a recited part of the liturgical service at Church. A seemingly boring mantra that we used throughout our service. But here, this was different. Here in this album, with this unseen voice, spoke emotion—the same emotion that was buried deep within my being just waiting for the right pry-bar to come along and lift the heavy seal, awakening my own soul.

Thus began my love for John Michael Talbot, his music, as well as for his story, plus my life long love of the Psalms—those prayers of anguish or joy that always seem to best capture my heart and my cries and my pleas to my unseen Creator. Brother John and his wife helped lead a singing ministry and helped to create the Little Portion Hermitage out in Arkansas–a Franciscan based community for laity and religious alike wishing to live in a cloistered catholic Franciscan tradition. This is where I learned that the secular individual, the regular person who is not a nun, monk or priest, can actually follow in the Franciscan tradition by becoming a part of the Third Order—taking vows similar to those seeking to live a life in a religious order but still maintaining life in the “outside” world such as at work or those who are married.

There was such a peacefulness in those albums. I remember buying the cassette tapes, playing them over and over in my car. I used them as a type of prayer–especially when I was in college. College being such a difficult place for a young growing Christian. Those tapes were a type of lifeline to me and God. My own soul would cry out as the voice on the tapes cried out to God. I can still vividly recall sitting out in my car waiting for class to begin, in the early hours of morning, watching the sun climb into the sky, listening to and praying with the songs on that particular tape. Over and over…clinging to the words as if when I got out of the car, I suddenly entered “the World” and it was not always a place where I could easily hang on to God.

All these many years later, I still have a CD of ‘Come to the Quiet’ in my car with my favorite Psalm being tract 10, Psalm 62 (I also love the last tract as well, Psalm 131–the namesake of the album–come to the quiet)—tears still well in my eyes as I sing/ pray the words of that powerful claim. He is my stronghold, my rock and my deliverer………

It’s another Monday morning

It may be another Monday morning… it may be difficult getting up, it may be difficult going to work or school, it may be difficult making the choices and decisions of this Monday– but always remember to take the time, looking upward, and recalling that “a shout of joy comes in the morning”
(Psalm 30:5)