By Still Waters

I was frustrated with God.  I was ready to give God a good talking to.  I was at work on one of the days that my assignments were outside (back when I worked as a camp host in an RV Park) and, as I went about wiping off tables in the patio and sweeping the kitchen floor, my thoughts were a jumble of concerns. I started outlining them.  The psalmists have nothing on me when it comes to complaining to God.  The concerns were interfering with my work, no Brother Lawrence me today. (Brother Lawrence is that monk whose little book, "The Practice of the Presence of God", talks about offering your most menial tasks in service to God.)  Though I tried, it wasn't working.  I decided to go sit down in the swing by the river and really concentrate on telling God what for.  I put away my rag and my broom, collected my coffee mug and phone and headed over to the swing.  Once a sat down, I looked out at the view, preparing to lay out my case.  Instead, the calm streams of water before me seemed to enter my entire being.  I felt peace flow over me; my thoughts seemed to float away in the water ripples.  I could not even bring to mind all the things that had been worrying me a short time before.  I guess the psalmist is right that "He will lead you by still waters".  I did not consciously try to imbibe the peace of the river. I did not seek it.   It fell on me and filled me without my asking, clearly an action beyond me.  It was magical and I can only explain this as completely God's grace overflowing.  The other amazing thing that happened shortly after this moment was an answer to prayer for one of the things I had wanted to complain to God about.  So God seemed to be saying as I was gifted with this blessed peace:  "Quit being anxious about so many things, My grace is sufficient".

I will get angry, anxious and frustrated with God again.  I wish I thought I wouldn't; that I could totally "let go and let God", but I know that won't be the case.  I do know that I can return at those times to that place of still waters, experience the release and peace for a few moments and keep on keeping on learning this total trust thing!  That's good news!

Re-Creation: Hope in the Time of Devastation

Re-Creation

The Story of a Mountain

Long, long ago a high and majestic mountain was created.  She stood tall like a royal princess above the surrounding hills and looked south and north to two brother mountains.  Upon her slopes grew soaring pines, forever green, that sang with the wind. At her feet nestled a sacred lake; from her, streams and rivers flowed to unknown destinations.  Flowers and birds and beasts grew and flourished in her shadow.  Many came to honor the princess mountain.  The earliest people fished in her streams and lakes and hunted in her forests.  They floated down the rivers in their canoes to trade with other peoples.  They named her Fire Mountain because she often smoked and spit fire. They created stories about her formation and energy. 

As the years passed, more people came.  They explored her slopes.  They climbed to her peak and skied across her trails.  They pitched tents at her feet, fished her waters and hunted her hills.  They built camps and lodges and homes around the sacred lake.  Young men and women made annual treks to the mountain to have fun at the camps.  Families returned generation after generation--grandfathers, fathers, sons; grandmothers, mothers, daughters--passing on the stories one to another, the secrets and lore of the hunt, the fishing, the wilderness.  They came to recreate at the foot of the gracious peak; to rejuvenate from the business of their lives in other places; to re-create themselves in the beauty of creation.  They, too, honored her. 

One day, all of this came to a crashing halt.  Fire Mountain blew up.  She exploded in a great conflagration and spewed her smoke and ash high into the sky and all across the landscape.  It seemed the princess had spoken her rage to her brother mountains to the north and to the south in one ultimate eruption.  When she quieted down, she was no longer so tall and majestic.  Her peak was gone.  Her whole side was gone. She was bare. 

The mystical lake disappeared.  The forest was laid bare, the trees horizontal skeletons from the blast.  Ash covered the flowers and bushes and all the land for miles and miles.  Gone the lodges, gone the camps, gone the homes for recreation.  Where were the fish and the frogs that swam her waters?  What happened to the elk and deer that roamed her meadows and grazing land?  What about the birds that sang in her trees and soared on the vernal of her slopes?  Death and destruction all around.  No living thing visible.  Like the aftermath of an atomic bomb, the scene was total devastation.  All was gone.  Silence ruled the land.  The mountain still stood but no longer so tall, a great gulp in her side, still steaming and spitting at times but in a hushed voice.

It seemed there would be no more annual treks to the foot of the great mountain.  No more telling of how it was when grandmother was a girl, grandpa a boy.  No more teaching in this place of how to sight the gun, or cast the perfect fly or follow the trail through the trees.   All of this seemed to have come to an end.

But then, amazingly, ever so slowly, a surprising thing started to happen. A green shoot pushed up next to the skeleton tree.  A flower bloomed. A seed from a pine cone, burst open in the heat, began to sprout.  From under the ash, the lake perkled through.  A raccoon foraged among the fallen logs.  Eagle soared on the vernals.  Birds chirped from the skeletal branches.  Ectoplasms began to generate and create oxygen in the mystical lake and the fish and frogs returned to swim.  Deer and elk appeared in the meadows.  A new lake was formed, bright and sparkling.  The rivers ran clean.  Life was returning and growing.  Slowly the people returned as well, not to build lodges and houses this time but to once again camp and hike and ski along Fire Mountain’s trails; to fish and hunt.  Now, telling the story of the great explosion intermixes with the memories of how it used to be, building new memories, one generation once again telling the next.

The mountain and her environment have regenerated, not exactly as before, but in a new way.  Re-creation is happening, old into new, with renewed energy and life and purpose.  Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, the sacred cycle of life continues.  And, as if she knew that this was the way of things, the princess mountain continues to stand proud and majestic as she has always done, her face changed and renewed, surveying her land and all who come. 

A story of Mt. St. Helens, and for all times of natural devastation, to bring hope that regeneration and recreation will happen in the great cycle of life.

All rights reserved; Mildred P. Ericson; 10/31/12

UNSETTLING

October 19, 2012

I had a set of plans for the day and it did not include working. But one of the other workers called in and now I must change my plans.  This is unsettling to me.  Not so much because I must be in the office this afternoon and early evening, but because of the inconsideration on the part of the staff who called in, and has done so quite regularly.  I'm wondering what this staff would have done if she had been told others had plans that could not be changed and couldn't cover for her?

People's failure to consider others is disturbing to me.  Is it selfishness, immaturity, lack of insight into how their behavior impacts others, or possibly all of these, depending on the person and circumstance?  It is something that I certainly must monitor in myself, for I am sure I have been guilty of actions that prove to be inconsiderate.  Most often it has not been my intention, but I'm certain my focus on my own needs or viewpoint has led to such occasions.  This is unavoidable, I think, if we are part of the human race!  The best I can do is to try and be aware, consider how my actions and decision might impact others and be quick to rectify it, apologize, work it out as best as possible when it occurs.

Today I read something on Facebook entitled "Cowboy Wisdom", posted by the folks at Texas Hill Country.  One of the pieces of wisdom said, "The easiest way to eat crow is while it's still warm.  The colder it gets, the harder it is to swaller".  Guess that's what I'm talking about when I find myself "unsettling" others.

And please let me know if I unsettle you!

Millie

FROM SHORE TO SHORE: bringing you up to date

October 18, 2012

It has been a long time since I wrote anything here, over a year.  Partly this has been due to difficulty with internet connections as we have traveled around the country and from RV park to RV park.  It has been a little over two years since we started out on our marvelous adventure and we love it just as much now as when we started.

 We have been from the shores of the Great Lakes

to the Pacific Coast;


from the mountains of Colorado






to the beaches of the Central Gulf Coast.

We have been in the desert,

         at the shore,

on the lakefronts and among the woodlands 

of this amazing country of ours.

We've spent time in the Heartland of America and watched the promise of Spring

turn into a draught-burned summer.






A glorious transition to Fall greeted us as we returned to the place from       which we started in Central Michigan.





Now we are back at the beach where the breezes are gentle and the sea oats wave hello.

The contrasts and variations are spectacular.  How can I pick a favorite?  Each ecosystem, each environment is wonderful in its own unique right.  I have loved them all.  What a glorious creation it is!

We have met such wonderful people along the way.  It seems we have built a collection of friends as we've traveled instead of a collection of stuff.  Isn't that wonderful?  So much more delightful and lasting!  I complained above about the variables of internet connection, yet this wonderful tool has allowed us to stay in touch with many of the wonderful folks we have met, as well as with family.  I know that I could not have enjoyed this journey as much if these connections had not been available.  Skype, instant messaging, Facebook, Instagram, my Iphone have all been wonderful instruments in making and sustaining relationships.  I applaud them! I am deeply grateful for them.  How amazing is our world of communication!

I have begun to write more, though you wouldn't know it from this blog!  I'm working on a family history, have dabbled in some poetry and started a couple of ideas that might flesh out into a short story or book.  This is a dream that I'm exploring even as I'm following the RVing dream.  I've been reading and doing the exercises of the book "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. This has been quite a spiritual pilgrimage, one well worth taking. Here is a poem I wrote one morning as I walked around the lake at our park in Central Illinois:

          Sing, birds, your merry tune to glory in the morning.

          Filter, light, to usher muse in flash of sunlight glow.

          Travel the trail, walkers and carts, seeming to disrupt the flow

               But music is heard in a cheery hello, in a wave, as the day's aborning.

          Ripple, lake, your shimmery shine inviting  peace at your shore.

          Rustle, leaves, to welcome the sounds that through the spirit pours.

          Return, wanderer, to find the source that fills the cup o'erflowing

              For the music heard in each part of the whole is more than the earth can store.

                      (All rights reserved, Mildred P. Ericson, 10/18/2012)

I guess the thing I want to say as I reflect on things since the last time I blogged and at this point in the journey:  Don't wait.  Go for your dream.  Have fun.  Play.  Find the time.

Til next time,

Millie