The Whistler's Dream

Everybody needs a dream...
Mine is to go to Oklahoma and play whistles for The Pioneer Woman. (Having been invited, not in a "creepy stalker" kind of way, for the record.) Heck, I'd play in a pup tent in the backyard for the joy of the cows and critters. What can I say? I'm a fan.
Everybody needs a dream...

Random Fluffy Foto!

Random Fluffy Foto!
Writing in bed, and Beka editing by ear. Really. The ear typed some letters. Really.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

"They Really Are Quite Lovely..."

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"
"What?"
"The stars. We never look at them anymore, but they are really quite lovely..."
(Men In Black)

I'm realizing that I've spent the majority of my life someplace that I really don't belong. Not that I've wasted my time, or that I've just been coasting along, exchanging oxygen for CO2 but not doing much else.

(Ok - my pre-surgery years were pretty much like that, so I've been trying to breathe less to make up for it...)

But I've spent my "career" someplace that, if all things were even, I'd never have been hired for in the first place. If I compare my gifts and abilities to those who are currently "at the top of the food chain" around here (for total and absolute lack of a better analogy...), I realize that my talents are way, way down the scale comparatively.

Now ease up there, Sarge - I'm not about to go off on a tirade about how I'm worthless and not gifted and poor pitiful me, that others may post glowing comments about my abilities and general existence to feed my starving ego... For the record:

1) I am gifted in ways I can't take time to number (although I do number them privately, not to shore up the aforementioned crappy self-image, but rather to acknowledge just how loving my Father is), and am aware of just how much grace and mercy has been given me;

2) I only have 3.78 readers, so if I'm looking for an outpouring of comments to feed my starving ego, it's gonna be a lean year;

-and-

3) My ego was removed along with most of my stomach when my innards were re-decorated three years ago. I really don't miss it, but get some phantom pangs now and then from where it used to be. For some reason it used to reside just above my right leg, slightly north of the region where the hip bone is connected to the back something-or-other.

"Now hear the Word of the Lord."

(Don't even try to tell me you weren't singing the song in your head - you know you were, and so do I. *waves hand in mystical mind control gesture* "This WAS the song you were singing in your head."

Told you I did.)

Let me address one more thing before I continue to wallow in the sea of "My life is a series of futile meanderings and wasted potential."

I don't believe the will of God is a one time thing - stay on the narrow path on the edge of the cliff, because if you put one foot off of it, you miss God's will for your life, you plummet down the mountainside, and forever have to wonder what might have been God's "best" for your life if you just hadn't missed that one step.

Rubbish.

(And for the record, this was one of the first times where I realized that my own walk of faith can, and should, sometimes diverge from my parent's walk. That believing something different about how I put hands and feet to what I believe could look different than my mom's, and that God thinks it's cool when His kids figure stuff out on their own, instead of being spoon fed by others. That whole "work out your own salvation" thing...

Not that I ever told mom that. I'm not that dumb.

And yet, I think she knew and approved. She was fancy like that.

*I pause for a brief "I really miss my Mom" moment............... Thanks. Moving on.*)

I think seeing God's will as a little path where "if we miss a turn, we're done" is pretty much a denial of sovereignty. That doesn't mean we're little robots, all is pre-determined, and we're just going through the motions here until we croak.

I think, in my unlearned, 'never-graduated-from-college-and-was-a-tuba-major-so-you-can't-expect-too-much-from-me' way, sovereignty kind of works like this: We're gonna mess things up. But He kind of takes that into account, so it doesn't really surprise Him.

And it delights His daddy's heart when we start making more of the better choices than the not-so-better ones, just like any parent.

Here endeth the lesson on sovereignty. Let the flaming arrows of correct doctrine and righteous indignation fly - I'm wearing Teflon underwear, so I should be good. 

Back to wallowing in missed opportunities and wasted potential...

Hmmm...

Having said all that, my original premise that I'm really drifting, my only income-gathering employment in an area that I'm really not all that gifted in, really seems a little meaningless at this point. Let's see if I can get back in "the zone..."

"But a man will grow tired,
and his soul will grow weary,
living his life in vain."
- Ammonia Avenue, Alan Parsons Project

Hmmm... Didn't do it.

I guess looking at sovereignty is kind of looking at the stars - we may not do it all that often, but it gives some perspective when we do. And when we look, it's really quite lovely.

I might indeed be drifting, but He commands the currents. 

I may not feel like I fit in this place in the puzzle, but I can't see the box lid anyway, so I have no idea what the picture looks like.

So I guess I keep putting one foot after the other, even if I don't think they fit on the path or are the wrong style shoe to wear at this party, and keep going. I'll screw it up, but my Daddy takes that into account. And He loves it when I start making more of the better choices than the not-so-better-er ones.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"
"What?"
"The stars. We never look at them anymore, but they really are quite lovely."

Maybe we should look at them. Way more often.

Thanks, Father - all I ask is a leaky ship, and Your stars to steer her by. I'm a flawed and less-gifted helmsman than many others around me, but I'll stay at the wheel and try to stay on Your course. I'll slip, I'll get distracted, I'll doze off at the wheel, so thanks in advance that You know all that and already planned the corrections to keep me from drifting off the edge of the world.

Second star to the right, and straight on 'till... someplace. Let's go, Daddy...

Monday, April 08, 2013

Phabulous Photo Phriday: Her Expressive Eyes

Regular "writing" posts are overdue, but my 3.78 readers are exceedingly patient, so thank you in advance.

The weekend went by in a blur, not because we were doing anything for Spring Break, but because others were. And so stuff trickled down a little, and the week shifted to accommodate it. No biggie - but a shift nonetheless.

The other day, I noticed something that I had known all along, but decided to put into a Photo Phriday...


Her expressive eyes. We've had two brown-eyed dogs - one medium (Buddy) and one dark (Ezri), along with a two-color beauty - light blue on one side, light brown on the other (Kira, our husky).

But BekaV is a new one - amber.

 

True to her Ibizan Hound heritage (or at least we guess her heritage - rescue dog = furry surprise package), she has amber eyes.


And those lovely golden eyes can say a lot... from "Hey - what ya doin?"


To "What? Can't hear ya - my ear's all kerfluffled."


"What do you mean the bathtub is not a playpen / indoor water park?"


"If you're crazy and you know it, shake your tail!"


"To nibble dad's toes or not to nibble dad's toes? Not worth asking the question." (*chomp*)


"BWAAH HAAH HAAH HAAH!!!!"


"Ahem... put that camera away or let the undie shredding begin. Your choice."


 One short year took us from adorable little ball of fluff...


To beautiful puppycakes...


To a one year-old beauty who has daddy wrapped around her paw...


And brings much laughter into our lives. Our amber-eyed girl - we wouldn't trade her for the world. 

Thanks for joining us for another Phabulous Photo Phriday. Tune in next time to hear BekaV say...


"Wha? Oh - thorry. My thongue is athleep, and I can'th thalk sthraight..."

 

Monday, April 01, 2013

Phabulous Photo Phriday - Late But With a Good Excuse Edition!

Photo Phriday is happening on Monday. And there's a good reason for that...

My anniversary.

Now, usually it's pronounced "OUR anniversary."  And we do have one of those. It's in August, and unlike some husbands, (no disrespect to them, of course...) I always remember the date AND the number of years we're celebrating. (Last year was our 30th, this year will be #31. Who says I can't do math?!?

... I do.)

But there's another anniversary, and to keep things straight we refer to it as "MY anniversary." By that, I in no way infer that my Beloved has not been involved in it. Those who know me well and know what I'm celebrating also know that no step on this path has been alone - Herself has been on the journey with me, and I can never thank her enough.

She's pretty pleased too, for the record.

So - my three-year anniversary was Saturday, March 30. And I thought some then-and-now pics would be appropriate...

Then...


Now...


Then...


Now...


Then...


Now...


Then then then...




Now now now...




I think you get the idea... I know I do.

So as I think about the past 3 years, there's some folks who deserve a thank you...

Jeremy - thanks for allowing a really round guy to hang around with you and The Gov, making music together in all sorts of places...


First Cov Family - thanks for loving me as I was and loving me as I am. I am so blessed to be part of you...


Dr. John Mulder (and my other Porch Picker brothers!) - for taking a bass player into your ministry, and making him part of your life. Thank you, brother...

To some of the most important reasons I took the first step on this path, niecelets and nephews, thanks for your patience. Your uncle loves ya to pieces...
Young ladies who, for some reason, love their Weird Uncle...
To young women who, for some reason, still do.
Whether related by birth or picked up along the road...
Albeit a sometimes strange road...
With strange sights along the way.

Thanks to longtime friends, who waited patiently for me to be able to return the love they have so freely given over many years...


Many strange years...
With many strange consequences.

To all who have walked alongside us, cheering as the Lord brought about my ReBirth, right before your eyes...

To Tammie, Greg, & all the Rockford Riders, thank you!
I can finally keep up!!! A bit, anyway...
And to our TerraTrike peeps...
For making the tools I need...
To stay on my new path, and make it a SWEET ride!
But, most of all...


To the one who waited the longest...


And whose loving, clear gaze...


Always saw me like this.

Thank you, beloved. 30 years, and we're just getting started. I love you, Shade Of My Heart.

Thanks for joining us for a very emotional Phabulous Photo Phriday. Tune in next time to hear BekaV say...

"Wait - Daddy didn't used to HAVE a lap?? Inconceivable!!"