brenda's thoughts, watch out I'm Christian

Twice this week I have heard the story of Peter trying to walk on water to Jesus. (Matthew 14:22-31)Is God trying to tell me something? Here's a few snip-its on the subject.

In the Jewish faith there were high priests. Everyone wanted to be a high priest but only the best of the best were chosen. If you were chosen then your goal was to be and do everything that the priest did. You wanted to be just like them.

Jesus was Peter's high priest. Peter wanted to be just like Jesus. He wanted to do everything that Jesus did. So when he saw Jesus walking on the water naturally he jumped out of the boat and walked on water too. Only he saw where he was and what he was doing and lost faith.

So was Peter lacking faith in Jesus' power to sustain him? Or was he lacking faith in his own ability to follow Jesus? Who should we place our faith in, ourselves or Jesus? What made him take his eye's off Jesus?

Here's a related story. A pastor is preaching on tithing and a man says he hasn't got enough money to tithe. The pastor says, "You tithe regularly all month and at the end of the month whatever bills you can't pay I'll pay for you." The man was overjoyed and said, "You would do that for me? That's great!" The pastor says, "Wow, I can't believe you have faith that I'll do this for you but not that God would."

I thought about all this. I made a list of specifically where in my life I lacked faith. I thought it would be a short list. I was surprised. Most of all, I was surprised to find that in all areas where I lacked faith great blessings were just beyond my reach. If only I could move toward them. But I couldn't move because I was/am too scared of what might happen if I do. I lack the faith to move in areas that I would be totally dependent on God even when I know it is what God wants me to do.

I recently got a new poetry book. Oh no, not poetry! Booooooring! I'll only quote one verse, I promise.

This book is written

For those wishing

To know someone special

While seeking the greater challenge

To know themselves

By Javan, Something to Someone, a book of verse of love and relationships

By the times I got there it was almost nine. No one was waiting. If not for this blog no one wuld know that I didn't walk but for a few minutes today.

I walked slow, thinking about the past week, the children I had taught, the people I had seen. By the time I reached the stream at the bottom of the hill I had decided to make Dolch-word flashcards for my students next week and not to fret over people who have to learn to help themselves.

I was on the way back when I spotted a dear trail. It was a straighter shot to the car and much more interesting. I decided to take it.

The trail was very narrow and hard to see. Sometimes I would have to stop and re-find the trail. Sometimes I had to stoop down or step over stuff.  If I strayed off the path vines tried to wrap around me and thorns found their way to my flesh. The trail led me through a place where deer bed for the night, where people rarely go and then right to my car.

I couldn't help but see the metaphor for walking the path of righteousness. How often have I strayed from God's will to find myself wrapped up in the world and feeling the sharp pain of my own sins. If only I could stay on track I would be rewarded, safe, and led right to God's purpose for my life.

These approximations come from my personal kayaking experience or my friends or my imaginations;

• Juliet Dam to Pope's Ferry - all day
• Pope's ferry to Spring Str - all day
• Spring Str. bridge to Bond Swamp Road - all day (this was my friends, but I will be doing it myself soon enough)
• Bond Swamp Road to Bullards Landing - a day maybe a day and a half; there are no other take-outs/put-ins along this stretch that I know of except behind the base and that's not legally accessible (this is the only one I don't know for sure but if your getting up a group I would really love to tag along)
• Eechiconnie creek/ behind the base (no legal access) to Bullards Landing - 5 hours
• Bullards Landing to Hwy 96 - 3 hours (I've done it twice)
• Hwy 96 to Dry Lake - 5 hours

Also look at http://www.geocities.com/ocmulgee_paddling/

Yesterday was my first day back in the classroom (temporary- long term sub). As soon as I opened the door and saw the tables arranged in groups, the reading area, the calendar I knew I was back where I needed to be. It was like seeing a loved one after a long absence and suddenly remembering why you loved them in the first place.

So I walked away. I didn't know what else to do with myself. I've been trying to figure that out for seven years. Yesterday I walked back into an elementary school classroom for what felt like the first time. It was like coming home.

On the way in I passed three hunters shooting at (and missing) two Canadian Geese in the general direction of the Air Force Base. These guys are the reason rednecks should not breed.

I got a late Christmas present the other day (I bought it myself, love that after the holiday shopping) a new pair of binoculars with a digital camera attached. No otter will ever go un-photographed again! As soon as I figure out how to work it I'll post some pictures.

I'm sitting on an animal's den by the edge of the water hoping the animal isn't inside being crushed and wondering what piece of knowledge I would glean from today's walk. I got nothing. As much as I try to grow and change I still see myself as the teenage girl carrying the giant sketch pad and wanting so much to see the world through rose colored glasses.

Then I realized that I have a job and have to be at work in the morning early. I have to go wash the mud off the car, do laundry, iron blouses and buy lunchmeat.

January 13, 2007 

• Park in a mud puddle under a tree
• A Santa-look-alike sharpening knives, "I can engrave that for ya" he smiles
• Pit bull puppies asleep in a laundry basket, "$250.00 each"
• Roosters, roosters, roosters and a chicken
• Handmade beaded necklaces from Ghana, "these are called watermelon beads"
• Comic books "look for old editions of Silver Surfer"
• Hermit crabs, red sliders, hamsters, chinchillas, and salamanders all in modified Rubbermaid
• Banana leaves, oranges, tomatoes, ginger root, cactus, collard greens, kiwi fruit
• Tables full of yard sale leftovers
• Forgotten treasures spread on the grass
• Marked down, miss-matched, discontinued, damaged
• "it fell off the back of the truck"
• Pony rides
• Greasy hamburgers and hot French fries, cover in ketchup and shoo the flies
• Tools, tools and more tools, "What are ya looking for? I bet I got it"
• Hand painted signs, American Fold Art at its most natural
• "I like casts, they taste like chicken"
• "I shot John's Deere"
• "Rednecks shouldn't breed"
• Butterfly knives, hunting knives, pocket knives, Ninja stars, Katonah's, swords, numb chucks
• Tattoos and piercing wherever you want them
• Boiled peanuts
• Guitar lessons
• CDs, DVDs, cell phone accessories, ball caps and sunglasses, everything you need to look cool

I could go on but my feet are tired and they're putting the stuff away.

Allow me to back up. My father was a man who never spoke about his feelings. Consequently when he had done something that he needed to apologize for he never said the words. Instead he would buy you something or do something with you or take you somewhere. It sounds fine on paper but in reality it left a void of understanding between us. The gap grew over the years. Now he is more like an acquaintance who I see often. Our time together is filled with uncomfortable silences and idle conversation.

My husband on the other hand said, "I'm sorry" all the time. Our marriage was filled with "I'm sorry" and "I promise" and "I won't do it again", but they were hollow. He would apologize today and then do it again tomorrow. His words became meaningless. He became unreliable. It was hurtful to think he cared so little that he would do it in the first place but mostly that he wasn't really sorry that he had done it at all. I stopped listening entirely and so did the children. I also stopped loving him.

When my life became my own to control I made a personal vow to be open and honest in my feelings with my children and to teach them to do the same. I especially wanted them to know how to apologize sincerely. We made it a rule;

• If anyone did anything wrong, that was ok, everyone makes mistakes
• but we had to talk about it if we needed to,
• and you had to say you were sorry
• then you had to do whatever it took to fix the situation,
• and apologies had to be excepted.

I taught this rule to my students at school and at church as well as my own children. Often large arguments were avoided by simply talking it out and finding that at the bottom of the problem was a lack of understanding or hurt feelings. It was especially difficult in the teenage years of my own children. Not because they made so many mistakes but because I had to realize and apologize for not giving them the trust and space they needed to grow up.

Ugh! All this thinking’s giving me a headache. I’m going for a walk in the woods.

Here I am, beating myself mercilessly in repentance for my own sins and everyone else is out frolicking and romping in a field of their sins like it was a meadow of poppies and there is no wicked witch of the west. What the hell is that all about? Have you never heard of stumbling blocks? (Romans 14:13) Don't you know that everything you do affects the world around you? Don't you care?

Dam it! It messes with my head and I've cussed twice, sorry.

What about God?

What does He think about all this?

My son describes his new computer game to me. He is very enthusiastic. He has read the books, uploaded codes, chatted with friends, studied the maps, and logged in many hours already. He tells me about the pet owl, the evil Orc player, mesmerizing a bear and how to avoid creatures on the path. He wants to know how to get a specific weapon but hasn't discovered it yet.

I want to know if his homework is done, if he puts this much effort in school work, and how he wants his fish cooked for dinner.

Sometimes I think God sees my daily dramas the same I way I see my son's gaming activities.

I read books about boundaries, read and post forums, talk on the phone endlessly, go to dinners, parties, and functions. I have friends who need me, friends who I need, friends who I barely stand, friends who I don't want to go without, and friends who can light me up. I worry about working outside my career field, about who likes who, about getting fatter and wrinklier, and about people's opinions.

God wants to know, "Have you read your Bible? Have your prayed? Are we growing closer? Are you glorifying me with your actions?"

Just as I know my son is a level sixteen player who was bested last night by a level fourteen female, I also know that what is most important for him is to get a good night sleep so he can be alert for school tomorrow. (talk about a run on)

God knows that one of my favorite flowers is daffodils but that if I don't work to tend my own garden (metaphorically speaking) I won't have daffodils to admire.

Emotional tides have receded

And I am left with beaches full of mental driftwood.

Dark,

Wet,

Rainy,

Empty-streeted,

Morning

Everyone else must have opted to stay home.

Old music on the radio

"Your mama don't dance and your daddy don't rock-n-roll"

Remember that party and Lynn Sonnenburg?

You couldn't wait till it was your turn.

Remember when you saw her later?

How much you both changed.

"Looking back on when I was a little nappy headed boy."

My first radio,

A white banana seat,

Riding Glenn Geck on the handle bars home from school.

Kickball in the street.

See how the sun illuminates those clouds,

Glowing against a still dusky sky,

In my mind I can hear the strike of a match and the hiss of a Coleman stove,

The smell of kerosene and coffee means its morning.

Hear the songbirds.

What kind of bird is that?

Feel the chill.

If only I could smell campfire smoke.

It'd be like the place on the coast,

Remember the first time we went crabbing?

26 crabs in one day.

What a lovely walk through the driftwood on my beach.