Georgetownrose

from glory to glory…

Archive for the month “October, 2014”

Dreams of Middle Earth: What might have been…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/fourth-wall/

You get to spend a day inside your favorite movie. Tell us which one it is — and what happens to you while you’re there.

I woke early at the sound of the morning bell; the days are beautiful and fair in Rivendell. Here, except for the wisdom of the ages shared with us in the stories of Arda and Middle-earth, one would think—unwisely so—that the whole world is as fair and beautiful as life is here in Rivendell…

I am Thenidiel daughter of Voronwé and Idhrenniel. I am Elven, and today in Rivendell a council is convening within the hour. My father and my mother will attend as witnesses to the discussions and decisions. My father Voronwé has thought it wise that I should listen and observe, for this council will be like no other ever called by my elders. This will be a very grave and secret council—a council which will decide a mission and consider its emissaries. Their charge will be to destroy something of immeasurable and terrible power over every living soul in Middle-earth…

Of my Elven race officiating and deliberating at the council were Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel, wise staff of Elrond’s house; Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and Galdor messenger of Cirdan. The envoys among men were two: Boromir son of Denethor, steward of Gondor, and Aragorn known to men and Halflings as Strider of the Rangers. Of the Dwarves present were Gloin, seeking the whereabouts of his brother Balin who had been in the mines of Moria; and Gimli, warrior son of Gloin. Gandalf the wise of the Maiar informed all present of the danger to Middle-earth in Saruman’s treachery. Ambassadors of the Halflings of The Shire were Bilbo Baggins and his adopted nephew Frodo Baggins. I saw another there, crouching in the shadows, observing all that was undertaken in the council. My soul learned immediately that his heart was burdened for the welfare of another. I followed his gaze and saw that, from his shadowy corner, it was fixed on the Halfling with shining eyes, dark of hair and fair of countenance. As my own gaze rested upon him, Master Frodo Baggins, I was immediately drawn to him; for he carries a burden so great I can feel it in my own being. He looked up for a moment, seeming to know that the eyes and the heart of someone were watching vigilantly, standing guard for him. When he noticed me standing quietly watching all the renowned guests being welcomed by Elrond and his court, I saw into the depths of his soul and all his longings. His eyes did not drift away from my gaze; we were locked in an ethereal embrace for what seemed an eternity. I saw his heart and shared mine with him for that one moment, both of us sealing a covenant to meet again before the company was dispatched to the duties ordained by the council…

 I listened and watched the story unfold before me, although it seemed as if I had already known it from long ago. I felt the weight of the fear of the power of this object should it be used in the hands of the adversaries of Eru Iluvatar. That was the ancient rebellion of ages past, mocking Iluvatar’s beauty and the lyrical music of His Ainur. One must go and destroy the power of the adversary Morgoth and his vassal Sauron. That one must bear the terrible burden of the Ring to the rim of hell, the Mount of Doom; there he must part with the terrible thing with all its temptations to be subject to its power, and resisting all, must cast it into the fires of Mount Doom to be consumed by the very fires and darkness from which it was created. Other valiant Men and Elves of ages past were entrusted with this task and were eaten alive by the lure of the powers they thought they would possess in the keeping of this fragment of hate and blasphemy against Eru Iluvatar. In one age, after the ring was long forgotten, a Halfling, Deagol by name, who loved to fish in the rivers of the Shire, captured it by accident on the end of his fishing line. His friend Smeagol was jealous for the shiny trinket, and in his jealousy murdered Deagol, hid his body, and doted upon the precious thing, discovering its powers to make him seem superior to all around him. It ate him alive, driving him into the depths of the earth to shelter it and guard it from being taken from him, only earning for himself the name of Gollum; for Smeagol had become a gulping, grasping creature doomed to a deviant and tortured life of wicked treachery, always fighting down the once noble thread from which he was originally woven. Master Bilbo Baggins had seized the thing from Gollum’s grasp in his encounter with him in the caves on the way to Erebor. Bilbo’s part in that mission was to help the Dwarves regain their rightful home and treasures taken from them by the dragon Smaug when he destroyed Laketown and captured Erebor for his own malevolent residence.

Hours passed as I waited to see how the council would rule. Finally, all agreed that one must go, but the question remained, “Who will go?” When the midday bell rang for the meal, the fair one with raven hair and shining eyes spoke, saying, “I will go.” It was then I knew he must have a helper, someone who would give him hope and courage to live when all the evil of Mordor stalked him to prevent his chosen task. How would I persuade my father to give my hand to Frodo in marriage when he appeared to be a mere Halfling and beneath the Elven race? I have lived long in Rivendell in this world of Middle-earth, but never have I seen one which so captivates my own soul. He appears young and yet has a bearing as old as Rivendell itself. I knew before the council did that his companion in the shadows would go with him to bear Frodo up when his body weakens from the weight of the burden and the assaults contrived against him by the emissaries of Sauron. But he would need the songs of truth and faith to resonate in his mind and heart—songs my soul entwined with his would sing to him across the distances on the cold stoney mountain passages, in the deep tangles of the woods, across the open plains under the predatory gaze of the eye of Sauron and his minions. He must have a home for his soul where it may rest and draw him back from the contest which will restore peace to the world of Middle earth. I want to be that home for his soul; it is to this hour I was born. I was to learn very soon how inseparable two souls can make a mark on the events in the world…

 At the afternoon meal, he came to talk with me, the one whose soul now was entwined with mine. We needed no long words, for every bit of our lives seemed knowable to one another without them. He knew my own desire and shared it, but with hesitation to bind me to the mortal life and then to wait while he fulfilled the duty he had vowed. As I gazed steadily and passionately into his shining eyes, I told him that the matter of my mortality is mine to decide, knowing completely its blessings and its consequences. I explained to him in earnest that for me waiting would not be as it would be for a Halfling wife. I would tell this to my father and my mother. I would tell them that my heart and my soul would always be following him, knowing things of his trials which only an Elven wife could know. I would persuade them that my songs of healing would come to Frodo in times of his deepest trouble, and still my own life would be safe from the eye of Sauron. These would be dreams no palantir, no seeing stone, could invade or snatch away from us…these would be silver threads of truth and faith and undying love, keeping Frodo’s heart safe from deception and despair…and he, with Samwise, would prevail; he would come home…we would face life in Middle-earth inseparably. We would give our dear ones another generation of offspring who know truth and honor and love. I would persuade my mother and my father to neither deny us this purpose nor deny themselves the joy of its fulfillment…

 As quickly as our meeting began it was over. Frodo’s heart was full of longing, and he vowed another vow. He took my hand in his and in his steady, shining eyes I saw the burden which he carried lift. His countenance shown as brightly and lovely as any Elven son. Almost breathlessly, and full of tenderness, he whispered that he would take me as his wife if I persuaded my mother and my father of the blessing our union would bring…

 We looked up and saw the thoughtful Gandalf sitting across the courtyard from us; Samwise was nearby, having been exposed as a secret observer to the council, driven by his friendship with Frodo to learn of the matters which would touch his friend’s life. Both were watching with a mixture of curiosity and some wonderment. My own mission had now begun; at the recess of this council, I would be seeking a council with my elders, a Maiar and a Halfling to cast the vision shared by Frodo, the valiant Halfling and an Elven daughter of wisdom and healing…

…An excursion into “The Fellowship of The Ring”

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Clearing the deck…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/sweeping-motions/

What’s messier right now — your bedroom or you computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state.

Funny you should ask. Very timely…

My blogging efforts for the past week or so have abandoned the laundry basket and the little heaps of papers and resources I have kept digging about to consult. The piles on my work space at my computer have kept growing, spilling over to other places in my blogging/crafting studio and beginning to form other towers of neglected matter. All the while in the back of this mind which prefers order, I have made mental notes of warning to prioritize managing them. Even as I write there is a load of laundry in the washer waiting to be moved to the dryer to make way for the next load to wash…

Don’t think I am blaming this wonderful activity of writing for my derelict behavior to put things where they belong and take a maintenance break. It’s all my procrastinating fault. Somehow, stopping in the middle of a cogent thought worthy of blogging to sort through my little messes is too unsettling; it’s disturbing, in fact. I regard the demand to keep everything neat as a pin as an unwelcome and rude intrusion on my thoughts at a time in my life when I feel it is far more important to communicate and engage others than to excel at neatness…

Pat-officeBut there is a limit. At some point the mess becomes an impediment to my ability to think and to work; it’s like loud, cacophonous noise. My little grey cells are allergic to confusion and chaos and their “flight or fight” response to these adversaries of thought  is always “flight.”

Almost instinctively, considering I might be accountable to others this morning for my neglect, I put my hands to work to sort through the accumulation to file and discard; to sort the laundry and order it for the day between my errands and blogs entries…

Now it’s time for breakfast. My little grey cells are going to go get fed–in an orderly kitchen… 🙂

May all my reading friends out there in the big wide world find a bit of order in all the messiness of this world. Blessings all around.

A verbal interlude… (or write, already!)

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-free-write/

It has been a day or two since I last posted. I was not feeling well that day and posted my experience of strengthening by trusting the Lord for His strength. In the interlude between that day and this one, I have been studying my writings on the Feast of Tabernacles. I have been wanting to post the edited and refined content that would fit well with the Word Press formatting. That has occupied a good measure of my writing time the past two days. I am glad to say that, as I am reviewing what I had recorded so many years ago on the subject, is touching me again in new ways. I look at things I have written from so long ago and wonder who wrote it? I cannot believe these things came out of this person’s being. After all, I am only a housewife, although a fairly well-read housewife, and one having had an extraordinary measure of time to deeply delve into Scriptural history. I used it all for many years in the education of children and their families in my Messianic congregation and also in my non-denominational Christian church settings…

(I am not looking at my feet or twirling my hair and staring out the window on this exercise…)

So I thought it would be nice to merge some of the facets of the lesson materials I wrote for the classroom and some other commentaries which I wrote for a discipleship manual to help new Jewish Christians understand that they are still Jewish believing in Jesus…

As I sit here, trying to meet the quota of 400 words for this exercise, I am reminded how easily my words flowed to the paper when I was writing these lessons on the Feasts. There is a certain excitement and joy at the realization of how marvelous it is to enjoy a feast which honors and magnifies the beauty, grace, authority and majesty of God, especially through His provision of feasts which fit perfectly into the seasons of the year–at least in the Northern Hemisphere. Add to that the shadows of the Messiah so richly planted in each of the feasts, and the historical fulfillment of them–save one–in Messiah Jesus, and you have the fuel which drives a heart in love with God to type as fast as she can on the blank page for hours and hours. (Believe me, my husband knows.)

So, fellow journalists, whatever is prompting and provoking you to share your thoughts, remember that there are people out here who are hungry for encouragement in a world that cannot get enough of it. Hopefully, my words here–random as they are–will encourage somebody among you. Stay tuned for more “Treasures both new and old” and another installment covering the Autumn Holydays. The next one will give an overview of the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot).

 

In the strength of the Lord…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-free-write-one/

I woke this morning not feeling well–not feeling well at all. My entire night was a series of brief sleep periods interrupted by pain which I began experiencing earlier in the evening. I cannot put my finger on any one thing which might have triggered the pain which was accompanied by a persistent, but low-grade queasiness and a general feeling of un-wellness. I suspected that my thorn in the flesh, aka chronic fatigue syndrome, has reared its ugly head after a relatively long period of remission. Diagnosed with this, my own private adversary, nearly 30 years ago, I am no stranger to its devious tactics, attacking at the most unsuspecting times. It’s fickle; it retreats for awhile, lulling a “type A” into shifting recklessly into high gear. It blindsides when it re-emerges, wreaking havoc on all the momentum gained during its retreat, and somehow manages to confuse its victim about its visitation when the collection of its tools of torture begins its work of eroding both body and soul. It wrenches all the motivation and strength out of its victims, leaving them caught on a wicked tightrope between illness and wellness–it can go either way at any time…

Facing the day caught in a body tormented by the weakness and uncertainty about whether I was going to function at any level or simply cling to my bed was not my idea of a good morning. Had I not spent time praying in the night during those intermittent wakeful times between sleep, I would have missed God’s answer to my prayers when I felt His prodding to take courage and make a start this morning. Just enough of His strength to move my reluctant body out of the bed, planting my feet squarely on the floor and take the first step…

god strength2

Hot tea! That was my first thought upon discovering I could move without pain, although the queasiness was still stalking me. Thanks to my husband’s own eagerness for morning tea, I heard the comforting, merciful whistle of the kettle beckoning me to come and find therapy in the steamy, mellow blend brewing in my mug. I couldn’t help thanking God for so simple and basic mercy as the hot tea… And as I sipped and savored it, feeling the warmth flow through my aching being, I realized that I could take the next step, as God wooed me to trust His strength. I found I could stomach some toast with the tea; it did not turn to pain as I feared it might… Then I discovered I could consider putting on my jeans and working quietly for just a little while in my garden. God blessed me with the help of my husband, who, suffering with his own chronic pain and weakness, set a goal which we both could manage in the strength of the Lord…

Onward we went together, the Lord and I, a step at a time, throughout the day–a little bit of work and time to rest; no thoughts of retreat into my bed. My heart was encouraged by the triumphs of God’s presence, help and strength in my weakness; He won the victory for me over my inclination to hide, waiting and hoping for a painless day before I would walk with Him…

This evening, my thoughts don’t come so easily as I exercise my brain to put words to this day’s tender mercies. Nevertheless, I sense the presence and strength of the Lord to simply add a description of this moment in my life to the journals of the many lives in this community of writers. Someone out there is feeling weak in a world that has no patience with weakness. May my weakness entrusted to the strength of the Lord encourage someone among my readers who needs The Strength that the world cannot supply nor can the inner self summon.

I will go in the strength of the Lord GOD… –Psalm 71.16a

Where my treasure is…

…thinking and meditating upon the Scripture, traditions, and the Spirit of God in the Autumn Holydays. October 4 marked the climax of the ten Days of Awe and Remembrance which began on The Feast of Trumpets, September 24 at sundown. The Feast of Trumpets is the Biblical name for what has become popularly knowntrumpets stained glass 3 as Rosh Hashanah or The Jewish New Year. The 10th Day of Awe is The Day of Atonement…

I will not elaborate on any of these here. My meditations on these things have saturated all other musings for the days remaining in this Autumn Holyday season; and so, the meditations of my heart and the words which usher forth in the days ahead will be focused on this best of treasures…

…for encouragement for the hungry hearted in times like these, for praise to the God who has loved me from eternity past, and for testimony of the LIFE of Messiah Jesus changing mine from glory to glory…

Listen to the sound of the shofar (ram’s horn/trumpet):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8t1r2DSxsg

The hour has come for you to wake up from your slumber, because…[Yeshua] is nearer now than when we first believed. –Romans 13.11

Almighty and everlasting God, You are always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve: Pour upon us the abundance of Your mercy, forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we  are not worthy to ask, except through the merits and mediation of Messiah Jesus* our Savior; who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever**. Amen. –from the Book of Common Prayer, p. 234, Proper 22 (*Jesus Christ; **for ever and ever)

To blog or e-mail? Do it all from the heart…

being a memory

I admit it to the whole world: I’m slow and cannot keep up with the cultural pace in these parts of the world. I’m slowing down, people. It is a fact of growing older in the body, but my mind and my heart are not willing to become “seized up.” Many of my friends are younger than I. They still have places to go, people to see, and things to do. Who has time to sit at tea and simply chat about whatever is happening in their life–or to share some encouragement from the Scriptures or pray or share music with each other–or want to know the story of an older woman? I grew up in an era when the simplicity of these blessings was still accessible, and have watched as the times and progress have taken away this vital part of life, while yet opening an entirely new avenue for the “global village” to lay hold of it if they will… Although, in our times and culture, friends and family have to synchronize their “dayrunners” with another dear one for any hope of a luxury like this, it can be done; but often we use our e-mails or chat boxes to even accomplish this… Many even text on their phones instead of dialing and waiting for their contact to answer and carry on a voice conversation for a moment or two… Do I sound like I’m complaining here? Not really; I’m just observing the avenues we enjoy for connecting at the heart and how we use them, for better or for less… And I’m also sharing for the sake of this generation who never knew the simplicity the generations before them enjoyed–when it was enough… They cannot imagine a world without the convenience of electronic messaging. (Hope it never comes to that, but that’s not for this blog.)

Read on, if you dare. After, all, this is a blog. And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about–maybe even written about–this on your own blog or other social medium…

My “little grey cells” are spinning and observing that with the age of technology and communication, keeping close with people we know and love, and deepening friendships with those we really want to know, would be easy–in fact, IRRESISTIBLE.  But it’s a bigger challenge than at any time in the history of mankind. When everyone on social media has over 100 friends and decades of pages they follow, how can they process it all? A day is still only 24 hours, right? When you factor in bathing, meals, laundry, errands, paperwork/school/job, physical maintenance, family and sleep, how much time remains to “connect at the heart level” with all the people to whom your heart has become closely linked? I wish this had all been around when my mother was still alive; I think she would have blazed a new trail in her life and learned to use this medium to connect with her children who are scattered all over the USA. I’m thinking, maybe it was better in the days when dear ones anticipated a post by pony express; their hearts were not expecting instant gratification and they knew the communication did not come often, easily or cheaply.

Perhaps I’m taking it all far too seriously; but since I am not able to keep up with the pace of activities my friends and family enjoy, I depend on this medium to keep a lifeline of sorts between us. It’s intoxicating in a sense, because I find the expectation of the “cyber express” everyday–a new connection at the heart with someone whom God has blessed and enriched my life, a cyber hug, a word of instruction or exhortation, a conversation about a shared post and how it relates to our lives in Christ in this world… And this includes e-mails. Many of my family and friends have shied away from social media and communicate with me via e-mail, which, for most people nowadays has become more personal than it was when first birthed nearly 20 years ago to the home user. Add video chats to that mix, and “voila!” another marvelous option for staying in touch! How blessed we are, people! We really do not need to feel lonely or abandoned when a friend moves 3,000 miles away; God has provided a lifeline. “God, protect my appetite for this from becoming a glutton for recognition and self fulfillment; let me not make it a god…But let me use it for the love of others and for Your glory…”

Some might be saying, “O, get a life, already!” I can only answer that I’ve got a LIFE and I want to share it before I die. That’s at the top of my bucket list…

I thank God for the blessing of e-mail, social media, blog pages, and video chats. And, thank you, Word Press, for giving me a place to tell the story God has written in my life… May I be found faithful.

Learning how to participate on Word Press…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/ready-set-done-3/

Well, here goes. The timer is on for 10 minutes, and I’m typing as fast as I can on a keyboard that is just a bit sticky. What, in the world does one share with everybody who is seasoned and articulate–who have the gift and the words right at the ready to be edifying and interesting? I am very much a thinker; I deliberate. I ruminate and process…sometimes that’s good and a lot of times, like in this instance, it’s a big disability. Yet, I realize that this exercise is a sharpening one. I like to write. My favorite class in high school was English and English Literature. That brings back memories. I wonder, if my 11th grade English teacher could see what the windmills of my mind produce, what she would say. She was the greatest… I’d like to think that if she were here now, and even looking over my shoulder as I write, she would be glad for all the ways I listened to her correction and encouragement. She was a stickler about run-on sentences. Oh! How I needed to be tamed! I could go on and on. When I would submit book reports, my early ones under her watchful tutelage always came back with marks, comments and suggestions for a better way to construct a sentence or present a thought. Now, I sometimes wish I still had her, because this exercise on Word Press–my first “on demand-let’s do it-don’t worry about it-just write for heaven’s sake!” is the litmus test for how much I remember and am willing to exercise. I am slowing down, now, because I think I’ve run out of thoughts about this challenge…I could change the subject completely, but I think that might be somewhat confusing, don’t you? We would all be wondering, “Where is this lunatic going with her thoughts now?” I won’t do that… There’s the timer. I can’t believe I did this… Too funny!!! I am going to  publish this just as it is–no varnishing, no editing, no veneers. Y’all try to be nice to me if you have any comments and suggestions. Blessings on your day. This was fun, even if it feels really weird to me… 🙂

When there are just too many thoughts…

Today I had sincere intentions to share and express something that adds my voice to other voices of encouragement out there in the big wide world. I simply have too many thoughts to be of any good; but, I guess that’s okay, because God knows every one of them and exactly how they will emerge out of the fractal web that is my current mental condition… I praise Him for all the wondrous things floating around in this big old clay pot that I am, and trust Him for a timely expression.

My little Word Press prompt at the top of my posting window says, “Draft saved. Keep on goin’!” Well, I can’t keep on goin’. My grey cells need a break… So, may God grant the increase to this little bit of what can trickle out of my stream of consciousness… Stay tuned for updates…

ForestWaterfall

If anyone else out there is experiencing this phenomenon of having more to say than can be articulated, my prayers are with you today… I’m going to go rest my little grey cells for a bit, and listen for the voice of the Lord… “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” –Isaiah 30.15

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