Mental Snapshots

One of “those” moments, the kind that kick you back to an earlier time and place or maybe it’s a new snapshot, so it’s a twinkling moment when you know right then and there you are going to be jolted back to this place, this moment over and over again to relish, to remember everything…it’s a mental photograph and every sense, every sentiment, every fragment of you halts for a moment.  It’s like you rise above the moment and drink it all in.

We were talking about some trivial thing, of no meaning. He was standing in front of me and I was propped up on the door frame. He was just about to head out the door that I had just entered through a few minutes earlier after a long day. Habitually in our passing the “crazy fog” hasn’t had time to settle yet, so we quickly give our standard greeting of “have a good night-see you in the morning” and a peck on the cheek and head our separate ways.

But…for a flash of a moment, I saw him. He stood against the wall and I saw him. Snap. He was so handsome (and he was in his work clothes). Snap. His facial features etched in my mind, his smile, his love for me all evident in the mental picture. Snap. I knew I loved him then just a little bit more. An image added to the photo bank for me to draw from….Snap. I knew right then and right there..I would remember this moment. Snap.

One more shot? I told him he could go sit on the front porch; while I was finishing dinner. Somehow he and a new flower pot I had sitting on the front porch become really good friends. I called him for dinner, and he kinda slinked in the front door, eyes averting mine. He was covered in mud from head to toe. One little flower pot and one little boy collided and well…SNAP. His eyes saw mine and immediately registered it may not have been the greatest choice, my eyes met his and knew it was a snap shot I would not soon forget, that I would enjoying pulling from the “cob webbed” corners of my aging memory. Snap. It was a small gift he unknowing gave me that would later bring joy. Snap.

Some people are just plain easy to photograph..aren’t they? My girl- definitely falls into this category. Her creativity, her innocence, her love of nature and animals ensures numerous mental snap shots. “Mom, it’s called a tiny toe plant, can I have it??” She asks as were standing in Lowes. Snap. “Mom, do you know that a giraffe is as heavy as a truck?” SNAP. “Mom, why did they have to call that new show “Cat’s from hell”? I love cats and I hate hell!” She asks me standing in her crazy colored knee high socks and soccer shorts on with her hands on her hips, the frown lines temporarily replacing her magnificent smile. Snap.

There are too many days; I think in a huff…would this day end? Would this year end already? I’m just tired! I have no time for these messes, this silliness! These things weren’t in my agenda for the day! Would they just grow up! Could my spouse just stop doing whatever he’s doing at the moment I’ve decided is wrong, or just stop getting on my nerves!! But then I would miss it wouldn’t I? I would miss those tiny moments of joy, of loveliness that the people around me, gift me with-the snap shots. SNAP.

 

Can't whistle? I know someone who can..

Darkness, dampness, the smell of earthen mildew, you find yourself at the bottom, the very bottom of the pit and you can’t believe you let yourself fall down, way down into this place, again.  Been there?  Feel like you fallen or a better word would be crashed and burned and you can’t rise up. No soaring with the eagles, your wings aren’t mature enough. On the outside your nothing but a big ball of fuzzy fur, crying out loud your skin is so transparent that everything thing, every choice is revealed to all. Some days you do well just to hop around.  But then, right when you felt you were going to meet your demise-He scooped you up.

 Amazing, isn’t He? More than amazing-He is spectacular. We had just walked into the yard to look at a new small tree that had just popped up in our yard. Yes, seriously!! That’s another story all on its own, but I heard “Oh, Oh, look what I found!” I turned around to face my animal loving offspring and to my delight and dismay in the palm of her hand was a baby bird. It was precious, so was the glowing face holding it close to her already certain that this bird would be her new best friend, hand fed and raised by hers truly, you know a cross between the movie “Fly Away Home” and Disney’s “Rio”. Somewhere in between her oo’s and ah’s I looked up to see the prettiest red cardinal shouting at us above from a power line. I could hear him now, “Humans! Put my baby down now! The baby belongs to me-go away. I’m warning you place the bird on the grass and walk away!”

Wow, it’s a cardinal, Ally. This baby that is so ugly it’s cute-- is a cardinal.  And then she appeared, the mother. She didn’t make the grand entrance that her mate did, nor was she painted in her mate’s flaming color but still she was breathtaking. She was so magnificent to me-my heart went out to her immediately…her little one was out from under her covering. Her little one had fallen from the place of protection to a place of certain demise. She hovered around us squeaking and twittering, or more like pleading and beseeching. Insisting that we release her beloved little precious miracle, my mother’s heart connected immediately. My eyes told her how sorry I was.

 Too late..that’s what we thought. After research and contacting a close “animal nature” friend we realized there wasn’t a lot of hope. It was recommended that we place the baby in an empty nest (another one of Ally’s recent nature finds) and place it back in the tree.

 

 

We did. What happened next was just so God, before we could place the baby in the branches, he started chirping. It was beyond cute because up until that time we hadn’t heard a peep. The mother sang back as she flew in circular motion around her baby. She rested on a nearby branch and continued a beautiful melody. It was a song of reassurance that even when you fall, and hit the ground faster than you can see it coming. I will be there and when you rise up, I’m going to be there singing out a whistle that only you and I understand because that’s just who I am. God.

Are you marching, are you singing? Let me hear you! Shout it loud!

As I get older many of my childhood memories seem to be fading out…but one of the few that seem to stay brightly lit-kinda like a Facebook highlight but instead it’s a life marker status. Its summer, we lived in Sicklerville, NJ, I was all of 8 or 9, pick tales in my hair and I can vividly remember marching down the road with my mom and my siblings in a single file row to the small convenient store to get an ice cream, cold root bear in a frosty glass bottle or perhaps my favorite pack of gum. Back then treats were a really big deal! We sang this tune as we marched along, "The ants go marching one by one, hoorah, hoorah! The ants go marching one by one, hoorah, hoorah! The ants go marching one by one the little one stopped to tie his shoe" (or suck is thumb, climb a tree, shut the door, pick up a dime, pray to heaven, or shut the gate..you get the idea!). We sang our hearts out, marching down the road in single file form. It was fun-we were on a mission!

The memory makes me nostalgic, it makes me smile. It also reminds me, my march and song are certainly not over-I march on and I certainly hum a different tune these days. I think it’s more like this:

"Oh when the saints go marchin´in, Lord I want to be in that number, when the saints go marchin´in."

  

At the end of the day, when my marching orders are over…there’s a prize –waiting for me, for us. This prize isn’t some small trinket or object that will soon be forgotten-listen to the next part of my song,

"All my folks have gone before me, All my friends and all my kin; But I'll meet with them up yonder, When the saint go marchin´in. Oh when the saint go marchin´in, I will meet them all up in heaven, When the saint go marchin´in. "

I feel my steps becoming more urgent, hear that battle cry? I press on and march toward the prize. Let me not stay so focused on my steps, my song, my hum that I forget to increase the troops, the force-to multiply the sounds of stomping feet-and humming battle cries. This is what we sing:

"Come and join me in my journey, 'cause it's time that we begin; And we'll be there for that judgment, When the saint go marchin´in. Oh when the saint go marchin´in, We will be in line for that judgment, When the saint go marchin´in."

  

Are you marching, are you singing? Let me hear you! Shout it loud! All you weary, all you worn-push on, look up, the day is drawing close! Those mighty marching steps are going to hear the trumpet sound and we will know that our march was not in vain-we pressed on, we fought hard-towards the prize!

"And when they crown him King of Kings, Then Lord let me be in that number When they crown him King of Kings, And when they gather round the throne :| Then Lord let me be in that number ,When they gather round the throne"

"And on that hallelujah day, Then Lord let me be in that number , On that hallelujah day And while the happy ages roll, Then Lord let me be in that number, While the happy ages roll"

 

It’s enough and it’s all you need

It’s one of those nights, the sleepless kind. It seems that anxiety is the cruel cousin of the sand man. I find myself once again climbing over the ropes and standing inside the ring-mentally that is. Tonight when the bell goes off and signals that the fight has begun, I will face my opponent. Me. It’s me in the middle of the boxing ring; standing there going round and round with myself-there is no other challenger …I am alone.   Boxing is a complex sport with a simple premise: Beat the other man up and either hit him more effectively to win on a point system, or hit him so hard or so much that he can't continue to fight. I didn't know decided what my strategy was yet.

I look around the vicinity of the ring, and around the outskirts I can make out vague faces before me-cheering me on, but oddly enough..they resemble me too-my face multiplied, staring back at me- I was staring down myself. Those void forms were crying out words repeatedly I cannot hear or chose not to. I stop to pull on my gloves and glanced at them, they are faded and worn; rightfully so as they were pretty familiar with this routine-the late night scuffles with me, myself and I. Breathe in, breathe out, shoulder’s up and focus…Ready for the first untruth? Here it comes…”Ding. Ding”

BOOMMMMMM---right in the jaw-You are not a good mother…my thought hisses at me. My natural instinct is to cower and retire to the corner of the ring, but the voices do not relent..You could be so much better of a mom…I double over and tremble. If only you had more time, if only you had different talents and attributes..if only, you just weren’t …well…you. A good mother has more patience, a good mother doesn’t fail, you will never measure up comes from one of the unknown faces in the crowd, their voice is eerily mine. At this point, it’s as if my ciphering system has holes in it and I am unable to determine what truth is and what inner fears I have allowed to surface-Round one-a total loss. 

WHAMMM!! You’re not a good wife, co-worker, sister or daughter. If only they knew who you really were. Did they know that sometimes you have to muster every ounce of courage and strength to push on? Would they rally behind you if they knew about the tears that fell from inadequacies? If only they could witness this battle of the inner self they would surely stand in the opposing corner. My pulse quickens, my heart races..I look on as the hand of fear was raised victorious as the winner in rounds two, three and four. Blood trickled from my face, my nose..and unseen by any others my heart. 

Right before that split moment, that defining moment when I almost decide to lay down in defeat. To be no more..to cease all, end all. My coach shows up-My trainer, my lifeline. 

He leans down, his eyes filled with compassion and wipes away the blood from my face and quietly whispers (keep in mind I paraphrased):

I am your refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. (Psalms 46:1 KJV)

I will cover you with my feathers, and under my wings shalt thou trust: my truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Tracy, do not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. (Psalms 91:4-6 KJV)

When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. (Isaiah 43:2 KJV)

Are you battling yourself? Do you find yourself in the arena..staring back at yourself? Are you afraid, of life, of hurt, of choices and consequences and things that are so far out of your reach to change, that it’s a mental tailspin of no return for you? Find comfort. Find hope-find Jesus. He promised to be our refuge and strength. I love this part, He said that He will cover us with HIS feathers-find comfort in that, my friend. Comfort in that fact that we have a father who said, “You, yes you down there..I’m Here. It’s enough and it’s all you need.