Taking Granted

A couple weeks back I was out for my morning run and visit to the duck pond a couple miles from my house. This is a regular aspect of my schedule- a very necessary one for my physical , mental and spiritual well being. I have a spot - its MY spot .Where I sit and have my quiet time and commune with my ABBA ( that means daddy in the old language of the bible ). It's -MY time. To sit in awe of His handiwork and feel comforted by His obvious presence and ability - something that only the beauty in nature seems to leave my soul quiet about -without argument. It's MY time.To bestow my thanks and my pleas - to pour out my heart to "my loving kindness and my fortress , my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and the One in whom I take refuge". (Psalm 144:2)

This particular day when I rounded the bend and slowed to a walk ; I noticed a van parked at the sidewalk and lots of orange jumpsuits filing towards the nearest picnic table. Immediately I wasn't sure if I should stay but my initial and necessary course was to the restrooms and past the corrections officer that was the keeper of the orange men. I figured as I passed him , he might say something or  instruct me as to whether or not it was intended that they be there alone. He was a caricature looking man - complete with "chips like" aviator glasses which allowed zero visibility of his eyes. Not even a turning of his head in my direction let alone a word; as I crossed his path. From somewhere in my mind there was an echo from an old guns n' roses album "what we have here is a failure to communicate". I swallowed my laughter and continued on my course to the restroom taking notice that I wondered if I should be scared.....that there was a question of my safety somewhere in my spirit as I was now to pass through a sea of orange. Every movie scene I'd ever watched of a woman walking through a prison came to mind and I braced myself for a possible on slaught of catcalls. Though I knew an overdose of television and movies is what instigated my concern ; I was relieved that none came. As I headed down the winding walkway I noticed an old couple walking their lap dog and another elderly woman who must have been some park volunteer ( or else very odd ) sweeping what appeared to be the dirt, with a sapling broom ( you know the kind that looks like a witche's ) . I felt reassured to not be the only person besides the inmates and the shady looking cop. I had to chuckle at myself over the farcical notion that these three individuals with their two inch dog and twig broom could be any measure of defense on my behalf should it be required and at the  realization that I  had completely left out of the equation the sovereign hand of God, which I had come to this place to hold, as being amongst our numbers. I also began to search myself for why I felt the level of uncomfortability I did and the irritation in my spirit over this intrusion in my day .

My mind began to wonder "what", "they" were . Murderers ? Drunk Drivers ? Rapists ? Arsonists ? Thieves ? Child Abusers ? Surely I should feel unsafe to have to be in proximity to such wickedness . Certainly I was entitled to my annoyance at their having come to MY pond and interrupted the freedom I felt to sit there comfortably as I always do. I didn't need the mirror in the restroom to clearly see the ugliness in my heart as I examined myself and my less than Christian posture.  Mathew 25 came to mind -" I was in prison and you didn't visit  Me" and they replied " Lord, when did we ever see you in prison and not help you ?" v40- and the King will answer them and say to them "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me". Now I was the one convicted.

I still wasn't sure if I would remain in the park as I exited the bathroom  but all my solace had returned. I had a new "what" "they" were label in mind as I retraced my steps which led in their direction.........brothers. I also began to ponder the many labels that could be attached to my life and  I assure you, they are not all as proper and lovely as the ones I am most commonly known by : mom , wife , daughter , sister , church goer etc. There could be many a harsh and ugly stamp across my file - all which could be summed up as enemy of God.  James 4:4 "friendship with the world makes you an enemy of God ".Without any burden of shame I thought about the many times my alliances and actions have been far from a loyalty in my friendship with the Lord. I have  spent time buddying up to wrong living or palling around with my own stubborn refusal to disassociate from self -sufficiency, pride or resentments - being best of friends with un-forgiveness in seasons. It was freeing to think about actually  and as I was now upon the inmates picnic area I observed them from the corner of my line of sight with a communal respect ; sharing for a moment, the burden and understanding of a life given over to a misstep. You know , there is good in the worst of us and bad in the best of us ; none of us is perfect - who here is innocent ?  I no longer felt entitled to the spot or time alone. As I watched one man toss another a pink apple , their ease and enjoyment noticeable ; I felt grateful to share the beauty of this place with them and for the opportunity to witness their chance to be there . I decided to stay and walked to a bench further down ;behind some trees so that I wouldn't be visible but could remain and ponder these things .

Of course I had and, still have no idea what these men's stories are or whether they have repented or even feel remorse for whatever it is they may have done. I couldn't help but think in watching their window of freedom to the outside world how possible it is to be completely free inside even if one is physically behind bars, though try as I might I can not begin to digest how frustrating it would be to live under those circumstances. Also, I thought about the ways people live under imprisonment who are outwardly free. We can be imprisoned by hate or resentment; prejudice; hard circumstance ; disease in our bodies; the consequences of other people's bad choices or our own ; emotional turmoil that is unrelenting and unwilling to respond to our own best efforts; the status quo ; the rat race ; people pleasing or people's opinions of us ; the stifiling oppression of fear . Like that movie The Matrix - we can live in a prison that you can not smell or taste or touch but its there , all around us. We often forfeit our rights to freedom much like a criminal .I thought about my own personal experiences with being in bondage- whether to addictions or painful emotional wounds. My focus shifted from the mountains and the water and the ducks and the tall grass to the inexpressible beauty of God's stroke over a human life. How He can redeem and restore and release a person's soul and that He longs to do it . Isaiah 42:7 "You will open the eyes of the blind. You will free the captives from prison, releasing those who sit in dark dungeons".

One of my favorite songs ,by Bethany Dillon is titled " You Are On Our Side". A portion of the lyrics go:
 " you sit at the table with the wounded and the poor ; you laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore. when you could just be silent and leave us here to die . still you sent your Son for us ; you are on our side".  Amen. I think about how much I wanted to turn a blind eye to those orange jumpsuits and just have them and the thought of evil in the world disappear from my day . I am so thankful God does not deal with us or them or me in that way - He doesn't turn away - He makes a way. "But He caught me - reached all the way from sky to sea; He pulled me out of that ocean of hate , that enemy chaos , the void in which I was drowning. He stood me up on a wide-open field ; I stood there saved -surprised to be loved ! " Psalm 18:6 ( a personal favorite ). It can be hard for us when we want justice meted out in our way. I think most of you are like me - I want justice for my offenders ( people or  things that offend or have harmed me or those I love ) and mercy for myself . We want to see wrong and evil punished ; as we should - so does God ( and He has and does see to it ) ; but we struggle with the idea of God extending mercy to everyone- we all have our exceptions that we feel are correct ; I know I do anyway . I do not claim to understand it all but I believe that God alone rules as both judge and priest- with perfect harmony between the two. A perfection that will always elude me .

We come to Him as enemies and He says "friend request- granted". We come to Him with labels and He says " name change - granted". He says " pardon ; mercy ; forgiveness - granted ". All promises in Him are YES !! ( His promises for us -- not our every demand ).When we say " I can't" He says " I'll do it - assistance granted ". Of course I'm not saying we get what we want - not all the time- not allot of the time. I'm sure if I could see with the mind of God I would be thanking Him profusely for what I haven't gotten that I felt I was owed .The brass ring we forge in the fires of our worldly desires, is often not the crown of beauty the Lord has fashioned for us. He almost always has better for us than we can see with our tiny eyes. I know I am very grateful that I haven't gotten what I most certainly deserved - and what was given to me instead was mercy and love & "love covers a multitude of sins" 1 Peter 4:8. And as I sat with my legs tucked up to my chest and listened to the ducks sing their song and the breeze move through the palm frons as it tickled my face I appreciated the full measure of freedom that is available and decided again ,that I am taking what is granted.


just my nickel's worth ...................
Nicole Rene

Nickel's Worth

When I was little my momma used to call me Nickel . When I grew to be a young woman I  had a mentor who used to tell me, Nicole "there ain't but a nickel's worth of difference between us ". By "us"  she meant people in general. She used to say is so often it would grate on me . I would be annoyed trying to figure out how she meant it to be applicable for whatever I was struggling with or working on  at the time .Convinced ,of course, that she was missing my point not that I was capable of missing hers. To be perfectly honest there were many instances where I brushed it off as nothing more than the mutterings of an old woman who couldn't think of anything better to say to me in the moment.  Like a lesson borne to be taught it took root in my mind and heart over the years ; refusing to budge or wither under my refusal to attend to it. Gratefully, I have come to understand it to a modest degree.

Within the simplicity of its speech there is a powerful symphony of humility, wisdom and love that I could not hear or comprehend for so long.  I have tried keep my life in tune with  the melody since it reached my heart.To be mindful that we are all very much the same at the core of who we are. We all long to feel safe ; accepted ; loved ; treasured; significant. We all suffer when one or more of those things are absent from our lives. All must wrestle fears of some kind . All must endure loss of some kind . Most of us want to be better than we are; even those who would never admit it. From time to time we  get tangled up in the differences to the point of isolation. Our past is too murky  ; our secrets too pathological  ; our pain - too deep ; our circumstances- too complicated or too perfect ; our dreams to lofty; our fears - too vulnerable. I've heard it called "terminal uniqueness". Then again, maybe I'm the only one whose ever experienced that .

We spend wasted occasion being better or worse instead of being so near equal. Instead of cherishing the familiarity of life and each other with the unknown amount of time we have to dwell within our skin and discover who we can touch while we are in it. Thomas Jefferson, who appears on the u.s nickel said "Do you want to know who you are ? Don't ask. Act ! Action will delineate and define you"  When I think about a nickel I don't think of much . But, when I think of my little girl's reaction at finding a nickel on the floor I have a different idea of it's worth . As a mother I both cringe to think of where it has been as she bends to scoop it up with her little fingers and enjoy the innocence of her joy. Her squeals of delight over unexpected good fortune and sudden wealth hold me back from denying her the riches of her discovery and dousing her with hand sanitizer. And like that filthy treasure the value of my experiences are stained and teeming with the infection of wear; the corrosion of imperfect perceptions ; the liability and depravity of my own shortcomings. But a nickel; is a nickel still. And  I hope also ;that in what I do hold out to offer , shines in places as beauty  as it reflects the Son . For whatever it's worth.