The Plank-Eyed Girl: Yellow Roses; Dick and Jane; and "The Covered On...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Yellow Roses; Dick and Jane; and "The Covered On...: Yellow makes my heart happy. Yellow makes my heart want to twirl and leap. Yellow equates to sunshine and warmth.  I just want to wra...

Yellow Roses; Dick and Jane; and "The Covered One"

Yellow makes my heart happy. Yellow makes my heart want to twirl and leap. Yellow equates to sunshine and warmth.  I just want to wrap myself up in deliciousful, soft, yellow!  

This bouquet was delivered to me, as a generous

gift from my non-traditional student, "The Covered One".  She did not deliver it herself, for that would've been too forward in her culture.  She asked the office ladies to deliver it. 

I stand to receive them and  drink in the deep richness of the moment.  The sacrifice to provide this overly generous gift, does not escape me.   Money is sparse for this widow and these flowers probably took a large portion of her grocery money for the week.  

Twice a week, we have an English lesson.  She arrives with eagerness in her eyes.  Settling in, she awaits my arrival by reviewing the lessons from before.  Her resolve is as strong as reinforced rebar, set in concrete.  At 43, she is determined to learn to read and write English. We start with short vowels and sight words. We have worked through box one of the "Bob" books.  It has been four months and if she were a caterpillar, she would've already changed into a beautiful, colorful butterfly.  This process of learning to read and write English is definitely going to take more time....but she is well on her way.

The "Covered One's" delightful enthusiasm is simply contagious.  As you all know, many of our English words have double meanings and most of those I ignore while teaching her,  but today I am introducing a new/old beginning reader book that I bought as a gift for her.  It is a fat anthology which will provide much needed practice. Handing it to her, she gently accepts the gift.  Wrapping her arms around it,  she is holding it close like one of her most treasured earthly possession. BUT....there is one little eensy, weensy problem. One of the words in the title has a BIG double meaning.  The "Covered One" has teenage girls who have been Americanized and will instantly "get it".  So, I need to tell her about this before she takes the book home.  Sucking the air in through my nose, I pause and hold my breath.  She stops practicing and gives me a quizzical look.  I point at the word.  She says it louder and more pronounced this time.  She is

proud to know it.  I smile, she belts it out again. Placing my finger to my lips, I attempt to shush her, but she smiles and cranks the volume up one more time, proclaiming the word.  I am panicking. Like a speechless mime, I put my finger on the word and then point down at the boy on the over and his pants. Instantly, a crimson color crawls across her beautiful exposed face.  

She says something in a language foreign to my ears.  Wide-eyed, I say..."boy's privates" and point. Like two twelve-year-olds, we both explode in snickers and our friendship deepens.  I explain that her daughters will think this is funny and she should know the double meaning.   

Often purchased  presents come in boxes; are expected; and you get to unwrap them.  Other gifts are unwrappable; arrive unexpectedly; and continually surprise you with delight.  We just came through a high-gift giving holiday season. Maybe you received the perfect wrapped gift?  Maybe you are disappointed that none of those wrapped gifts seem to give you any lingering sense of joy.  It is now a new year and maybe it is time to slow down and ask your Creator  to help you see what unwrappable, unexpected gifts He has placed in your life this January?  

I would love for you to share them with me and my readers.  Feel free to respond in the box below.

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Velvet Hammer of Uncertainty; A Violent Hope, ...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Velvet Hammer of Uncertainty; A Violent Hope, ...: Blackness reaches its long arms toward me, as the sun slips behind the mountains.  Reaching me, it wraps it's cloak around me and att...

The Velvet Hammer of Uncertainty; A Violent Hope, and Imaginary Theology

Blackness reaches its long arms toward me, as the sun slips behind the mountains.  Reaching me, it wraps it's cloak around me and attempts to smoother me with the velvet hammer of uncertainty.  Arriving at the hospital, I am very aware that I am entering in a place with many uncontrollable variables.  This is a place where physical life and death are daily occurrences.  It is a place where pain precedes healing, and loss often leads to scars. 

Reluctantly, I shuffle towards the receptionist, like a child being sent to the principal's office, I'm not sure what the outcome of this current visit will be. Not being a stranger to this facility, all my

electronics automatically find their signals; security guards give me the head yank in recognition; and in an instant, I am swept back into the inner belly of the emergency room.  

There is an odd sense of relief that washes over me.  I am no longer in charge.  I have come to a place where the only thing I have to offer is a violent, relentless hope and trust in those that, once again, are holding the life of someone that my heartstrings are woven around.  

My imaginary theology surfaces and  tells me that elaborate prayers are best.  It screams that He will hear me best if I use eloquent words.  It tries to persuade me to plead my case.  

Attempting to believe this pseudo theology, I reach for words....but there are none. Minutes slide by, like a slug moving from one rock to another, leaving a trails of slime.  My words are pointless, and fake. They leave an offending odor. I give up and simply whisper, "Help".  Nothing else.  "Help".

If you think an ER waiting room is a comfortable place to spend the night, you are six shades of wrong.  Fear has reached it's unwelcome tentacles up my throat and taken hold of my heart.  Like an octopus turning it's prey around in anticipation of

a delicious meal, fear is preparing to consume me. Hot salty tears spill over and silently slide down my checks.  Glancing around, no kleenex is available.  Exhaustion is consuming my physical body.  I perch on my solid wooden chair and wonder if any of the rest of these people in the waiting room are standing on the precipice of life and death with a loved one.  If so, how many times have they stood here?  I have stood here too many times to count with different family members. 

Suddenly, a nurse slides onto a chair next to me. Handing me several extra soft tissues from her

pocket, she says nothing.   Moments slip by. Offers of water and nourishment are made.  This angel is a familiar nurse who is on her "lunch" break at 2:30 am and has chosen to "be" with me. Departing, I find the strength to push the words, "thank you" out from between my lips.  It is a "thank you" both to the nurse and my Creator who heard my plea for "Help"! 

It is now 6:00 am.  Tonight time has stood still in the ER, but for the rest of people in the place I reside on this planet, sleep was their companion and they are awakening ready for a new day. Time has not stood still for them.  

Hospitals are places where time is irrelevant for those inside the walls.  It is like another dimension and ONLY those that are inside are aware that all else is striped away and only physical life and death remain.  Often times, in order to be able to continue living, sacrifices and loss must be accepted.  Scars are the reminders of the loss and that the gift of this physical life has been extended. Why do I keep forgetting all of this AND that life is temporary at best? 

Shuffling into the house, the safety of my bed beckons to me.  I crawl into the welcoming layers of my private nest and allow my lids to slid shut. My eyes are closed, and I am wrapped in His presence.  However, unfortunately, someone forgot to tell my mind that it was done and the crisis was over.  So....my mind proceeds and is turning over the similarities between hospitals and churches (the body of Christ). Both deal with life and death.  Both should be safe havens for those who are in need.  Both should be equipped with staff that are willing and trained to assist the sick and injured.  Both are places where pain precedes healing and surrender must occur in order to live.  Both are places where those visiting often have a high level of uncertainty, fear, and exhaustion.  Maybe just like the "Silent Angel" that sat with me, we as the body of Christ, need to slid in next to someone in need and hand them a tissue?

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: 168 Hour Sabbath; A Crayon Box; and The Landscape ...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: 168 Hour Sabbath; A Crayon Box; and The Landscape ...: Frigidness penetrates the jet's window as my cheek presses against it.  Everything inside of me is longing for one last drop of warm...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Plank-Eyed Girl: 144 Hours; My Internal Landsc...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Plank-Eyed Girl: 144 Hours; My Internal Landsc...: The Plank-Eyed Girl: 144 Hours; My Internal Landscape; and The Gift of ... : Darkness envelopes this tiny piece of land that I have landed o...

168 Hour Sabbath; A Crayon Box; and The Landscape of the Soul

Frigidness penetrates the jet's window as my cheek presses against it.  Everything inside of me is longing for one last drop of warmth from the Hawaiian sun.  My eyes are locked on this tiny piece of land as I am swept up and through the skies, back to my other home. Moments are sliding by as the island becomes more faint  in my vision.  No longer can I see distinct houses,

buildings, and lagoons, but instead the island looks like a melted box of crayon colors.  I continue straining to "see" but soon all that is in my vision is fluffy white cotton balls and vast blueness below. Minutes are ebbing away and so is my home that I love and the Sabbath that was much needed.

Allowing my body to relax into the seat, my mind attempts to unwrap the gifts from the last 168 hours.  It is like watching a video in my head - all 10,080 minutes of it!  Some of it zips by like a bee on steroids, and other moments of it slowly move by, like a sloth changing positions. 

I revisit the much needed warmth of the sun and the wind in our face as we rode the mopeds.Sweet moments spent over tea, with those I love who reside on the Island.

The embrace of old friends and the delight of new found friends have made these 10,080 minutes amazing.  



Sound bites of so

many precious conversations run through my mind.  

African laughter that made the air come alive. Amazing

voices from all my international friends intermingling together to celebrate our Lord's birth.  All these memories will be forever etched in my heart with indelible ink. 

So here I sit, 30,000ish feet up in the air with my eyelids closed and ask the Lord to help me see the landscape of my soul.  Foolish me, I was thinking that because I had enjoyed this nice long stressless vacation and Sabbath, I would be all peace-filled inside.  Lol! (Anyone else ever think like this?)  All I can think of are the multitude of questions that are swirling inside my brain. My brain is like an overstimulated jack rabbit. What in the world?  My outsides do not match my insides.  This is disturbing.  So....I sit  and mentally take each question out. Taking each one and turning it into a sentence prayer.  Time and space slide by.  I am unaware of the hours.  When I am done and can think of nothing else, I hear His gentle whisper say, "I've got you and none of this has escaped me."  My memory clicks in and I find myself barely audibly whispering, "You saw me before I was born, EVERY DAY of my life was recorded in your book.  EVERY MOMENT was laid out before a single day had passed." (Palms 139:16 nlt).   I repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat.  Slowly, like molasses it seeps into the deep marrow of my soul.  As this large metal mass approaches the tarmac in San Diego, I can truly say, "It is well with my soul."  

What is it that continually swirls in your thoughts and plants seeds of worry?  Have you tried turning it into a one sentence prayer? Prayer does not have to be elaborate.  It is just a conversation with your maker, the one who already knows EVERYTHING about you and is the Landscape Tender of your Soul. Would you consider trying this today?   

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl