Lawless Living.

I've had my fill of living according to rules that have legal and/or social consequences if broken. No one condemns me with greater sharpness than I do myself over my failures -- whether they be speeding tickets or bloodpressure-raising-verbal-hooks with another person. So, this, the first day of my 54th year, I've decided to strive henceforth to live each day lawlessly! After all, if there is no law, where is the guilt to be, right?

Today I have camped for awhile on some ancient words taken from Galatians chapter 5:

^"22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. "

I've never yet had an officer scribble on his notepad because he caught me driving within the speed limit. No friend has ever told me I was terribly wrong when I remained cool under the collar during a difference of opinion. I've never been down on myself at pillow-time for being over-run by joy and peace that day! Kinza has never cringed when I have spoken words of kindness and affirmation. Bruce doesn't appear disgruntled by my behaviour when it is fashioned by love. My boss has not once slapped my wrist for being a faithful and trustworthy worker. No client has ever bent a gaze of disapproval in my direction for being patient during a time of crisis.

So here's to Lawless Living!
Cheers!

The Chimes of Time!

Ever wake up feeling miserable?
We neglected on Friday night to reset our clock radios for weekend wake-up. So my radio went off first: a news station that proclaimed the blessings and good will of the world! I was too groggy to turn it off and I knew in time it would quit anyway. When it finally shut itself down, at the precise same moment Bruce's radio started up, this time with classical music.

My mind started to swirl through all the things I had worked so hard to switch off a few hours earlier when I had come to bed for rest and sleep. Why is it that unresolved issues, set aside at night, are there to greet us like morning songbirds at the rise of the sun. I felt agitation rising within me and I was just at the point of thinking it was no use to try to get any more rest when a rich choir broke through the usual stream of secular, classical music with full harmony:

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to your God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; your best, your heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul; your God will undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and wind still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul; though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then you will better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe your sorrows and your fears.
Be still, my soul; your Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Two hours later, Mini jumped on the bed with happy grin and paws wet from the rain! Surprised by unconsciousness, I realized I had slept so deeply I had not even heard my honey get up and walk the dog!

The affirmation of family, trusted friend and faithful Pastor is so important. But it is the affirmation of the loving support of the Lord that gives me refreshing sleep and nourishes my soul!

Today I made a call to a government office in the States for a neighbour.

Kinza knew this was on the agenda for the day. She told me to pass greetings on to the President and ask him what he thought of our Prime Minister's piano playin'.

What? You didn't know our P.M. could play 'n sing?
Canada's got talent, I tell you!

Here he is in HD video, accompanied by none other than the mighty Yo-Yo Ma!

Neighbour, Neighbour!

Today I went to see a neighbour.

I found myself smiling in anticipation of the visit as I entered the plushness of her luxurious condo building. She's quite the exotic flower -- not unlike a rare, tropical orchid. The deep-toned, velvety carpets and ceiling-to-floor gold-tinted mirrors of the lobby were so in keeping with her champagne and caviar personality.

I'm not exactly a "tropical orchid" myself, but I am a tropical bush-baby since Mama gave birth to me in a little mud house in Africa. So perhaps that's why we tend to get along, somehow! We've known each other for several years and can tell by first glance what kind of a tropical mood the other is in!

But I was not prepared for the heat of today's get-together!

We settled back in our chairs, me with a steamy coffee, she with a cappucino, and she asked the question:

"So, Carol-Ann, would you like to see my breasts?"

I nearly dropped my coffee! We stared blankly at each other for a moment and then we burst into laughter until the tears were running down our cheeks. How could I have missed them when I came in! There they were, like apples of gold in settings of silver: two fresh, silicone breasts on display each in a luxury-lined box of its own. I noticed, off to the side of the room, that her wig had taken up residence on the manikin's noggin and a fuzzy inch of curls had appeared over her own bare head.

Things are getting back to what they should be!
Thank the Lord!

No Beggars at MY Door!

Had a great opportunity today for doing some practical life-skills teaching with a neighbour.

She was not having a great day. Couldn't sit still for two minutes. Up-down-up-down. She started a sentence about her laundry and switched the subject half way through to the issue with her computer, rearranging the predicate into an observation about H1N1. Since this isn't really an unusual way of doing life for her, she is unable to hold down a job and lives on a two threads of nothing income by means of government assistance.

Suddenly, her fuzzled thoughts snapped to attention. It was 11:00 o'clock. She opened a little tin box on her table and carefully counted out four dollars worth of coinage. As that became her focus, I was aware that I became her blur. She sat back and drummed her fingertips on the table.

"It's for Paul," she said. "He'll be here."

And, true to statement, within a moment the foyer-to-apartment intercom buzzed irritatingly on the wall as an impatient finger pressed and pressed and pressed the button.

I was mad at "Paul" for doing that.

She spoke kindly into the intercom mike, "Come on up, Paul."

I knew about Paul. He was a street guy. He took advantage of her kind-heartedness. When his Mom died last year, my neighbour took him under her wing. She bought razors for him at the dollar store to clean up his beard. She bought white earphones for him also at the dollar store. He put them in his ears and tucked the loose end into the jacket that she had picked up for him at Goodwill. No one knew as he walked down the street, lopping along in time to imaginary music that there was no mp3 player on the end of the plug. He didn't mind! He looked hip and fit in with other young people he passed.

But I was worried about my neighbour. If she spent her coins on Paul, she would have to use the food bank herself. And what if she didn't have bus fare to get to the food bank? Those thoughts furrowed my brow because Paul somehow increased my burden! I knew he liked to wrap his lips around the neck of a beer bottle whenever the chance arose and I had carefully advised her never to give him money! That would be such a waste!

So, today, I watched with deepening concern as she wiped the coins off the table with one hand into the other and zig-zagged her way to the door. Obviously, she was just not clear-headed enough to be dealing with the likes of Paul today! I heard her murmur a greeting. She said just two words before closing the door, "Buy food". He said just one word, "Thanks!"

As she swayed past me to her chair I said solemnly, "I'm so concerned whenever I see you giving money to Paul!"

She waved her hand with a gesture of innocence through the air: "I didn't give Paul any money!"

How could she lie to me like that! I know she's a bit challenged in some ways but that was a blatant untruth and I, under the principle of the thing, could not let it go!

"Yes you did! You saw me see you!"

"Carol-Ann," she said wearily, "I didn't give Paul a penny! I gave that money to GOD! He'll see to it that Paul spends His money right!"

Last year we bought a new front door for our house. It's a beaut! I've been so pleased with that door -- it lifts the property value simply by hanging there on its hinges. But I observed something about it today and I am sad:

There ain't no beggars at my door.