I Aint Stayin Here...

Today was another reminder of how much I gain when I reach outside my Tink centered world for great teaching.  The risk being; not always is the teaching all that great, however my heart is overwhelmed by how many times God has given me exactly what I needed for the season I am headed, via other people.

I shall cut it real here...I was not excited about a Monday morning study.  Monday's are typical "get centered for the week" days for me.  I tackle paper work and phone calls and laundry and books I want to be studying.  The day of the week aside, I jumped at the subject matter--Psalms.  A study of psalms...oh my heart be still!!

The particular psalms of focus will be 120-134...the fifteen psalms of ascent that were sung in pilgrimage to Mt Zion for particular celebration feasts.  I had been curious a few months ago.  I wanted to know about these ascent songs when I noticed the wording ascent in notation in my bible.  I dug around a bit but then got distracted from my dig...not uncommon with my brain at all.  So today when I discovered that God was bringing me back to my digging ground...well you can imagine my delight!

I decided that rather than my regular long hand, journal tradition; during this study of ascent,  I will try to journal here. It seems fitting since the focus will be pilgrimage...and you know what that means friends.  Pilgrimage means movement...hence the title of this blog. 

Oy Vey...how dreaded that word movement can play out in a life that longs for warmth and security and everything tied up in pretty little homey packages.  Oh...don't get me wrong, I like adventure... but the kind where I have a warm cozy home to refuge my adventurous soul in, after my adventure is DONE!  

I have a feeling the movement I am about to partake in will be the kind where going back "home", in an emotional sense, is not going to feel very cozy.  Sometimes going forward means never going back so to speak.  

I am excited to learning a few new songs to sing along my ascent up...put in your ear plugs cuz I sing a bit sharp.

Not Even A Mouse

Tis the night before, the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a snap shot is stirring, not even a Cyber-Shot.

Ageless Love

Under question as to its authorship, this piece was written nearly one thousand years ago by a Jewish songwriter, and put on the score page by F.M. Lehman, a Gentile songwriter, in 1917.

"Could we with ink the ocean fill,

And were the skies of parchment made,

Were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade;

To write the love of God above

Would drain the ocean dry;

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

Though stretched from sky to sky."

Praying your weekend

is marked by God's

endless, ageless

love!

Melodies Played By Forgiveness

I watched an admirable movie yesterday titled “Music Within”. I had not recalled ordering it on my Netflix account (sadly not unusual these days) therefore considered just sending it back for lack of interest from the slipcover description. This I ignored since I had the television to myself for a few hours. I decided to just scrap the list in my head of “should do’s” and sit down for a movie all by myself even if it ended up being a bust….”alone with the TV is rare—seize the opportunity Tink”.

The main character, Richard Pimental, is dealt a life as a child with circumstances that I could relate to…they were not replications of mine, yet our heart responses toward our mothers were what I found similar. In contrast the movie displays a life by Richard Pimental that was determined in spite of his mother issues. I eventually gained similar motivation of spirit -- but my road there was very long and resistant…not at all naturally in tact like I witnessed in this film.

Rather, I chose an attitude of victim hood that sucked many years from my life’s purpose; consequently it sucked life from my family as well. Forgiving myself of what it robbed them was one very large mountain for me to climb with countless reoccurring shame visitors rallying to convince me that I was not worthy of such forgiveness.

“Coincidentally” this morning’s worship service topic was forgiveness. It was tremendously joyful to be reassured of forgiveness truths. I was reminded without pain, what my mountain climbs laden with unforgiveness have cost, yet freely dance knowing that victory is won under forgiveness. Even better--life’s gifted purposes are released through a life of victorious forgiveness. These gifts of purpose are our music within.

What is your music within?

This is what I think my music within is:

The House by the Side of the Road

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that swell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by;
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by;
They are good, they are bad, they are weak,
They are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban? -
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
~Sam Walter Foss

*Photograph is of the home my mother grew up in-taken in 1951

O Tannenbaum

It looks as if it smells wonderful...
Did you not learn that, looks can be deceiving?
The Quayle Christmas tree elves.

I have been in a poetry loving mood, here is one I found today....

enjoy!

by Sidney Lanier1842-1881

A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master

Into the woods my Master went,

Clean forspent, forspent.

Into the woods my Master came,

Forspent with love and shame.

But the olives they were not blind to Him,

The little gray leaves were kind to Him:

The thorn-tree had a mind to Him

When into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master went,

And He was well content.

Out of the woods my Master came,

Content with death and shame.

When Death and Shame would woo Him last,

From under the trees they drew Him last:

'Twas on a tree they slew Him — last

When out of the woods He came.