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Victories and Defeats
Our little grandbabies are so precious to us, and we celebrate every tiny new victory, every gained bit of knowledge. He is my whole life, and I mourn as each of those things we celebrate in the children are taken from him: how do you play that game? How do you do a puzzle? When do I take those pills?
Little Yellow Bowl My little yellow bowl broke today, its handle finally succumbing to 34 years of regular use and hot dishwashers. It’s not much of a bowl. Plastic, part of a set long gone. And I was surprised at the rush of emotion I felt. You see, my mother-in-law gave me that bowl. She gave me the whole set as part of a large box of utensils and bowls and dishcloths and other kitchen things her son and I would need as we set up our first home together. While many may not see that as such a big deal, it was. I was most decidedly not her choice for her son. And yet, she still did this thoughtful thing. I use that bowl for nearly everything. It has a little spout, making it perfect for pouring pancake batter on a hot griddle or cake mix into cupcake tins. And every time I used it over the years, I thought about her. The rest of the contents of that box are mostly long gone. But the little yellow bowl hung in there, for 34 years. My mother-in-law and I had what can ta...
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And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!
I’ve always loved that old Scottish prayer, maybe because it’s so honest and unpretentious. No flowery “thees” and “thys,” no attempt to preach to those hearing the prayer, through the prayer; just a people of faith making an honest cry for deliverance.
So many of the negatives in our lives we ascribe to ghoulies and ghosties and their ilk, at least, those of us in the Christian tradition do. We call them demons, attacks of the enemy, “the devil made me do it.” Actually, it’s not just Christians who do it. It has become so ingrained in our culture that just to face down one’s fears or bad habits is known as ‘expunging demons,’ as though our present state were simply that of victim. It wasn’t me, it was my demons, doncha know. I was attacked, sucker-punched, never saw it coming.
And while I do believe in the existence of spiritual beings, some kind and loving, some not-so-much, (personal experience on this, to be told at a later date), I have come to believe as well that our ascriptions are often misplaced. Frequently I hear people describe a “spiritual attack” when what is really occurring is the natural consequence of a bad choice. This is not to say that spiritual attacks don’t occur. I just don’t think every bad thing in our lives is one.
My own ‘demons,’ with whom I am currently locked in a desperate struggle, are not emissaries of the devil or even Satan itself. They are my own creation. The Bible says that we are each created in the image and likeness of God. I believe that part of what God imparted to God’s creation, us, is the power to be co-creators, in a sense.
Scripture tells me that with just the power of God’s word, the universe was created. We have a similar creative power in our word. We can use it to bless or to curse, to create or destroy. What we often fail to realize is that this power extends not just to others, but to ourselves. We can bless ourselves, or far too often curse ourselves, and therein create our own demons.
I get a little possessive about what I create, as though I’ve given birth to it. Indeed, artists often refer to their work this way. And even when what I create is bad for me, a personal ‘demon,’ I am reluctant, or even feel powerless to use that same creative word power to dispose of it. It seems so simple, and yet so...isn’t.
Preachers are fond of saying that the longest distance, the most difficult road to travel is the 18 inches between the brain and the heart. I know that’s true because I can intellectualize and write all day about the power of my word, but accepting that power in my heart in a meaningful way too often eludes me.
My ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties were spoken into existence, and subsequently nurtured by my words. I have granted them every ounce of power they hold.
It’s time for a coup.