Sunday Morning X

It is said that: all things depend on God for growth, and yet He requires nothing from them. His Universe accomplishes its work, yet makes no claims for itself. It clothes and feeds all, but does not control them.

It was, perhaps, twenty or more years ago, when i first became acquainted with this concept. At that time, i remember thinking: "Yes. This is true."

God does not force us to choose between "right" and "wrong". He puts the information "out there" and allows us to choose. We are all God's children, regardless of the choices we make. And the beauty of God's love, is that we, always, will be welcome in His house, in His thoughts, and in His embrace.

All things return to God and yet He does not control them.

Wouldn't it be great if we could remember this when we view our neighbors and our friends? Our children?

Because God never insists on His greatness, His greatness is a reality.

Hmmm . . . Wouldn't it be wonderful, if we could all remember that? We really don't need to brag on our accomplishments. If they are real, they will speak for themselves.

Hold fast to God and all the world will come. They come and will encounter no harm. They come and will enjoy comfort, peace, health and music.

Happy Sunday Morning, folks. May the coming week be full of peace, comfort, music and happiness for You.
Chae

Sunday Morning IX

There are maps to guide us to many places, but where is the map to the Kingdom of God?

Yes, I know . . . the Kingdom of God is within, and I do believe that. Still, I think I need a map.

When I am sad or depressed, I know my feet have chosen a wrong path, for Our Father God is a happy God giving us all joyous gifts. I need a map to this attitude of joyousness.

When I am angry, I know my disconnected heart has allowed my mind to travel a route leading not to the place I want to go. I need a map guiding my mind to the heart path of peace.

When I feel needy and neglected, I know my memory is faulty. It does not see the many treasures God has gifted me with over the years. I need a map which highlights those special moments of love, so I may more easily recall the bountiful nature of my Father, my God.

Yesterday, when I could not find the road I was seeking, a lady gave me a map of Post Falls. She was a happy spirit trying to help us reach the address we requested.

The street we looked for, Monument Drive, is new and not yet recorded on the map.

So, like a Lewis and Clark expedition, my son and I traveled through uncharted territories. We expected to find a physical location.

Yet, perhaps, our real destination was one of harmony, communion, kindness, understanding and love.

Did we pinpoint the exact coordinates of the address? Locate the latitude and longitude? Did we, just for the space of an instant, find Monument Drive?

I would like to say we did.

Yet, I can't tell for sure. You see, our destination is not yet recorded on any paper map.
Chae

Notes

House-hunting is a time-consuming project which eats the hours away fruitlessly, leaving one with a feeling of frustration and desperation.

It is the deadline, of course, which triggers the crepehanging concept that I am indulging a fool's errand. How will I find the "perfect" house, in an affordable price-range, before my house-sale closes?

I conjole my inner fears with a platitude: When the time arrives to hand over the door key, all will be well.

This would be the perfect time for opportunity to knock upon my door, ready with its next adventure.

Then, I could sigh with relief, pick up the pace of my journalistic efforts, and travel, full steam ahead, towards publication.

Come, opportunity, come. I am waiting for you.

You must hurry. We have only 14 days to perform this miracle.
Chae

Sunday Morning VIII

Music is the harp by which we hear the voice of God.

It transcends every known language for it is the communication of the Soul.

Unless you are older than forty-five, you will have trouble remembering movie-theater intermissions properly. So let me carry you back to the Age Before Advertising when the world was still young enough to fill those intermissions with overwhelming musical experiences.

Since this was the era pre-dating modern technology, as we now know it, movies were recorded on film which was wound on reels. The whole motion picture would not fit on one reel. Thus, the need to change reels caused the need for an intermission.

Theater owners were a canny lot back then. They understood human nature perfectly and were well aware that the average person, faced with a 15-minute interval of silence, will hoof it to the first exit they see.

So the projectionist was instructed to fill the space with short films of great orchestra performances: concertos, partitas, fantasias, scherzos and extravaganzas.

I rarely went to the movies to see the show; I went to listen to the intermissions.

And the desire was born then to reach beyond the limitations of words to touch the heart string that ties us all to the beauty of God's voice.

There was a small hitch in my game plan. I was rhythmically challenged.

I remember sitting in one of the back pews at church so I could sing the Sunday hymns. That way, when the folks next to me could no longer bear the incadence of my warbling, they wouldn't be too embarrassed to change seats.

Playing musical chairs is harder to do in the front pews directly under the loving eyes of the Minister.

My mother was allergic to the sound of the only instrument I could play well, so my path to create music worthy of God's ears detoured along avenues of many musical adventures.

First, there was the bassoon and the bombardon, followed by the söusaphone, the Flügelhorn, the krummhorn and the buccinal.

Now, I have a wonderful face upon which everything works, but somehow my cheek buccinator never buccinated well enough to blow a buccinal. So horns were out.

The band director in junior high school was my ally. He kept assuring me, we would find an instrument I could play. I'm quite sure this band director thought God had a sense of humor when he suggested that I try the bass drum. Perhaps, as he said, you don't need rhythm nor a strong buccinator muscle to play one, but have you ever seen a bass drum?

It dwarfed me and had I continued, it would have hindered me from growing to my natural size. My arms were so short, that the drum batons became mortal weapons as they sailed through the air when I tried to thump both sides of that double-headed beasti.

There are other instruments. The guitar. Clavichord. Dulcimer. But these musical tools all seem to play such sad music. And I think God prefers happy, joyous melodies. The ones that exalt the gift of life He has given us.

Recently, as I scratched through an Irish jig on the fiddle, it occurred to me: God hears only the harmonious notes we play. His ears have the magical ability to listen to the musical beauty of our soul and He hears not the mistakes we make but hears, instead, the perfection we intend.

And there are those rare yet special moments when two or more musicians gather together, each playing in such perfect harmony with one another, that discord vanishes completely from this world and only God's loving melodies remain.

I wish modern scientists would invent a hearing aid like God's ears, so we would hear only the perfection of each communication. If that happens soon, I won't have to hide in a sound-proof room every time I pick up the fiddle and try to touch the heartstring that ties us all to the beauty of God's voice.
Chae

Farewell

Our Pope John Paul II passed on today.
His passing affects us all, whether we are Catholic or not.
He spoke always for the dignity of mankind. We needed such a spokesman.
I am sorry for his passing, yet happy that he will now be in a far, far better place than this world.
Chae

Comments

Columns may be sporadic for the next couple of days.

One never realizes until they sell their house how totally unprepared they are to immediately find, finance and move into another one. Mind boggling.

House-hunting today.

Found a 4 bedroom, 2 bath house with huge windows. It's actually kind-of neat. Has character. It also has a hot tub!

Only trouble is: altho mostly remodeled; it isn't quite finished. Small items such as kitchen isn't in; downstairs bathroom isn't plumbed; floors -- well -- they're there, but not finished.

Still, I thought I saw a deal in the making. In a Boeing Jet Market this property carries a VW price tag . . . .

Since this area is currently experiencing a fast-paced seller's market ( If you see it now, it'll have an offer pending before you can write out a contract ) I had to act fast, if I were to act at all.

Only trouble was, the realtor who is sweet as a summer sunset, was slow as a winter's dawn. We started writing a contract near 4pm and by 8:30pm: We were still writing the contract !

I gave up. Threw in the towel. Said: "Enough already yet."

We'll finish writing the contract in the morning - maybe.

Have you ever been seized by the heat of the moment? When everything major seems like a minor detail? Your mind waltzes over practical matters: like how in the world are you going to install cabinets above the kitchen sink?

I'm not small, mind you. Actually, at 5 feet 2, I'm rather big for my age. But the probabilities of lifting the cabinet off the floor would require a feat of super-human strength. Bet they weigh more than I do!

And how in Hades, does one hold the cabinet while trying to nail it to the wall above one's head. One could stand on the sink, i suppose. There's just one small hitch. The sink isn't installed yet.

The ceiling lights are all there. Sure are pretty. Those southern ceiling-fan type of lights. But still, I'd have to attach them to the new wiring which dangles from the ceiling. I'm not too sure about how to do that . . . .

Yes, well, I'm house-hunting, so columns may be sporadic for a few days.

Of course, this house is vacant. So, if i sign the contract tomorrow morning, I can move right in.

Ah sure now, I'll sleep on it. I'm sure I'll regain my enthusiasm for this project after a good night's sleep.
Good night, all.
Renovations © 2005 Chaeli Sullivan