Irradicating Vultures (Part 2)

On my last posting, I mentioned that my unfortunate neighbors have an infestation of vultures lurking on their roof.

I rode my bike over to snap this picture and although there was a whole line-up of taloned criminals when I arrived, only four were willing to hang around for the mug shot. Note the happy bird roosting in the chimney. Looks like the gang plans to hole up for a while.

My previous point was - and is - why would carnivores hang around unless there was plenty to eat? I'm talking dead stuff. Carrion. Rotting meat.

In a human sense, not unlike some of the dearly departed plans I've never followed through on, or discarded projects, or spiritual good intentions gasping their last breaths. Deceased, all, and ready to be devoured by those nasty vultures hanging out on my roof. Well fed critters, my vultures.

So how do I rid myself of these death mauraders whose shadow lurking over my head makes me feel that just another failure is inevitable?

I got a clue in trying to get close enough to snap these photos. When I first rode up on the street, they generally ignored me. With my first step into the yard, the first vulture took off. With each subsequent step bringing me closer - although they were twenty feet over my head on the roof and I was no actual threat - more and more of them flew away. The closer a living, breathing, powerful force got to them, the faster they took flight. By the time I was beneath the eaves, not one bird remained.

Vultures aren't intimidated one bit by defunct, lifeless, decaying debris, but pit them against a vibrant life force and they're overwhelmed. They're intimidated. They're out of there. Gone like an Egyptian dictator. (But that's another story.)

So it occurred to me - maybe that's how I can get rid of the debilitating vultures looming in my own life: ask for help from the biggest, most powerful life force there is. Those unseen spiritual vultures bringing me down - defeat, depression, disillusionment - can't remain in His presence.

And that's spiritual warfare in a nutshell.

Bye bye birdie.

Vultures on the Roof

During my daily walks around my subdivision, I can't help but notice that one of my neighbors has a vulture infestation.

That's right - a whole covey or flock (or whatever) of vultures, of all beasties, have taken to lining up in a row across the very peak of his roof.

Now vultures aren't cute like sparrows or doves; they're huge, black, hulking preditors with scary, hungry eyes, dagger-like talons and an ominous, sharp beak that could rip a body to shreds. And often does.

But the thing is, vultures eat dead things. They're raptorial birds that exist almost entire on carrion. If a creature is running, hopping, limping, or even still squirming, they won't touch it. They'll wait patiently, stalking the poor critter until it finally kicks the bucket.

So I wonder what the heck those vultures on that roof are waiting for? They wouldn't be hanging around if there wasn't plenty to eat. They'd take off for deader pastures.

Now this puzzles me.

The more I think about it, I begin to wonder if maybe I don't have vultures on my own roof. Maybe not the beak and feathers kind, but some sort of nasty, formless, spiritual predators who continue to lurk around because I keep them well fed with dead stuff.

Yep, I discard tons of dead stuff ... failed relationships, half-cocked ideas that I never got around to thinking through to fruition, projects that I started but never completed. A vulture's smorgasboard of demise, dissolution and decay.

They're up there, circling, hovering, waiting. I just know it.

I don't want them peering at me with their black, beady eyes any more, stalking me ... waiting on me to falter at something else so they can sink their bloody talons in.

So what do you think? How do I shake the vulture paranoia and shoo the horrible creatures away?

(Stay tuned for the next installment of vulture fumigation 101!)




 

The Power of Descriptions

I was in a bread store today, headed down the aisle to pick up my regular two loaves of honeywheat, when I overheard a conversation that grabbed my attention.

Tall, freckled, mousy-haired woman: "Hey, Edna, I haven't seen your Ruthie since she was in kindygarden. What does she look like now that she's all growed up?"

Short, fat, frizzy-haired woman: "Well, I reckon she looks a lot like me - petite but maybe a little chubby, with wavy hair and glasses."

I did a double take. Was she serious? I would NOT have described the 200-lb woman speaking as "petite" or even "a little chubby" in a million years. Maybe "obese," "rotund," or "dumpy."

Nor would I have thought of her thin, wispy hair as "wavy" - I think "curly" might have been too generous. Think Brillo Pad or Chia Pet here.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that few of us probably describe ourselves as others do - because we perceive ourselves in a way that preserves as much self-esteem as possible. And that's a good thing. If we don't think of ourselves in a positive light, who else will?

I think it's time to tweak the way I think of people - even in the privacy of my own head. I would much rather give someone the dignity that comes along with being "svelte" as opposed to "skinny;" "big boned" rather than "behemouth;" "mature" instead of "old;" "assertive" instead of "pushy."

And I hope they do me the same service.

Signing off,
Your frosted (not graying),
flowing-haired (not split-ended),
healthy (not plump),
energetic (not ADD),
au natural (no make-up on at the present),
friend (even if you don't know me, you'd like me better if you thought of me as a friend),
Deb

In the Beginning ...

I was reviewing some interesting (and a bit offbeat) notes I'd jotted down during my recent study of Genesis and thought I'd share a few of them with you. I'd love to hear your comments!

1. Gen 4:1 - Right after Eve had a big falling-out with God, she named her new baby Cain, which means, "With the help of the Lord." Cool. After all she'd been through with the forbidden fruit and getting kicked out of the Garden of Eden (blowing it for all humanity and all), she still was able to get past the anger and guilt and recognize where her blessings came from.

2. Gen 4:13-14 - Cain's response to punishment for his sin (murder of his brother) was not remorse and repentance, but self-pity. So how do I respond when caught in sin ... defensiveness? Anger? Self-pity?

3. Gen 4:16 - You can actually choose to leave the Lord's presence; Cain did. Do I?

4. Gen 4:26 - the beginning of "church" upon the arrival of Seth to Adam and Eve (after Seth had a son). Now we can do "church" anytime, anywhere.

It's a Rocky Road!

Call me a marshmallow. I guess I am when it comes to my little furry friends.

Take Rocky, for instance. He's not even my dog (he belongs to my daughter, pictured left), but the poor little guy is so needy, I can't help but sympathize. He was recently whining in pain from a slipped disc, so to help immobilize the lesion site, I used my occupational therapy splinting skills to make him a little body brace.

What an ordeal! You just haven't lived until you've made a squirmy 5-lb dog a body brace. And then it never occurred to me to check the placement of the belly straps until he stood pathetically looking up at us in the yard when we told him to go potty. Turns out one of the straps was directly over his little wiener. When we removed it, he went for 30 solid seconds.

Live and learn. That particular problem never came up in my 30+ years of fabricating splints for humans.

I don't know if it's a "tiny dog" problem or just Rocky, but the little fellow shivers practically nonstop from October until March. If the temp dips below 65, he quivers like a tower of Jello. We've taken to heating up a beanbag and slipping it under the blanket in his doggie bed. If we forget, he stands beside the bed shaking from head to tail like his paw is stuck in the electrical outlet, giving us the puppy-dog eyes until we get up and pop the thing in the microwave.

The other day I got home around noon and walked into the bedroom. I noticed the electric blanket light beaming from my bedside stand, so I went over to turn it off., My husband Chuck, who isn't exactly known for his canine affinities, popped up behind me, saying, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I must have left the electric blanket on this morning," I replied. "I'm just turning it off."

"No, don't do that," he said, looking sheepish.

It was then I noticed a small lump beneath the bed covers. The lump moved. For heaven's sake - the man who outwardly had little sympathy for four-legged creatures had put the dog in our bed and turned on the electric blanket.

Go figure.

Made me think about the way God treats me - I'm so needy and dependant on his sympathy to get by day to day. He splints my boo-boos, cleans up after my mistakes, and when I turn my poor pathetic puppy-dog eyes upward and beg for his mercy, He's more than happy to take me into His bed and turn up the heat.

I couldn't be more thankful for His traveling mercies on my own Rocky Road!

Expecting the Unexpected

As 2010 draws to a rather mellow close, I'm enjoying the soothing peace. For a change.

But I know that expecting the unexpected is a way of life in this busy world we attempt to function in, so I can't help but wonder a bit about what surprises 2011 has in store.

I'm reminded of the night a few weeks ago when I agreed to play the piano at a wedding. Now I don't really play much any more ... actually NONE ... since I stopped teaching private piano students three years ago, so I was a smidge nervous about this prospect. It was a small wedding and the bride wasn't at all picky about her music, so I suggested four classical pieces, which she readily agreed to.

So I diligently brushed up on those specific pieces - Pachelbel's Canon in D, Beethoven's Ode to Joy, Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring and Beethoven's Fur Elise - for several weeks. Altogether, they were designed to last about 15 minutes before the bride was to appear at the door, cuing me to launch into "Here Comes the Bride."

Cool beans. No worries, mon.

Then came the big night. The bride's sister (the only family member able to attend from Haiti) was delayed at the airport at the last minute so the 7:00 wedding was switched to 7:30. Finally, at 8:00 when she still hadn't arrived, and the guests and I had become thoroughly bored staring down one another, I was told to "just begin playing - she should be here any minute and we'll start the bride down the aisle at approximately 8:15." 

So I played. And I played. And I played. All my prepared music. Then I went through them again. And again. I had no other pieces with me and heaven knows whatever I'd memtorized during my early years had long since evacuated to higher ground.

I finally had to stop due to hand cramps after completing Canon in D for the FOURTEENTH time. Honestly. I ain't funnin' ya. I considered Chopsticks and Heart and Soul as time-fillers, but decided against it. I think if I ever see Canon in D again I'll rip out my very last three hairs.

I felt like cheering when the bride finally appeared at the back door, giving me the thumb's up. I attacked "Here Comes the Bride" with the zeal of a freshly pardoned convict.

So unforseen things happen from time to time, and we are called upon to dig deep to deal with them. Gracefully. It's easy to deal with them like spoiled little brats - my personal forte, but much harder to act like a grown-up. I've been told that once you're in your 50's you're expected to be that level.

Sigh.

So here's hoping your New Year will be peaceful and calm and uncluttered with Canons that never stop.

A Place for Jesus

So this is what it's supposed to look like, right? The nativity set in your front yard, I mean.

Well, mine didn't. For the entire month of December, something - or should I say someone - crucial was missing.

It all started last year when I took my yard nativity set in to Children's Church as my visual aid in telling the Christmas story on a stage before 200 kids. My coffee table model was just too small, so it seemed like a good idea to heist the larger hollow plastic model from the yard.

Everything was great until the chubby 8-year-old playing Mary was so startled by the heavenly host appearing that she stepped backward on the manger and sent Baby Jesus log-rolling across the stage. You could hear the c-r-a-c-k of the cheap plastic manger legs in the back row.

Bummer.

Because the set is 20-years-old, there are no replacements available, and I haven't been able to find any wooden boxes or feed troughs that would do. So we've had no manger to house the wee Savior all season. It just didn't seem right to lay the Prince of Peace on the bare ground, so we decided to leave him boxed up in the garage until an idea hit us.

But none did. Until today, Christmas Eve.

I was in the backyard, sprawled on the hammock under the big oak tree, and happened to remember our manger-less manger scene. "Lord, can you please help us with this one? We want to honor Your son, but we've exhausted all our ideas. Got any You can share?"

About a minute later, a shaft of sunlight peeking through the leaves hit something metalic in our yard debris pile at the back of our lot and shone like a lantern. It was an old rusty fireplace grate we'd discarded years ago, the PERFECT size for a manger.

It had been there all along but we never saw it until we asked for heavenly help.

Isn't it heart-warming how God will provde a place for the Savior in our lives if we only ask Him?

Coty Near-Facts of Science

Okay, girlfriends - I'm caving in to requests for a synopsis of a few of my Coty Near-Facts of Science. Sorry, my publisher won't let me share ALL the new ones coming out in my fall 2011 and spring 2012 releases, Too Blessed to Stay Stressed and More Beauty, Less Beast, but I can spill those from Mom NEEDS Chocolate and a preview of a few new ones.

Can you come up with some of your own? I'd love to hear them!  Enjoy!

TCC: Time Contortion Continuum: An angel with a warped sense of humor mans the time joystick in heaven and loves to make us squirm. Need proof? You know how time drags on sleepless nights as you thrash about in the covers, but zips by in hyperdrive when company's coming and the gravy boat hits the linoleum?

Theory of Negative Relative-osity: As soon as you utter the prophetic words, "My child will never ..." cosmic forces kick in to ensure that your little darlin' will perform that precise behavior for the rest of his life. Or until you end his life.

Earring Paradox: When shopping for a specific style or color, inevitably the only cute earrings you can find are clip-ons.

VR Theory: Volume Relativity: The phenomenon that occurs over the summer when your jeans inexplicably shrink two sizes in your dresser drawer. We HATE this one!

Spontaneous Degeneration: When left in an unnaturally clean state, matter will spontaneously atrophy into indiscriminant disarray. An hour after you triumphantly finish slaving over a clean house, mold begins to sprout on shiny faucets, green slime oozes from the vegetable crisper, and dust bunnies proliferate for a closet reunion. Black dirt erupts like lava from the carpet nap, clothing magically appears on every piece of sit-able furniture, and dirty panties peek from behind hampers just in time for the dog to proudly present them to dinner guests.

BBP: Bursting Bladder Phenomenon: That inexplicable law of nature that expands one 6-oz cup of hot tea comsumed before bedtime into two quarts an hour after you hit the sack. And then mysteriously dredges up another quart every half hour therafter. It's the gift that keeps on giving ... all night long!

D.A.M.: That dreaded teenage malady, Disorder of Adolescent Memory. Amazing how stacks of dirty dishes and chores they've done every single day of their lives are so easy to forget! There are times you just want to hook a voltmeter up to their little punkin brains to see if anything is getting through.

Christmas Glitter

Don't you just love the special treats Papa God sends our way to remind us that He's intimately involved in every detail of our lives? I call them grace notes. My friend Esther recently told me of one of God's amazing grace notes in her life.
Esther had been dismayed that during her only son's wedding three years ago, somehow a photo of Esther and her husband with the newlyweds had fallen between the cracks. The photographer had snapped pics of family groups and friends and seemingly everyone there except the four of them together.

Esther was deeply disappointed. She knew that was a special moment she could never get back.

Fast forward three years. Esther turned a flash drive from their camera into Walgreens to retrieve some recent pictures she needed of the children's Bible Club she leads. Because there were 200 pictures on the flash drive, the clerk told Esther she'd receive a free 8x10 with her purchase, and asked her to choose one. Esther didn't really have time to look through all 200 photos, but she felt an inner nudge to do just that. Lo and behold, buried deeply in the bunch, somehow - no one knows who snapped it or when - there was a head-on, looking-right-at-the-camera wedding shot of Esther, her husband, her son and his brand new wife.

It was exactly what she had wanted!

In Esther's words, "God's grace sprinkled over me like Christmas glitter, saying, 'Thank you, Esther, for being still to listen; I heard the desire of your heart.'" 

What grace note glitter will God sprinkle into your life this Christmas season?

Not Just a Pretty Face

I was floored last week to barely recognize a well known actress from a 70s sitcom as she loomed large on my TV screen. I rarely watch TV, but being it's the Christmas season, my daughter insisted that we catch a few of the Hallmark Hall of Fame cheesy holiday movies.

I had to double check the credits as this particular actress caught my eye. She slightly resembled her younger famous self, but she hadn't aged well at all. It sure got my attention. And made me sad in a way. I guess partly because I've been thinking a lot about appearance lately as I've been working on a chapter about outer beauty for my new book, More Beauty, Less Beast.

I have to admit the damage done by the ravages of time made me pity her.

And then today as I was filling my gas tank, I studied my reflection in my car's side window and suddenly identified with that poor actress. How often do we really look at ourselves? For me, it's just a casual glance in a mirror a few times a day to make sure I don't have spinach between my teeth or my hair isn't sticking out like a scarecrow. But there in the glaring light of day reflected in my window, every single wrinkle, ugly pore, blemish, and saggy jowel showed up loud and clear.

Was that really ME? It didn't look like the me in my head - the self-image I've had of me for the past decade.

It was eye-opening to say the least.

I was immensely thankful that I don't have to make my living by my appearance. How draining it must be to have to be beautiful all the time. Certainly there are those who do it and have done it well for decade after decade; Christy Brinkley, Rachel Welch, and Sophia Loren come to mind. Timeless beauties, by anyone's standards.

But what is beauty by God's standards?

That's precisely what I intend to find out. That intangible, indescribable, radiant beauty that shines from within - we've all known people who had it. People who don't necessarily posess society's standards of physical beauty, but leave us basking in their beauty nonetheless.

As I journey through life, never knowing what surprises (or wrinkles or bags) the next bend in the road will bring, I want to know that I will always be beautiful to my Father. The only one who counts.