Rain is good for. . .

1) Making cookies

2) Remembering that flowers grow

3) Snuggling under blankets (indoors, obviously)

4) Catching up with old friends (on the phone or in a letter)

5) Eating soup

6) Getting cozy with a good book, and a person at same time preferably

7) Philosophy

8) Looking for rainbows

Today's Afternoon Summer Rain

All the leaves are singing

with tiny drops of rain--

right now.

And the breeze is caressing my hair

as is blows in through the window,

and summer has its way.

The patters and droplets

are punctuating something

just out of reach,

but cool and familiar,

and almost mine.

The puddles are deepening,

and the streets are washing clean.

Things are smelling fresh again and free and light,

as evening approaches.

DEAR CHRISTIAN- YOU MIGHT NEED MEDS IF. . . .

SO, HERE"S THE THING. . .

I've been taking a short break from this wonderful summer weather, enjoying the great outdoors, and playing with my fun kids, and I've been around some blogs lately. I'll be honest, I've been really surprised!

The folks with the Christian worldview (supposedly) have been awfully self-centered and negative. However... to my surprise (and I dare say, my chagrin) the secular folks, (and some former strays from the faith) are down right fun, positive, funny, interesting, and worth reading in general. The first thought to cross my mind was. . . is there an outbreak of clinical depression going on? I'm sensing real discontent, even whining. . . What's with the oppressive tone?

So, listen... .if you're down and troubled, and you need a helping hand. And nothing, no nothing is going right--set up an appoint with your primary care physician. It's nothing to be ashamed of to seek medical treatment and pharmaceutical remedies in times of need. And yes, Jesus will be right with you, too. Doctors are professionals there to help you. Anti-depressants can be that little boost you may need to begin anew.

When your worldview isn't doing the job, you may need some community, and you may also need some meds. Really. It's okay.

self-contempt

What a shock it is to trace back problems social, spiritual, emotional, occupational, or otherwise in and around me, (with myself and others) all the way back to self-contempt. That, or pride, which is rather the a kind of funhouse mirror image are really the main things going on. Both are sin, if you will. The type that is both human (and not making us worthless) but unavoidable, brokenness that cries out to be whole and remedied, and, of course, one always hopes, forgiven. One wants to be spared, even from one's self, if possible, sometimes. But I don't know if we realize this "why" of how we suffer silently, or very loudly, or drag others into our perils and haunts. This odd barb of contempt is just under the skin, but with little, or big, veins into the deep of us, the muscle of our hearts, sometimes hurting and squeezing us.

So, I wonder at the hugeness of it sometimes. The cloud of it, and it's great undoing. I push breathlessly against it, if truth be told, far too much than I have been aware. And much more than I wish too. And I am beginning a journey to untie knots, even if my fingers callous and bleed.

Appraisals

We had our house appraised. In seven years, it's done well.

I've been thinking it doesn't translate to people. It's not really the same on the human level to the stuff of the soul, the whole person. People age, deteriorate, and beyond that on the interior, even with great effort people often don't improve 35%, 45% percent or better in seven years, do they? If they are not trying to get better, my guess is that they indeed depreciate. Like dairy, they "go bad." How much does the human character improve in two years, or five? How much does spiritual formation develop in a normal year for a well-fed, pampered, indulgent American? The church fathers and mothers wrote that suffering and struggle were often helpful for improvement.

Of course it's hard to gauge improvement quantifiably, and I don't really believe it is most important. My point is to say, we can't let our homes of wood and stone out due us, accumulating advantage with time, and getting better with age as we regress in some ways.

How would you appraise yourself, in all honesty? (How would I?) If you had a camera attached on you, unaware for a week, how would viewers appraise you? (I'm thinking about this for me too.)

Etta Marie's intervention - (End of Part 1)

Barry and Jackie filed to the rocky lookout near Etta Marie. She couldn't hear them over the crashing waves. It was her birthday, and 365 stones filled her mason jar.

"Your gig is up Etta," shouted Barry.

Etta whirled around and smiled, bumping her jar over between her outstretched legs. Jackie replaced the pebbles in the jar and sat down. Barry bent down and handed her a wrapped gift. "We know what you've been doing," he said.

"What do you mean?" said Etta Marie gaping at them.

"We know you swallow these all year," said Jackie." Etta pulled in her chin and closed her mouth tight. "We figured it out. . .We're going to stop you. It's not a good idea, Etta," Jackie finished.

"It's just some fiber," Etta laughed. She pressed her hand over the top of the jar. They watched some birds alight from the rocks and circle from the waves to the land.

"No, it's pain," said Barry. "You're not alone, Etta. We love you." Etta Marie looked far out into the water, into the golden sunset.

"I think I have to do this, you two," she sighed.

"Listen," shuttered Barry, "Keep collecting them, I mean, if that makes you feel safe. Then give them to me, and I'll keep them. At the end of a year, we'll take a ride and put them somewhere together."

"We got you this," said Jackie tapping the jar.

Etta Marie fumbled with the wrapping paper until it released a mason jar with hot tamale candies inside. "There are 365 in there," Barry muttered through the side of his mouth. Etta Marie grinned and set down the new jar next to her own jar.

"You're taking care of me," she said

"You've been taking care of us for a while, Etta." said Jackie. Barry nodded and shoved his hands deep into his cutoff shorts.




THE END

Etta Marie, Spiritual Consultant

"Talk me out of giving up church, Etta Maire."

"I thought you said you were 'between churches'?" Etta Marie said glancing toward Jackie. She slouched into the sofa and toyed with her half-empty stemware.

"It's more like I'm between a rock and a hard place," said Jackie. She spread a glob of brie on a piece of bread, and swooped it into her mouth with one athletic motion. "You've been there. I mean, in my situation. You'd give it up, probably, right? You would have too, hiding out down here."

"I'm between Sundays, not between churches."

"You don't go to church down here, at the beach, fibber!" said Jackie through her bread.

"Every day is church, babe," Etta Marie shot back through the echo of her glass as it tipped into her mouth. She laughed, and then slowly wiped her mouth dry on a cloth napkin. "It's not the building, Jackie. It's not the guy at the front of the stadium seating. It's not what you get out of it."

"After a while, it is."

"Well, then maybe you're being selfish."

"Etta, didn't you ever just what to be fed, and think, "What am I doing here?"

"For a while I did, once, yes, but that's what I'm saying. It's not okay. Like I told you at Gilmore House, I was thinking backwards. It's not an Etta Marie world. It's not a Jackie Mayer world," Etta folded her hands and let out air through her nose. "I -- I know that's not so nice to say it like that. I just mean, we're here to minister, not get something. Worship and serve. Love God and love others."

"You're forgetting about growth, learning, and Christian education. The church is suppose to do that. That's the job of the church, of the pastor."

"Not really."

"How can you say that?!" Jackie waved her hands.

"We can find mentors. We can read books. We can be responsible for our own growth. There are ministries and resources for that everywhere. We don't have to be spoon-fed from the pulpit. Plus, disciple-making never happens there very much. It happens life-to-life, in the real world, not at a distance with sermons.

"I don't think too many people at my church care about that, i mean being disciples. That's hard work. It just gets too tough."

"That's why you have to take someone on and disciple her--show her why it matters to grow spiritually. Show someone the reality of a living faith in your Rescuer."

"Etta, Why are you telling me all this? You've been to my church, I thought you would just say, "find a good fit." And what's going on with you? Why are you hiding out down here anyway?"

Etta Marie stood up and stretched and then yawned. The room was pink with sunset. Jackie shook her head and started collecting food wrappings and silverware from the coffee table. Etta Marie moved over to the window where the view of the surf was white and low. The soft sound was muted until she pried open the sliding door. It blotted out the noise of the ceiling fan, soft music, and the conversation still hanging in the room. She crossed her arms and turned to Jackie, as she eyed her jar of stones, resting on the kitchen island.

"The truth is, Jackie, I'm on a Sabbatical, of sorts. I need time to rest, think, learn, and pray. I need quiet too. In every way I need some quiet."

Jackie nodded."You're not going to green light my leaving."

"No." She looked at the floor. "But, you know that they need you there. You know you have to bloom where you are planted."

"Why does the right thing to do always seem like the much harder route? Shouldn't it be 50/50 for the sake of odds? Or 40/60? I'd take that."

"I know."

"I guess you do need a break. You've never given yourself time to get away for a long time." Jackie put the dirty dishes in the sink and leaned on the counter.

"I have to collect some stones too."

"Really?"

"Yep. I've never told anybody this, but every year I collect 365 small stones at the beach. It's like ritual."

"That's cool."

"Not really."

"Why not.

"Never mind."

"What?"

"One secret admission at a time, okay?"

"Um. Okay, weirdo."

"I'll tell you. I just have to work a few things out first."

"It's okay, Etta. Whenever you're ready."