Clutter · Eagles · Gratitude · Meditation · Musings

IT’S INCREDIBLE FROM HERE!

I had an amazing experience at 3 a.m.

I have been a chronic clutterer. My piles drive me crazy. They are everywhere. I desire that the a cure me for that habit. I long for clean uncluttered surfaces. I love it when all my things are well organized.

I sat to meditate. As I breathed very deeply and came into a relaxed state, I entered the shelter of His wing for help in this area. That wing is my favorite happy place. I love the feel of His heartbeat from here. Here, I feel small and warm, nurtured, protected. I am wanted here,  I belong here. Very deeeep breath…

He slowly fluttered then flapped those mighty, giant wings, and mounted steadily, powerfully, magically to the skies on a tour of where I sat.

I sat in my  living room on my comfortable, gray plaid chair. I bought it at Thrift City many years ago. I remember smiling when I saw it. I am grateful that I enjoy thrifting and that I have discretionary funds to do that for pleasure.

From here I can see my wonderful Tiffany-like lamp. It is exquisite and brings me much pleasure. I got it on OfferUp from a precious lady who was happy to discount its price for me. But when I saw it, I was so enthralled that I paid her the full price and more. It reminds me of God’s call to be generous and how he is happy to lavish wonderful gifts on us. Please open my eyes more and more to the rich blessings that are hidden in generosity.

From here I can see my beautiful beige leather furniture. I used my first salary after grad school to buy it. It too is gorgeous. It reminds me that He gifted me with an amazing education in a foreign land. That my parents and family sacrificed so much for me to study back home, and counted it a blessing to sacrifice and send me to school here. It reminds me that He helped me persevere through much hardship. He established me in this astoundingly loving community that has embraced me as its own. Not all have that rich experience.

From here I can see the grand fireplace that is the focal point of this room. It is magnificent in its grandeur. I thank God for the beautiful rough-hewn stonework and  the massive rustic woodwork, complete with the squiggly signature where a playful worm doodled its way along the wood, and the craftsmanship that went into building it. It reminds me can I have a very beautiful roof over my head and a place to call home.

From here I can see my easel. I have several art projects going. Watercolors, acrylics, wood burning, photography. It reminds me that I have been given an incredible gift of creativity that I neither deserved, nor worked for, nor even requested, and that I have the wherewithal to practice and enjoy it.

From here I delight in seeing the gallery that my friend designed for my artwork. It reminds me I have a host friends who greatly enrich my life. It reminds me that I have art work I produce to share as gifts with those that the Lord has gifted me with. I can hear the buzz of numerous conversations from various parties,  as friends and family gather in this room for celebrations or simply to enjoy each other.

From here I can hear busy activity in the room next door as my caregivers and residents interact with each other. I hear the clanging of pans in the kitchen and the laughter as stories are shared. It reminds me that I am blessed to own and run an adult foster home and to have the skills and capacity to care for precious medically fragile seniors. It reminds me that their families have entrusted their treasures to me, an honor I do not take lightly. It reminds me that I have a father, and though I would love to care for him, that is not my blessing today. That honor goes to my sister who has poured her life into his. For that I am very grateful. It reminds me that I have precious family scattered all over the world and that I can see them from time to time. I am grateful that I can speak to them on the phone almost anytime. It reminds me that our bonds are tight, precious, and indestructible despite the miles.

From here I can observe Paul in his school corner working diligently with his two computer screens. It reminds me that I have time and the privilege to home-school my son. It reminds me I have a first born son. It reminds me that for the last year-and-a-half, every night at prayer, he starts by saying “Thank you Lord for letting me home-school, and letting my mom home-school me.” He is technologically savvy and teaches me many technical things. He is a minimalist and uses only a few things in life, unlike his mother. It reminds me that he is growing up too fast when I hear his deep booming voice. He is funny and healthy and intelligent and gentle.  His fat, sassy cat, Rose, sits on his desk or on his lap. I love to see them together. When she was just a kitten, she sat outside the shower stall and curiously watched his blurred form  through the etched glass walls, waiting for him to come out.

From here I can see the pull-up bar that James leaps to before bounding into the room, like a trapeze artist flying into the circus ring from the rafters. It reminds me that he is a cheeky  bundle of gregarious energy who can’t help but burst into every room he enters. It reminds me that he is gifted with agility and remarkable coordination. It reminds me that he always has something exciting or funny to tell me, or a new idea to share. He is very emotional and feels things, happy or sad, very deeply. The commotion reminds me that he is home from school and happy to be here, and that the calm of the day is over.  It reminds me of his teacher, Ms Willms, who is a delightful blessing to our family and who loves him dearly.

From here I can see the sliding glass door through which my husband enters at the end of the day, lunch box in hand. It reminds me that I am blessed with a wonderful, faithful, diligent, funny man. It reminds me that he has desirable and marketable work skills. It reminds me that he is hard-working and rises early to provide for his family in sometimes difficult, and always challenging and dangerous situations. It reminds me that he is happy to be home. That sparks joy in my heart and erupts in a smile at the sight of him. It reminds me that I am happy to see him and to have him home.

My breathing is deep and relaxed even though I have been soaring on Eagle’s Wings. That is another of my happy places. The Eagle rides the wide currents down, down, down. He gently circles for a meticulous landing and berths me delicately on my gray plaid chair.

It’s 4 a.m. now. I am ready to go back to bed. Thank you for this incredible time in your presence my sweet Lord. I look forward to flying again soon.

(Images retrieved 4/3/19 from http://www.quotemaster.org/Eagles+Wings)

Clutter · Organizing

For the Love of Chambermaids

I spend ridiculous amounts of time in lavish hotels just to catch a break from life. I wear my furs and flaunt my Patek chronometer. I use fancy phrases and blow cigarette smoke in the butlers’ faces as I sashay in my spiffy high-heels. But what must stupefy the staff is my cluttering aptitude.

Everyone that knows me knows I am a cluttering aficionada. I take it to the next level.  Piles spontaneously accumulate at the mention of my name. The chambermaids must gasp and beat their breasts, saying, “How could this be? She was only here one night!”

I learned of this moral weakness the first day I owned a home. Before this, it was my mother’s problem. It clearly did not bother her because she never chased me with an ax for it. That said, it bothers me tremendously. It is a purulent, gaping wound in my character. I have fought it; sincerely resolved never to lay any item on any flat surface again – ever;  been repeatedly hypnotized for it; purchased organizational books and even the specific baskets they recommended; attended AND  taught weekend-long seminars on it; rebuked and cast out the demon of cluttering! And for what?!

First, in my defense, let it be known that at least 40% of my  piles consist of items that do not belong to me. People who call themselves my friends come to my home with their household items and leave them here. They probably then gather to discuss how to lure me to a posh  recovery center  in Beverly Hills.

So this year, I am making my first new year’s resolution in a decade. I am going to embrace my cluttering ways! I will own them and proudly display all labels that go with them. I am everything clutter – seeming chaos and dreadful disarray are an obvious sign of my mental state of mayhem. That is me; sweating bullets as I frantically seek that one sheet of paper that was right here.

Along with that is a cessation of the high life in profligate hotels. I will save my money and stay home to revel in my piles. I will titter and cackle in celebration of them. No more furs, no more Patek. No more nasty cigarette smoke in people’s faces. No more devastated chambermaids in counseling or having to take their own lavish vacations to recover from my doings. Come to me clutter, mama awaits!