Vitamin Many

There are too many great things to pick these past few days.

- The beauty of the 18-month old twins in my home for an afternooon.
- The wild abandon of three small boys having sword fights.
- The hospitality of a friend.
- The generosity of my husband.
- A chance to go OUT on a DATE for FREE tonight.
- Christmas surprises.

Vitamin Romp

The day is cold. The dog, less a companion than a symbol of a poorly-articulated ideal, paws at the snow. He has grown up here - spend the joyful days of puppyhood with this family. He knows not that he deserves more. He simply harbors within his wordless heart a persistent longing. He is tired of the small dog run he has been confined to for most of his stay at this home. He finds little joy in the nightly trek to the family house, the warmth of the rooms a fleeting treat before the relegation to the cell-like kennel in which he spends his nights. The children laugh and play around him - on rare occasions, with him - but it is not enough. He is young, active, aching to run. And they are just too busy.

The dog waits. Company arrives for the holidays. And then, while the rest of the crowd enjoys a movie, a lone figure emerges from the back door.

It is one of the guests. He is tall, quiet, and almost without exception given to expressions of distaste around domestic pets - but the dog knows nothing of this. He sees only the purpose in the man's gait - the direction that will certainly lead him to the door of his dog run. He sees the ball in his hand and the smile on his face.

And then the dog hears his name.

His excitement, previously contained to cautious tail-wagging and his usual pacing along the edge of his enclosure, becomes a frenzied expression of glee. By the time the man open's his door, the dog's pent-up hope translates itself into leaps, snorts, long, tearing runs across the yard, and whirling fits of of pure joy. To the man, the conduct is assuredly annoying. But he doesn't let on, and the two figures play roughly for what must be near an hour. The dog is unabashedly exuberent. Nothing compares to the joy of a having playing companion - a companion who calls his name kindly and does not rush him from one cage to the next without words. He makes himself obnoxious in his exhileration, but even if he were to realize it, he could probably do nothing about it. He is entirely given to this beautiful moment.

Too soon, it ends. The kind man returns indoors, smiling - the dog returns to his cage. But long into the evening, after the sun has set and before one of the children moves him to his kennel in the house, the dog stares lovingly at the back door. He is loved, after all. He is cherished. His longing for that other great necessity of life, love, subsides for a time, and he is once again able to accept the other necessities - food, shelter, water - with greater appreciation. He lives on - a solitary figure in a lonely back yard - but he lives on with a renewed hope in the goodness of his own existence. Against all odds, after all, he has been noticed. Who knows? Other miracles could be just around the corner tomorrow!

Vitamin Clutter

Today, a brown Duplo block went through the dishwasher along with my silverware. It was hiding - you can't blame me. And besides, the kids do most of the dishes around here. Maybe they slipped it in.

But ... but you can blame me for the pile of children's clothes in the hall. They're extras - I'm debating the merits of another trip to Goodwill versus saving them for someone I know.

You can also blame me for the stack of books on my desk, the sandwich bag of half-eaten health bars near my keyboard, and the positive attack of random items that litters the rest of my home: Socks on the futon, library books on the floor. A pair of slippers lurking near the fireplace, and an unlovely stack of long-since-dry dishes awaiting attention on the counter.

My home, in a word, screams out Clutter. And the truth is, I'd like to scream with it. No matter how many trips to Goodwill I make - no matter how often I purge, file, organize, or size down, the mass of things that remain is still daunting. I'm a lover of the simple, streamlined existence - and yet, here I am, staring at stacks of receipts and piles of old books that could all be reasonably classified as garbage. What happene to my lofty ideals?

You want the truth? Nothing happened. I'm still a lover of simplicity, of grace. But I'm living in a bountiful reality. One filled with children's laugher, children's loves, and the abundance that stems from a plethora of generous friends. This clutter that I see - most if it has been gifted to us by others. The pajamas I now wear - they're hand-me-downs from a friend. The pile of clothes in the hallway - most were given to us as well. The books, the dishes, even most of the mismatched furniture that we own - it all originated in the kindness of our many friends. And don't get me started on family: All this beautiful mess grew to its present state through the loving gestures of so many. How could I resent it at all? For in every thing out of place, every 'extra' item I find, there's the tangible presence of blessing. Not only have we been gifted with more than we need, we're in a country, a life, a time filled with plenty as well.

And it's a beautiful thing to be so gifted. Nothing to scoff at, after all. I think of the many, here and in other countries, who would stare open-mouthed at my callous treatment of this bounty. I take so much for granted. I take so much ... let that be granted. But, with this season of gratitude now upon me, I hope to be giving so much, as well. And I can begin by acknowledging the lavish blessing of the life into which I've been born. It really is cluttered. But were I elsewhere, were I even viewing my life through any outsider's objective gaze, I'd realize at once that there's a beauty in this clutter I don't often see. It speaks of wealth I do not deserve. It speaks of plenty. And if I listen closely, I believe it will also speak of my need for an equally rich existence in spirit. Let me not take any blessing for granted. Let me understand when I have accrued more than I need and be willing to share my blessings with others. Let me not hoarde or ignore, but let me enjoy, give thanks, and keep order among the numerous gifts I've been given.

And in so doing, let me find grace and humility to thank the Giver of all these good gifts. My clutter may not be my ideal, but it can serve as a constant reminder to look upward with gratitude for this unique opporunity to care for so many beautiful gifts. May I do that far more often than I do now ...

... and may I also find it within myself to clean that hallway ...

... tomorrow.

Vitamin Dissolve

How much time do I spend in making resolutions? In my opinion, far too much. Obviously, it's not just New Year's that captures my attention. It's new birthdays, new eras in friendships or family, new posessions, new schedules, new responsibilities ... the list goes on. Each of these things inspires me to aim for my best - to set standards I will consistently aim to meet. And, while the bettering of myself is inherently a good cause to pursue, I have come to see that all the bettering - all the resolving - in the world will not stop me from failing. As often as I rightly and consistently set out to keep any resolutions, I will fail and forget them as well.

This is not meant to be negative. It is simply a fact of existence. "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," after all. It's not just me; it's the whole world. But I tend to take these failings so persronally -as if I really am the only one in the universe to miserably disappoint myself so often.

So tonight, as an exercise in freedom and grace, I'm choosing, just for a change, to un-resolve certain things. To dissolve them, if you will. And I'm going to start with a big one.

Dissolved: The belief that I have the power to keep all my resolutions without failing.

Dissolved: The notion that others do, too.

Dissolved: The concept that I alone fail so often at the things I hope to do best.

Dissolved: The feeling of personal responsibility for my inherently fallen existence.

Dissolved: The subsequent urge to pin on myself unnecessary shame and revulsion that leaves me unable to accept genuine Love when it's offered.

Dissolved: The belief that genuine Love must be offered with motives beyond the simple desire to be near me.

Dissolved: The wearing of these previous beliefs like a lead necklace, dragging me down with each step.

Dissolved: The need to rehash them in varying forms throughout every day.

Dissolved: The lack of freedom such rehashing brings.

Dissolved: Any desire to be other than that which God has created me to be. And, in conjuction with this, the belief that God wills me to be just like person A, B, or C in order to truly please Him.

Dissolved: The feeling that any mercy given to me must be given out of obligation or duress, not from pure and abiding affection.

Dissolved: The need to 'earn' the affection I have somehow, miraculously stumbled upon.

Dissolved: The need to make others earn my affection in the same way I once thought I had to earn God's.

Dissolved: The desire to moderate my enjoyment of good things, believing they don't come along very often and must be treasured and doled out accordingly.

Dissolved: The propensity to hope in muted tones, expecting disapopintment and preparing myself for the worst.

Dissolved: The need to give myself acts of subconscious penance, hoping to atone on my own for my sorry state.

Dissolved: The lack of relinquishing the atoning, forgiving, and remaking of my own self to the One who atoned for, forgave, and made me in the first place.

And finally ...

Dissolved: My right to experience life, joy, and freedom to anything but their fullest and most pure extent.

----

With all this dissolving going on, I must spend a little time on the concept. As I dissolve each of these habits or beliefs, I see them disappear, floating out in smaller and smaller bits into the great absorbing Presence of One willing to dissolve ever more burdens and pain. I am relieved to see that when the process is complete, no evidence remains of these burdens. Instead, I see a pure and endless solution before me - the greatest Solution ever, one capable of handling all the things needing to be dissolved in the whole world.

This gives me immense satisfaction. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, I can continue to dissolve each and every negative vestige of unspoken, subtle deceptions. I can rid myself of those things that cloy and cling, leaving me feeling weighted down with ornaments far more harmful than worthy of another moment's attention. I can be free, unfettered, at peace. And if I wake in the night, feeling strangled by unspoken weight yet again ... I can simply relive this process. My Maker is waiting. He's ready. Just as He has been aching to take my resolutions nad make them lived out in Him, so He is anxious to receive each of these items to dissolve, holding them for a moment and then setting them free, to His glory and my joy, forever.

And no matter how great any resolution might be, it cannot compare with the lasting power of the eternal freedom I can experience right now - with the simple act of Dissolving.

Vitamin Peace

Morning,
And the feathers of this new day's bird
Are as yet unruffled.

The house sleeps quietly.
The heater drones on.
The hum the computer
accompanies the tune
of my own private thoughts.

The cat in my lap
stands and stretches.
Across the hall, the children awake.

This room is serene, but
there's a chill that seeps in
through a gap in the kitchen front door.

I stand.
I stretch also.

Perhaps the quilt of these moments
will blanket my day
with patchwork pieces
of grace.

Vitamin Privilege

Last night, I went to the mall with a friend. It was late, and we ended up closing down several stores before sitting on a bench just inside the main entrance ... and praying. During prayer my friend mentioned how blessed we are to be able to pray in public like that, without fear.

She was right.

I also find it amazing that I can wake up, feed my children a full and substantial breakfast, put dishes into my dishwasher to be cleaned, dress everyone in beautiful and well-made clothing, read them a selection of books from our overflowing children's library, drive downtown to visit a pristine park on base, and have lunch with my husband - all without incident or fear.

While we had lunch at said park, a gaggle of emergency vehicles convened on the fast-food restuarant across the street. And again, I thought of our blessed existence. Someone flipping burgers can pull a little lever when he or she senses danger, and immediately, the burger-fliping joint will be evacuated while four emergency vehicles rush to the rescue. Truly, we have it far better than we realize in this vast, free country of ours. I hope I never take these blessings for granted.

Vitamin Stream

The canyon begins as a barely-perceptible rift in the New Mexico landscape. It is wide, and gentle. We walk up the sandy flatlands that span its base without really thinking 'canyon,' and proceed in this manner for at least a mile. We are engrossed in conversation, my husband and I. We are preoccupied.

But slowly, the canyon walls start to narrow. On either side, the hills turn themselves inwards, forming the funnel-like shape through which we must pass. The air around us begins to cool. A stream appears at our feet: First a trickle, and then a small gush, it sends the first signal that up ahead, all is not quite as seems. Water lurks somewhere above. A spring, perhaps. A hidden pool. We quicken our pace and move on.

The terrain becomes slightly less friendly. The incline slowly increases. Rocks appear, humping up from beneath the coarse sand like beasts of dubious origin, raised to do battle against unwelcome intruders. Cactii and desert thorns block our path. We cross and re-cross the stream, sometimes slipping in the mud, sometimes losing our balance on rocks worn smooth by the silent rush of the stream.

Further on, we reach a rock wall. It is a simple climb, but I feel as though it has been placed there for a reason. A huge, segmented boulder welcomes me at its top - looking like a petrified dragon, a relic of battles gone by. But this dragon has seen better days. While it creates an imposing facade, it literally leans back onto the rock wall behind it, creating a grotto from whose shadows emergethe first peaceful waters we've seen on this hike.

There is a sound of falling, of tumult, and I venture a few steps further in. Beneath the fallen dragon, hidden in the perpetual twilight of its hulking form, a cascade of springwater awaits me. It is a spring, my husband informs me. Further ahead, it bubbles silently out of the ground. But here, for the first time, it falls with the riotous splash of a current enlivened by gravity. Here in the dark, in the cave-like embrace of the earth.

I am touched.

Of all the locations this stream could have given voice to its existence, it sings that first song right here. Here, where quiet would normally reign. Here, where sunlight cannot bend to shine. I think of that verse from an old Book, "He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” (John 7:38) I look and listen with the eyes and ears of my heart, and I hear voices calling out to me from this scene - reminding me that wherever my life-path might take me, I am called to sing out my own song with the insistence of this simple stream. Indeed, I am more than called to this task: I am promised that I will so do. It becomes my joy and my destiny, the hope and the faith upon which I hang all my deepest desires.

I smile. We walk on. Another stream crossing, a brief look ahead to where the canyon narrows and steepens still further. And then a gentle retreat as we find a new path back toward home. From below, as we walk a high trail near the streambed, the water glints through the trees like thousands of all-knowing eyes. And yet this does not make me shudder. These eyes, the sight of the great Knower that watches my every move and inhabits the very streams I hope to put forth, hold no terror for me. They are gentle, full of promise and of love. They are worthy enough to believe in. And they speak of my freedom.

We walk lower, and reach the point at which the spring's waters fade back into the sand. I feel no sadness in this - instead, I feel peace. This stream, a beloved reminder of who I am and Who gives me life in the first place, will surface again. In some humble, secreted spot, in a place ready and willing to accept it, it will rise. And until I see it again, I take comfort in knowing its memory lives in my heart -a spring of its own, rising up to quench the desert lands through which it now flows.