"DANCING"

     It was a crisp, fall day. Just enough leaves were on the ground to make a crunching noise as I walked the trails through the woods. The leaves, in variegation's of browns, golds and yellows, still clinging to the trees, gave off an illusion of sunlight shining through the canopy above me.

     Twenty minutes of walking was all I needed to complete my exercise routine for that day. With headphones tuned to my latest favorite songs,  the "Tinker Bell Soundtrack", I walked to the beat of the music. Slow and then fast, the songs encouraged me to stay in a healthy rhythm as I stepped and stomped on dry leaves. For my body, it made me healthier. For my spirit, it filled me with joy. Today I could not help but dance.

     Arms moving in unison and in expression to the music, my spirit soared. Joy and elation filled me full. How could I hang onto this jubilation I feel right now, I asked myself. Dancing, marching, stepping, my body soared right along with my spirit.

     Then I saw Him. He took my breath away. I could only stop and stare. He stood in front of me, robe pulled up between His legs and tucked into His belt.

     And then He danced.

     Legs bent high, He awed me with His jubilation. He was dancing to my happiness. He was happy because I was happy.

     I could do nothing but watch, His feet lifting high as He did what seemed to be an Irish Jig. He wanted me to watch Him dance. He wanted me to see what joy I had brought to Him by my joy.

     "Watch how I do it! I'll teach you to do MY dance," He seemed to say. No audible words did I hear, only loud thoughts. That was how I knew it was Him. For that is how He speaks to me...through my thoughts and imagination.

     Dancing, joy, glee, jubilation. We showed each other these things that day. Our joy for each other was united. We were one in our rejoicing of life and living! Each of us filled with the joy and elation of the other.

"CORRECTING A WISH WITH A RENDEZVOUS"



     I had looked forward to this 'alone time' for weeks. The opportunity to finally do things on my own, I would think. I am truly the head of the family, at least for these three days.

     But life is full of surprises. Sometimes when we get what we wish for it's not really what we want.

     I missed my man of 37 years. I  missed him just minutes after he left for his three day camping trip with the men of our church. The days became longer than I'd expected, not seeing him as usual at the end of his work day.

     He would call often from the campground by cell phone and say he missed me, too. I would stay close to the phone so as not to miss his calls. I felt like a teenager missing her boyfriend after seeing him at school.

     He asked what I planned to do while he was gone. I told him of my desire to stroll through the Japanese Garden at Lake Sakajawea; thirty minutes from where I was and an hour and a half from where he was. We made a date, a rendezvous, to meet secretly so as the men of the church wouldn't know our plans. We'd meet for only half an hour, maybe enough time together so we wouldn't miss each other so much. We just might satisfy our loneliness with minutes of togetherness.

     Waiting at our meeting point, I see his car. There he is, I think. I could feel my heart beating faster. How silly a thing love is. After 37 years together and only 27 hours of seperation causes my heart to raise in seeing him again. Oh, how I love this man.

      He held me in his arms. Ahhh, so familiar, so safe, so warm and familiar. My heart knows this place and cozies right down, as if it were being wrapped in a warm quilt.

      No, don't make selfish wishes. They never come to fulfillment....not in the way we think they will.  But sometimes they teach you the truth of something.  In my case, the truth of where my heart is satisfied; with my man of 37 years.

    

"...AND I FLY!"

     I prepare to leave. I’ve exercised and stretched my wings in preparation for this day. I am ready.

     I leave behind family and friends, only for awhile. I will miss them, think about them. When I return I will share visual adventures through the art of words.

     I will return with souvenirs: stories to imprint on their imaginations and inspiration for their own life’s adventures.

     I don’t say goodbye. I rise before anyone else, even before the sun.

     Just as the sun skims above the horizon, I start my assent. Running, I spread my wings and scoop the air underneath them. The very action of fluttering captures atmosphere under each individual feather. Captured, and with no time to escape, air lifts me upward….

     And I fly!

     ‘Anywhere’ is my destination, for I’ve seen nothing of the earth in this way, at this altitude. All destinations are a new adventure; a new danger; a new exploit. I seek beauty from a different perspective. I search for unique objects and creatures and the mystery of life as seen from above it; a possible “God’s perspective”.

     Floating, swooping, gliding.

     It is everything I have dreamed it would be. My body doesn’t hold me back. I flap my wings just once and glide on a soft cushion of air. I am going to ‘Everywhere and Anywhere’. Every possible destination is my goal. No words describe the freedom I am absorbing.

     This is freedom. It must be what the spirit feels when it is released from the bonds of a body. Lightness, joy, elation, jubilation. Only words. It can’t be described by words, only experienced.

      I never want to go back to that earthly life and its gravity. No, never.

      And I fly…

FOLLOWING MY SHADOW

“FOLLOWING MY SHADOW”

(September 1, 2009)

                                    
     I turned to face my own shadow...spread out upon that boggy expanse.

     Having wandered off the path and leaving the other hikers behind, I come to a strange looking wooden walkway.


     Why had this walkway been built in the middle of nowhere? 

    
     Carefully I tested the boards with my foot. Each board seems to give a little on the soggy soil that supports them. They bend, but they dodn't sink. Underneath them, a soggy bog waits to swallow them up and hide their destination forever.

     What is the purpose for this walkway? I wonder.  My curiousity is peaked; I creep forward, testing each step, wanting to descover this hidden destination. 

     The walkway turns away from the sun, winding in an easterly direction. My shadow walks beside me, over the bog and walkway-less. He is braver than I.

      Ok, I think. If my shadow is telling me he is brave, than I should follow.

      I trudged on, knowing I am heading into an unknown place.

      

      I can see, ahead of me, a tangle of trees that this precarious boardwalk leads to. They are hiding something.

 

      I approach the stand of willowy trees. They stand as if they are sentries that guard a hidden perimeter. I see a houseboat floating among a fort of bamboo trees and sprawling vines. 

 

      Nature was protecting this hidden find; a houseboat amid a bog.

 

      "Is anyone here?" I call out.

 

      My voice interrupts the songs of birds and the mating calls of crickets. No answer back.

 

      I enter the houseboat to discover its inner secrets.

 

      Water rats and opossums have built their homes inside. and removed human spaces in order to make them their own.

 

      I move slowly deeper inside the houseboat. My eyes roam about the inner recesses of this camoulaged animal den. Bog animals scatter when they discover they have an intruder. I don't want to disturb thier little paradise, and I turn to leave them. 

 

 

      I retrace my steps, and move a bit faster now that I knew the walkway will hold my weight.

 

      With my shadow in tow, I leave this discovery behind, knowing it is better without me. It had been a mini-adventure.  It remains as a picture in my mind...and I leave it undisturbed there.

     

"DREAMING DALILA"

 

  "DREAMING DALILA"

(June 23, 2010)

    Dalila sat at the waters edge in a state of wonder. How could the world be so beautiful and yet scary at the same time?

    She loved to listen to the stream as it played among the rocks and rills. Little whirlpools swirled here and there. She watched as miniature fish played a game of tag with each other. She had chosen a favorite little fish and cheered him on as he became the winner of the game.

    Her eyes were diverted to a swarm of midge. These tiny bugs had formed a dance troupe above the murmuring stream. They swooped and danced to the waters' song. Right before her eyes, the bugs turned into tiny fairies. With fluttering wings, they danced and swooped to a choreographed waltz; fairy ballerinas delighting in the freedom of being unconfined. Dalila saw herself among them. She was the elegant 'midge-fairy' at the very top of the swarm. She led each one in their best dance. She, as the lead fairy, taught them how to move in grace to the musical stream.

 

     Dalila was a dreamer; from just a girl at the streams edge, to a 'dance teacher of fairies. She had come into her own right....it was the time to dream.

   Her father was a dreamer. Her grandmother was a dreamer. It was now her time to step into her own time of dreaming.

   Where would her dreams take her? She would sit and wonder.

   To places no one else could go. To do things no one else could do. And in these dreams, all her desires would come true...she had come into her inheritance of dreams.

   Passed on from generation to generation, Dalia would find that dreaming would put her farther ahead of others in life. She would become wiser and more thoughtful then other girls her age. She would 'see' things other girls couldn't. They would come to her, not knowing why, to just be where she was. She would draw others to her because she was a "dreamer".

   Dalila would be a 'unique' woman of this world; many friends, many adventures, and find much secret treasure that others would never find.

   Dalila the dreamer had inherited her dream status. And it was uniquely her own. No one was, or ever would be like Dalila the dreamer!

"THE MANY FACES OF GLORIA"

“THE MANY FACES OF GLORIA”

 

    It’s a slap in God’s face to be unsatisfied with who He created you to be. When we try to become someone else or to create in yourself a fake person, it’s as if you are telling God that what He created in you isn’t good enough…isn’t perfect. Didn’t the Holy Spirit tell God the TRUTH when He finished creating you and then said, “She’s finished…and she’s PERFECT!”

   Let me ask you… have you seen anything that God has created that ISN’T perfect? Look at nature. From a blade of grass to the alignment of the planets…each are perfectly made and for a perfect purpose. Why should God’s creation of the human-being be any less perfect?

   My friend, Gloria, is looking for perfection; perfection of God within herself…but without God’s help.

   Here’s her story:

  

   Gloria was raised by a family that didn’t know much about God.

   She was raised by parents that were very social.

   Her parents’ friends were very important to them. So, if there was an imperfection, it was to be hidden so as to not look ‘sociably unacceptable". She, along with her family, frequently wore  “masks”.

  Gloria was taught to ACT at a young age. So, it’s natural that she should ‘act the part’ in every stage of life that she went through as she grew older. Each stage had its own mask. She had these personas perfected.

     Late in life, Gloria found Jesus. For the first year, her salvation gave her the freedom that she sought after. The mask came off……at least for awhile.

   As time went by and God started to grow her up by trials and she realized that she didn’t know as much about God as many others in the church. She’d accepted Jesus late in life and had lost all the ‘time’ that the others had had in order to grow spiritually.

  The thought of others knowing more than she did nagged on her. She decided to study…..to find head knowledge…..to be able to “fit in” or “stand out” with her church family.

   Jesus’ brothers accused Him of this same thing, of wanting to STAND OUT without being REAL…..”You want attention, Jesus? Then get out and show Yourself to the crowds that are here for the festival. Do all Your miracles in front of them, and make a SHOW, and You will be well known.”

   But Jesus refused…and why? The reason was in His answer. He said,” The TIME for Me has not yet come.” (John 7:2-5)

    Jesus waited for His Father to tell Him the RIGHT TIME to SHOW HIMSELF.

   When something comes from God, it is true…IT IS REAL! Jesus knew this, and waited for truth.

  If Gloria would have waited for God’s direction…His timing… it would have been real in her, too.

  But Gloria continued her seeking man's way and not God's way.

  The more she studied the more facts she learned. She grew in head knowledge without spiritual knowledge. Sure, she impressed her friends at church with her facts, but the spiritual knowledge was missing. Where was God in all this? She hadn’t sought God’s Spirit…the teacher of spiritual wisdom, knowledge, understanding and truth.    

   Her flesh was trying to control. Her pride was trying to take over. She truly wanted to stand out among her brothers and sisters in Christ. She had decided that this was the way to do it. She PUT ON the ‘Jesus-mask’ without the Jesus CHARACTER. And the fakeness couldn’t be hidden. The truth of GRACE through the Holy Spirit was missing.

  

  We all know someone who is like Gloria…someone who says the right words and maybe, even does the right things….but somehow we can tell it’s fake. The Holy Spirit isn’t revealing the truth through that person. And so, their words and actions seem fake.

   These are the people who have desecrated the name of Jesus. They “put on the mask” but underneath that mask they have painted faces with no spiritual life. No truth. Just a mask, self-painted to look like a Christian. Could this be the warning we see in the Bible of false prophets? Those who LOOK real……

 Mat 7:15 "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.

   So, where did Gloria go wrong?

   She sought the truth that others had, but sought it in HER own way…..not God’s way. She sought HEAD knowledge and not HEART knowledge; heart knowledge that can only come from the Spirit of God.

    When we receive salvation, God opens a way for the Spirit to move in us.

    It’s our job to make way for Him. It’s our job to seek God’s truth, by surrendering to Him. To allow God to heal us and make us EXACTLY what He created us to be.  PERFECT and UNMASKED!

    In reality, the perfection inside us is JESUS….but we must allow the Holy Spirit to bring out Jesus’ character, not our own.

   I pray that someday Gloria will give her mask to God. I pray that God’s very own Spirit will reveal that the work is done…and now she can rest in the completed cross. I pray that her life, under the ‘Jesus-mask’ would be Spirit-breathed. I pray that she would find TRUTH.

  

Luke 8:17 "Whatever is hidden away will be brought out into the open, and whatever is covered up will be found and brought to light.”        

God's Reward of My Russian Lady

  

“GOD’S REWARD OF MY RUSSIAN LADY”

(a day of volunteering at a food bank)

   Shoulders touching and hands reaching. Many stood in line waiting or moved along to the next choice of food. Amid the hub-bub of hungry, searching people, I saw her approach our table to make her bread choice. She was just one among the many needing help in hard times.

   Her Russian heritage was evident in the build of her body. Not overweight, she had a strong body structure, revealing that she came from a lineage of large-boned people.

   Her long hair, half swept up into a bun, swayed with her words, as if it helped her speak. Dark brown, it matched her eyes and again revealed the Russian heritage.

   Self confidence carried her to her full stature of 5 feet 10 inches. A woman that knew what she wanted and where she was going, she emitted satisfied peace.

   Neatly dressed and always clean, a pride in being in America and among freedom was revealed through her stylish American clothing.

   Her eyes and face always seem to glow with a secreted happiness deep within. She can not hide her inner beauty that is combined with her outer appearance. She’s beautiful through and through.

   She smiled as she approached me, with that “I’m so glad to see you”, smile of hers.

   I had been thinking about her on my way to the food bank and told her so before we greeted each other with Russian kisses on lips and cheeks. I knew this greeting looked odd to others, but I also knew it gave her comfort, knowing that just one American could emit love as her home town people did.

   We smiled at each other and said the usual ‘how are you, how was your week?’ She once again told me how she looks forward to seeing me.

   Always optimistic and proud of her freedom, she has told me of the oppression she suffered in Russia for being a Believer in Jesus. Shunned and ostersized by her own country, she loved the freedom that Believers have in this country. Her old country treated her with predgidism and limited her in many ways.

  Loving to hear her speak English, I ask her questions in order to hear her accent. She speaks English very well and yet broken. The English slang she has acquired sounds much more interesting when she speaks it.

  A short greeting, a ‘how are you’, a choice of bread and then our goodbyes. That is all there is to our relationship. But how she has impacted my life is so much more than the time we have spent together over the bread table. She reveals our taken-for-granted-freedom in her everyday life. She reveals the self-confidence of a woman who has been freed from oppression. She reveals the joy of a woman freed by the salvation of her Hero, Jesus. And she shows the love of the Hero who lives within her.

   I don’t know her name, but I know her love. I don’t know where she lives, but I know we are sisters. I don’t know if she is married, but I know who her Husband will be.

   The main thing I know about her is that we love each other. She gives me joy and receives mine. And we dwell in the same kingdom among the free…The Kingdom of God in the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. She experiences both these homes.

   This is my friend, the Russian Lady. I share her with you so that you will know just one of the special people I have met and loved through working at the food bank.

   You may think that we help the hungry more than they help us. Oh, but you are so wrong. The love we receive from these people help us to know that God is everywhere and in each and every person. These people are the evidence of God’s love. Their love to me gives me hope and the motivation to keep on going, keep on living, keep on loving.

   One day, I hope to somehow give back to them what they have given to me. I don’t know how or what or when, but I do know that God will reward them even if I can’t.

   So, I pray, God bless these people. Reward them for rewarding me, Your daughter. Reward them for loving through broken pride. Reward them for giving when they came to take. Reward them for thinking of others when they thought they had come for themselves. And thank You for rewarding me with them. Thank You, Lord…and Bless these wonderful people. Amen.

Nancy Bauer (10-31-2009)

"ELSEWHERE!"

"ELSEWHERE!"

     ELSEWHERE! Anywhere but here, I thought as I stood amid the staunchy men and woman on the steps of the church.

     How could they be serving the same God? They were starched and somber. They were word-particular and straight faced. My God was easy and humourous. Did not we serve the same God?

     Full of discust, with a heart screaming for escape, I'd had enough. Anywhere was better than this somber place of bored and tired actors.

     I spotted an old bike parked at the corner down the street. A sign, "Rent Me", beckoned me. Desperation made me rude. In the middle of yet another unending, boring conversation of 'our life deserving death', I turned my back on those preoccupied converts. I briskly walked to the bike on the corner. The sign seemed to supernaturally change to say, "Nancy's Ticket to ELSEWHERE!".

     Paying the man for the bike rental, I removed my high heel shoes, pulled my long, fancy skirt between my legs and into my belt, and straddled that bike.

     Peddling away, I glanced back at the stodgy group on the church steps. Their mouths stood open as they stared at me. I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking.

     "Wish that was me!" one would be thinking. "I can't believe how rude and ungodly she is!" thought another.

     I didn't care! I was on my way to ELSEWHERE and freedom. No more tedium or boredom for me. I would now explore the true created world with God-filled joy! For that's the God I know!

"THE IMAGINEERING HAT"

"THE IMAGINEERING HAT"

    As we get older, we tend to search for what is missing in our lives. We long to recapture the youthful dreams and imagination we had as a child. We ask ourselves how we can get our youth back.

    My own search began in my mid thirties. To my surprise, the rediscovery of my childhood imagination came in the form of an ordinary hat.

 * * * * *

    The hat hung lifeless on the display rack. I recognized the hat as a replica of the hat worn my Jane in the animated movie Tarzan. With its weave of dried grasses and a black bow, the hat had suddenly appeared out of the world of animation and into the real world. I wondered if the hat and I could bring Jane's adventures to life.

    With hat in hand I made my purchase. I stepped outside the shop and adjusted the hat on my head.

    An imaginary world came to life.

    Thoughts of wild adventures from long forgotten dreams began to resurface. Wild exploits on jungle safaris and raft trips down seltzer-foamed rapids became a reality in my mind. The sweltering humidity of the jungle and the churning mist from the rapids moistened my forehead.

    I reached up to wipe off the droplets, my finger brushing the course hat brim. The texture of the brim turned into a jungle vine. As I closed my eyes, I swung on draping vines from one canopy of trees to another, the long, stringy vine gripped between my fingers.

    With eyes still closed, my ears slightly covered by the hat's brim, I heard unfamiliar sounds. The repetitive call of jungle birds, the thud of a gorilla thumping his chest, the chimpanzees claiming their territory in audible chatter made my heart pound.

    I removed the hat, opened my eyes and examined the weave of the reeds and grasses used in the hats creation. The pattern of the weave, tight and sturdy, would detour insects and protect my head from the sun.

    My nose caught an aroma of dried grasses from the hat when a slight breeze brushed by us. The smell of vegetation warmed by the sun made me know my imagination was in the middle of it's created jungle.

    The menagerie of trees, foliage and flowers had blended in a natural and harmonious way. Their fragrances, a mixture of Gardenia, mosses and musky air, had exposed a perfect experiment courtesy of nature's genius. This jungle had been carefully prepared just for me by my imagination.

    The sleepy sedative of jungle humidity, once again created by my imagination, lulled me toward an imaganary hammock tied between two palm trees. I rested there until time and reality summoned me back. Reality shook me awake.

* * * * *

    Today I take wishful glances at the hat as it hangs prominently in my kitchen. I wash the dishes, feed the cat and go back to the everyday chores of a woman.

    I cherish the fantasies of my imagination. I know these adventures are accessible anytime I need a journey to refresh childhood magic, and a break from real life.

    The adventures are always there, imagnineered by my hat.

Dream Corridor

     I hear a voice in my dream:

     "Come in. Let me envelope you inside my dream for you. Each door along this corridor leads to a specific dream, a world I have chosen for you to see. Each dream holds a new adventure in a differnet time."

     And so I enter into my dream.

     A long corridor holding many doors stands before me; lures me. 

     I enter the first door along that corridor.

     Inside this doorway, I enter the dream of a young girl. I remember this dream. I was five. My best friend was my doll, Molly. Now she stood before me as a living, breathing person, exactly as I had imagined her to be. She took my hand and lead me to a table where our tea sat ready. It was just as I had dreamed it in my daydreams.

     Then I am in the corridor once again. I enter the second door.

     I now was in my teenage dream. The same dream I had dreamed many times.

    A large white horse held my prince, who was dressed in silver armor. He held out his arm for me to swing up onto the horse.  I ran and jumped into his arms as he effortlessly swung me to sit before him. And yes, we rode off into the sunset. This time I could feel my prince's arms. This time it was real.

    Again I appeared in the corridor.

    The third door opened before me.

    I was in a familiar living room, one I had dreamed of many times. A fatherly man sat reading his newspaper. I could hear dishes clattering in the kitchen. A young girl and boy were busily setting the table for a meal; my brother and little sister. They chatted about their day at school all the while laying out place settings for five.

    I saw myself, at a young teenager, stirring a pot of homemade soup on the kitchen stove. Yes, I remembered this dream. And now it became real. My family taken back in time.

   The last door opened wide, as I stood in the dream corridor.

   Before me stood another dream. It seemed much different than the others. Nothing was familiar; everything was new.

   I opened the door wider but not entering. I stared in awe as the sun shone in that dream, kissing everything before me  with glitter and shine; everything glimmered. 

   Fields of green grass gave off an unknown color as the suns rays gleamed down and magnified each blade of grass. Trees of an unknown species created awesome forests. Streams of crystal clear water, flowed between the field and the forest. I knew it was a special water that flowed there. And now, all I wanted was to live in this place. I wanted to drink that crystal clear water. I wanted to lay in that unusual colored grass, and touch every blade; smell each breeze that blew across the field. I wanted to explore that unique forest and search out each animal and bird. I had never been here before. It was a new and unexplored dream; one that I had the choice of whether to stay or leave....forever.

   I chose to stay.

   I  finally stepped through the doorway. Amazing smells met me; and filled me with new memories in the making. Warm, comforting breezes blew through my hair and kissed my cheeks, welcoming me there. 

   Was that movement over there?

   Yes, a small creature skittered under a nearby bush, then turned around to peak at me as if to say, 'I want to know you.'

   I knew that this little creature would allow me to scoop it up and cuddle with it. It had no fear of me. That was the kind of place this was.

   No, I wouldn't leave this place.

   Could this be Eden? I couldn't wait to find out...and live here forever. I didn't want to wake up.



"My Mud Sculpture Memories"

                                                     

                                

                      "MY MUD SCULPTURE MEMORIES"

(From writing prompt: "Why are you keeping it? Tell the story of a keepsake you own that can not tell it's own story.)

   They sit atop the shelf in the outdoor room.

   A cup, a snowman, a glob. All made from mud, hardened throughout the years.

   I can't bear to throw them away. They hold the last wonderful memories of the fun we had in the garden, my grandkids and me; the fun we had making mud pies, birthday cakes, forts and dinosaur caves; archaeological digs, and volcanoes.

   Year after year, Fox, Terra and Dalila and I would sit in the garden during spring and summer, mixing and pouring, sculpting and digging, laughing and singing, creating, and distroying. We would make mud into everything and anything.

   It started with my 3 year old grandson, Fox, pouring water in a dug out hole from newly tilled garden soil. We created a lake. The mound that he had dug out from the hole would become Mt. St. Helens in Fox's creative and imaginative mind. Fox then filled the dug hole with water. Dubbing it "Spirit Lake", he then slid from the top of Mt. St. Helens right into Spirit Lake, calling it the 'mud slide'. But it didn't stop there. Fox, at the wee age of 4-6 would slide down the mountain into the lake and call himself 'Mud Boy'. He had so much fun, not even caring that he would be needing a good scrubbing later.

   Treasure hunts were created, too, by hiding things in a mud pit. One of us would hide plastic dinosaurs, fake pirate jewels, green plastic soldiers and other little treasures. The other one would dig to find them all.

   Dinosaur scenes were created by sculpting hills and valleys and placing the dinosaurs 'just so'. Even dinosaur houses were built...a fort like structure to keep 'good' dinosuars safe from the 'bad' ones.

  One year when Fox was very little (maybe 3 or 4 years old), Fox's father came to pick him up. Fox would be in the garden among the corn stalks and pumplin vines. I'll never forget how Fox would find little niches and forts within the corn and pumpkins to hid in. There, he thought he could hide from Daddy, although he was in plain sight.

   Terra and Dalila, my younger grandkids, came along as they got older to join in the mud-fun.

   We began to create 'food' for Cinammon, our dog. Mostly daisy decorated cakes with stick candles on top were fashioned with special 'mud' ingredients. We always hid a real dog bone inside to keep Cinammon always interested in her cake. She would then 'dig into' her cake to find her treat, which the girls loved. "Cinammon loves her birthday cake!" they would squeel!

   Terra would get into the 'Mud Boy' fun, as Fox had in the past. (Dalila had, by then, moved to England to be with Daddy) Now both Fox and Terra, in our last-of-the-garden-days, would fill holes with water. They would then roll, slide or splash their way into a mud covered frenzy. (Grandma/Umma got alot of back-lash) They didn't care that Umma had to spray them with the cold hose to get most the mud off of them before they could come inside for a bath.

    The days of the 'ducks' came in the last of those garden days. Holes were now dug and filled with water for other uses...the ducks! "Rover" and "Twink" (short for "Twinkle-Twinkle-Little-Star", Terra's duck) would be 'placed' into the holes to see if they would swim or try to climb out. The deeper the hole, the harder it was for them to get out and they they would have to swim. That was great fun for the grandkids to watch. Many hours were spent in the garden with those two play-mates, Rover and Twink.

   The last year of the garden, we planted sunflowers into a 'house' shape. When the flowers grew up tall, they would be the walls of a house. Terra loved this flower-house and would spend much time inside with her books and weebles.

      The grandkids got older. Neighbors moved in behind our garden-play-land, leaving us without privacy. I got tired of the muddy mess, and the kids didn't care for it by now, either. Memories of spraying with cold hoses, Piggy-back rides into the bathroom to prevent mud soaked floors, and a mud splashed bathtub, stopped appealing to me, along with load after load of mud soaked laundry.

   The garden bacame more of a chore than a fun hobby. The tiller was sold, the garden covered with ground paper. and grape, blueberry and raspberry plants were planted, replacing mud pits, Spirit Lakes, Mt. St. Helens and dinosaur digs. 

   No more mud; no more garden. The garden years were over.

   But the memories live on in my mind.

   The proof of my memories are in the mud sculptures that I still cherish; the mud memories I'll always treasure! A carefree, fun-loving time of youth and imagination! They live on in my mind, heart and my mud sculptures!

  

  

  

"The Secret Garden"

“THE SECRET GARDEN”

   Even before He entered, the fragrances enticed Him. Sweet floral and citrus perfumes lured Him toward the opening.

   The access to this secret place, hidden among thick foliage, revealed itself by the light that emanated from the opening. He was drawn by what He knew He would find there; enticed, still more, by the unknown mystery that surrounded this captivating place.

   Passing under the vine draped archway, warmth kissed His cheeks with a gentle caress. Not a physical heat, this warmth came from spiritual passion. Love radiated throughout this place, soaking every pore of His body and Spirit. He ached to find the source of its passion.  

   The sound of various bird-songs mingled with gentle breezes among the tree branches, the bubbling of a brook, the rushing water of the water fall. Sweet sounds of this captivating place kept Him searching for what else He could find here.  

   Vivid reds, soothing blues, glorious gold and yellows; hues of every color mingled throughout the garden. The greens of growth wove among the foliage, creating contrast to each flower and shrub. Each flower, each tree and bush, thrived on what the other would give. Compassion grew everywhere.

   A cascading waterfall filled a crystal pool of deep greenish blue water. A gentle stream left its source, the pool, in order to touch each plant with its life giving liquid. Life pulsed through the little stream, bringing more life wherever it went. It whispered, “Love, life, growth” as it flowed over rocks and pebbles. This was the source of life in the garden; the Holy Spirit and a pure heart.

   He knew you were here. He knew you prepared this place for Him. He searches for you. He longs to be with you in this place. His love grows; wanting to hold you, wanting to draw closer to you.

   This is the Garden of Eden we create as our Secret Garden; our secret place to share with our Bride Groom, Jesus. This once forbidden place can be recreated. It is our place of intimacy with our Lord. It is the Garden of Eden that is now in our heart and spirit; the place of passion between us and our Jesus.

   Dear lover and friend, you're a secret garden,
   a private and pure fountain.
Body and soul, you are paradise,
   a whole orchard of succulent fruits—
Ripe apricots and peaches,
   oranges and pears;
Nut trees and cinnamon,
   and all scented woods;
Mint and lavender,
   and all herbs aromatic;
A garden fountain, sparkling and splashing,
   fed by spring waters from the Lebanon mountains.

Come, be intimate with Me.

With all my love,

Jesus

(Song of Songs 4:12-15 Message…italic written by me)

   The One you have fallen in love with has written you this love letter. He tells you that you are perfect and alluring. He wants to be with you in intimacy. He craves every part of you.

   How could you resist…WHY should you resist? You love Him.

   This is the desire of God’s heart. He created us for Himself. We were created by Him with a hole in our heart; a lacking of ‘something’ that only He can fill within this intimacy.

   The Garden of Eden was created for man and God to dwell together; a place of affection.

            Genesis 2:8  And the LORD God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed.

   Think about this….God’s dwelling place now, isn’t the Garden of Eden;  it isn’t the Tabernacle of David; it isn’t the great temple of Solomon; it isn’t the Tabernacle of David; it isn’t Herod’s Temple….it’s our heart and spirit; our quiet listening to Him; our intimate ‘one on one’ time we set aside for just Him. THAT is the Garden of Eden we create for our intimacy with Him. It’s within us.

     I want to go there…I want to plant the Garden of Eden within my heart. I want to lure my Bride Groom to me. I want intimacy with Him. I choose to ‘plant’ inside of me EXACTLY what He desires.

     I choose the Garden of INTIMACY with my Jesus!

"AGING TREE"

“AGING TREE”

        I stand wherever I am planted. I have no choice about where I age. I take what comes to me; heat, rain, snow, cold, darkness, light.

        Long nights and I am  alone; lonely. I may have thousands of other trees around me and yet I am lonely. I don’t know them; they don’t know me. I don’t know how I contribute to their lives and they have no idea how they contribute to mine. We are feet apart and yet miles away. Yes, lonely.

        All life is in motion around me. It can move and surround me. I can not move around it. I can not move at all. I have to take what life comes to me and observe it from where I am planted. I can only observe it from where I stand.  

        Life moves near and then disappears. I can not hold onto it. It passes by like a gentle breeze; here one minute, gone the next. Did it change me? Did I change it? Did we even have the chance to touch each other?

         What difference have I made among these thousand trees? Have I helped or hindered with any life at all? Have I cleansed the air or polluted the ground; produced seeds or hindered propagation; been I been a refuge for rot or a greenhouse for growth? When I whither and become forest floor, could I say that I have contributed to life or hindered it?

         I can only stand where I have been planted. In this place, I have to be satisfied with what is put before me. I can not search life out; it has to come to me. And so I am always waiting. Waiting for purpose; waiting for something to impact; waiting for answers…waiting, waiting, and waiting.

          As I age, I wonder why I even wait anymore; why am I even here, in this lonely forest of a thousand trees. What good will the remaining time do?

          I am an observer who longs to be a contributor. Have I contributed to life at all? If so, why is it so unknown to me? Shouldn’t I have been told when I had impacted another life, whether good or bad; made a difference here in this lonely forest of a thousand trees?

           And so I wait; not moving, not really living and only existing. Age comes and I become contribution to the forest floor; needle by needle; bit by bit.

           I stand wherever I am planted; I die wherever I am planted.

           And life passes by…

"GOD'S SECRET AGENTS BEHIND THE FOOD BANK TABLES"

“GOD’S SECRET AGENTS BEHIND THE FOOD BANK TABLES”

            (Nov. 12, 2009 food bank message by nancy bauer) 

     

    Can I tell you all a secret? We have secret agents sitting behind each table in this building.

   Hidden in earthly-body disguises, they are here on a heavenly mission. That mission is to serve you and me.

   These secret agents come in different ages, shapes, sizes, religions, and genders. They don’t look like anyone special, just ordinary people like you and me. Oh, but I’ve discovered their secret. They were sent here from heaven to us!

   You see, they came to enrich our lives and to show us what God does through His people. They came here to serve you and me.

   Let me tell you about them….

  

    One lady, who is still taking the risk of loosing her foot from an accident, struggles with going against her doctors orders and she just keeps on coming here to serve. She is here because her heart is in serving you and me.

    Three other ladies continued to serve you and me as they went through Chemo treatments for breast cancer. Loss of hair and physical weakness couldn’t keep them from their secret mission…serving you and I here, at the food bank.

    Still others of these servants have done amazing jobs in their lives…One of the ladies at the food bank took care of dying babies…held them in her arms as they took their last breaths. This is the same heart that she uses to serve you and me.

   One lady, whose heart is so dedicated to us, kept on coming even when her husband had just had his leg amputated. Her heart is to serve.

    One man whose heart is dedicated to help us comes lugging an oxygen tank behind him. We should be serving him, but he chooses to serve us.

    There are a few people who have served here for 16 years, one of which has been our human fork-lift during all those years. The hardest physical worker we have, he never once has been heard complaining. He has the heart to serve you. He’s one of God’s secret agents.

    One special man, Slim, was sent to serve you with the remainder of his life. As he was diagnosed with lung cancer, he continued to bless you with words from God and special poetry of love he typed onto book marks that he handed out to you. God blessed us with him…and now God blesses Slim in heaven for how he served us. He’s now God’s agent, no longer a secret.

    Still another woman who works in the clothing room, ministered in South America at remote villages. I love the story she tells of fishing in the Amazon River and catching Parana. Now this Parana fisherman serves us.

    One man who greets you as you go through these doors has gone around the world building churches. His skill as a construction worker is now used to serve you.

    Two of the workers that work behind the scenes at the food bank, have taken in those who need more than food. They have provided temporary housing, not thinking twice about opening their home. If there is a need, they find a way to fill it, even if it’s out of their own pockets. They give all their spare time to work behind the scenes in getting all this food here. They are daily serving you and me.

    There are also a few men who come here straight from 8-12 hours on their regular jobs. Their hearts are that dedicated to helping you and me. I’ve witnessed a few of them working to the point of collapsing. This is their service to us.

   And there is the woman who sits waiting for those who need special prayer, whose heart has been to serve you spiritually. This woman, as we are starting to discover, has been a super-woman in disguise. Not only was she an expert shot…killing her father’s rooster with one shot…but she supplied her family with heat by chopping truck loads of wood, drove the children’s church bus unfailingly for many years, and still found time to teach Sunday School with arts and crafts and stories.

   There are so many more stories behind the other ‘secret agents’ that I haven’t time to tell. Each one has their unique assignment…and we share the blessings of that assignment…because they have the heart of servitude.

   So now their secret is out. I’ve revealed to you these awesome people and their true identities. I am so honored and humbled by being able to serve with them. I thank God for putting me here in the midst of their example. Each one of them has touched my heart and spirit deeply. Each has changed my life to one of seeing past what is outside. Each one has given me an Example to strive to imitate…JESUS!

   Will you help me thank them today? Will you just say to them a simple ‘thank you’?

   But please don’t snitch on me for giving away their true identities……

   Instead, let’s pray for them:

Father, we thank You for bringing these ‘secret agents’ into our lives. Thank You for sending them to help us in our time of need. Thank You for gifting them with just what we need. Now we ask You to honor Yourself in honoring them. Bless them with just what would bless them, Father. Enrich their lives as they have enriched ours. Your word says, “If one of you wants to be great, you must be the servant of the rest;

and if one of you wants to be first, you must be the slave of the others…”. Father, these chosen secret agents have done this. Will you bless them with greatness…will you bless them with being first? We Praise You and give You the glory…for Your secret agents reveal Your glory.

We ask all this in the name of Your Son, Jesus.

AMEN…IT IS THE TRUTH!

                     SCRIPTURES ON SERVING

Mat 20:26-28 If one of you wants to be great, you must be the servant of the rest;  and if one of you wants to be first, you must be the slave of the others--like the Son of Man, who did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life to redeem many people."

Rom 12:6-8 So we are to use our different gifts in accordance with the grace that God has given us. If our gift is to speak God's message, we should do it according to the faith that we have; if it is to serve, we should serve; if it is to teach, we should teach; if it is to encourage others, we should do so. Whoever shares with others should do it generously; whoever has authority should work hard; whoever shows kindness to others should do it cheerfully.

Rom 12:11 Work hard and do not be lazy. Serve the Lord with a heart full of devotion.

Rom 14:19 so then, we must always aim at those things that bring peace and that help strengthen one another.

Gal 5:13 As for you, my friends, you were called to be free. But do not let this freedom become an excuse for letting your physical desires control you. Instead, let love make you serve one another.

1Pe 4:11  Those who preach must preach God's messages; those who serve must serve with the strength that God gives them, so that in all things praise may be given to God through Jesus Christ, to whom belong glory and power forever and ever. Amen.

1Pe 5:5 In the same way you younger people must submit yourselves to your elders. And all of you must put on the apron of humility, to serve one another; for the scripture says, "God resists the proud, but shows favor to the humble."

Psalm 100:2 Serve the LORD with gladness; come before His presence with singing.