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Window Seat Faith

Living by Faith and Enjoying the Journey

One Last Look

One last look from my window seat. Not that the view will be any different two days later, in 2017. But, I totally feel like I have to open my eyes and see God’s beauty; God’s light. 
He wants us to stop and smell the coffee. We can’t always be swept away in the blur of life’s time warp. We have to slow it down in our mind’s eye. 

Even from my train window the images that I capture are often a blur. I delete, delete and study each still moment. Regardless, I say thank you, Lord. I praise him for talking the ride with me. Pointing out all that’s going on eyeshot by eyeshot. Some places the sun breaks through with brilliance and other spots the clouds have their way. 

It frustrates me that my phone can’t capture the colorful outline of the freight trains, on the other side of the river. They’re so amazing to me and endless haul of what, I can hardly imagine. 

I feel it necessary to take a picture of the new bridge. I’m watching history; I’m living history. At the River gets wider and wider, my praise, slips into prayers, and then to meditation. And by Harlem-125th Street, I’m sleep. I force myself to shake off the slumber, then step off the train at Grand Central. I’m ready for my last day of work for the year. 

The peace I have is my constant companion. The Lord is by my side at my window seat and through my daily walk. This is my peace of mind, as I step from year to year. 

Milepost 2017

I wonder if writers are like musicians, who feel like they should be doing what they love when the New Year comes in. I’m looking at the calendar and feeling compelled to write; to document the year ending and the start to a new.

I find it necessary to make note of my heart and soul at this off ramp. It’s sort of like checking the gas gauge, mileage and scrolling through the GPS to see what’s on tap for the next leg of the journey. Maybe it’s a good time to step outside of myself and look back down the road. I’ve been there; I’ve done that.

I did a lot of living and a lot of writing in 2016. I had a lot to say, even when I didn’t. I tried to gather all of my writing and make it a book.

In essence, I opened my overstuffed closet, expecting to select the best “strut your stuff” outfits. Only to discover that many pieces had lost their shape, faded, incredibly dated or were just simply ugly. Instead of a trunk or even s suitcase full, I found myself with a few loosely pulled together outfits. Moreover, I felt like even if I ironed out the wrinkles, sewed on a button or snipped a lose thread; the pieces I selected had no defining style or relevance.

So, 2016 was my reality check. My year to ask myself, what does my writing really mean? Humbling myself to say to the Lord, “okay, no conditions.” God’s reply, “keep walking; keep writing.”

As I stand on the side of the road, a few miles away from 2017, I don’t want to know where I’m heading. I think I want to just want to continue on my journey, letting God lead the way. Come what may, I want to write with my eyes closed. I will allow my blind faith to lead me to the promise of purpose. I trust in the promise because I know that my gifts are for His Glory.

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Finding Myself Here

It’s 12:06 and I’m early for a 12:30. That’s what happens when you decide to jump in the pool, you show up before the pool even opens. I’m here. Did God bring me here or am I here on my knees seeking God? I’m sitting in a beautiful sanctuary in a wet suede coat. 

Yes, there’s the matter of the wrong coat and no umbrella on a downpour day; for the second day in a row. I didn’t know rain or this meeting was in the forecast for today. I stepped out into it with no looking back. 

On the other side—

The meeting was interesting and I absolutely felt like I was supposed to be there. It was as if I embarked on an engaging group trip. I felt welcomed and perfectly natural being there. 

I was totally about the journey but, I felt like I dragged in a grossly overpacked suitcase. I wanted to unzip and begin pulling things out. Except, the rule was only one outfit at a time, with limited accessories. The one minute arm went up before I knew it. 

Come back again; it works. Yes, I’ll come back again; my load already felt lighter. 

Who’s My Go To?

The women’s ministry at our church asked my mom, daughter and to give an intergenerational talk about our faith legacy. My mom is 82 and my daughter is 22 and I am smack in the middle with nearly a 30 year difference between both. 

The talk is a few weeks away still, but my daughter is receiving this call to speak on the heals of a powerful sermon she delivered yesterday. So, she’s already praying on direction and her place is the message. She called me with a thought that we could each share our point of view about the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. She felt like Jesus was her best friend and wanted to share about how that shapes her daily walk. She felt like I was more shaped by the Holy Spirit. And I guess my mom would speak about the Father. 

  • I found the concept of talking about the connection and innergenerational legacy of the Trinity could be an interesting discussion. However, I wasn’t to sure I wanted to solely focus on the Holy Spirit. 

I honestly feel like Father God has always been and is today, my Go To. You see, before I knew Jesus was my friend, loved me unconditionally and died for my sins, I spoke to God, I wrote to God. I simply knew God was there. I had a sense that He was a constant companion. 

I feel like somehow my parents, my family gave me that understanding and comfort.  I didn’t understand the power of the Holy Spirit and develop a sense to receive its guidance, until my adult life. 

As a mother, I find that I show my kids the strength and clarity that comes with knowing God, Jesus and receiving the Holy Spirit. I show them in my daily walk. And I pray that the Holy Spirit speak to them in a way that they can hear. 

I feel in my heart that if they know the Lord they will never be alone. If they know Jesus, they will know that their life will have light and purpose. And if they have the Holy Spirit, they will walk in accordance with God’s will. 

From Where I Sit

I’m an excited tourist on the train. 

I’m a leaf peeper. 

I’m a flower child soaking up all the energy from the amazing colors. 

I’m a Metro-North Getaway Girl. 

I’m a commuter on the most scenic train line. 

I’m blessed.


Daily Prompt: Underground

Daily Prompt: Undergroundvia Daily Prompt: Underground

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I’m in a row boat, making my way through a sea of people.  I’m taking short breaths and short strides as I make my way through the long passageways from the Times Square Shuttle to the A Train.  I try to study faces and the activity of all who pass.  Their side-by-side laughter, talking and rhythms make me feel like I’m a stranger in my own city. I seem to be the only one who thinks the underground   passageway is laid out in the most ridiculous way; far longer than any stretch of a block long.

I take short breaths and silently demand to know where the hell I am. It’s not about reading the signs; I know that I’m walking to 8th Avenue line.  I wonder if I’m the only one that wishes I was using an underground GPS. Does such an app exist?

I take short breaths and consider the day and time.  I can’t help the flash of reality that wherever I am, it’s not a good place, day or time to have the City fall under attack.

I take short breaths and spot an exit sign. I kick myself for being a New Yorker who appreciates the value of a free transfer.  As much as I would love to breathe deeply and see the sun, there’s no way, I would take an exit and pay my fare again.

I take another short breath and go down a flight of stairs to get another level further underground.  I step to the edge of the platform and look for a light in the tunnel.  And it occurs to me, that my time underground has just begun.

I take short breaths, as I step on the A Train which is running local on the F track.  I may not exhale again until I see the brownstones of Brooklyn.

 

Doing the Faith Walk

The faith walk isn’t a funky dance or an easy sidestep. These stories are reflections of my walk as a mom, wife and woman of faith. Walk with me — sometimes it feels like I’m walking a rope with my eyes closed, while carrying a kid that won’t hold on. I feel crazy, but yet I intuitively take the next step. Other times, it feels like I’m skipping down a road; anticipating something exciting.picture1

Other times I’m so weak that I feel like it’s not my walk at all. That’s when it feels like the wind is in my face and I am being pushed back beyond my control.

I move forward, but it is only because I have allowed my weight to lean on the Lord. I share because I know I’m not the only one on this road.

Art Credit:   Morgan Donahue

I pray that this light will shine on and on.

Feed Them

In September, I elected to be the family dog walker in the morning. I decided to give my sluggish body a good jumpstart in the morning, while giving my teen boys wiggle room to start their school day with one less routine.

As if that’s not enough, I received a text notification from my son, Dirani, “feed my turtles.” I could have fired back a text with a “get lost” response. But, yiu know I choose my battles and when I can I go with the flow. Dirani knows me, I didn’t need to respond. He knows I’ll feed his turtles.  Instead, of the turtles, his request triggered another thought. 

I thought of Jesus, “feed my sheep.”  I don’t remember scripture well, I remember it in my own words or in meaning. God knows that about me. I’m the one who can’t retell a joke. 

But, yes, I remember that Jesus wants us to feed His sheep. And He knows my heart. 

Love Your Life

Saying goodbye after a busy family weekend is always hard. Even in the madness of logistics and crisscrossing schedules, we somehow feel like we’re wrapped in a blanket of love. Pulling up to the train station with 10 minutes to spare, I couldn’t help wonder if saying goodbye is easier when you have to run for the train. It’s sort of like ripping the band off in 1-2-3!

Watching Girlie awarkwardly drag her duffle from the back to the front and shove a few miscellaneous items into her oversized shoulder bag, I felt her clinging to the blanket of love. Once out of the truck she closed the door, but her heart poured out through the open window. She complained about having to go straight to the college library when she got off the train. She asked me if I could believe that her group would make a date to meet on a Sunday evening. I simply said, “love your life, Girlie.”

She looked at me uncertain about what there was to love. She actually asked if she should?

I looked at her coiled pumpkin spice hair in the sun, her fly hat and her little girl worry. That little girl worry was fleeting. I knew she would get on the train and get into her zone. And by the time she reach Grand Central she would be so about her life.

I remember being 20 Something, I filled journals full of dreams, worry and amazing experiences. The 20s seemed to be an even mix of all of that and it went so fast. The dreams didn’t necessarily come true; the worries were really just me worrying about the dreams; and the experiences are now a blur. Oh how I wished that I’d relished the experiences, instead of trying to anticipate what was going to happen next.

Yes, love your life, Girlie. Go to your stdudy group and shine bright as the sun that dances in your hair. Then go to your birthright apartment, Brooklyn Girl. Enjoy your colorful sanctuary. Find comfort in the blanket of love that you’re creating for yourself.

As she walked away, I could clearly see that her dreams and worries can’t compare with what God is doing in her life today.

I pulled away, faithfully knowing that hertrain ride was just another leg of her beautiful life journey.

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