Tootling My Own Horn

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12

Ah. The bassoon. Who could ever create a finer sound and look so cool doing so? My dream, ever since I saw it in high school concerts, was to play one. But I never got a chance to learn it. Until...

Ellen and I searched for instruments to rent when I was in my thirties. She could find the ones she wanted: clarinet, flute. Instead, for twenty bucks, she bought a recorder.

Me? The owner of a music store told me I would have to buy bassoon. No one rented them. However, at a cost of $4,000, it wasn't an option. My daughter insisted on eating and having a roof over her head. (Demanding child). So I prayed, "Lord, if you want me to play the bassoon, You'll have to find one."

And guess what? Yep. He did. For ten bucks, I found one in a garage sale. And our band director at school had been a bassoon major. So now you say, "The rest is gravy. God willed it. Presto-virtuoso!"


Nope.

A few things interfered:

1. Abdominal surgery. It's hard to blow a bassoon with belly stitches.
2. The said band teacher moved.

But a dear friend who majored in music at Crane alerted me to a professor who would give non-Cranies lessons. You repeat, "Abra-ka-tah-tah-tah."

No again.

1. Seven years of traveling to Crane, produced a mediocre player.
2. So mediocre, my teacher got a job elsewhere.

 So what's my point?

Throughout this time, I knew God had answered my prayers. I met my husband who told me about the Adirondack Players. They took me on and taught me to play with a band. A member there alerted me to performance opportunities at Crane. I expanded my skills.

I now play second bassoon in a community band, in addition to first (read: only) bassoon in two other bands. And lo and behold (it's my blog and I can be cliche if I want to), I've been sight reading music, playing fast and accurately and sounding pretty good.

It took many years. It took due diligence and no symphony would ever take me on as even a stage hand, but I'm playing the bassoon.

God answers prayers. Usually not the way we expect, but if we're faithful, we will walk in His perfect way.

Fighting Snow-On-The-Mountain

Heb 12:15

See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.

 

Crawling on hands and knees, I curse (quite Christianly) the ground cover I once thought innocuous. The former owner of my home had planted it in the garden, and I, like a fool, thought it pretty.

Today, with mature beds this weed, which I’ve recently learned is Snow-On-The-Mountain, has overrun my garden and threatens to attack the town of Malone.

(Believe me, I’m not really to blame for this take-over of Malone even I could have conquered the stupid green thing with a mind of its own had I tried when it was small.)

To eliminate it, I have”

·          Mulched

·          Sprayed

·          Prayed

·          Torn both it and my hair out by its roots.

Despite these measures, when I leave my pristine flower beds for a day, those little suckers have once more reared their ugly leaves.

In order to annihilate this invasive plant, I must root out every fiber of its root. A small section left in the ground will set out tendrils and multiply exponentially.

So, too, is the sin in our lives. At one time I thought sin was harmless. If you loved someone, then “love” him or her physically. Man created gossip as a diversion. After all, we didn’t always have iphones and ipads to amuse us. And of course, we understand, we are so much better than the rest of society—like those who make front page news (of the yucky sort).

Some sin can be conquered easily. Our spouse may have let himself/herself go, but we understand it’s better to not pursue our coworker.   Other sins are like my notorious Snow-On-The-Mountain. Their roots tangle about our being. We pray, fast, confess, cover the stupid thing, and still it pops up. 

Continually.

What can we do?

Pray, fast, confess, read Scripture, and root it out. Unfortunately, some sin will always rear its enticing head—because it does, indeed, often beguile us.

But most important is to know sin’s nature. Don’t plant it. If we do, it will take over our lives.

Wear Red: The Color of Pentecost

A typical Western image of the Pentecost. Duccio di Buoninsegna (1308) Tempera on wood (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Fifty days after Easter comes the feast of Pentecost. For the Hebrews, this is the Feast of Weeks or the Feast of the Harvest. Although Israelites planted both wheat and barley at the same time, barley matured more quickly, and the Israelites reaped during the this feast while the wheat ripened in the fields. This is the second harvest. The first comes during the Christian Easter, the last during the last holy days in September or October.

The details of this holy day are found in Leviticus 23: 15-22. In a nutshell, these Scriptures define the feast of Pentecost in this way:

1. Fifty days after the Feast of First Fruits (the Christian Easter)
2. Sacrifice two loaves of bread and seven lambs
3. One goat is sacrificed as a sin offering, two more lambs are offered as a fellowship offering.
4. No work is to be done
5. During this feast, leaven can be consumed. In the final feasts, observant Jews will once again abstain from leaven.

Christians celebrate Pentecost as well. We find the establishment in Acts 2:1-4. During this feast the church was born with the following signs:

1. A sound like the blowing of violent wind came from heaven
2. Tongues of fire appeared
3. People spoke in other tongues

It is no irony that the Christian Pentecost occurred on the second major feast for the Israelites. The parallels between the feasts become salient when you learn that ancient rabbis believed Pentecost to be the day Moses came down from the mountain with the law. They called it the birth of Judaism or the Feast of the Giving of the Law. Note the following comparisons:

Birth of the Law                            Birth of the Church

Ex. 19:16-Lev. 20:1                                        Acts 2

Supernatural manifestations,                           supernatural manifestation, noise like

trumpets, thundering, lightening,                    a might rushing wind

thick clouds

fire, voice of God, law on a                            tongues of fire, grace engraved on the tablet of

tablet of stone                                                 our hearts

End result: fear                                               End result: peace

3,000 died                                                       3,000 found salvation and lived

Cannot look at Moses’ face                            the veil removed

The traditional church gives Pentecost the ecclesiastical color of red. Celebrate your observance by wearing red this Sunday.

Good Grief

Good Grief (Photo credit: Camps)

It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart. 3 Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better (Eccl 7:2-3
KJV)

Good Grief. Sadly, despair hits us all, and when it does, we think, "What a stupid term good grief is. How can it be good?" Apparently, God believes this to be true.

Wait a minute, you state (Yes, I know I'm schizoid and you didn't say anything), God wants us blessed. And that is exactly why grief is good. How? Let's consider.

1. Death comes to all of us. When someone we love or know casually dies, we will grieve. Therefore, we learn to not put off until tomorrow the encouragement and love we need to share today.
2. Discouragement plagues us all. We work hard, only to fail. But what happens because of failure? If we do nothing, it defines us. If we work harder, we will produce the good product we desired. J.K. Rawlings is renowned for stunning success after repeated failure. Colonel Sanders had his chicken recipe rejected 1,009 times before someone saw its merit. (http://www.onlinecollege.org/2010/02/16/50-famously-successful-people-who-failed-at-first/)
3. It makes us humble. Think about the braggarts you know, famous or not. Does anyone like them? 
4. It heals us. My Ecclesiastes' scripture clearly states sorrow's healing qualities. What niggles our mind? Where have we failed? If we correct those, the weight the devil heaves at us dissipates and we become truly free in the Lord.

Beauty Like a Goose: Ps 139:14

I thank you, High God — you're breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration — what a creation! (Ps 139:14, THE MESSAGE)

Geese. Flocks of them vee overhead and awe us with their magnitude. Here in Malone, they congregate at the local pond, sometimes making the water appear to be a solid gray mass.

Millions undifferentiated by millions more. I tried to capture that proliferation in my photographs, but instead caught one in flight. And the beauty of the individual captured my imagination more than the bounty of the flock.

The round body captured the dim afternoon light and displayed his plumpness. Each feather is delineated, the curve of the wing fans like a flamenco dancer.

An ordinary goose is intricate, beautiful, vibrant and alive. And if a goose has such beauty, what about us? Travel to any city and see our proliferation. Those mobs annoy us, bump us, delay us. But God looks through the masses and see the individual. Intricate. Beautiful. Flawed. And His love blazes for each being.

How awesome is that?

The Woes of Peter Pumpkin Eater's Wife

Image via Wikipedia

     I married Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Unbeknownst to me, my husband stuck me in a pumpkin shell. Now all my summer clothes stretch around a rotund tummy (barely), and I'm not sure if I should walk or roll down the road.
     As I waddle, my proboscis heralds my approach with the bright red wounds the dermatologist made. As my nose protrudes, it becomes a UV magnet, is frequently sunburned and thus the need to remove precancerous damage. Oh to only have the tiny nose of a starlet--or at least put some of its size on my lips.
     And the only time anyone ever asks to borrow my shoes is when he or she wants to water-ski. I'm not a pretty picture.
     However...
     This morning in worship we sang a line that told of us casting our crowns before the Lord. I closed my eyes and saw myself before the throne of God. Next to me stood Queen Elizabeth. To the other side Angelina Jolie. In back of me worshiped President Obama. Each of us was loved by the great God Almighty, the Maker of the universe. He didn't care that I wasn't pretty, that my poor blog can't get fifty followers, that my life was humble and lowly and ordinary. I was no different to Him than these luminaries, and no less precious. I could cast my crown and it would be as accepted as Queen Elizabeth's crown jewels. I opened my eyes to my own beauty and the grace of God.
   It's divine to be loved so indiscriminately.
   

Who's to Blame? You've Got to be Kidding!

The Bloviator Queen

 "I therefore...urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit" (Eph. 4:1-2, English Version).
   
     "Xavier" knows all one can know about anything and has no fear in spewing his knowledge to whomever he wills (whether or not the listener wills). I taught Sunday morning Bible studies during his tenure in Malone, and Xavier loved to argue points with me. Yikes. In public, during a Bible study.
     During this time period, my church assigned us to home groups where we met to study and build one another up in our Christianity. Guess who shared mine? I discovered during this time, it didn't matter who taught a lesson, Xavier fought its points. He loved to expostulate on everything he was an expert on. And I never found an area in which he wasn't an expert.
     I knew I had to live at peace with all men. I needed to love the brethren, so I needed help. I called my pastor (I'll call him Al). I told him, in confidence, my problems with Xavier, and that I needed to prayer to change so that I could maintain the unity of the spirit. On the phone he prayed with me. That night I headed off to home group, and for the first time in several years, Xavier did not annoy me.
    From that moment on, he never did. I quit arguing with him, quit asserting my point of view and all friction dissipated.
     During this time we would periodically share communion with each other. If we had an issue with an individual, we'd take our bread, approach the person and talk it through. Xavier approached me.
     "Carol," he said. "You used to be arrogant and overbearing, but you've changed. I've seen tremendous growth in you."
      Me? I was a bloviator? I nearly choked as I took the bread he offered. It's you, not me! Still I sputtered--but fortunately, only internally. Outwardly, I remained gracious and thanked him.
     I cannot change others, but I can change myself. It usually takes time and practice to change, but In that phone call to Al, God changed a key component of my personality instantly. I need not worry about another's character. I need to concern myself with me.
     Now I need the same miracle with "Cordelia."