Burden vs. Load

Today when I was dropping Benjamin off at school, my eyes caught sight of a mama walking her little cherub to class. Her son seemed to be struggling quite a bit under the weight of his backpack. I tell you, the way the schools make these kiddos haul all those books is near criminal! Anyway, the young mom noticed too and proceeded to grab the rung at the top of the pack, to lift it just enough so as to give him a much needed break from his burden.

It got me to thinkin' (surprise, surprise :)...

Galatians 6:5 says, "Each one shall bear his own load."

This life piles on a heavy load and, while uncomfortable (thanks Adam and Eve), for the most part it is ours to bear. While God promises never to give us more than we can handle, there are times where we begin to really struggle under the weight of our pack and it becomes a painfully heavy burden. I believe when this happens, that part of His plan is for us to not handle it alone.


"Bear one another's burdens, and thus, fulfill the law of Christ."
Galatians 6:2

At first glance these two verses seem to contradict, but if you look at the word "burdens" in the original greek, it means "the excess burdens which we need to share with one another. This is in contrast to "load" which means the normal amount each must carry for himself.

So here's the thing. We each have this backpack on right? It's stinkin' HEAVY and we're attempting to carry it each day. But some days it's like every book in the locker is on our back and we threaten to buckle under the weight. What a relief when suddenly, it begins to feel just a bit lighter! And you turn and realize that there is a precious someone, sent by God to walk alongside, lifting your pack just enough to make it bearable.

It seems what the Bible is saying in those verses up there is that while we shouldn't expect help carrying our everyday load around on a continual basis, we must "go for the rung" when we see another struggling under the weight of a burden that is obviously too great. It's then that we are to step in and assist for a time...

and so fulfill the law of Christ...

Above all...Love

I thought it especially fitting this week to echo Billy Graham's Prayer For Our Nation:

"Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn and called it choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem. We have abused power and called it politics. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and Set us free In Jesus' name, Amen!"

Vote - but above ALL, may we remember to LOVE as He first loved us.

Confirmed

I had come up to Lake Arrowhead this particular weekend hoping to receive some confirmation for the book I am researching and writing about the over-excitable mind. It seems that it is consuming me, and I was asking God to either take away my passion for the subject, or else give me the thumbs up to proceed. My family was sacrificing quite a lot of me already. Was it fair to ask them to give more? Should I wait until the kids were older? I’d been feeling such a sense of urgency to get my thoughts and research out there but needed a sign to give me some peace one way or another.

As I walked along the trail looking for the perfect writing spot, I happened upon a secluded beach where I could set my chair and put my feet up on a stump where a tree had previously been. It also made a nice little table for my things. An iced tea in a to-go cup from “I can’t remember where,” my Bible, and my daily 100 calorie pack of m&m’s – a few of my favorite items. I held my journal in my lap and with pen in hand I started some “stream of consciousness” writing to get my thoughts on the page. Suddenly, some movement caught my eye, and I looked up to find a two-man kayak in the distance coming toward me. The paddles were not at all synchronized and were very sporadically skimming the water, yet amazingly they were making pretty good time! As they came closer to the shore, I noticed that they were very young; and when they beached, I called out to them and asked how old they were. “I’m seven and he’s eight,” the youngest replied. I was first astonished and then impressed that their parents allowed them such an adventure (with life vests on of course). Once their toes hit the sand, they were off skipping rocks and hunting for apples that had fallen from a nearby tree – just being boys. Soon, they were back in the boat and headed toward home.

I continued to write and quietly resolved to give my own sons “wings and a paddle” to explore their world more often without my worry about “what might happen,” getting in their way. It felt like mere minutes went by before I saw the two boys running along the trail and over to where I was sitting.

Here’s how the conversation went between the youngest and me…

7-year old: “Hi.”
Me: “Hi.”
Him: “You’ve been here a long time!”
Me: “Yeah, I’m writing.” I showed him my journal.
Him: “You’re an artist?”
Me: “No, I’m a writer. Well, I guess that’s an artist huh?”
Him: “Yeah, writers are artists. They make words fancy.” (Mind you, he’s only SEVEN!) “Are you famous?”
Me: “Not yet. But I hope I will be someday! What’s your name?”
Him: “Ryan. And that is Parker over there. (Parker never did say much. Just then Ryan noticed a picture I had sketched) “Hey, you ARE an artist. That looks good!”
Me: “Really? Thanks!”
Ryan: “It would look even better if you just colored it a little right here,” he pointed.
Me: “ok, I will.” And I did.

He stayed close to me as we started talking about first grade and how hard it was for him with the homework, the longer school day, and the fact that he kept getting in trouble for letting his thoughts out at inappropriate times. “But at least we get four recesses!” He exclaimed. “Yes,” I replied. “At least you get that!” It was becoming clear that this kid was wise beyond his years. It also was clear that he knew I got him - that I understood him instinctively. We had formed a very real connection in a short period of time, he and I. This was confusing because other than my own and those closest to me, I’m not really a “kid” kinda person. Especially when I am trying to write!

Ryan: “We’ll kayak back to you, Ok?
Me: “Ok, I’ll be watching!”

The kayak returned for a second time with Ryan at the helm. They beached and he left Parker to dig up a rock he’d found. He ran to me full speed and got really close.

Ryan: “I want to see how much more you wrote!”
Me : “See? (I showed him) This page is about you!”
Ryan: (with a sad face) “But what about Parker?”
Me: (damage control) “Oh, his name is right there,” I assured him.

That seemed to satisfy his big, over-excitable heart well enough and after some more talking, he got ready to leave again...But not before he presented me with some treasures he had found. Some yellow leaves, a green apple, and a piece of bark with holes that he said were made by a woodpecker. Such special gifts…



Ryan: “Will you be here tomorrow?” He asked.
Me: “I don’t know, so I’ll say goodbye now just in case.”
Ryan: “If I don’t see you, I’ll always remember you.” (ok, he’s SEVEN!)
Me: “I’ll always remember you, too, Ryan.”
Ryan: “I always remembered a girl Kim from Palm Springs. She put me up on her shoulders when I got out of the pool. And she was even DRY!”
He ran and jumped into the boat with Parker for the last time and turned back to me and yelled once more from a distance, “BYE! I”LL ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU!!”
He waved and waved, and then he paddled off – and I cried and cried as I waved back. You see, I had this encounter with an angel and indeed received the confirmation I had been seeking.



This book is for you Ryan, and for my son Austin and the small population of other children and adults who suffer on a daily basis for having a higher than average intellect that results in an over-excitable mind, heart, and body. Who have a keen perception and deeper emotion that few can understand. But I understood, and he knew it. We sensed each other!

They will label him ADHD because of his boredom in school that causes him to bounce off the ceiling (what will happen when he stops getting those four recesses?). When he becomes an adult, he will continue to be told by others to stop over-thinking his big, black or white existence. Over time, his meds will change from Ritalin to Prozac. Only they won’t be able to give him a pill that will shrink his world down to a manageable size and he will perpetually wonder what’s wrong with him…

Then hopefully someone will give him my book to read…and maybe, just maybe, he’ll see his name in the acknowledgements…and he won’t feel so alone after all.

"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels unaware..."
The book of Hebrews, Chapter 13, verse 2

Dancing Leaves...

“For you will go out (on the trail) with joy and be led forth with peace (yes it was); the mountains and the hills will break forth into shouts of joy before you, and all the trees will clap their hands…(and I even saw them dance!)”
The Book of Isaiah, chapter 55, verse 12


I just spent two hours walking along the trail that encircles all of Lake Arrowhead. Twas beautiful and each of my senses came alive! The smell of fresh air with hints of pine, the creaking of the docks that increased in tempo when a boat passed, the feel of the soft earth, littered with needles and bark on the wooded path beneath my feet. And the COLORS! Let me just say that I finally found “fall” in California. The noon hour revealed an amazing display and I was able to capture some of it with my camera, playing a bit with the sun as it cast its magic on my subjects.

One special memory I’ll cherish occurred along a piece of trail about half way around the lake from where I began. It was a narrow passage surrounded by an overhang of translucent, bright yellow leaves, contrasted by very dark branches. The sun poured through the leaves as though they were stained glass! As I stood beneath and stared up into the canopy to admire them, a gentle breeze blew through and the leaves each began to dance. No really, they danced! - and then with each other - just for me. And the music they made! - more beautiful and delicate than the finest wind chime…

I was in awe of such a sacred performance, orchestrated by God,
for an audience of one…





journal entry - day 2 of quiet retreat

playing in the breeze...

"True Joy is not in the grand gesture but in the consecration of the moment..." Kent Nerburn

I have such wonderful memories of my mom hanging our clothes out to dry on the clothesline in our backyard. With a family of six, it was a very time consuming task. But she never complained. At least not out loud. It was almost as though she actually enjoyed the ritual. I remember each shirt and sock being carefully pinned to the line with wooden clothespins. When she was done there were rows of cotton and polyester blowing gently in the breeze. As they dried, they stiffened slightly (well, except maybe the polyester) and by the time mom brought them in to fold, they were pretty crispy, but they were sun kissed and smelled like outside. As far as I know, they haven't been able to replicate that smell in a dryer sheet.

I can't remember exactly when I first realized I wanted to get a clothesline for my own backyard but it was fairly recently. It represented something peaceful to me. Of course I probably wouldn't take the time to hang every load, but I thought it would be cool to dry tablecloths and stuff that I had previously been throwing over our patio chairs.

I casually shared this "vision" with Dorothy (my step mother-in-law and friend) over chips and salsa one day. She is famous for remembering things you never knew you said and, come my birthday in June, I rounded the corner to find an umbrella clothesline waiting for me, decorated with little wooden clothespins - ready to go...

Since then I have hung tablecloths and beach towels, duvets and delicates - and found I've learned some things along the way. That there is something therapeutic about watching fabric playing with the breeze and experiencing the sun and air doing what they do best (not to mention the benefit to our environment). I learned that I can take a crummy task like laundry (yuck) and miraculously (those who know me, know it truly IS a miracle :) find something enjoyable in it. That is what happened when I hung my first article on the line (captured above). It brought me back to a simpler time that I find myself longing for lately. My clothesline beckoned me to create a little ritual - to consecrate the mundane. It's a sweet addition to our backyard (although the boys complain that it gets in the way of a wiffle ball game.) and who knows...someday when things slow down a bit, I may actually attempt to hang an entire load...

Humility

From My Garden
Originally uploaded by ruthykarp67

"Humility - is perpetual quietness of heart. It is to have no trouble. It is never to be fretted or vexed, irritable or sore. To wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised. It is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and kneel to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is trouble..." Author Unknown

Who wrote this "beautiful something" I aspire to and why are they unknown? Someone should get credit.

Alas, those that know me realize that I lack a perpetual quietness of anything! But I do desperately long to be still and rest in the Living God of the Universe. I have made many mistakes, especially lately, that have been rooted in pride. So I find myself withdrawing to a place of calm, praying for a humble and quiet spirit - hoping for some peace of mind and heart.

Mother's Day

"My mother was a minister of blessing to all human beings within her sphere of action...She had no feelings but of kindness and beneficence. Yet her mind was as firm as her temper was mild and gentle. She has been to me more than a mother. She has been a spirit from above watching over me for good, and contributing, by my mere consciousness of her existence, to the comfort of my life...Never have I known another human being, the perpetual object of whose life, was so unremittingly to do good." ~John Adams

Many days, when I come home from work, I'll hear the wonderful clink, clank of buttons and zippers in the dryer and find neatly folded clothes on the dining room table. The work of my laundry fairygodmother. I'll look out the front door and see her, not sprinkling fairy dust while waving her wand mid-air. No, she's sitting in a wicker chair on the porch with Phoebe at her feet, enjoying the sunshine while waiting for the next load to dry or her grandkids to come home - whichever comes first. It's a snapshot that I will always hold close to my heart.

John Adams summed my mother up quite nicely, I think. She is truly the comfort of my life. Today, especially, I can't help but think of how blessed I am to be the beneficiary of such a beautiful gift.

P.S. I recently wrote a story (for a class assignment) entitled, "This Little Light Of Mine." It's a very special childhood memory I have of her. (You can read it by clicking on "ruthys writings" to the left.)

Happy Mother's Day to all who "watch over" your little and grown ones for good!

A Favorite Card From a Friend

"I'll collect my tatters, the perfect pieces of me, and notch them together in an informal pattern just to suggest myself. Then I can start the welding process, and in a short breath, I'll be fine."

She is me...refusing to surrender to what life is trying to do to her. Thankfully I don't have to be the one to notch and weld my tattered pieces into a functional whole. We have a God who specializes in holding us together and fixing what's broken. Lately, I'm trying to let Him do just that...

Quote For The Day...

Do more than exist; live.
Do more than touch; feel.
Do more than look; observe.
Do more than read; absorb.
Do more than hear; listen.
Do more than listen; understand.
Do more than think; ponder.
Do more than talk; say something.

~John H. Rhoades

All In A Days Work

"We must learn to see with other eyes. The world contains many paths, some exalted, some mundane. It is not our task to judge the worthiness of our path; it is our task to walk our path with worthiness." ~ Kent Nerburn

Last November I got a call from my friend Eileen. She knew I'd been looking for a part time job and had a lead for me. "Ruth, I know this isn't something you'd normally consider doing," she began, "but my grandma and her 86 year old boyfriend need someone to help them run errands, cook meals, bring in mail and paper, and take out trash - stuff like that. Don't decide now, just think about it, ok?"

She knew me. She knew that I detested being trapped by these mundane tasks at home and to take on another shift of them elsewhere? Doubtful. Yet some gentle nudging (like a quick look at our bank account) caused me to re-evaluate what I was willing to do for a paycheck so I went to check it out.

Dave is a retired WWII pilot, civil engineer, fly fisherman, woodworker (and on and on) with a genius IQ and a lifetime of amazing stories to tell. Gaby is a loving and fiesty woman with fire in her sparkly eyes and deep dimples in her smooth, rosy cheeks when she smiles; which is quite often. Especially when sitting across from her sweetheart and listening to his stories earnestly, like she's never heard them before. And she hasn't. Oh he's certainly told her - over and over - but she doesn't usually remember because she battles with dementia. So they have a fairly predictable pattern of conversation. He likes to tell, she doesn't remember, he likes to tell and she's hearing it for the very first time...and so on. A perfect fit, actually.

Dave's mind is one of the sharpest knives in the drawer. He still works part-time from home, orders their groceries on-line and keeps a schedule on his PDA, but his body struggles to get where it wants to go. Gaby gets around a bit easier but her mind is failing her. Both love each other like crazy...and both needed someone to assist them in order to be able to stay together in their home.

That someone was to be me.

I could easily go on and on (and I usually do) about the blessings attached to what I do each day. Some are tangible and some just go straight through to the heart. One of the "perks" (as Dave calls it) is that when there's a doctors appointment or errand to run, going out for lunch is usually part of the plan. But not just any ole' lunch mind you. "There is a difference," he says, "between eating and dining." Well, we definitely dine. A round or two of drinks (Of course I'm the designated driver), A wonderful main course and always our own dessert wherever we go. I have come to treasure sitting across from these two remarkable people and am continually blessed by the rich wisdom and experiences they share with me.

Needless to say, I've gained a few pounds since meeting Dave and Gaby. I like to think most of it is not because my body is getting bigger, but because my heart has gotten bigger. Sure there are days when I get tired of cooking and doing laundry for two households, but I'll forever be grateful for the day I stepped outside of myself and into a job that is proving to be anything but mundane.

Your Own Pace...

“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

"Just Don't Be You"

“A person who feels more deeply, sees more clearly, or has a voice that cannot be used in daily discourse is destined always to feel alone. It is simply part of the inheritance of those who spend time in places where others do not tread. Your task in life is, and forever will be, to find a way to make that place of loneliness into a place of refuge and solitude, not a place of terror and isolation.” – Kent Nerburn, PhD

Kent is one of my favorite authors. Although we have fundamental differences in our core spiritual beliefs, his writing inspires me to be more at peace with the way God designed my mind to process life.

For some, seeing and experiencing things so intensely can feel like a curse at times. I am reminded of Melvin, the gifted, OCD novelist in "As Good As It Gets." He goes to see his love, Carol. When she opens the door and sees him she sighs and says, "come on in and try not to ruin everything by being you." I understood why she said that, given his obvious lack of social skills, but what a slam. It's no wonder that he lived in isolation most of the time.

I can relate to some degree as I have inherited an overexcitable mind. One that overthinks, overfeels and overreacts. Rather than face the criticism, sometimes it's just easier to be alone with my thoughts. Then I don't have to work so hard at silencing them in order to avoid irritating, offending or overwhelming someone. I used to think that being alone was, well, lonely. I confused solitude with isolation. But lately I'm finding some refuge in spending time alone with my ponderings.

It just feels safer.

I think we must stop expecting one another to tread in places intellectually that we were never designed to go. The bell curve demonstrates to us that God did not create us all to think the same way. Someone with an IQ of, say, 70 is mentally retarded to the general population with an average IQ of 100-110, as the average is retarded to the gifted (130-150), as the gifted is retarded to the genius of 150+. Simply put, we are all mentally challenging to someone and that's a fact we simply can not ever change so we need to try and find a way to get along with, accept and even respect our differences.

Until then, let's stop hurting each other and refuse to slam the door in the face of those who process life differently than ourselves on either side of the bell curve; or even worse - telling them they can come on in, provided they make sure not to ruin everything by being who they really are.

Sweet Inspiration

Dave and I just had the most wonderful weekend in Costa Mesa. We were in charge of the marriage retreat for our church and it was so great to celebrate, along with 15 other couples, our serious commitment to a lifetime together.

Among those special couples; Bob and Emilie Barnes - our speakers. With 52 years of marriage behind them, we were all blessed and inspired by their sweet love. Just watching them look at each other with such deep respect and adoration, infused us with a fierce determination to learn their secret. So we soaked them up and hung on every word...

Emilie is a successful author with over 50 books in print. She and I spent time talking about my dream of being a writer. She was my age when she published her first and she encouraged me to pursue my passion but to always be mindful of my first priority - feathering my nest. She fueled my desire to press on with my work, balanced with some much needed perspective. I will always treasure the time she took to mentor me that weekend. We formed a special bond...

During our free time Dave and I stole away to The Wedge in Newport Beach; the place where we got engaged. We took some fun photos and remembered a bit of what life was like at that very spot on the jetty 19 years before. After loving each other for 22 years our relationship remains strong and secure. It has been far from easy many days, but God is blessing our desire to be committed for life.

Bob told a truth within a funny joke one night. He said when you get married you get three rings. An engagement ring, a wedding ring, and suffe-ring. As a result of this simple little retreat, when we hit those inevitable potholes in the road, I think we'll first pray and then find ourselves stopping to ask -

- what our sweet Bob and Emily would do...

Brain Yoga

Every Thursday I am such a happy girl...

People think I'm crazy for making the hour plus commute to Westwood to further (ok, pretty much begin) my higher education. I've actually created a little weekly ritual for myself.

I try and leave early to avoid as much traffic as possible (thank you mom) and use the time in the car to talk with God or catch up on phone calls. Once there, I stop into Whole Foods Market around the corner from the campus to grab a Spicy Tuna Roll and some iced tea for a picnic dinner for one. There are a few special spots where this little meal takes place depending on whether or not I feel like communing with nature and architecture or students and coffee blenders. Either enables me to savor the flavor of University life...I relish the moments before class as much as I do the classes themselves.

School for me is like Brain Yoga. My mind is stretched to capacity and then holds it's pose as creativity and instruction breathe life into my being. The experiences I've had so far on this beautiful campus have been nothing short of a gift from God. My class last quarter, "The Art of the Personal Essay" was held in the amazing Royce Hall (above). Its tall, brick archways, ornate, carved details and glass bottle windows are rich with history and culture. I also love to sit in the beautiful Powell library (below). It smells of books and old plaster and I'm regularly drawn in to sit for a spell. While shooting these photos, I felt so blessed to be able to study here. I'm certain I will never take my time at UCLA for granted.


It is a precious few hours each week of sheer mental bliss...

Thought for the Day

"It is better to love, than be right."

Giftedness Defined

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.
To him...
a touch is a blow,
a sound is a noise,
a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy,
a friend is a lover,
a lover is a god,
and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - - - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating." -Pearl Buck-

Shades of Gray

A fusion of black and white-
Readily accessible to the masses,
Yet elusive to intellectual thought.
To be forced to ponder its various shades of ordinary,
It's bland and murky state of existence,
Is a painful conformity.
So we, with minds disquiet,
Separate the whole of the matter into its parts.
To attempt to be passionately accurate about it.
And expose it for what it really is...
Black and White.
A gift, not a curse.
Nothing in between.

~rk