Thirst:
Go ahead and make my day -
tell me I'm alright.
Some days nothing goes my way;
goals seem out of sight.
Dip a little from your pail,
add it to my pot.
Water me before I fail.
I don't need a lot.
Once my own reserves are back
I'll give you your due.
Anything you seem to lack
I will share with you.
Any water that is shared
comes back by and by -
graced by one who knew you cared
and now will supply.
Feed my soul and I'll feed yours -
that's how it should be.
One small word of praise restores
oh so easily -
all that spills as pails we bear
over roads of strife.
Fill me now, I'll later share;
and thirst is quenched - for life.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April 15, 2017
"I thirst" - words from a man dying slowly - and what was he offered? Vinegar.
None of us like to think we'd ever be so cruel, but we all sometimes offer small doses of vinegar to thirsty souls.
Today Christians celebrate the ultimate story of renewal and rebirth. The less religiously inclined are thinking about renewal too as reluctant Spring has finally sprung, and they see grass getting greener and new buds on trees. Those of us who enjoy gardening are thinking a few week ahead to planting season and trying to decide what we'll plant and nurture through this growing season.
We forget sometimes that opportunities to support growth are always around us. We often miss taking advantage of everyday chances to water thirsty souls. Sometimes we offer them a taste of vinegar - even though we know that acrid taste too well ourselves.
Most of us know how it feels to thirst - for company, for praise, for attention and acknowledgement of our contributions. There are dry spells in every life - those seasons where our souls shrivel a bit from lack of care. We may be experiencing discouragement, loneliness, depression, sorrow...there are so many contributors to our innermost thirst. Sometimes resentment or jealousy generate a little vinegar in us; it seems that everyone else has what we want or need. It seems that way - especially when we're focused on our own problems and unable to see how much others struggle.
In the midst of our own thirst we are apt to share our vinegar with poor struggling waifs who might be faring worse. We just don't see how anyone could have the gall to ask anything of us! Can't they see how dry we are? So, if asked for a drop from our seemingly empty bucket we respond with a dab of acid. We have no time, no patience, and sadly no aptitude for compassion at the moment.
When we get over wallowing in our own wiltedness, our focus begins to shift. We begin to see that others are beyond wilted - they're so parched that they just might blow away. Maybe we see that we aren't as dry as we thought. We might even find that we have a little water to share. (Sometimes the very people we forgot to water earlier managed to share a little of whatever got rained on them.)
When our emotional reserves are at their lowest it's easy to think we have next to nothing - a pittance. Still, most of us can manage to scrape together a smile, a hug or a few kind words to someone who might benefit from them far more than we'd ever suspect. It really doesn't take much to water a thirsty soul - a tiny bit of encouragement can move someone a whole lot closer to hope.
Thirst isn't always apparent. Our wilted leaves may look lush and full to others - and the reverse is also true. We really can't tell who needs watering worse - so we should perhaps strive to go through life with the attitude that everyone we meet could benefit from a gentle misting. There is enough kindness to go around. It costs us nothing to be friendly, helpful or thoughtful. If all of us adopted the attitude that we all need a bit of watering, then none of us would ever wither.
I have come to believe that every effort we make to show kindness and build up those around us comes back to us generously increased. I know this as surely as I know that my thoughtless words and deeds inevitably come back to haunt me. Gratitude for those who stand by with a watering can has built over the course of my life, and I've come to see that I have reserves to share more often than not. Nothing fills the well like gratitude.
During this season of new growth, water others liberally from your well - it will fill again. Rain kindness generously on the parched. Sprinkle the dew of encouragement on the dejected. Save the vinegar for pickling something - or picketing something. Even wrath has a purpose - but it should never be spewed on thirsty souls just begging for a sip of water.
Quench thirst, and your thirst will likewise be quenched.
Sunday 16 April 2017
Saturday 1 April 2017
Time - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Time:
The hands on clock go whizzing past
when marking time we'd like to last -
but when we want time to speed by,
they seem to stop - I don't know why.
The sands of time in hour glass
will measure minutes as they pass,
but just how quickly sand is gone
depends upon who's looking on.
Time marches at a plodding pace
when seasons of despair we face,
but when we want it to stand still,
it never will - it never will.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 31, 2017
Have you ever noticed how perverse time is? It drags on when you're bored and lonely, and gallops by when life is wonderful and you're enjoying yourself.
Lately it's been moving pretty fast. I've been busy.
And yet, that wasn't always the case when I was busy. For example, when my boys were little the days seemed long, even though I had plenty to do. I remember how I'd practically pounce on my husband when he came through the door at the end of the day - I was just so happy to have an adult to talk to again! So perhaps it was the sense of isolation I felt in those days that made time crawl by. Now ironically, I miss those days of feeling so needed by my sons. It was a long time ago, but it feels like it wasn't - even though I know a lot of those days seemed to drag by then.
When I was young I fell into the trap that so many of us do - wanting time to speed up. When I was little I remember looking forward to turning ten - it seemed like the perfect age - big enough to do things on my own, but still a kid. Then I wanted to be twelve, because twelve year olds were almost teenagers! At twelve I'd be much wiser than I was at ten, and people would take me seriously! But then I wanted to be fourteen and going to dances, sixteen and dating (ha- nobody asked me out until I was seventeen!) and then eighteen sounded even better because I was almost an adult...
I was always so busy anticipating what came next - it always seemed that I hadn't reached the perfect age yet. And all of those milestones that I thought reaching a certain age would bring were off schedule - sixteen was just the first of the years that let me down. I figured I'd get married at 22 (I was 26) and have four kids by the time I was thirty. (I did manage to not have any more babies after thirty, but sadly it wasn't for want of trying.) I thought I'd write a book before I was 35. I did write one, but not until I was 48, and I never even tried to get it published. My inner clock never told me the right time.
Would I go back in time and change a few things if I could? I don't think so. I know who I was then, and I did the best I could. I made mistakes, but they were understandable. Plus, I've watched enough Star Trek (thanks to living much of my life in a predominantly male household) to understand that changing the past would affect the future timeline. Somehow making minor changes to fix a few glitches along the way seems too risky to the present that I enjoy.
No, my life hasn't gone the way I thought it would. Time never seemed to be on my side. Why would it be? I was always wishing it away somehow - squandering it - acting as though it was a limitless commodity.
Now I'm beginning to make peace with time. I've done nothing on schedule, but still somehow I've gotten most of what I wanted in terms of my personal life. I'm still happily married. My sons are making lives for themselves. I'm healthy. I live in the kind of house I always wanted. I am engaged with life, busily pursuing projects and activities that I enjoy. I feel a degree of inner peace, and know that I live a useful, purposeful life.
My wish list has been modified over the years. Now a bestseller doesn't matter much; it's enough to see an upswing in blog post views. I write regularly, and people read - that makes me happy. I'm at a good place in my life - no spring chicken, but I've still got the energy to make a few things happen. I might occasionally long for earlier days - days that I took for granted when I was young and spent time recklessly - but I like where I'm at now.
I can still work toward seeing modified dreams come to fruition. (I don't consider that a cop out at all.) My aspirations are noble, but realistic at this point. I can still improve myself - and my little corner of the world - by making life easier and more pleasant for others. I can learn, and I can grow.
I've got time.
The hands on clock go whizzing past
when marking time we'd like to last -
but when we want time to speed by,
they seem to stop - I don't know why.
The sands of time in hour glass
will measure minutes as they pass,
but just how quickly sand is gone
depends upon who's looking on.
Time marches at a plodding pace
when seasons of despair we face,
but when we want it to stand still,
it never will - it never will.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 31, 2017
Have you ever noticed how perverse time is? It drags on when you're bored and lonely, and gallops by when life is wonderful and you're enjoying yourself.
Lately it's been moving pretty fast. I've been busy.
And yet, that wasn't always the case when I was busy. For example, when my boys were little the days seemed long, even though I had plenty to do. I remember how I'd practically pounce on my husband when he came through the door at the end of the day - I was just so happy to have an adult to talk to again! So perhaps it was the sense of isolation I felt in those days that made time crawl by. Now ironically, I miss those days of feeling so needed by my sons. It was a long time ago, but it feels like it wasn't - even though I know a lot of those days seemed to drag by then.
When I was young I fell into the trap that so many of us do - wanting time to speed up. When I was little I remember looking forward to turning ten - it seemed like the perfect age - big enough to do things on my own, but still a kid. Then I wanted to be twelve, because twelve year olds were almost teenagers! At twelve I'd be much wiser than I was at ten, and people would take me seriously! But then I wanted to be fourteen and going to dances, sixteen and dating (ha- nobody asked me out until I was seventeen!) and then eighteen sounded even better because I was almost an adult...
I was always so busy anticipating what came next - it always seemed that I hadn't reached the perfect age yet. And all of those milestones that I thought reaching a certain age would bring were off schedule - sixteen was just the first of the years that let me down. I figured I'd get married at 22 (I was 26) and have four kids by the time I was thirty. (I did manage to not have any more babies after thirty, but sadly it wasn't for want of trying.) I thought I'd write a book before I was 35. I did write one, but not until I was 48, and I never even tried to get it published. My inner clock never told me the right time.
Would I go back in time and change a few things if I could? I don't think so. I know who I was then, and I did the best I could. I made mistakes, but they were understandable. Plus, I've watched enough Star Trek (thanks to living much of my life in a predominantly male household) to understand that changing the past would affect the future timeline. Somehow making minor changes to fix a few glitches along the way seems too risky to the present that I enjoy.
No, my life hasn't gone the way I thought it would. Time never seemed to be on my side. Why would it be? I was always wishing it away somehow - squandering it - acting as though it was a limitless commodity.
Now I'm beginning to make peace with time. I've done nothing on schedule, but still somehow I've gotten most of what I wanted in terms of my personal life. I'm still happily married. My sons are making lives for themselves. I'm healthy. I live in the kind of house I always wanted. I am engaged with life, busily pursuing projects and activities that I enjoy. I feel a degree of inner peace, and know that I live a useful, purposeful life.
My wish list has been modified over the years. Now a bestseller doesn't matter much; it's enough to see an upswing in blog post views. I write regularly, and people read - that makes me happy. I'm at a good place in my life - no spring chicken, but I've still got the energy to make a few things happen. I might occasionally long for earlier days - days that I took for granted when I was young and spent time recklessly - but I like where I'm at now.
I can still work toward seeing modified dreams come to fruition. (I don't consider that a cop out at all.) My aspirations are noble, but realistic at this point. I can still improve myself - and my little corner of the world - by making life easier and more pleasant for others. I can learn, and I can grow.
I've got time.
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