* 50 Shades of BenGay

My Hound From Heaven It’s been years since Francis Thompson’s epic poem, “The Hound of Heaven” crossed my path. It is a Victorian poem.  Whereas it’s language is outdated to our modern ear, it is still as endearing as the day it was penned as it centers on the pursuit of a sinner by a loving God. It’s a poem about Grace. Raw Grace. Unbridled and unfettered Grace.  Grace that reache s beyond the surface facades into the grit of life. It is this Grace for which I am most thankful as for without it I would not be standing today. Not until a few months ago, when unable to sleep, did the poem show itself again – and in such an odd fashion.  God is like that you know – popping up at the most inopportune times when we are so busy trying to handle life on our own. It was about two in the morning and I could not sleep. It’s almost as if I had been summoned to my easy chair to find the answer.  I crept out of the bedroom, tippy-toed over the dog’s gate tryin...

Sometimes things break. Cars, bowls, relationships, even people.  It's just a natural part of life – unpleasant as it may be. Every time something breaks there are choices to be made; does one get it fixed or not?  Sounds simple?  It’s not. As a matter of fact, it can be really hard trying to figure out what is worth saving and what deserves to be tossed in the trash along with the leftover tuna fish. I’ve had a lot of things break in my life. My collarbone for one.  I was 7 years old and took things very literally.  So when the PE teacher told us to do a shoulder role I naturally thought that meant I was to run full speed down the mat and dive directly on my clavicle.  Not only was the incident a first indicator that Olympics gymnastics may not be in my future, but it also taught me not to be first in line anymore – if I could possibly help it.  My last name did start with “B” after all.  Anderson had a tendency to miss PE. ...

We are either moving forward or moving backwards. Nothing in the Universe is stagnant.  We crave security but we also crave change. Honor the dichotomy with humor and faith.  God’s got your back. Give it a go. Stop saying; ”I’m Fine.” It’s been a cop-out phrase for too long. There are some things that need to change in life to get us to where we want to be; mentally, physically, socially, artistically, spiritually, and monetarily. We are NOT fine if we are not where we want to be in those areas. Changes need to be made. We alone can make those changes by our everyday choices. Each individual choice will bring us closer to the changes or keep us from them. Stay in in present. Choose judiciously every single time. Give it a Go. No, you not going to feel like making the needed changes. No one ever does. Its not about ‘feeling’, its about Action. Give it a Go. Ask yourself the question: “What is the worst thing that could possibly happen if I take this risk?”  I...

Mother never repaid an ill, rude, or cruel deed aimed at her with anything but charity. Not to say she didn’t shed a few tears when they happened, but she never raged and plotted revenge. After the initial pain subsided she would pray for the person’s Highest Good and move on, tucking away the lesson in a journal or the outhouse.  Me, on the other hand, in my oh so much younger days, was a bit of a lose cannon and would sit in a pot of rage days, for stirring up ways to cleverly and deceptively ‘off their heads.’  Maturity eventually set in, but I have to say I never got to that calm grace my mother had in those dreadful situations until a few years ago. Ok, the other day. Mother was a firm believer of Karma.  She never called it that mind you; “Law of the Harvest”, “What goes around comes around”, “Putting it all in God’s hands.”  Those were her terms.  It was Karma non the less. That quiet current of clever energy that neatly, yet powerfully, thr...

35 years ago I finished graduate school and promptly took a job as a flight attendant, much to the chagrin of my mother. When I told her of my plans she slowly peered at me over the top rim of her glasses one eyebrow raised. She then dryly predicted I would be bored stiff within months as the job was akin to slinging hash at 35 thousand feet in a tin can. But, being stubborn like my mother when her mind was made up, I left for training. After six months I had to concede that, as usual, Mother was right and I felt mentally and creatively unchallenged.  Problem was, I moved lock stock and barrel to NYC and was virtually penniless with few other options for acting employment. Truth be known, one reason I choose New York was that I was sure I going to go be discovered  as the newest greatest talent… I mean, I was a grand dame on stage at MSU -  why would I not be on Broadway?  HA!! Reality hits hard some times. 1984. Those were the days before cell phones and u...

With age comes; grey hairs, knowing the back store places to buy real Olive Oil, and a bit of wisdom…if one is lucky. I am constantly amazed at the providential prosperities afforded to me in life as my theological roots don’t support that concept. Being brought up MS Lutheran, there was always this deep seated fear that a flaming pitchfork would come hurling down from the heavens at any given moment I was doing, (or even thinking), something less than godly. Actually I don’t think that message came from my dad in the pulpit, but rather from my mother. I remember her telling me some friends invited them to a nightclub dinner back in the 1960’s. No one knew it was a topless review. She said she was sweating bullets and praying without ceasing during the entire performance that God would not choose that particular moment to announce Judgment Day. The supreme ‘gotcha’ moment as she knew that meant she would go to straight to hell. I asked her if she didn’t think God would cut her a l...

Oct 07, 2016 11:28am There is a deep sadness that veils a mother’s heart when she sees her mothering days are at an end. It’s not a sudden awareness. We know the sun will set every day and yet we don’t think about it when we are enjoying it’s rays on our face. But the dusk comes and cannot be denied. We yield to the inevitable and loosen our grip, holding on to a candle’s flame of light that keeps the memories alive. There is also a deep pride that swells in her heart when she sees this separate human being she helped create radiate independence, perseverance and strength apart from her. As much as she wants to claim those traits as the dregs of her teachings, she sees that her child learned in spite of her meddling and chuckles. “Thank God.” Some paths to this day of independence were well laid and executed much like meticulously following the directions for a complicated Lego structure. Others, like mine, well… we threw away the directions long ago and merrily (sometimes f...