Author: naphtalia

I am an artist, a friend, a sister, a mother, an aunt, a creator.

The Gift of Time

A number of years ago, I told my niece I didn’t have time to read another story because I was on my way to work.  She said, “You don’t have enough time?  You can have some of mine.”  If only it worked that way.

I found this sketch via my sister who found it via Becky C. Murphy.

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Skype Me, Thailand

After a most gorgeous conversation via Skype with my dear friend in Thailand, I feel energized, encouraged, lifted up to high heaven, and just so much love.    And so, I’m going to bed without a love song video for today and I’m okay with that.  I will live in this moment and enjoy the rest that comes from of years and miles of friendship.  Feel free to check out Victoria’s work with at-risk children in Thailand via this webiste: www.victoria.missionsplace.com. I know you will be encouraged as well.

May love be in your eyes, your heart, your hands, and your words, right now, in this moment.

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A Latent Conversation: Praying on the Phone in Dunn Bro.

“I’ve been busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest.”  That was just the beginning of his conversation.  You can only imagine how colorful the rest of it was–complete with generous amounts of: inherited that nasty OCD, my third wife, people praying, two psychologists seeing her, and the whole church lifting her up. –A phone conversation in the booth next to me at Dunn Brothers coffee house.

As abrasive as his speech was to his long-forgotten friend (re: “Sorry I haven’t called you back;  I’ve been busier…”) and my strange ears, I couldn’t help but wonder when his prayer turned into conversation and when it might turn back.  Because to me, prayer is simply very special talking.

Prayer is the process of moving spiritual longings from our spirit to our physical minds and tongues and back to the spirit world of God’s listening.  So when we talk, it simply makes sense that we could very well be praying.

When we speak, where do our words come from?  It is a matter to contemplate.  Are they streaming from spirit or from mind?  In the end, it doesn’t really matter as long as we are aware of both.  This is because prayer is transient.  It moves from spirit world to earthly world effortlessly and thus connects our parts into a whole person.  But we must be aware and we must be able to place the words into the left out world.

If your words are coming only from your mind, learn to put them into your spirit.  Check in and see if your spirit need be concerned.  Ask your spirit to lay a supplication before God.  Connect your mind to spirit.  If your words are coming from your spirit, make sure they travel through your physical mouth and back into your spirit to rest.  This releases the mind from circumstantial control, from a timid human path of healing into a more bold spiritual grace.  Why?  Because prayer is transient and it must be released in order to do its work.

I am beginning to believe prayer is faith in true completeness, in healthiness of mind, spirit, and soul.  It is letting the spirit voice its concerns and weights while at the same time letting the mind know one’s depth of person and place.  Prayer is what creates peace within the battling self.

So be attentive to your words and to your spirit.  Allow both to say what they feel need to said and in this way, you will be praying continually, should that be a desire of yours indeed.  And remember, even latent conversations, the ones you always wanted to have but never did, can today be voiced and prayed in sweet humility and renewed fervency.  “In all things pray continually.”  I Thessalonians 5:16

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Saints

It is known that some saints never existed, but that does not make their stories any less true.

–Kathleen Norris

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Imagining

In January, it was snowing in the morning and I was reading Persuasion.  I imagined it was raining in June.  By noon, it was just windy; I imagined the wind was the kind August sun and I was reading Persuasion. I talked to my friend in Spokane who said it was raining there on a Saturday.  I imagined Spokane was in the Red River Valley and the rain was falling upward for two Sunday afternoons in a row and I was reading Persuasion in church.  Then, while I sat there in the sunlit chapel with the rain crawling into the clouds, I imagined a quiet conversation, a peaceful fireplace, snow, and January.  I laid my book down for a good long while because this imagination was simply the one I enjoyed best.

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Disappointment

scratchy
disappointment
gingerly shaving bits
off heart

not crying
feels like flooding
cold water
at feet

worse for wear
or sweeter for
unwear

she who makes rules
gets stuck in them

she who makes rules
gets disappointed

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