Heavenly Joy

There are times in our lives when nothing seems to go right. There are also times when it seems nothing can go wrong. We have all had both kinds of days. When we are in the former, our psyche, our very soul, seems to get beaten down by all the pressures, stresses, and negatives of life.

Then there are those days when all goes joyously far beyond our wildest  dreams and expectations. These are the days we all crave. We get a sort of high. Our smiles become contagious, and we cannot help but be good to one another, just for the shear pleasure of seeing another person smile.

I crave these days just as much as the next person, but with my illness, I oftentimes must work the process in reverse. My days don’t often go beyond my wildest dreams (though sometimes they do), yet I can still feel that rush, that soul healing joy I desperately crave, by first giving and smiling and loving on others.

This is one of the secrets to my joy. Listen closely, now. It lightens the burden on my soul when I give freely of my worldly, oftentimes cherished, belongings.

Have I lost you? Let me elaborate. My physical being is a mess. I have Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, adrenal fatigue, arthritis, migraines, blah, blah, blah. The list goes on and on, unfortunately. Needless to say, I am in constant pain, and this state of constant pain puts a damper on my naturally good mood.

But the Lord is good. He has shown me how to find bits of joy amongst my pain, interspersed with my tears.

Best of all, He has shown me how to get a booster shot when I need it, to energize and heal my soul. It is as simple as giving. Donating. Even tithing (and now I hear a bunch of non-church-goers going, “ugh”). It does my soul good, knowing that something I am able to give can do so much good in someone else’s life.

Ken took a load of building supplies to the Habitat Restore Store this morning.

My heart swelled, and so did his.

Ken took an equally large load to the Salvation Army thrift store.

His smile threatened to push his ears clean off his face, as his mood soared. And mine did, too.

Even with two truckloads gone, we still had a lot to make decisions on. Then I remembered freecycle. It is a yahoo group here in the Portland area. I imagine there might be more chapters around the country. It is worth checking out. We gave away some large ticket items that we simply could not sell. Ken said he would haul them to the appropriate places for donation, but I was feeling so good, soul-wise, at this point that I suggested we list them on freecycle. Within an hour, the first large item was gone, the second is pending pickup tomorrow, and the third, well I’m waiting to hear back as to when she wants to pick it up.

My joy is overwhelming today, even though my body is riddled with pain and my stress level is through the roof.

My stress is so high because we have only a few days left here in Portland before we hit the road, and we have a ton of work to do still. Having access to this “heavenly joy” will allow me to keep on, minute by minute, keeping faith that God will get us over this hurdle. It will allow me to do what little I can to help, with a smile on my face, instead of tears and heartache for all that I cannot physically do.

I wish you this level of joy. I pray that you have instances in your life where the “pay it forward” system of living and giving will touch your heart and your soul with an over abundance of joy and gratitude.

I had a season of being on the receiving end more often than not over the past year or two, and the receiving also blossomed into wondrous joy, as I realized that others did care and did want to help this tired old soul. They lifted me up with a box of apples, boxes of pears, green beans, a car for our use for three months without charge, a hug and friendship when I needed it most, a bouquet of flowers from a neighbor for “no reason,” many homemade meals delivered hot and ready to eat, and so many other large and small blessings.

I am grateful for all the blessings we have received. And I am grateful for every one of you.

Jenni

It's Cosmic, Baby

Ken boxing up what is left.

In a cosmic collision of two axioms, I have found my own. “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours.” “Practice random acts of kindness.” Crash. Bang. Boom. “Set your love free through random acts of kindness.”

I have struggled with the setting what you love free thing since I first heard that saying as a teenager. One cousin was saying it to another at a family reunion. They were older and much wiser, eighteen, maybe even twenty. That age sounds so mature when you are the geeky younger cousin, left out of the adult conversations. I was struggling with puppy dog crushes and really didn’t understand love, as all it can encompass, at the tender young age of fourteen. I greedily wanted the affections of this boy or that. I really cannot remember who I was madly in love with at the time. It was probably the bad boy who sat in the back of English class, with his feet propped up on an empty seat, his sandy blonde hair all mussed up and hanging in his eyes. Oh, how I loved what could get me into trouble back then.

Hmm. Oh, sorry. I disappeared for awhile. But enough of the bygone daydreams of a teenage girl.

I have tried in the past to practice daily random acts of kindness, doing these little niceties anonymously as much as I could. That is a very steep asking for one person, making them daily. I failed miserably, and I felt that failure deeply, even though I had helped out many people in the process. My self-imposed sense of failure was only because I tried to build randomness into my to-do list. I discovered it is called random for a reason.

Lately, I’ve come to a new sense of philanthropy, without it really feeling like I am just giving hand-outs or just looking for another tax write-off. Instead of me searching for a need to fulfill, I relax. I let my heart do the leading, and then my hands complete the task. I pray for guidance. Compassionate giving cannot be forced. It must be allowed to bloom on its own. If it is something I love or cherish or covet that I am compelled to give, all the better. Then I know it is Jesus working miracles in my heart, for the joy I experience in the giving far outweighs any happiness I could gain from the keeping.

I can write a check to the Portland Rescue Mission whenever they send a request, but that, although generous and charitable, is not personal. I do write those checks, but actually serving meals or devoting my time and talents in some other way for the homeless would touch my heart even more. If I had it to give, I could bequest a million dollars to a worthy college, but it does not become real for me unless I read the winning scholarship letters myself. The joy, for me, is in the knowing, however briefly, the story of the recipients.

My acts are not so much anonymous now. That is not the important part, though I still do not need the public recognition to make me feel good about myself. In fact, recognition embarrasses me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. It cheapens what I have done, making it more of a human thing instead of the God-inspired act it really is. My recognition comes from knowing I helped an injured animal; seeing the sparkle in a little girl’s eyes; knowing that what I give is appreciated and will be put to good use; being allowed, even momentarily, into the lives, the stories, and the struggles of others, and knowing I can accomplish something good for them.

I have made a decision about our yard sale leftovers. My darling husband is letting me divide up the mess as I see fit, instead of just hauling it all away to the Salvation Army or Goodwill. Each of those two major charities has gotten its fair share today. My main mission this week is to make sure the little guy doesn’t get left out. A young man visited our yard sale a few weeks ago and made an appeal on behalf of his Haitian charity. Five large boxes of clothes, housewares, and bedding will go to his cause. I have been chatting on line with a desperately poor young woman who has recently lost a lot of weight. She hadn’t a thing to wear, until I gave her two bags of the clothing I had had for sale. The Portland Rescue Mission, one of my favorite charities, will get seven boxes of men’s clothing, coats, hats, and bedding. In this way, I spread my joy around. Ken, who will do just about anything to please me, gladly boxed the items as I directed. He really isn’t the toughie he pretends to be. My honey is a big teddy bear.

Now that the sales and donations are done for this year, maybe next I will work on world peace.

Oh, please.

Downsizing Dilemmas: To Keep or Not To Keep

How many serving spoons do we really need? Do I really need to keep these extra platters? What about this extra set of towels that I hate? Who needs more than two vases—a bud vase and a bouquet? Well, those really aren’t the most difficult questions of downsizing. The most difficult have to do with my hobbies. I didn’t even have that much trouble getting rid of half of my clothes.

I have a lot of hobbies. Photography. Card making. Scrapbooking. Drawing. Painting. Knitting and crochet. Wire and recycled art. Writing. Sewing and quilting. I have to take a breath now, but I am sure there are things I am forgetting.

A few months ago, I downsized my office type supplies into one of those three-drawer plastic towers and my art supplies into a medium-sized bin (other than yarn, drawing, and scrapbooking). This past week I decided they needed further cuts, and it is now all in the plastic tower, with the same exceptions, of course. The scrapbooking stuff I trimmed by 50%, and it now fits in a nice, neat case, which could easily be an airline carryon, if I ever needed to take it on a plane, anyway. Other than my portable easel, again smaller than a carryon, my drawing supplies fit in a small shoulder sling bag and a large flat portfolio. Can’t seem to downsize that, as I do have some rather large original drawings in it still. I am having trouble with the yarn. It is all so pretty. I went through it about a month ago, determined to reduce it by half, but in the end, I had only set aside a few skeins to donate to charity. Feeling guilty, I put three pairs of knitting needles, which I hate anyway, in the sale. But that really isn’t penance for keeping three large bins of yarn, is it? My achy wrists and tingly, painful hands won’t let me knit or crochet much right now, either, so there is no hope of my going through it all by May.

What to do? What to do?

I know!

“If at first we don’t succeed, try, try again.”

We are having a huge yard sale this weekend, and today it went quite well. I would, however, like to see all of the little stuff go: kitchen wares, Creative Memories scrapbooking stuff, linens. I really don’t care about the toys and games, kid’s clothes, and old style phones. Who uses house phones any more, anyway?

I just want to get rid of the stuff and get on the road. I am promised that after this sale, we will be packing everything up and putting some away for a future sale and the rest will go for donation. After all, Salvation Army is practically right across the street from us. I am also promised that we will take the Raven on her maiden voyage, but I am not sure which direction we will be going. Beach or mountains? Beach or mountains? They are both so tempting. Then again, so is Canada. I am promised that we will be gone for two whole weeks. Oh, the glory of it all. I am so looking forward to leaving again.

What are you looking forward to?

How many red purses does one woman need?

"Mommmm, Daddy said we are gonna go bye bye."

"I give up."