Monday morning I drove home from taking Zach to school. My drive is eastward, and I was treated to an especially breathtaking sunrise. However, a block into my morning treat, the local and large Golden Arches imposed themselves on the vision. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t let that spoil the sunrise, and immediately “majesty” came to mind. Next was Lee’s Famous Recipe and I thought “love”. While I was trying to come up with an attribute of God for the letter “Z” when I passed Auto Zone, I came to Arby’s and thought “awesome”. Out of the short business district on the other end of my street, I could continuing focusing on the sunrise for the remaining six or seven blocks of my homeward journey.

I spoke with a fellow blogger recently and we agreed that busyness is bad news for blogging.  Brain juices required for writing dry up, not to mention the minutes that it takes to sit down at the keyboard and put thoughts on the blank screen.

I have a new job–teaching 4 classes/3 class sessions (one class is a combo class) at the local community college each week–and it is taking a lot of my time (time I do not begrudge; I love this new adventure!).  I am hopeful that, as time passes, I will become more efficient in my prep and will reach the ideal that my boss (who was my friend long before she was my boss–I think she will remain my friend!) uses as her rule of thumb–two hours of prep for every hour in the classroom.

So, days pass between posts.  But not so much time passes between significant, blog-worthy happenings.  The ups and downs of the first days back to school for the teenager who is a junior in high school (WHEN did THAT happen?!?).  The ups and downs, ins and outs,  of the husband’s job hunt and wonderings about what comes next.  The giggles and only occasional tears of the almost two-year-old (Is it possible?!?) granddaughter (and, yes, she may present her parents with “terrible two” syndrome at some point–she is, after all, maturing and, according to some developmental theorists, all maturation requires those cycles of equilibrium and disequilibrium.  Personally, I think that’s true–it’s just that some get farther off-kilter  in the disequilibrium cycles than others…more “terrible”, if you will.)

Then there are the always-interesting students in the new job–some finding their ways through American college culture and the English language while their roots run deep in their home cultures of Burma or Darfur; others having missed many little cogs in the wheels that turn automatically for their peers who may achieve higher than they academically, but who do not lack motivation to make something of themselves so they can contribute something to this great life.

There is the subtle shift from summer to fall that will within weeks burst out in a blaze of colors that will make the morning drive with the sun coming up a trip through God’s seasonal art gallery.  There are slowly ripening cherry tomatoes, some not ever making it to the kitchen but, instead, providing a burst of summer sun to my taste buds on the short walk from garden patch to side door.

There is the anticipation of children awaking to new possibilities as they try their hands and hearts at telling stories through drama (I’m helping with a Young Playwrights Workshop this weekend…I stand to learn as much as the K-2nd graders!) or gearing up to be champion Bible quizzers “walking with Jesus” through the Bible book of Luke.

There are the books and the songs.  The 19th Wife had my attention the last few weeks as I read it in preparation for my book club’s discussion of it this Second Sunday.  A fascinating–sometimes sad, sometimes disgusting– look, through fiction, at polygamy in the earlier days of the Mormon Church.  Every week’s Worship Celebration recently has planted a different song that bursts out in the shower, while writing student assignments on the white board, while putting the dishes back in the cupboard from their drying place in the drainer.

There are those random thoughts or observations that are followed immediately by the automatic-now-after-close-to-five-years-as-a-blogger thought, “I should write a post about that”.  Those are the thoughts I most miss putting into words here–blogging, if it is nothing else, has the potential to make the ordinary seem extraordinary, to write on the sticky note that says “Take notice, Dear Reader” about that which would otherwise go unnoticed, to underline life’s moments….life’s significant moments.

But without pen in hand–or computer keyboard at the fingertips–those moments go unrecorded.  However, they are not lost.  Inasmuch as I savor and embrace and process all of the above until they gently but firmly tie into the warp and woof of the weaving of who I am, they are kept; perhaps not shared, but preserved in a place inside of me, from where they just might reappear in another post, another day.

My new place of employment has a great system for a number of services.  There are two options for submitting items (such as class syllabi) for printing–one digital, one hard copy via intracampus courier.  Since I couldn’t get the technology to work for digital submission (password issues, I guess, which I will get sorted out after the first-week-of-classes dust settles), I turned in my class syllabi for printing at the end of  last week the “old fashioned” way.  I was running by the skin of my teeth due to transitions in my department and the fact that I am new and I am slow.  So I made special note of the fact that I would need at least the one set of materials for an 8AM Tuesday class, as per the instructions of the department secretary (an angel).

Long story short:  When the last courier delivery before my 8AM tomorrow class was made, my syllabi did not appear to be among the stacks of materials I’d seen being hauled out of the delivery van just as I departed campus for the day.  This sad news was waiting for me when I got home.

Being the resourceful person that I am, I picked up the phone and tried to call the person closest to my difficulty.  Getting no answer, I called a wonderful woman whose sole task is to smooth the way for adjuncts.  Several targeted phone calls later, it appeared that there would be nothing for it but to make a run out to campus yet today and copy what I need for that class first thing in the morning.

Halfway to my destination, my cell phone rang; it was the department secretary saying she had made one more call, and my materials, which had been delivered to the wrong building (our divided campus is in physical transition, with some buildings just opening for the first time this semester, new delivery stops, etc.), had been found and promised for delivery to our building by 5PM today!

With a lightened heart, and a thankful prayer on my lips, I headed home, knowing that these good people doing their jobs well would get a few lines of exposure here.  Not only did they do their jobs well today, but they went the extra mile, rescuing me in the process.

I am humbled and challenged to pay it forward as I go on my way, not to mention showing my gratitude to these with servant hearts every time I get the chance.

What kind person doing his/her job well needs to hear/receive YOUR thanks?  Be on the lookout!

I passed one of my favorite spots along the road driving home tonight at dusk.  I love this place in the road because it speaks peace and beauty to me.

Just before reaching one of the busiest traffic corridors in our city, there are wetlands.  I love it that this bit of wildness exists juxtaposed with urban/suburban development.

If you keep your eyes open, almost always some avian species can be spotted.  Tonight, it was a little hard to see because the sun had set, but there was still enough light to spot a lone heron standing where water and reeds meet….on the edge at dusk.

This made me think about another wildlife sighting that I’ve trained myself to seek out.  Whenever we happen to be driving along the interstate in the early morning hours when the sun has not long been up, I watch in those places where wooded areas meet open fields.  Almost always, somewhere along the way, a white-tail deer or two or three can be spotted, grazing at still-dew-laden green.

It occurred to me that there are some people who are like my heron and the deer.  They don’t make themselves vulnerable by being out in the open spaces of life.  They don’t invite scrutiny by placing themselves in the intersections of busyness.  Much of the time they are hidden to most of the people.

But, if the busy passers by in life know where to look, and how to look, and when, then those people who linger at the edges, who hesitate in the spaces in between, become visible.  When those on the edge are seen, there is often surprising beauty in the picture.

I want to notice more on the edge at dusk.

Don’t you love weddings?  Today’s nuptial event united two dear friends who have found love and each other in the “September” of their lives  The celebration was a beautiful expression of some of the greatest of life’s treasures–family, friends, music, and love–especially God’s love.

Post-wedding, when pondering life’s good things was the mode, I opened my inbox to discover the following from my friend Marcia, who keeps me uplifted and challenged with her regular inspirational emails.  The secret of the original writer’s longevity can surely be found in what she has written.

I should read this list at least once a week!  (So should you!)

Question of the Day, after you read the list:  What’s your favorite of Regina’s life lessons?  How does it speak to you this very day, in this very circumstance, in this very season of your wonderful life?

(Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of the Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio)

To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I’ve ever written..

My personal odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don’t have to win every argument.  Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.

8. It’s OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present.

12. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don’t worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.

19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ‘In five years, will this matter?’

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.

35. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

36. Growing old beats the alternative — dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s,we’d grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

42. The best is yet to come.

43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up..

44. Yield.

45. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.

Zach had to work till closing time tonight at Chick-fil-A.  On the way to pick him up, I passed three bars–”taverns”, if you will.  All of the parking lots were full.  It was a little before 10:30PM on a Friday night.

On Fridays during the 5PM hour, “Pat’s Pub” is the feature on local talk radio.  Complete with the sound effect of callers’ favorite libations being poured, people gather over the airwaves to talk over their views on the news.  It’s a congenial hour of radio broadcasting.

I’ve been Facebook messaging back and forth the past couple of days with a friend who also is an adjunct faculty member at the community college where we’ll both find ourselves in the classroom in a couple of weeks.  She commented that she thinks one of the reasons she likes working there so much is because of the large number of employees who share a common set of faith beliefs.

The intersection of all of these snippets from the day in just the past few hours set me to thinking–to the tune of the theme song from the TV show “Cheers”.  (I may have seen part of one episode of that program sometime while channel surfing, but other than that, the only thing I know about it is the iconic nature of the thing and some of the words of the theme, which is played every week in conjunction with the  aforementioned “Pat’s Pub” radio segment.)

That idea of being glad you came because it’s “where everybody knows your name” is powerful.

There is something magnetic about a place where you feel known–and cared about.  What makes for a better time than being with people who know you and still love you–or, at the very least, will listen to you and interface with your life?  What makes for a more stressful time than being in a room full of strangers or, worse in my opinion, in a room full of people you know but with whom you feel you have nothing in common?  (That, in my lexicon, defines “loneliness”.)

The bar is full tonight.  There is never dead air space during “Pat’s Pub”.  It’s a plus in the workplace to know that you are among faith friends.

Day after tomorrow is Sunday.  My church will probably have at least one visitor.  So will yours, since it’s vacation season and people come to visit as well as go away to visit.  Will those people feel that , when the last “Amen”  of the morning is said, they’ve been to a place where they were known, where somebody understands life, where somebody thinks their particular life is significant enough to try to understand…in the larger, figurative sense of things, will they be glad they came to a place where everybody–especially God–knows their name?  I can be part of that for someone, if I’m paying attention–so can you.

…Dare ya.

It’s happening again.  I recognize that old, familiar rush.  It’s what happens when I’m where I’m supposed to be doing what I’m supposed to be doing.

I’ve got a new job.  I’ll be teaching two courses (three classes) of reading strategies at the local community college.  These classes are designed to review read-to-learn skills and help beginning college students get up to speed for dealing with college-level reading materials.

I’m excited.  In addition to just plain old loving to be in the classroom, I’m especially excited at the encouragement potential in teaching these particular courses.  Some students will be eager for the opportunity afforded by these classes.  Some students will be put out that they are required to take them, placed by virtue of their skills assessment test scores.  I want to affirm the former, and nurture and persuade the latter.

I love it when I say “yes” to something that is a good fit.  Don’t you just know it in your bones when that happens?  That’s why there are tasks that seem heavy and cumbersome to some people, while the same duties are a breeze and a delight for others.  People who analyze these things call the latter “working in your green zone”.  The former is functioning in one’s red zone.  It’s there that we are drained and depleted over the long haul.  We can get tired in our green zones, too, but it’s what some people call a “good tired”.  My friend Nancy, for example, is working on a big project this week for the children’s choirs for which she works–but, she’s the woman for the task, so her exhaustion at the end of the week, when it’s all over, will be because she’s poured herself out right where she’s meant to be.  On the other hand, we probably all know people who have faithfully functioned for years in tasks or jobs that weren’t really a good fit (yellow zone–they could do it, but….–or maybe even in their red zones) .  When their “tour of duty” finally ended, they could walk away without ever looking back and, if you saw them a month removed from their service, you’d remark at how refreshed and rested they were looking.

It’s always a good idea to take the occasional look at the “zones” in which we’re functioning.  Of all that I’m involved in, what energizes me?  (green) What am I doing that I can do in an okay manner, but it leaves me stressed and overeager for it to be done? (yellow)  In what realms of life am I daily dreading the tasks and finding myself drained and depleted regularly in the doing? (red)  The start of a new school year is a good time for some of us to evaluate.  Could it be time for a drop or an add to your course of life?

I threw that word out at a meeting I attended this evening.  Its use was rooted in my at-the-moment frustration about something of significance that seemed to be getting shoved to an edge.  (As it turned out, a wiser head than mine offered a creative suggestion that will likely result in restoring the thing to a significant place while effectively addressing the need that triggered the problem to begin with.)

As I think about marginilization, I wonder:  When God looks at my life, what things that He deems significant–for my good, for His glory–have I pushed out to the edge of my daily living?  Which of these would be on His list for me and would cause Him frustration (or, at least, grief)?

• Time spent in His Word
• Time spent in prayer
• Focus on and concern for the needs of others
• A worshipful heart
• Good stewardship of all His blessings, including health and finances

I fear they’ve all made the list at one time or another–maybe they aren’t all there now, but all have been so somewhere along the line.

Jesus, be the Center. Everything else will radiate in its right place from that, and nothing will be shoved to the edge.

Asaph was struggling–or at least he was remembering a time he had been.  People don’t say things like, “…I was in distress,” or “… my soul refused to be comforted,” or “I was too troubled to speak” (things would have to be really, really horrible for me to get to that last one!) unless they’re having a tough time of it.  It had gotten to the point where he was beginning to have doubts about the big things:  “Has God’s unfailing love vanished forever?…Has His promise failed for all time?  Has God forgotten to be merciful?”

As all of this tumbled out of his heart to his mind and to his mouth, Asaph had an “Aha!” moment.  Bubbling up through all that rot was something on which he could get a grip and to which he could cling:  “the years of the right hand of the Most High.”  Figuratively, the right hand was the place from where good came.  It was a place of favor.  Asaph, in a flash of recall, didn’t lock on a single event, but instead flipped through the rolodex of time.  He began to “remember the deeds of the LORD… [His] miracles of long ago.”

Maybe he remembered the giant building project that God had set for a certain Noah and his sons–a boat bigger than anyone had ever seen or heard of, to save from a degree of destructiveness no one could fathom, brought about by the agency of an amount of water that was unthinkable.  God preserved that one little family and a boatful of animal pairs for the continuation of humanity and of His creation.   Maybe Asaph thought about the time, just as his forefather Abraham had been about to slit the throat of his son Isaac because God had told him to offer the boy as a sacrifice and it was Abraham’s habit to do what God said, that a loud bleat of a ram caught in a thicket nearby had been God’s way of being a Rescuer in a different way, providing a sacrifice that wasn’t a dearly loved son, just at the time when Abraham needed Him to come through, but not a moment sooner.

There had been miracles, too.  Water that did funny things like turn from bitter to sweet when a stick was thrown into it, or that came out of a rock when a man named Moses struck it, or, for goodness sake! that blew up into giant walls on both sides of a dry path made right through the middle of a sea!  Donkeys that talked, days made longer by the sun standing still, and a young boy given strength to kill a lion and a bear and, finally, a giant, with the unsophisticated weaponry that was a simple sling and a few rocks.

By the time Asaph has mentally visited a few of these “memorials” from his nation’s past or maybe some from a nearer, more personal time in his own or his immediate family’s life, his heart is singing a different tune:  “What God is so great as our God?…With your mighty arm You redeemed your people.”  He’s really on a roll now, enumerating nature’s response to this Almighty One: writhing, convulsing waters; resounding thunder; flashing lightning; quaking earth.  He recognizes the Unseenness of the One whose power can’t help but be seen if we are looking:  “Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen.”

For all that, the personal touch of this mighty God in whom Asaph’s confidence has been restored by considering what he’s seen is not lost on him:  “You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.”  In that simple declaration, God’s tender shepherd qualities and the fact that He often works His wonders and His will through human agency are acknowledged.

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These are the things that I pondered as I reflected on Psalm 77 this morning.  It made me think again of a song lyric that comes to my mind often–”We’ll praise Him for all that is past and trust Him for all that is to come.”  In those moments when life’s low times would grab at my feet and threaten to keep me under till I’m overwhelmed and drowning because of the weightiness of living in this place that sometimes lacks light and harmony and beauty, I must do what Asaph did.  I must consider what I’ve seen.  When I do, the low times let go and I rise to the surface to breathe in the beautiy of life in the sun, with a buoyancy that will let me get to a place of looking up, of rescue, of going on with hope and assurance.