Learning to Live Again

Yesterday I attended a benefit where the goal of the organization is to mend broken hearts. The various ways the mending is accomplished looks different to meet different needs, but the end result is always the same - mending those broken hearts and learning to live again. It reminds me of a song I love "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?"made popular 1971 - could it really be 40 years ago!

http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/nottinghill/howcanyoumendabrokenheart.htm

I can think of younger days when living for my life
Was everything a man could want to do
I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow

And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend a this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again

I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees
And misty memories of days gone by
We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow

And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again

"Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again." What a line. What a prayer so many of us plead to our selves, to others and to our God.

This became so clear to me this morning while breaking an egg into a skillet. That egg is often thought of as the perfect, natural food. Pure nutrition wrapped up in a nice hard shell. The only way to get to the good nutritive value of that egg is to break it - crack that shell on the edge of the skillet and out comes the beautiful healthy food. After it is released from that hard shell, it can become what we use to say when I was a Home Economist, "the incredible, edible egg." It can be friend, poached, scrambled. It can hold a cake together or make a soufflé rise. It can be a salad or thicken a soup. The little broken egg can be transformed into a thing of wonder and delight. But it has to have its shell broken before it can be transformed. It became so clear to me as I studied God's word - breaking is painful and breaking frees us. But I am not the first one to learn this although this morning I thought I was. Consider what C.S. Lewis said:

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”

"Hatching" is painful. Hatching is the realization that the world is not right and there is something we must go through to keep from going bad. It is a choice we all make. But the hatching can open us up for healing and binding of wounds and power. Hatching is where the transformation takes place and all the gifts we possess come out and become honey for others - scrambled, friend, poached - like bread and wine. If I believe scripture - and I do - then I know that God heals our broken hearts and he binds up our wounds. (Psalm 147:3) I also believe the God's grace is sufficient for me and my power is made perfect in my brokenness and I should tell others about my brokenness so that the power of Christ will rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Lewis said we cannot go on indefinitely being just some ordinary, decent egg. It's not enough. We'll go bad. Something must change in our hearts - it must be broken...

and then it can mend.....

and live again.

Victory Street

Is it just me or is everyone angry? Controversy is on every corner. People are out of work and scared. Business is slow. The news is a constant hum of discontent. It seems even the news broadcasters have an edge to their voice. Even business owners are snappy with customers. Everyone has their own solution. Nobody agrees. Probably the debates tonight will be a good example of that.

But yesterday I turned onto Victory Street. It's a short cut-through street that was taking me to my destination. I guess I had never paid much attention to the street name, but yesterday I could not help but wonder if anyone else was driving down Victory Street. Who was feeling good about their day? Who was making a change for the good in lives of others? Who was being kind? Thoughtful? Considerate? And as I walked into the well-ordered elementary school, I was welcomed into a beautiful setting of peace and calm. The secretary was cheerful and interested. The principal made time for a chat. Teachers stopped by to say hello. Children were active and busy with learning. Victory Street.

I left there refreshed and encouraged by an environment that had been created by willing and skilled staff members. But I knew that kind of environment doesn't just happen. It takes discipline, creativity, long hours of work and a passion to make something special happen. It also takes a willingness to just work in the background of life, quietly going about doing a job with skill and confidence. It is what Brian Williams calls "Making a Difference." the short, final segment of his airtime - a wise choice to make us all feel better about something at the end of the day.

Yesterday I read "The beginning of all reform must be in yourselves. However restricted your circumstances, however little you may be able to remedy your affairs, you can always turn to yourselves, and seeing something not in order there, seek to right that." But who wants to look within when it is so much easier to look out and blame someone else? Who really wants to pause long enough to seriously consider their own state of affairs? Isn't it easier to fix someone else? And who really wants to change anyway?

Living on Victory Street comes at a price. The price of work and sacrifice and self-control. Victory comes after the pause, after seeing something not in order and admitting it and then starting the long journey of change. Victory comes when we seek to right the wrong in ourselves first. And victory comes when we can find gratitude even in the smallest of things. If Victory is a street we long for, then Gratitude must be the sidewalk alongside.

"Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory."
George S. Patton

Make The List

On occasion, I read something that touches my soul, speaks to my heart, takes my breath away. I read the words and remember similar thoughts and feelings that made me feel alone, questioning, separated by a sea of grief yet connected in a way that gave me a painful sort of joy. But hard as one tries, words cannot fully express. We each must walk the path and find our own way. It is so individual and yet all so connected. With lives intertwined, we are asked to love one another. Choosing love, we also choose pain and suffering because we just can't have one without the other. It's the painful sort of joy.

My friend coming out of the grocery story is choosing love. Carrying three cases of old-fashioned canning jars, I asked, "Henry, what in the world are you doing?" He laughed and said, "Canning pears." And then he turned to a more serious subject and we talked about his beautiful daughter walking through cancer, looking for options, choosing love and hope. I came home thinking about how hard we work to preserve what we know and love. Canned Pears. Beautiful daughters.

I am reading the book One Thousand Gifts. I downloaded the book on my Kindle, but already know it is one I need to buy to underline and return to often. The author Ann Voskamp is challenged to write down 1000 things for which she is thankful. I will not tell you the story because, as my friend wrote to me, saying "stop what you was doing and go get the book," I would echo the same thoughts. Finding gratitude in everyday life events is what saves us. Nothing else. Voskamp says, "Thanksgiving always comes before blessing." I know this to be true. As I look out the window at the sudden change of the season, I smile and am grateful... for the red streaks in the Maple trees, one last rose begging to sit at my desk, cardinals playing hide-and-seek, Dr. Feelgood's morning call, Bodey at my feet, my son's emailed travel itinerary, my daughter's bright attitude toward her first jury summons, a repairmen on time. One thousand gifts is a short list. I smile and I know.

Because I know, there is strength for this life journey. I know God stays with us through the bad times - all the way. I know he is "close to the broken-hearted and draws near to the crushed in spirit." I know He blesses us with friends and material comforts, but the real blessing is in knowing Him. I know the power of his comfort, his strength, his wisdom, his staying power. I know Him and want others to have strength for their journey. And as our paths cross in our daily events, I want to be joyfully present in each event - welcoming the traveler, sharing an omelet, reflecting what I know. Maybe that is why these words come - sometimes with humor, sometimes with anger and often with questions - lots of questions. But never without gratitude and trust in the One I know.

Maybe we have just never been challenged to make the list. We'd rather be grumpy. We offer a perfunctory, skin-deep "thank you" and move on as opposed to really listening or really observing or really paying attention to the present that is offering moments of real wonder. John Milton said, "Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world." Until we can stop and be still -- be reverent-- gratitude will elude our hearts and we will miss the blessing. Thanksgiving always precedes the blessing.

So Get Busy

Mike and I recently enjoyed watching The Shawshank Redemption and today I was reminded of what Andy Dufresne said to one of his fellow prisoners, "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies... so get busy living, or get busy dying."

What are you busy doing today? Living? Dying? It's a pointed question to ask yourself every morning when you get up. The directness of the question sorts things out pretty quickly and should make the daily choices we make clear.

This week I have watched people being busy with living: one is busy holding her head up as she waits and watches for reconciliation; one is busy recovering from cancer, heading out on a trip with her newly retired husband; one is in the midst of cancer treatment, but making Sloppy Joes for her husband as she skips out the door for a girls outing; one is another country, helping less fortunate children find hope for the first time; and one friend just called from outside her house to say she was sending me a picture of a praying mantis on her moonflower-- all ordinary tasks, all living with hope.

There are some days for all of us that are spent simply dying. We lose direction. We lose hope. We move through the day, respond to phone calls, think about what we should or could be doing and before we know it, we have managed to never find the productivity we longed for - the accomplishment of a well-ordered day of living, the article written, the meeting set, the proposal sent out, the contract finalized, the fall garden planted.

There is a verse in Romans that is a power source for living each day. It says, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." --Romans 15:13

If you study the verse, it says "as you trust in him" you will be filled with joy and peace and the overflow from our trusting will fill us with hope - not by our power, but by the power of the Holy Spirit. Something is required of us. We are asked to trust in the God of hope so that we will overflow with hope and spill out into the lives around us, lifting and offering hope to those who might be busy dying.

So what will it be today - living or dying? Some days might be really dark, but I love what author Anne Lamott says about that, "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come." Just showing up and trying to do the right thing is the most courageous thing I have ever done. And I imagine we sleep better at night when we have trusted in a greater source than ourselves, being filled with hope, overflowing to others. It never gets old or stagnant, but a constant flow of movement through our lives. Get busy now with your choice.

September Anniversary Sale

The single oak leaf that floated down in front of me reminded me that another season is here. And although many of us have been looking forward to this squelcher of a summer to be over, I always enter into September with some trepidation for, to me, September is the month of death. I watch the butterflies finish up their short, busy lives. I pull up the remains of the garden. I watch my Impatiens begin to tire just as they are at their fullest, clinging to their beauty for a few more days. And once again I remember those two weeks of watching the darkness of death march into my home and take the life of my child. I don't intend to do it but I find myself there - from a distance - watching it all as an outsider, looking at the one who was about to leave, facing the horror of what had happened, rewinding the events and still finding it hard to believe after three years. Yes, all too real.

I picked up the book When God Comes Near and reread the short story. I felt like someone else, not the author, reading and mystified that such a story could be told while living it. I didn't feel like the author. Let me rephrase that. I knew it wasn't me that got that book written. I believe that when God calls a person out for a task (in my case it was caring for a dying child), he prepares us and guides us through whatever the task might be. And I also believe that he calls each one of us to some task. None of us are off the hook. For me, I guess He thought I should put words on paper. And as I obeyed, how he gave me words, comforted me, taught me and revealed himself to me. All along, he was there with me, guiding the work to completion. And then he let me put my name on the book. Maybe it should have been titled When I Come Near and Wait with You by GOD. You see, with that title, I can say without hesitation, "I really like this book and recommend it to you."

See, by giving the credit to God, I can get to the real point of the book which is simply: God is with us. He walks our paths and provides light for the journey he has planned for our lives. And when we accept his plan and obey what he asks, we will "find ourselves riding with God in ways we never dreamed possible."

So, I am celebrating with a September Anniversary Sale! And I invite you to celebrate Megan's three-year anniversary in Heaven with us, by using what God has richly provided to share with others who might just need hope, encouragement and the promise of better days ahead. I never dreamed a book would be so well received (but now I really know the author and am not surprised.) I never dreamed people would ask me to speak at their events or want to purchase little Fruit of the Spirit Note Cards or Seasonal Greeting Cards. I never dreamed it to be possible. "Oh, ye of little faith."

Here's the "anniversary package" and just in time for getting some early Christmas shopping done.

Buy two books, get the third free along with a set of note cards and a set of greeting cards.

An $85 value for $40 - now there's a savings!

Contact me at marciagaddis@gmail.com or my website www.marciagaddis.com to place an order.

Just now, the sun has come out as I am about to post my thoughts. September is beautiful. The leaves are just beginning to turn red and gold. The promises of new life are everywhere. I have hope.

A Five-Minute Talk

This weekend I will participate in the Decatur Book Festival, a three-day event that features 14 stages packed with authors, live music, poetry readings, panel discussions, signings and cooking demonstrations. Children will be entertained with authors and illustrators, a parade and games, while teens have their own activities. Live music and poetry, cooking demonstrations, the Southern Foodways Alliance Sunday Picnic, the Rare and Collectible Book Fair, and the Writers’ Conference are all part of it too. Plus, the downtown square will be filled with food vendors, a wine garden and plenty of other culinary establishments.

Now that is what I call a jam-packed weekend. As I peruse the schedule of events, I know I must plan to attend some writing workshops, such as "Writing Vivid Characters: Detail, Dimension and Drive" or this title caught my attention, "Writing with Duct Tape - Using Emotion to Create Characters That Stick with Your Reader," but admittedly, my heart leans more toward the entertaining fun of Natalie Dupree discussing "Southern Biscuits." This will take some strategic planning on my part.

And did I mention the Emerging Writers Pavilion and Stage? Growing by leaps and bounds to over ninety authors this year, "emerging "authors are given a few minutes to speak about their book and then a signing opportunity in the sales tent. I guess you are wondering if I will be there and the answer is "yes." I am slowly emerging and have five minutes to speak. Five minutes! How many words can you say in five minutes? Not many for sure. But for sure, every word must count. No leisurely words of thank-you. No funny, anecdotal "get-acquainted" stories that endear your listeners to what you are about to say and calm your nerves. But with every word there is delivered content, interest, wonder and a compelling motivation to read the story. All in a very small nutshell. If you attend the festival on Sunday I am scheduled to speak at 2:20 at the Emerging Writers Stage. It will be an amazing feat to stay on schedule with that many authors stepping up and stepping down in five-minute increments.

Although I am not one to promote myself, this is a five-minute window to "emerge" a little. Start small. Stand up and tell others the short version of my story. It's what some call "building a marketing platform." Media exposure and blog buzz help along this road to emerging. It is an uphill learning curve and it makes me a little dizzy. Maybe that is why "Southern Biscuits" calls my name. There is something comforting about the familiar.

What will I say? Oh, something like:

"My name is Marcia Gaddis and I am the author of When God Comes Near, Waiting in the Miracle of His Presence. I never thought of myself as a writer, but in 2007 I began an online journal to share the heartbreaking story of a life that was taken much too soon. My daughter was 25 and was suddenly stricken with a rare and fatal disease. She would be the one in 150,000,000 to acquire this little-known disease called Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. During the 16 months of her illness I wrote and wrote and wrote. I pondered the unfairness of it all. I marveled at the beauty and lessons of nature through the changing seasons. And I wrestled and pleaded with God who did come near - but said "no" to healing for my child. And so after her death, I assembled the journal into a memoir - Painful, you ask? Certainly. But the words are full of hope and love and trust. The words encourage and lift and point to something greater by far.

I self-published When God Comes Near in 2010 with the editorial and design support of David Laufer, a book designer from Atlanta. The book is available on Amazon and Kindle ebooks and of course here at the festival. In May of this year, the book received three major awards from the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference - best for Inspiration, Director's Choice and Book of the Year. I am honored to have my name on the cover and to be with you today."

Hope to see you at the Decatur Book Festival. I will either be reading or baking.

Something Will Grow

I have been putting it off. I have been waiting. I have been hoping that surely, somewhere beneath all the leaves and blossoms, there would be an abundance of beans, or cucumbers, or tomatoes. But today is the day I will give up the garden - well, this year's garden. Today is the day I will admit failure. Today is the day I will pull out and clean up and consider what could have produced a greater yield. Maybe it is because I remember too vividly the huge baskets of vegetables picked as a child. My expectations are unrealistic for this small plot of ground. I always hope that this year will be different - that maybe the squirrels won't show up or the rains will be regular and gentle or the types of seeds I have selected will be stronger and prolific in production. Surely something will grow.
There were some successes. We wait and watch, spray and stake, watch and gather. How gratifying to cut enough okra for one or two meals. How tasty to blend up the cucumbers for a perfect cold, cucumber soup or the basil into pesto. How satisfying to keep making "Chuck's Squash Casserole" and to know that you yourself picked those squash. How special to turn those extra zucchini into loaves of bread for giving - and toasting for breakfast. Maybe the scarcity makes it all taste better. Today I'm racking my brain as to how to stretch a handful of green beans to feed two people.
While my little garden is whimsical and I hope for at least some fruits of my effort, the garden my parents tended was essential for my family to have food throughout the winter. All summer long as the produce ripened our kitchen was an assembly line of work. Imagine this: by the end of the summer, the storage room in the basement would be lined with: 60 quarts of green beans, 60 quarts of tomatoes, 30 quarts of peaches, and a variety of relishes and jams, jellies and preserves. There was a chest-type freezer where there would be 60 packages of corn, 60 packages of broccoli, lima beans and squash, strawberries, blueberries, rhubarb - and what have I left out?
As a child, my job was to count and sort the jars as they would arrive in the cool storage room (being the youngest has its advantages.) I would watch the weekly additions as the crops gave up their yield, never really thinking too much about the tremendous amount of work and effort that went into the picking, sorting, washing, trimming, scalding, water-bathing and pressure-cooking. When the vegetables were ready to be picked, all hands were given a job in the production line. And there never seemed to be a crop failure - maybe that is the advantage of planting a large garden. Sow a lot of seeds. Allow for the birds and squirrels and bugs. Something will grow. It's the "abundance mentality."
I look out the window and see the work waiting for me and I am reminded of the verse in scripture that says, "The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord." Looking at a garden is true expression of that goodness. Watching a bloom open (or not) or a vegetable grow (or not) is all part of waiting on God, watching Him work, hearing Him speak. Maybe that's it. We simply don't have much to say in a garden. We mostly listen. I understand now I cannot recreate what I once had. The lush edible gardens in my mind are only a memory and try as I might, I cannot achieve the same results in my small, too-shady vegetable plot. Things are just different. But I will not give up trying. Something will grow there. I must try. Rethink it all. Find new plant alternatives. Read up. Pull out. Start again.
Something will grow.