Internal Bearings

Internal Bearings

One evening, I tuned into a TV drama. I watched a female character succumb to an affair—a disappointing compromise. She was restless and discontent. Her lover questioned her about what she really needed. In effect, she said…ask me what I think and feel—all day—every day—for a long time.

Her comment struck me. I know what it’s like to feel invisible. Maybe you do too.

When others don’t give us “place,” we can’t necessarily alter their mindsets. And yet, in a way, finding place has more to do with us than them.

Dorothy travelled a long yellow-brick road to find her way home, but the change in her heart was her ticket all along. Rosa Parks reached a tipping point and claimed her bus seat. Her God-given confidence set in motion a movement that would give others their rightful place.

George WashingtonGeorge Washington relinquished a place of power by refusing to be a king. He wanted freedom from tyrannical rulers for our country. And that decision released a new thing in the world—a government by the people, for the people.

What’s the same in these examples? Continue reading

Coddling Danger

Coddling Danger

Okay, so it’s late one night. I’m finishing up the dishes, when my husband says, “What that noise?” I’m dog-tired but shut off the water to see what he’s talking about.

BEEP.

I hear the familiar “chirp” of a smoke alarm battery about to die. It’s loud enough to be annoying.

We have two smoke alarms close together—one in the hall and another a few feet away inside the bedroom door. We stand underneath both trying to determine which one is beeping.

Wait for it…BEEP.

BatteriesIt has to be the bedroom one. I get a ladder and a new 9-volt battery. Once Duncan snaps it in, we pause and listen. BEEP. Good grief! There’s no sleeping with that going on. We check expiration dates on the battery packages and try other new ones. BEEP.

I close the door to see if it’s really the hall smoke alarm after all. BEEP.

It’s not.

Who are you going to call at 11:00 p.m.? I get on my computer to watch YouTube tutorials, thinking—how complicated can this be? Duncan is so irritated he’s threatening to cut wires.

I watch several How-To-Stop-The-Beep videos and say to myself—we must be idiots!  I know how to change a battery.

BEEP.

Duncan gets the pliers and finally yanks out the electric-wire plug from the back of the smoke alarm. There! That should do it for now. Meanwhile, I’m learning all about 10-year batteries on YouTube.

BEEP.

What on earth? The plastic device is still beeping without electricity or battery power. It’s The Smoke Alarm From Hell! We are driven mad! How can this be? Duncan’s about to get a sledge hammer. Continue reading

Treasuring Divine Happenstance

Treasuring Divine Happenstance

Last week I shared about why I bought this painting. God had woven together three things: a pregnancy dream, a talk by Ray Hughes about saying “Yes” to God, and the symbolism in the painting. The message?

Continue writing.

Patrisha's painting at the Ray Hughes conference

Patrisha’s painting at the Ray Hughes conference

But a fourth piece to this puzzle remains. I didn’t explain the wave. Did you notice the wave coming over the land and not the sea? In mountainous areas like Montana, massive waters like a sea or an ocean don’t exist.

To complete the story of this encounter with God, I have to give you another piece of divine happenstance. Soon after finishing my first book, I had another vivid dream:

I am crossing a landscape scarred by a hurricane long ago. Wreckage is strewn about in all directions as far as the eye can see. Jagged planks of lumber, shattered window frames, pieces of boats, empty cans, broken wooden chairs, driftwood, shells and other rubble fill every square foot of land. Any stench is long gone, and the debris looks clean—whitened by the sun.

I carefully step over the wreckage, making my way toward a beautiful azure sea that is a mile out. I can see the thin strip of deep blue water on the horizon. The sky is crisp and clear with no hint of haze. A few lovely white clouds dapple the atmosphere.

This picture is as close as I could find, but doesn’t quite capture the miles of sun-bleached remains.

This picture is as close as I could find, but doesn’t quite capture the miles of sun-bleached wreckage.

Way out in front of me, I notice one other person. It’s Kathy Tyers, my first writing mentor. She seems to be making the same trek. She gestures dramatically, waving a complete sweep of her arm again and again, as if to say, “Come on, Susan! Keep going! Don’t give up! Follow me!” But she’s so far ahead, I can’t hear her voice.

It could take awhile to get there. I continue, step by step.

All of a sudden, I hear a faraway low rumble. Perhaps a plane is taking off. It starts to increase in volume. Something powerful begins to roar—a noise so loud it sounds like several planes, then 100 planes, and now 1,000 airplanes taking off all at once. The ground vibrates in violent unison, as I look backwards…Continue reading